until that moment disliked Ellen. She’d always been the sweet one on the team, unlike the rest of the girls who accused Brea of being some sort of witch—ironically, of course.
Myles grinned and puffed out his chest—ew—before sliding into his usual seat and leaning back. “Sorry, El. My girl needs me.”
“El,” Brea whispered with a shake of her head. “For the record, I don’t need you.”
His smile only widened. “Sure you do. You love me.”
God help her, she did. Her parents weren’t big on the love word—probably because their hearts were made of stone. But Myles let his feelings loose whenever he thought she needed it.
“Are you ever going to tell me what you’ve been up to?” She folded her arms on top of the dark-stained wooden desk.
“Cap had her colt.”
Brea sat up straighter. Captain—named for Captain America—was the pride and joy of the Merrick farm. “Why didn’t you tell me the moment you picked me up this morning?”
He shrugged. “I knew you’d yell at me because I’ve spent the last month in the company of beautiful beasts who aren’t big on the talking.” He reached over and flicked her hair. “Hey, they kind of sound like you.”
“I’m not a beast,” she grumbled. Or beautiful. Beauty was another one of those lies she hated so much. It was just an illusion.
He threw his head back with a full-throated laugh that had more than a few heads turning their way.
Brea leaned across her desk to Myles. “They’re staring at me.”
“That’s because they missed you.”
She snorted. “Yeah, okay.” Most days, she wished the kids at her school didn’t know she existed. But it was hard to ignore the crazy girl. That was an awful term—one people at the institute chastised her for every time she used it. But it didn’t mean it wasn’t how she felt.
Mental illness, they’d told her, was not something she could control, or deserved. They said it was an illness like any other, and nothing to be ashamed of.
But some days, shame was all she felt.
Mrs. Epstein walked to the front of the room, her gray hair pulled back into a severe bun. She started talking to them about whatever boring book—oops, literary classic—they’d been assigned to read.
Brea wasn’t a reader. She subscribed more to the “do as little as possible” philosophy. Unlike Myles who was already bent over his notebook scribbling notes.
His perfect grades meant he’d eventually go on to some fancy college, leaving her behind. It was inevitable.
He wanted to be a large animal vet focusing on horses and cattle.
And he’d be amazing at it.
She watched her friend as a lock of caramel-colored hair fell into his eyes, wishing she could have just an ounce of his confidence.
His life wasn’t perfect by any means, but then, perfection was only an illusion.
Another lie.
Throughout the day, Brea heard many variations of the rumors about her absence. She’d met an older man and run off with him, only to be dragged home.
She’d left to have a baby. That one stung a little. Had she really looked eight months pregnant before she left?
Then there was the story of the drugs she’d gotten hooked on, thanks to the sketchy characters who worked her family’s farm. She thought she seemed pretty good after only a month in rehab.
It was Riley Anders, Captain of the boys’ soccer team, who hit closest to home. As she’d walked by him at lunch, she heard the words “wacko” and “asylum” thrown into the atmosphere as if they didn’t hold the power of a thousand knives.
Myles waved to her from their usual table, but she stood frozen in the center of the busy cafeteria. Classmates swarmed around her, as if not seeing the girl in the middle of a major crisis.
Her feet wouldn’t move, like they were stuck in mud, swirling, sucking mud.
But the white tile floor was clean—or at least as clean as a school floor could be.
Nothing held her in place except a heart-splitting fear. This was her life now. Her breath came in short gasps as she tried to calm her shaking hands.
Energy buzzed underneath her skin, growing louder as the anxiety swirled out of control. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t be here.
The lies she told herself ate at her. She was okay. It was just a phase. Nothing was wrong.
Nothing was okay. This would never end.
And it was all so, so wrong.
Brea Robinson was a lie.
“Brea.” Myles appeared at her side, lifting a hand to grab her arm.
She twisted away from him, forcing