I feel much better now. The sickness has passed, thank God! Hopefully, my parents are still up. I really want to know what it is they want to tell me. Ryder and I are walking down the hotel hallway. He insisted on walking me to my room. Even after I told him I didn't want him to. I stop in front of my room door and turn around to him.

"Well, uh, thank you for walking me to my room. I'll see you tomorrow." I quickly turn around and try to swipe my key card. Before I can do it, though, I feel a warm hand touch my lower back.

"Wait." He says in a gentle voice. I turn back around to him. His hand remains on me, but then he slowly takes it away. I look up at him, into his dark green eyes. "I meant what I said." He stops talking, I think he's waiting for me to say something, but I don't. "Things are going to be different. I want them to be different. I don't know how I'm going to change everything, but I'll try." He says.

"Ryder, you don't have to change everything, you just have to change yourself, and once you change yourself, everyone will see that, and hopefully they'll want to change too, but first it starts with you." He stays silent at my words; his green eyes stare intensely into mine. He has moved closer to me; my bareback is pressed against the door. It's cold. My right hand is still on the doorknob, and my breathing is becoming heavy. I can see my own chest moving up and down. I try to slow the pace, but I can't. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. "I'll see you tomorrow," I finally manage to say. He backs away and walks down the hall without saying anything before he turns the corner; my eyes go to his hands, which are balled into a tight fist.

I turn around and rest my head on the door. I take a deep breath before scanning my card. I open the door when I hear it unlock. My parents are sitting on the couch. They sit up straighter when they see me. "Hey, babe." My mom says.

"Hey." I walk over towards them.

"Where did you guys go to eat? Did you have fun?" My mother asks.

"Umm, I wouldn't say fun, but we um went to this Italian place, I forgot the name of it," Ryder told me like three times what it was called, but I can't remember.

"You said you were going to be home before 12." My father says sternly.

"Marcus, it's only 12:30," My mother says. "Now sit. We have to tell you something."

I sit on the other couch. My heart is pounding. I don't know why I already know what they're going to say. I just want to know why. Why did they buy a house in LA?

"So your father and I have been talking." she grabs his hand. "We were thinking about getting you a car!" she says excitedly. I heard them, but I don't know how to respond. That wasn't what I was expecting. A car. They want to get me a car!

"So, do you not want a car?" My father asks, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

I realized I haven't responded to them. "Yeah, yeah. Of course."

"You don't seem excited." My mother says.

"That just was... I wasn't expecting you to say that."

My mother laughs. "What did you expect us to say."

"Nothing," I say. I want to just tell them I know about the house. But I'll wait, it's a reason they haven't told me yet. Maybe they have changed their minds. It's been weeks since I saw that house deed. "Why now do you guys want to get me a car?" I ask.

"Well, your mother and I are just so proud of you, we have talked to your therapist, and she says that you're doing good and that you're making progress. Ms.Moore sent me your school report about a week ago, and your grades are phenomenal."

"Were just so proud of you. You are doing what we always knew you could do." My mother says, with a smile on her face.

"You're trying, and that's all we ever want you to do is try." My father adds. I smile at their words.

If I were selfish, I would've killed myself. I wouldn't have tried to wait until my parent's relationship was fixed to kill myself then. I took the medication because I wanted to; I wanted to at least try before giving up. I wanted to try for them, try for me.

That's why I can't tell them about the side effects because I know they will take me off of them, and I don't want to go off them because they have been helping me a lot.

My parents are proud of me; for once, they're actually proud of me. Any side effect I suffer is worth it. It's worth seeing this smile on their faces.

...

My alarm clock awakens me. I roll over and hit snooze. Ugh, I hate the mornings. God, my head is killing me, and I feel awful, almost as bad as I did yesterday. I haven't even taken the medication yet.

I blink my eyes a few times to get a clearer view of my phone. There are no calls or texts from Caleb. After talking to my parents yesterday, I came into the room and immediately called him, I wanted to tell him I was getting a car, and mostly though, I was just excited about telling him I want to be with him. He didn't answer, though.

