"This is it. Thank you," I open the door of the unfamiliar car and get out. My mom got me an Uber back home. She was still stuck in line at the bank and wasn't able to pick me up. I walk up to my house door and reach under the mat, grabbing the spare key we find under there. I unlock the door then place the key back under the mat.

It's five now. I still have to do my homework. I'm so tired though I don't feel like doing it or anything, but I know I have to. The house is quiet, empty, I think. "Dad!" I yell out, no response.

Yup empty.

I thought he would've been back by now. He went into the office early. I run up the stairs and into my room, throwing my bookbag on my bed.

That was the longest forty-five minutes of my life. I open my bookbag and grab the paper Rachel gave to me. She let me keep it. I reread the words. Jayda King CAN BE SAVED.

No, I can't, and I don't want to be.

I ball up the paper in my hand and toss it onto the floor.

It's eight now, my dad's still not back, and neither is my mom. My mom is excused because she called me and told me some of her country club friends invited her to dinner. She didn't want to go, but I promised her I would be fine. I promised her that I'll still be alive when she gets back.

I meant it too. I know she only agreed to go to it because they've hidden or disposed of every harmful thing in here. I don't even know why my mom joined the country club, probably for status reasons; my mom and dad have this need to show people that they've succeeded in life. That they beat the statistics of the average African American family, I get it, I do, but it changes them, sometimes it makes them people they know their not.

My dad hasn't called me yet, and my mom told me that he would be home soon. But she said that two hours ago, he still isn't here. Probably another reason why she decided to go, she expected my dad to be home soon, but he isn't, maybe I should call him. I walk over to my bed and grab my phone off the charger. I click his contact, and the line rings. It rings three times. Just when I'm about to hang up, he answers.

"Jayda, are you okay?" He says breathlessly.

"Uh, yeah. Are you?" I can't help the small smile that comes across my face.

"Yeah, I'm OK." He responds vaguely.

"Why are out of breath? Where are you?" I ask.

"I'm at the gym." He says.

"Oh."

"Are you okay?" He asks again.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just I'm home by
myself-" before I can say more, he cuts me off.

"By yourself? Where is your mother?" He urges.

"She went out to eat, with some people from the club."

"She what?!" He shouts.

"She thought you were going to be back sooner; that's why she went." I'm trying to smooth things over for my mother. I know he's mad she left me home alone, but technically it isn't her fault she honestly thought he would've been back. He was supposed to be back hours ago.

"It doesn't matter. I'm on my way. And Jayda, please don't, don't do anything reckless, please. "Before I can say anything more, he hangs up the phone.

I throw my phone back on my bed and walk over to my desk. I sit in my chair and stare at the blank sheet of paper in front of me. The only thing on it is To be Or Not To Be. Oddly enough, it's the question I asked myself every day.

...

"You left her alone to go eat out with your stuck up ass country club friends?" A deep voice yells.

"They are your friends too." A high pitched voice fires back.

"Yeah, well, I would've never left my suicidal daughter home alone, to be with them." The stern voice is louder.

I jerk up and wake up. Ugh, my back is killing me; I fell asleep at the desk.

"Don't do that. Don't you dare put this on me? I thought you were going to be home. Where were you?" My mom yells back.

It's my parents there arguing. For a minute, I thought I was dreaming.

"I was at the gym."

"The gym, really?" she asks, not believing him.

"Yes, where the hell else would I be! I would've been here if I would've known you were going out. You could've called." My dad shouts.

"Well, when I call, you don't answer," she yells back. It sounds like she's crying now.

I get up from my desk, walk to the door, and shut it.  I want to go into their room and stop them from yelling at each other before they say something that they'll regret. But like a coward, I run over to my bed and cover my ears with my pillow.

It's best if I stay out of it. They'll work it out as they always do. It hurts that their argument is because of me and my decisions. They never had a problem with me staying home alone before, well staying home with a nanny.

My dad was always out of the country on his business trips, and my mom spent hours at the firm and in different cities working on different cases. We barely saw each other. It wasn't until I was 14 when they thought I no longer needed a nanny, and then I spent days alone. I made my meals or sometimes went to the diner to eat dinner myself.

My days were mostly spent watching Netflix, or I spent hours reading books and doing homework.

It was rare when I watched TV, and if I did, it would be movies or shows based on books.

Id rather read books than watch movies. I hate how the shows and movies leave out so much detail.

I feel bad for the people who only watch the movies and don't read the books. At least I know the truth about what is really supposed to happen in certain scenes.

.

Its two in the morning. Ive gone to sleep and woken up about two times. My parents stopped arguing about

2 hours ago. Now the house is quiet—my phone buzzes. I reach over and grab it off my nightstand. My phone has been going off all night. I unlock it and go to Instagram. As soon as I open it, a video of Ryder and Ashely comes up. Ashely is sitting on his lap, kissing him. It looks like they're swallowing each other's faces.

I didn't even know they were dating? Maybe they had been, and I just hadn't paid attention. Oh no, if they're dating, I know he told her that he saw me crying. Oh god!

I didn't even know Ryder dated! I've known him since elementary school; I know he's been with many girls, I mean a lot, but he's never publicly displayed who he was with before, so it must be serious.

I wonder when it started. It had to be after I left because last I heard, he was sleeping with someone who went to Ravenswood. I heard it was the QB girlfriend who he slept with. He did it to throw him off his game. At least that's what I heard.

Whatever happened, it worked because we won that game. But ew, how disgusting, what kind of sick person would do that to deliberately hurt another person, all for a game. After that, he was with other people, almost the whole school, again that's what I've heard. I don't know how true it is.

He's never tried to be with me, though. I don't blame him. I've always been in a different status from him. He's popular; I'm not. He's cute; I'm not. That's pretty much the status quo in high school.

Pretty and popular are on top, ugly and smart are at the bottom.

It so dumb, but I didn't make the rules. That's just how it goes.

I don't even recall Ryder and me ever having a conversation.

Except for that one time in elementary school, fourth grade, I think. He was my field trip partner. We went to the museum. We held hands all day even though we didn't have to. His friends made fun of him for holding my hand and following me everywhere, but he didn't care.

By him laughing at me today, along with the other boys, I know he is not the sweet little boy I remember. I knew that before today that he was different, but he never was mean to me.

Today he was, though, I guess high school does change people.

I look back down at my phone and refresh the page. Now it's several more pictures of them together. It makes sense for them to be together. She's the head cheerleader. He's the captain of the football team; they are the high school stereotype. Theyre every high schooler's dream relationship.

I click my phone off and turn it over. I need to sleep. I need to rest. I close my eyes, images of me crying in front of him come to mind. I must have looked so stupid, so ugly. Ugh, I hope I don't see him tomorrow. I don't want to see him ever.