White. 

Everything was white. The ceiling, the walls, the floor tiles. The bed, the sheets, the counters. The doctors' coats, the IV stand, the hospital gowns.

My mother's pale face contorted in pain as she coughed. She feebly wrapped her arms around her torso and grimaced.

"Mom?" I whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing watery blue irises. "What's wrong, dear?" she croaked.

I shook my head and stood from my seat on the lumpy couch by the window. Walking over to her, I asked her if she needed more pain medicine. She declined, even though I pressed her several times.

"I don't want to be so high on morphine that I don't recognize my daughter's voice," she murmured.

I clenched my jaw, trying not to let tears escape my eyes. "Alright, Mom, but if you change your mind, please tell me."

She weakly nodded and gestured for me to come closer. I did as she wanted, leaning down to give her a soft hug. Her thin arms circled my waist.

"I love you, Lindsey," she told me in a strong voice, stronger than I'd heard from her in months. "Don't you ever forget it."

A loud knocking sound filled the room. "Lindsey!" a deep voice shouted.

I jolted awake, hot tears pouring down my face. 

"Lindsey!" the voice repeated.

I climbed out of my bed and shuffled over to my door. "Yes?" I called through the wood.

"Turn down your music!" my dad ordered.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my phone from my nightstand, turning my music off. "Sorry," I said in the most unapologetic voice ever.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

I glanced at my face in the mirror over my dresser. My brown eyes were bloodshot and puffy, ringed with dark circles. I had chapped lips from constant biting and a red nose. My appearance instantly revealed that I was crying and sleep-deprived, but if I could tell my own father I was sad, who could I tell?

"Yeah," I answered. "Come in."

The door opened, revealing my father. His brown hair was ruffled and his brown eyes were jumping around the room, not focusing on any one thing for too long. He had a slight beard from not shaving for a few days and a loosened tie around his neck. He looked exhausted, which made sense seeing as he worked from six to six most days. He said never wanted us to be struggling for money, but I knew that he was just trying to stay out of the house and away from the memories lingering there.

"Hey, Linds," Dad greeted.

I nodded at him and weakly smiled. "How was work?" I asked halfheartedly.

He shrugged. "Same old same old. You, on the other hand, started your junior year. That's got to be exciting, huh?"

I rolled my eyes. "I suppose. It was pretty boring," I admitted.

"I get it," he said. "I never liked school either."

I rubbed my face and sat down on my bed, looking around my room awkwardly. My father and I were never close, and his attempt at bonding with me wasn't a new thing. We just didn't click, but I couldn't knock him for trying.

"Were you crying?" he finally asked me.

I sighed and nodded. "Bad dream," I explained.

He looked down at me sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

Shrugging, I replied, "It's fine."

"I stuck a pizza in the oven," Dad told me. "It should be ready soon if you want to come and eat."

"Alright," I said. "I'll be there in a few."

He nodded and left my room.

I checked my phone before plugging it in. I rushed down the hallway to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I leaned over the sink to look at my face in the mirror, scrutinizing my features. Before my self-esteem was eliminated completely, I stepped away and grabbed a washcloth. After rinsing it with warm water, I rubbed my face, trying to wake up my features. Although I would let my dad see me at my worst, I didn't appreciate my sister's constant criticism.

Olivia was more invested in her appearance than I was. She wore makeup and dressed nicely, always keeping up with the trends. I was okay with that and understood that that was just her personality. What I wasn't okay with was her forcing those ideas on me. She always insisted on me dressing up for school and hiding my insecurities with a bottle of foundation, which was upsetting.

After I had washed my face, I shuffled down the hallway. My dad and sister were sitting at the table, chatting mindlessly about their days. I sat down beside Olivia and we munched on our pizza. The empty seat across from me was as haunting as ever.

Dad tried to make conversation with me, but I was so tired I could only give partial answers. He eventually gave up and we all ate in silence. As soon as I finished my food, I excused myself and went down to my room. I grabbed a pair of clean pajamas and headed for the bathroom to take a shower.

