(Matteo's PoV - 14 years old)

Outside of her math classroom, I could see Emmy talking to some guy I'd never met. He whispered something to her, then kicked her in the shin.

I felt the need to rip his limbs off, but he was gone by the time I got to Emmy.

"What's going on?" I asked her.

"What do you mean?" she said, confused.

"That guy was just kicking you," I pointed out what I assumed was rather obvious.

"Oh yeah, that." She rolled her eyes and laughed a little. "No big deal. Apparently it's National Kick a Ginger Day."

I didn't know what was worse. The fact that such a "holiday" existed or just how calmly that Emmy (who had never felt relaxed in her entire life) said it.

"Tell me his name. I want to beat him up."

"No!" She grabbed my wrist. "It didn't even really hurt. He was just trying to be funny-"

"Yeah, well it's not," I snapped.

"Why are you getting so worked up about this?" she questioned. "It really doesn't affect you."

"Even if you weren't my girlfriend, I wouldn't like the idea of someone hurting you for no reason."

She furrowed her eyebrows in puzzlement. "But they do have a reason. It's National Kick a-"

"Emmy, listen to yourself," I cut her off.

"Matteo." Her voice was growing higher in pitch. "I already told you it's really not a big deal, so lay off of it."

"It is a big deal," I argued. "You can't just let people kick you around. Literally!"

"It's fine," she insisted, her voice shaking.

"People are hurting you."

"So what, I'm used to it." As soon as the words escaped her lips, she covered her mouth.

"Did you just say you're 'used to it?'" I asked softly, even though I figured she wouldn't repeat herself.

Everything seemed to be fitting together like some kind of horrible puzzle. I felt stupid for not having put it together sooner. The way she was always scared. The way she flinches when somebody touches her. The way her body was covered in bruises and scars. The way she never wanted to go home.

"Your parents," I realized. "They're not just refusing to help you. They're hurting you."

In a split second, her everyday nerves turned to sheer terror. Though normally high pitched and rambling, her speech was slow. "You can't tell anyone."

"Emmy-"

"Matteo, I mean it. They're gonna think I told you and that's just gonna make things worse."

"I just want to help."

"You can help by not giving them a reason to hate me more." Before I could interject, she continued, her eyes brimming with tears. "If you think they wouldn't be able to lie their way through a CPS visit, you're crazier than I am."

I hugged her tightly, letting her cry on my shoulder, knowing I needed to figure out how to protect her.