“We’re okay, right? You and me?” At the steps to my apartment, I glanced at him. “I don’t know…and I’m not saying that because I want to make this worse. But I’m mad. The mad—it doesn’t just go away because you finally get it. You guys—you made a decision about me and you never even asked me. I think that was the hardest part. I spent most of my junior year wondering what was wrong with me.”
