It's half term but I still have to go into school yay

Dan waited outside the building for his parents to pick him up. He was leaning against the brick wall and was randomly staring into space, his mind blank.

It was around ten minutes later that his dad's car rolled up beside him. "How was it?" Dan's dad asked, sending Dan a sympathetic smile as he got into the car.

"It wasn't that bad..." Dan mumbled, awaiting the 'I told you so'. It never arrived though: instead, his dad smiled. "Don't act all sympathetic."

His dad didn't respond.

-

It felt like a miracle when Saturday came around. School that week had been exceptionally tough: Chris obviously hurt and called him names again. He was meant to be visiting Zoe after lunch so that meant he actually had to get out of bed which, considering his mood, felt like the hardest task ever.

Somehow, he managed and ended up in the kitchen, a steaming cup of tea in front of him. "Dan, are you alright?" His mum asked as she walked in on him zoning out.

"Yeah." Dan replied even though it was a blatant lie.

"You don't have to lie anymore." Dan took a long sup of his tea, even though it burnt his tongue slightly.

"Sorry."

-

"How do you feel about therapy? Is it helping you?" Zoe asked, her signature notebook on the table in front of her.

"Yeah, it actually has helped a lot." Dan muttered, still slightly nervous to speak his mind. He was getting better, slowly, but at least he was improving.

"That's amazing to hear! So, how have you been since we last talked?"

As weird as it sounded, Dan felt like Zoe was actually his friend.

-

Dan rolled out of bed at two in the morning and pulled on his shoes. Once his laces were tied, he quietly made his way downstairs. He opened up the front door before softly closing it behind him.

Surprise, surprise, Dan began to head towards his usual hill.

Once he was at the top, he laid down on his back. The grass was like a cushion so Dan literally felt like he was lying on a bed; the sky was the ceiling. The stars were like the plastic ones he had on his bedroom ceiling at home. Instead of his usual depressing thought process, he just thought about how much everything had changed.

His life was actually going uphill for once.

(Pun intended.)