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Secrets<br />
Sadness verged on depression. I stood at the edge waiting<br />
for one word, one thought to send me over. It was hard to think or<br />
even exist. Somehow, I left my body and floated in the corner of<br />
the room watching and listening. Everyone here was a cutout. Fake.<br />
They stared at Mac with dead eyes. Their thoughts pushed into my<br />
head, crowding me. Mac stood at the front of the class talking about<br />
Romeo and Juliet.<br />
“It wasn’t love that killed them,” he said. “It was secrecy.”<br />
None of it mattered to me. I hated Shakespeare. I hated<br />
when people couldn’t get to the point. Shakespeare talked around<br />
things instead of coming right out and saying what he needed to<br />
say.<br />
I sat and listened to the crow in the window talk about the<br />
fiery taste of stolen eggs and nestlings. I listened to him bitch about<br />
the arrogance of ravens.<br />
“Butter,” Mac said.<br />
I jerked back to reality.<br />
“You okay?” Mac asked.<br />
I nodded.<br />
“You were talking to yourself,” he said.<br />
Blood flooded my face. This was not good. No one wanted<br />
to know what was in my head. It scared them. It embarrassed them.<br />
Coy sat in his chair, smirking, whispering something to the guy<br />
next to him.<br />
“Do you need a break?” Mac asked.<br />
I gathered my shit and retreated to the hall. I stood alone on<br />
the hard floor. The sadness came back though, heavier now, duller:<br />
full on depression. I could barely move. Ghosts came from the<br />
corners without faces, without hands or feet. Voices screamed. I<br />
jumped and twitched. I remembered every sin I’d committed.<br />
Shame turned the blood solid in my veins. On the way to the Shack,
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