Lila
By Monday morning, I had managed to convince myself that I could put the entire weekend into a little box in the back of my mind and leave it there.
It was a stupid plan, considering my brain had apparently decided sleep was optional. Every time I closed my eyes Sunday night, I heard Mrs. Boutros telling me that the way Mom spoke to me wasn’t normal. Then I’d hear Mrs. Mathews asking if I was okay, followed by Shawn telling me I didn’t have to figure everything out at once. Somewhere around two in the morning, I gave up, grabbed my phone, and watched stupid videos until my eyes burned enough that I finally fell asleep.
So when my alarm went off, I felt like I’d been hit by a truck.
Things weren’t much better downstairs.
My sister couldn’t find the homework she’d spent most of Sun
