the accident. Girls cluster near my locker and I cringe at the gossip flying from their lips. “Can you believe what happened to Kennedy,” one of them whispers. Hearing her name makes me want to bang my head against my locker. “I know, right? They drove off without even helping her. What kind of asshole does something like that,” another one says. I can’t listen anymore. I ditch my things in my locker and make my way to my first class to escape, but it doesn’t work. Her name comes at me from every corner. I regret dragging my ass out of bed this morning. If it weren't for baseball, I would be
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