Demi had finally decided that it was time to just collapse on his bed, rest his head on his pillow, and just see where it would take him. It had been four-thirty-something when he’d finally fallen asleep, and he only stirred when he felt someone stroking his hair gently. He knew then that his mom was sitting next to him on his bed, which was a difficult feat seeing as his splayed out limbs took up nearly every inch of the mattress. Demi opened his eyes, sticky with sleep, and looked at his mother. She looked concerned, which made Demi frown; he hated it when he made her worry.

Elizabeth O’Malley looked at her son’s eyes, cloudy with exhaustion, and sighed, “you think you can go to school? You were pretty upset yesterday. If you don’t think you can go, I won’t make you.”

Demi didn’t answer, just continuing to stare. His mom hated it when she had to miss work, even if it was to care for her son. Despite this, Demi wanted to stay home and sleep, so he finally pulled his blanket back over his head. His mother took it as a reply, kissed his forehead, and left his room as quietly as she could. It didn’t take long for Demi to drift off again.

---

Demi couldn’t believe that he’d gotten a completely free day--and on a Friday, too! His mother had called it a “mental health” day, whatever that meant. It was basically a sick day without the “sick.”

So why wasn’t Demi enjoying it? There were so many things he could do on his day off, but he couldn’t muster up the urge to do them. He didn’t want to do anything. The only thing that he had the energy to do was to sit on the living room couch like a vegetable, staring at the TV that he had yet to turn on. He was so frustrated with himself for being so pathetic, for being so depressed. He hated being depressed, he wanted to feel better, but all of his attempts to do so had failed so far.

Demi’s mother had noticed this too, and she sat down next to his still form again and just looked at him for a moment. She had never felt so helpless before. Something was wrong with her son, and she didn’t know what it was or if she would be able to fix it if she did.

“Do you know why you started feeling so bad at school yesterday?” She asked. For a moment Demi didn’t respond or even acknowledge her presence. Her son’s hazel eyes then looked in her direction and he seemed to suddenly come back to life in front of her.

“Story in the newspaper,” Demi murmured, his voice cracking from lack of use, “’bout the library. Front page. Everyone was laughing and yelling and they wouldn’t get away from me…” Demi trailed off as he sat up, leaning on his mother’s shoulder for support, “I told them to leave me alone but they wouldn’t go away. They kept on yelling, and they wouldn’t stop touching me and shoving me. They wouldn’t go away.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth searched for the right words, “well, they’ll all forget about it by Monday, sweetie…watch, on Monday it’ll be old news. Okay?”

Demi wanted to say no. The other kids wouldn’t forget in a hurry, they’d still tease him. Demi wanted to say no, it wasn’t that easy, that it wasn’t okay, and it wouldn’t be okay for a long time. Demi wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. His mom was really trying to be a parent, if she found out she wasn’t right it would make her sad--maybe as sad as he was.

“Yeah,” Demi murmured, “okay.” He got up from his spot on the couch and headed upstairs, “gonna go…I dunno. Do something.”

He heard his mother sigh, but he didn’t turn around. It was a sad sigh, he didn’t want to see her face.

---

When Demi looked at his clock at last, it read three-thirty, meaning school was out. It felt weird, knowing that if he had attended school he would be on his way home right now, but he was already at home.

Demi let out a long sigh as he lay on his stomach on the soft carpet of his room. In fact, that was all he was doing, that was all he had been doing for the longest time: laying down on his floor, motionless, and sighing repeatedly. He’d been trying to find something to do all day, something that would cheer him up, but he had nothing so far. The only thing he’d been doing was staring at the walls of his room, at his ceiling, everywhere. Nothing changed while he watched, he didn’t know why he didn’t just get up and find something else to do. He wouldn’t find anything anyway, he realized, so it just seemed like too much work.

Demi blinked when he heard the doorbell ring.

What now?

---

Charlotte stood nervously at what she thought was Demi’s front door. She figured that he must live near her if they waited for the school bus in the same place. This had to be the right house--she’d embarrassed herself enough by knocking on several other doors, and then someone finally took pity on her and pointed her in the direction of the house she was now waiting at. The mailbox said O’Malley.

Charlotte impatiently rang the doorbell a second time, and shortly after it opened slowly.

The woman in front of Charlotte had to be Demi’s mother. They had the same eyes, the same hair…the only difference was that this woman had a slightly irritated look on her face. Charlotte thought that maybe she should’ve just rung the bell once and waited.

“Uh, hi,” Charlotte waved tentatively, “does…does Demi O’Malley live here?”

“Yes he does,” the woman said, nodding, “and who are you?”

“My name’s Charlotte,” Charlotte replied, “I…can I come in? I need to tell him something. It’s important.”

“Oh yes,” the woman said, “Demitri’s mentioned you a couple of times. What do you need to say to him?”

Charlotte stepped into the house when the woman stepped aside to let her. She was surprised when she looked around. The house just seemed so normal. How could Demi, the weirdest person she knew, reside in this average, everyday house?

“Uhm,” Charlotte shook herself out of her daze and looked at Demi’s mother, “I just--I really need to talk to him. Can I see him?”

Demi’s mother looked deep in thought before nodding, “he’s in his room--upstairs, the last door on the left.”

Charlotte nodded, muttering a quiet “thank you” before walking up the stairs, trying to rehearse what she was going to say to the boy she had hurt so badly by taking just one stupid picture.

After knocking on Demi’s door and receiving no audible response from the other side, Charlotte turned the knob and let herself in. Charlotte stared in shock at Demi when she laid her eyes on him for the first time in what felt like ages, even though it had only been a day. Demi, the usually spastic, hyperactive, energetic boy who never stopped talking for more than half-an-hour was just…sitting on the floor on his stomach, staring at nothing with a sullen, detached look in his eyes. He didn’t even look up as she entered, and Charlotte almost thought he was dead until he blinked his cloudy eyes, still unresponsive.

“Demi?” Charlotte began quietly, “look…I just…I’m not very good at apologizing and stuff, so just bear with me for a little, okay?”

Silence met Charlotte’s words, and she continued, “I took that picture, and I gave my camera to Lydia, okay? Well, you know that, don’t you? Anyway,” Charlotte searched for her words, “when I woke up this morning I thought ‘well that was stupid’ and I went to school and ran to the journalism class to ask Lydia for my camera but she already printed the story and…you were in enough trouble already--even though it wasn’t really your fault--and I just had to go and make it worse. I don’t even know how to fix it, but I’m sorry and…” Charlotte trailed off, wondering if Demi was even listening. He hadn’t moved from his position at all since she’d entered.

“Can you just nod or something?” Charlotte felt irritated now, “if you don’t wanna listen you could at least tell me to get lost.” Why was she even trying? Demi looked like a speed bump on his own floor, cemented to the carpet and just waiting to be run over by an SUV or something. This was so stupid. Charlotte got up to leave when movement caught her eye.

Demi had reached behind him, pulling what looked like a deck of cards right from behind his back. He finally met Charlotte’s eyes and blinked slowly, the vacant look fading slightly.

Demi silently dumped the cards out of the box onto the floor, not taking his eyes off the redhead near his door.

“You wanna play, Charlie?” Demi didn’t smile, but he looked in much better spirits than before, even a little relieved.

A small smile tugged at Charlotte’s lips, and she sat down on Demi’s floor.

Demi began to shuffle the deck slowly. “We’ll play go fish, okay?” Charlotte hated that game, but she didn’t show it.

“Okay.”