Once my fingers were pruned and the water started to get cold, I shut off the water. I got dressed and went back to my room. I closed my door, shut the lights off, plugged my headphones in, and cried myself to sleep like I had every day for the past three years.

~~~~~

The week flashed by rather quickly and suddenly Friday was halfway over. I plopped down beside Asher at our lunch table and began to eat the mushy lasagna they had served. Asher, Christopher, and I had all been sitting together throughout the week and had gotten closer than I would have guessed.

"So," Asher spoke up, "are you going to my game tonight?"

I rolled my brown eyes and pointed at my stuffed cheeks. "My mouth is full," I explained, although it came out in a muffled tone.

He chuckled at me. "Manners," he scolded teasingly.

I swallowed and nudged his arm. "Says you," I grumbled. "But no, I'm not going to the game tonight."

Asher frowned. "Why not?"

"I never go," I explained. "Football bores me."

He gasped exaggeratedly. "You're lying."

I smiled but shook my head. "No, I'm not."

Christopher set his tray down across from me and took his seat. "What are you lying about?" he asked, automatically siding with his friend.

"I'm not lying!" I exclaimed.

Asher gave me a look before giving his attention to his best friend. "This freak," he stated, jutting his thumb in my direction and almost poking me in the eye, "says that football is boring."

Christopher's brown eyes locked with mine and he smirked. "Oh, she's right," he said.

I laughed. "See, Asher, I'm not lying, and your best friend says so."

His ocean blue eyes narrowed. "What are you guys on?" he questioned. "Football is the best!"

Christopher scoffed. "Yes, watching dozens of prepubescent teen boys throwing balls and running into each other is so fun."

I nodded. "It makes my life twenty times better."

Asher groaned. "I can't believe you two," he muttered. "You've been coming to my games since sixth grade, Chris. Were you faking enjoyment this whole time?"

The brunet shrugged. "I don't enjoy the sport, but I do love seeing you get sacked every other play. In fact, I look forward to it happening tonight."

"You're going to the game?" I asked.

Christopher nodded. "I'd never miss it. Plus, there's supposed to be a killer afterparty at Henry's."

Asher rolled his eyes but smiled at me. "You should go, Linds. You can sit with Chris and make fun of me the whole time, I don't care, but I want you to go."

I frowned, contemplating. It wasn't like I had anything better on the agenda. Besides, maybe a night out was what I needed to get myself out of this slump.

I sighed. "Alright, but Chris has to pick me up."

He nodded. "Sure thing. Text me your address?"

I nodded and immediately sent the information to him. I had exchanged numbers with both boys earlier in the week.

"You won't regret it," Asher told me, setting his hand on my shoulder. "The first game of the season is always the best, and the afterparty will be even better."

I shook my head. "No way, I'm not going to the party. I agreed to the game, and that's all."

Christopher groaned. "Come on, that's the best part."

"I've never been to a party," I told them, "and I'm not friends with anybody besides you two. You'll be off with other people and I'll be stranded."

Asher sent me a look that sent shivers down my spine. "I wouldn't abandon you," he promised. "I'd stay with you the whole time."

"Fine," I said, giving in. "I'll go."

He sent me a grin that was worth all the mistakes I was about to make and then some.

~~~~~

After school, I went home and took a quick nap, not wanting to be tired at the game. I woke up to the alarm I had set and began getting ready. 

I took off the sweats I had changed into and slid on a pair of black high waisted jeans and a blue tee-shirt. I slid my grey hoodie over my head and ran a brush through my messy blonde hair. 

Once I was satisfied with my appearance, I went down to the bathroom, passing Olivia's room. Her door was open, revealing her sitting at her vanity and curling her brown hair.

"What's up?" she called to me.

I poked my head in her room and said, "I'm going to brush my teeth."

She frowned. "Are you going somewhere?"

I nodded. "Yeah, the game. Are you?"

She scanned my outfit. "Yeah, are you going to the party after?"

Once again, I nodded. "Yep."

"Can I tweak your outfit just a little bit?" she asked me.

I sighed but shut the door, walked into her room, and plopped down on her bed, smoothing the pastel comforter. Olivia set down her curling iron and jumped up, running to her closet.

A few seconds later, she tossed a shirt at me. I took my hoodie and tee-shirt off and slid into the top. Glancing in the mirror, I scrunched up my face. The shirt was a royal blue color and a tight ribbed material that hugged my body. The neckline was round and the bottom was cropped, but my high waisted jeans compensated for the lack of material and only a sliver of my stomach showed. It looked nice but was out of my comfort zone.

"Do you like it?" Olivia asked.

I shrugged. "It's alright. I'll wear it. Thanks."

She nodded. "Here, wear this too," she said, passing me a black belt.

I fastened it around my waist. It had a gold buckle that matched the gold necklace I always wore. "Thank you."

Olivia nodded. "No problem. Do you need a ride to the game? Jenny is picking me up but I can check to see if there's extra room in the car."

"I'm all set," I told her. "Christopher is bringing me."

Her brown eyes widened. "Really? Do you like him?"

I laughed. "No, Liv. I barely know him."

Her small frame deflated. "True," she said. "A sister can dream, though."

I rolled my eyes. "You're a weirdo."

Olivia grinned. "I suppose you wouldn't let me curl your hair, huh?"

I turned on my phone. "Can you do it in less than fifteen minutes?" I asked her.

"Oh, I can do it in ten," she boasted.

I chuckled, standing up. She dragged me over to her vanity and began to curl my hair. She told me all about the drama going around the school, how she was looking forward to seeing some guy at the party later, and how excited she was to see me going to a school event. I listened, happy to spend time with my sister. We rarely hung out, but I loved her and savored every moment we had together.

If the heartbreak I had been through had taught me anything, it was to make the good times last.