THIRTY-FIVE

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"You need to get out of the house, Hanna

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"You need to get out of the house, Hanna."

I looked up from my spot on the couch, tearing my eyes away from my mother's musings. Reluctantly, I had let Stella come over, but I didn't think she would try to physically drag me out of my comfort.

"I'm fine right here," I said, stretching out my sore arms. "Feel free to sit down with me."

She whacked my arm. "I did not drive all the way here just so we can mope together. You have to put an end to your misery sometime."

"I'm not miserable," I said, but that was exactly what I was. "I'm disconsolate."

"Whatever the fuck that means; we're still going out." She pulled me up by my wrists, making the soles of my feet connect with the floor for the first time in two hours. "You need new clothes for this semester."

Normally, I'd be ecstatic about shopping with Stella. Although my closet already overflowed with chunky fall sweaters and every cut of denim on the market, few activities could bring me as much happiness as draining my lifeguard savings even more for the sake of fashion.

But much like my mom in her diaries, nothing felt more appealing right now than lying down and doing absolutely fucking nothing.

"I look ugly."

"That's no excuse," she mumbled, brushing a few frizzy strands away from my face. "You just need a shower, some concealer, and a pretty dress—stat."

Thirty minutes later, I stood back where I started, only with a slightly more socially acceptable appearance, clad in a linen dress and donning lined eyes and artificially straight hair. Stella dragged me to the door and to the passenger side of her car, surprisingly strong for being a petite five-foot-three. She blasted some of our favorite albums from the last school year and forced me to sing along.

I stared aimlessly at the tree-lined roads.

"You know, he really didn't do anything wrong," she began, stopping at a red light. Turning her music down, she added, "Yeah, I mean it's a little creepy his dad's been wanting you to marry his son since you were, like, a child, but you could also consider it kinda romantic?"

I let out a lifeless laugh. "It's not really that."

"Then what?" She zoomed ahead, mouthing a curse at the driver who honked his horn at us.

"It's everything," I answered, pressing my forehead into my palm. "This whole summer has drained me. I don't know what else I can take." I knew she'd gone through her own version of hell these past few months, but I was so used to my life being...my life.

Not this.

"I think you can handle a lot," she comforted me, stopping at another traffic light. "Think about it. You met a hot rich dude, lived through a T-bone collision with another rich hot dude, survived getting accidentally knocked out by first said hot-rich dude, and found out that almost everything you always believed about your mom and dad is a lie. And you still came out of all of it alive."

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