Dear Lily,

It's been three days since the accident. They say it was an accident. But I know it wasn't. They hurt you, didn't they? He did this to you somehow, didn't he? I don't know how it's only been three days. I feel like I've been sitting in this room for a hundred years. I miss you. I'm scared you won't wake up. The doctors say you can't do anything but sleep, but maybe you can listen? Storytelling has always been your strong suit, not mine. But I'll try my best for you.

I met you in high school. You were asked by our teacher to help me bring my grades up, if you could. I'll admit I was skeptical at first. A teacher's pet like you being friends with a self-proclaimed cool kid like me? No way. Never. No. And then we met, and we talked, and we found out that we were both huge nerds.  We liked the same movies and books, our taste in video games was practically identical, and you listened to all the same music I did, and then some. I was such an ass to you that first day. . . I don't know how you had enough faith in someone you'd just met who'd completely torn you down without even knowing you to come back and help me like you did.

"Alex, this is Lily. She's going to be trying to help you get your grades up."

The girl with the bright smile waved at me with a tiny blush (or maybe it was sunburn) under the black frames of her glasses, and I refused to let her cheerful optimism "fix me" or whatever the teacher wanted her to do. She wasn't going to change me, and I wasn't going to do what she wanted. I crossed my arms and huffed, growling in response to her cheerful hello.

Daisy, or whatever her name was, grinned at me again and set her books down on the table with an audible plunk. She took lined paper out of her bag and set it, along with a mechanical pencil that spoke of heavy use, on the table. She kept grinning until our teacher left, then sat down behind her textbook and picked up her pencil, tapping the eraser against her pale hand as she looked up at me skeptically.

"You don't want to be here," she observed, stating the fact with complete matter-of-factness. Now that the teacher was gone, her bright smile had fallen and been replaced by a thin line between her lips.

"No," I replied, fully aware that I was confirming her suspicions. "I don't."

"Why?"

"Because," I scoffed, crossing my arms moodily. "Math is a waste of time. And just because some stupid teacher's pet thinks she can help me, it's supposed to magically get better? God, you're even more naïve than you look."

She took off her glasses and wiped them on the white dress she was wearing, putting them back on her small nose after squinting through the lenses to make sure they were clean. She turned from the table to face me, crossing one thigh over the other.

"I'm not magic," she said, "but I do know a few tricks."

I clicked my tongue. "I don't do tricks. Especially not when people want me to."

"So, leave," she said with a shrug. "I can't stop you. I was just asked by the teacher to help a student that she was worried about. I didn't know you'd be such an ass."

For the first time in what felt like years, I was at a loss for what to say. People usually just avoided me. No one had ever outright called me an ass before, let alone talked to me long enough to realize it.

I smirked.

"Keep on trying to do the right thing, sweetheart. I'm sure it'll get you something someday," I said as I turned to leave.

"Hey, before you go, I want to ask you something."

I paused, listening.

"What do you want to do with your life?"

I don't know what compelled me to answer her. Maybe it was the sadness I heard in her voice now that I couldn't see her face, or maybe it was my desire to have the last laugh.

"Music," I replied haughtily, "Which doesn't need math," I said scornfully, swinging my backpack over my shoulder and picking up my skateboard as I prepared to leave the library. "But you keep doing you, sweetheart, because you aren't a flower yet, Dandelion."