“It’s, um… a stress ball. Like, you squeeze it and it helps distract your thoughts or center them? My brother has one, and it helps his anxiety,” she says, shrugging and tucking her hair back again. “That’s… that’s really nice,” I say, feeling lame as the words leave my lips. It’s more than that. It’s everything. It’s a piece of me that only she holds the key to. It’s the acceptance of me as I am, by the only person that matters right now. “And the bracelet?” She giggles as I pull the blue and gray beaded bracelet up to inspect it, where little block letter beads spell out hotshot. A laugh
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