I leave English with a smile on my face and Andy at my side. "Ugh! I love English, but I really hate the amount of homework we get!"

Rolling my eyes I push her head playfully. "Shut up! All you do is sit on your couch obsessing over Hook after school! You have all the time in the world to do it."

She grins. "I ship Captain Swan all the way! I swear they're the only reason I still watch Once Upon A Time." She smacks my head as we head into the gym. I stay back a bit while she goes through the left side of the doorway and I follow through, making sure not to enter through the right side of the pole.

"Amelia!" She protests but it's too late. We didn't split the pole.

"I guess I won't be getting bad luck," I shrug my shoulders.

"Whatever. We both know your life continued as normally as it did even before we split the pole last week." Well, I only slipped on ice like five hundred times, but you know, whatever.

We walk to our usual spot on the first row of the bleachers. We sit here everyday during the ten minutes of recess provided for us - if you can even call it recess. During this time is when most fights tend to happen. Welcome to Central Middle School, in which everyone comes to complain about their shitty lives or bitch about each other.

"Here he comes!" Andy whispers to me. I look up and smile when I see Andres walk through the door and on his side Matteo, whom I guess is his best friend since they're never separated.

He doesn't look over to where I'm sitting but rather walks to the other side of the gym to play soccer. I would join them but only boys play soccer during this time. That's not an excuse not to join since I prefer to hang out with boys rather than girls (boys always have something new and stupid to make you laugh, but teenage girls drag on the same drama for weeks). I don't join them because on the other side of that wall because soccer isn't being played, it's more like a bloodbath than anything else. They have no proper organization of the teams and it's everyone for themselves. You can't go in without coming back with a new bruise or two.

"When are you going to go talk to him?" Andy whines while she shakes my shoulder, as if that will shake sense into me.

"We do talk." I argue and push her arms off of me.

"When was the last time you talked?" She retorts back knowing well enough that I haven't talked to him in a year, and last time I did, I ended up embarrassing him. Oops. Then again, I didn't like him a year ago.

"I'm not going to just walk up to him and say, 'Hey Andres, want to go out with me?' You know how weird that is?" I mutter.

She rolls her eyes at me. "Pollo!"

"Call me a chicken all you want, see if I care." I stick my tongue out at her. "Anyways, did you do your band assignment?"

Her eyes go wide. "Shit. Don't tell me that was due today!"

"Okay."

"Yes or no!" She screams at me.

"Yes or no what?" I ask innocently while smirking on the inside.

"Don't make me smack you!" She threatens.

I let out a chuckle before answering her. "Yup! Now you have to go up and perform for the whole band!"

Groaning she takes out her phone. "Like hell I am, he can't make me."

"Sure he can't," I snort. "He told us like five times he would make us perform. Just ask Victoria how many time she's had to go up there."

"Did you do the assignment?" She asks looking over her phone.

"Uh, duh! Who do you think I am?"

She groans and slams her face into her phone. "Whyyyyy?"

"Is she okay?" Faith asks me when she arrives. I glance over at Andy who is hunched over and groaning. Shrugging I turn back towards Faith.

"Nothing new there." And it really wasn't. That's a normal appearance for Andy.

My phone vibrating has me pulling it out of my binder. 'Annoying Sissy' texted me.

'I lost my glasses.' Victoria writes. 'I think I left them in the gym.'

'Oh well,' I type back and shrug my shoulders. 'Come get them during your recess.'

'Meanie.' and she goes offline. I roll my eyes. I'm not her servant and it's her responsibility to take care of her glasses, not mine.

"Oh, hey!" Faith exclaims bringing me out of scrolling through Pinterest. "When did we decide to have the movie marathon?"

"During the summer," Andy answers. "Please tell me Jenna was informed."

"Ya she was. She was the one who reminded me on why we couldn't do it over spring break." I inform.

"So it's during the summer?" Faith clarifies.

Andy and I nod. "Tell the others if they don't already know." I say and Faith nods and goes to look for the rest of our very spread out friend group. We aren't very big but we aren't very small either. There are like eight of us in total.

"Wait, Faith!" I call to her. When she turns back I continue, "Did you do the band assignment?"

"Don't tell me you didn't!" She responds back.

"I did, Andy didn't." Andy punches me and Faith laughs as she walks away to find the rest of our friend group in this jungle of teenagers.

"Way to expose me," She mutters. "Why not scream it out for the rest of the gym to hear?"

"Okay." I open my mouth as if to scream before Andy covers it. I laugh as Andy cuts me a glare.

"I hate you."

"Aww, I love you too."

