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first three years of school so I could have a more laid back final year, but for the first time in my four years at PVPHS, I didn’t want to leave school.
     
    I headed down the outdoor hall, the nearby sea air filling my senses as I went to my locker. There, I dumped my books inside. Leesa watched me silently. As usual her face was rounded in a smile. “You look happy,” she said.
     
    The comment stopped me. “I do?” Didn’t I always, was what I really wanted to say.
     
    She nodded, her fuzzed hair fluttering in the chilly breeze.
     
    “Thanks.” Puzzled, I closed my locker.
     
    I walked toward the faculty parking lot, winding my way to the main covered walkway to the final strip of buildings and outdoor halls that would take me to the lot. I thought about what Leesa had said. It was requisite that my friends and I walk around with smiles. We were the best dressed, lived in the biggest houses, belonged to the right clubs, drove the nicest cars. That was more than the picture of perfection—it was the reality show of perfection.
     
    Of course, the show was a façade. None of us ever talked about that though. Verbalizing meant admitting that we were all about the show, some intricate spectacle that might run down, like a clock inevitably unwinding. Then everything would stand still. Others could examine us.
     
    What kept me going was trying to beat that failing clock and get out on my own. No one noticed when a clock told the perfect time, precision didn’t require notice. But when something stalled, the very fact that it was immobile meant something was wrong and left you vulnerable for examination.
     
    I was floored to realize that Leesa had examined me.
     
    I wandered the walkways. Knowing that Mr. Christian was still around kept me at school. I didn’t care if I looked genuinely happy. I doubted anyone else could tell the difference. Few got close to me. Leesa Weitz was an exception.
     

     
    Matt came toward me in the main hall. He’d just gotten out of gym—his dark hair was wet at the tips. He stared at me. Expecting a fight, I kept walking.
     
    “Why are you hanging around?” he asked, falling into step with me.
     
    “Why do you care?”
     
    “Why shouldn’t I?”
     
    “Excuse me?”
     
    “We spent six months together. I think I know you, Eden.”
     
    I stopped, hating that he was right. “Yeah, I know.”
     
    His brown eyes pierced mine. Neither of us moved.
     
    “Why did you do it?” he whispered with a look around.
     
    “I…” I couldn’t hurt him, he looked alarmingly sad. “I don’t know.”
     
    “Were you bored? Am I not good enough?” Urgency tightened his face. If I wasn’t honest, he’d come back like a boxer refusing to leave the ring, even with a broken nose.
     
    “It was fun while it lasted. I mean that.”
     
    Spread out behind him was a panoramic view of Senior Park and the outdoor corridors of the school, including the hall leading to the music room. A flash of movement drew my gaze there. Mr. Christian was leading one of his classes to the open space of the park.
     
    Matt followed my intrigued gaze but then turned and faced me, intent on finishing our conversation. “But now we’re not fun anymore? Come on, Eden. I thought we were nothing but fun.”
     
    My eyes remained magnetically drawn to the sight of Mr. Christian now arranging his last period class in a circle.
     
    He stood in the middle.
     
    “We’re hanging at my house again tonight. I think you should come and we could, you know, just be like we used to be.”
     
    “Maybe,” I muttered.
     
    It had been fun with Matt. But I wanted more now. Mr. Christian’s analogy of meat and potatoes versus junk food came into my mind. Of being hungry and being filled.
     
    My gaze shifted back to Mr. Christian. “I’ve got to go.”
     
    I passed Matt without any more explanation, crossing the grass to where Mr. Christian stood in the center of the large circle, but I didn’t go near