I thought maybe he would've called me back by now. But he hasn't. Maybe he's still sleeping; I'll call him before I leave for my appointment. I lift up and swing my legs to the side of the bed. I let them dangle for a few minutes; just lifting off the bed sends a sharp pain to my head. I rub my temples and then head over to the window where my suitcase is at. I lift it on my bed and unzip it. It feels heavier for some reason.

I pull out the outfit I picked for the interview. I take out my skinny black jeans and a blue button-down shirt. Maybe I should've brought a skirt. Oh, wait, I don't own any skirts, and I couldn't have asked my mother for one of hers. She would've gotten suspicious.

I fold the clothes nicely on the bed and remove the suitcase, placing it back on the floor by the window. I stop and look out of the window down at the busy streets of New York. I'm going to miss it; I can't believe it's Sunday already; as excited as I am to get to this interview, I don't want it to come, because when it comes, that means it'll be closer to us going back home.

My heart warms when I think that maybe this one day could become my home. Not here in this hotel, of course, but here in New York, maybe in a nice studio apartment close to NYU. Or maybe a dorm at Lipton hall.

I have been looking over the NYU pamphlet Ms.Rodriguez gave me. Their freshman dorms are amazing. I prefer Lipton over the others. I walk away from the window and into the bathroom to take a shower.

...

"We'll see you later." My mom yells from the living room.

"Okay."

"Were checking out at 6 and then heading to the airport." My dad yells.

"Alright," I yell from behind the door. "I'll be back around 4!" I hear the door shut. I'm glad they're leaving just as I'm getting out of the shower that way, they won't have a chance to see me in my clothes; my mother would've questioned me, asking why I was dressed so formally to go out to lunch. I put my clothes on, and then I walk over to the mirror and look at myself. I do look formal. I have never dressed like this before.

But this interview is important and surely dressing like this will make a good impression. I grab my gold necklace and put it on. It gives my blue shirt a nice pop of color. Oh God, I sound like my mother.

I walk over to my phone on the dresser—it's 1:15. I dial Caleb's number and call him again. This time it goes straight to voicemail.

I have this weird feeling. He's never not answered my calls before. I hope he's okay. I sit my phone on the dresser and go back into the bathroom. I undo the cap on my medication and pop one in my mouth. I really don't feel well, I wouldn't have taken it if I didn't have this interview, but I had to; I need to be clear-headed. I don't need all the worries and stress to come back.

I can finally see the light in my life, and I will never turn back to the darkness, even though I want to. I won't.

...

Interestingly, our hotel room has a printer. I haven't been to many hotels, but the ones I have been to don't have printers. Not that I'm complaining. I'm happy that they do. I didn't have time to create a whole portfolio, so Ms. Rodriguez told me just to print out some of my work. I have printed out assignments that I have done for Brook's class. Mostly the essays. I also had a few poems that I've written, those I brought from home. I'm only printing out the school stuff. Once the last paper prints out, I place it into my folder. I hope they're good enough. I grab the folder and then my phone and head out the door.

As I walk down the long hallway, I try to shake this sick, nausea feeling and the lightheadedness, but I can't. I ate a bagel, hoping that it will help with the dizziness, but it just won't go away, and now I'm hot, like really hot. Maybe it's this long sleeve shirt. I get on the elevator and click seventeen. That's the floor Ryder said he was on. Evelyn and Josiah are staying on our floor, but I guess Ryder wanted his own room.

Makes sense. I can't picture him staying in a room with his parents. They don't seem to get along. I'm kind of nervous to see him after what happened yesterday. I hope it doesn't make things awkward between us. I wonder if he is as nervous as I am.

I walk down the hallway and search for number 423. Ah, here it is. My phone dings; I look down at it.

*Hey ill be there and 30 min- Blair.

I was hoping it was Caleb. I stick my phone in my pocket and knock on the door. It takes a minute, but then the door comes flying. My eyes go wide as I look at the familiar girl who's wearing nothing but a small towel.

I squint my eyes, making sure my vision isn't failing me and that the medication isn't now causing hallucinations. "Katherine!"

(For those of you who forgot, its the girl from the theater)