---

'Amelia?' My phone vibrates at eight thirty, right when I'm about to hit the hay.

'What's up Andy?'

'Do you think it's weak to cry?' She asks. I almost snort at that question. All the books I've read have taught me many things. Crying being a weakness is not one of them.

'No, of course not. Crying just means you have been strong for too long.' I type back.

'Exactly!' She exclaims. 'But my mom seems to think otherwise. She calls me amargada and shit whenever I do, but I just can't keep it in. It's not like I can block off my emotions forever.'

'It's understandable, at school you keep your mask on, but it has to come off at some point. That point for you is at home. Crying isn't weak, it just means the hole in the dam needs time to refix itself so that both you and your wall can be fresh again. But emotions are meant to be shown, not hidden.'

'Where did you get that?' She questions.

'Get what?'

'That quote with the dam, it sounds . . . so inspiring.' I stare at my phone thinking on how to answer before typing back.

'I just made that up . . . I took inspiration from the theme.' Wait, did we have a theme going?

'What theme?' I guess not.

'Nevermind, the important thing is that you have to let your emotions show, even if you don't want to, your body will find a way.'

She sends me an upside down smiling emoji before going offline. I smile as warmth seeps into me. I love how I can sometimes help her out. Especially now that after that survey we took, I know and can relate to what she's going through - not that she knows. I haven't figured out a way to tell her that I went through the same thing.

My mind begins to wonder back to the dark times, when Andy and I were separated. June and July went by so quickly, and then came August. It was the last month of freedom before going back to school, I would enter the fifth grade. But freedom, freedom is just an illusion. You can never be free from your demons . . . .

"Amelia!" Victoria exclaims from the doorway, pulling me out of my mind's imprisonment. "Pick up your damn stuff! Father is going to come in here and yell at us again for your mess!"

"Shut up!" I retort and glance around the room. "I only have socks on the floor, you have your backpack on the floor and a messy bed. Who do you think he's going to yell at?"

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever." And she lays on her bed and goes on her phone. I sigh and stand up to pick up my socks before walking downstairs to the laundry room. Mother is there and I almost turn back around but she spots me before I can.

"Amelia!" She yells. "When were you going to put your laundry away?"

I groan. The reason I decided to do my own laundry was so that I didn't have to put it away whenever my mom got inspired to do laundry - most of the time it was when we had days off of school! I refuse to do anything more than I need to those days. "Now," I mutter instead and throwing my socks in the bin, I take my basket and walk back up the stairs.

It doesn't take me very long to put the clothing away - some of the perks of doing your own laundry, if you do it often enough, you won't get mountains of clothing to put away all at once. Looking up at the clock, I groan when I see the time. Nine p.m.. Great.

Yawning I take the basket and go to put it away. "Amelia," My father interrupts before I'm able to make it upstairs.

Turning around, I fight the temptation to roll my eyes. "Mande?"

"Go take out the trash, it's practically overflowing the bin!" He orders me. I open my mouth to protest but he beats me to it. "Now!"

"Okay." I go back upstairs and put on my jacket and boots. I had Miguel get the bathroom's trash and put it in the kitchen's trash bag.

I open the backyard door and step into the cold winter night. Cold bites at my exposed skin but I ignore it the most I can. Quickly I make my way towards the trash cans. When I try to lift the cap of the can, it doesn't open. "Come on stupid bin open!" I yell at it as if it will listen to my commands. When it doesn't open I kick it. That only makes my foot hurt. I groan in frustration.

Putting the trash bag on the snow filled ground, I use both of my free hands and try to pry the lid open. It moves a bit but doesn't open all the way. I try again and this time it comes free, except my footing does too. Again, I slip and fall on the ground. A piercing pain fills my skull. I close my eyes shut to try and escape the throbbing in my head but that only makes me tired.

Ignoring that dizziness I get, I stand up. I'm not stupid enough to continue to lay on the snow. Using my remaining strength I open the can and throw the trash bag inside before starting my slow trek back to the house. On my way I almost slip five times but I manage to keep upright. I open the door, making sure to wipe off as much snow as I can before entering, and greet the warmth of the kitchen with open arms.

"What took you so long?" My father asks from downstairs. He doesn't let me answer before he begins shouting again. "Close the damn door! You're letting in all the cold air!"

I do what he says before answering, making sure to leave out the part about falling. "The bin wouldn't open. The lid was frozen on." He doesn't say anything, only takes a sip of his beer before turning back to the TV.

My head continues to throb as I walk back to my room. A glance in the mirror tells me I'll have a nice colored bruise tomorrow. 

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