“No,” I said. “That’s called connection.”

Sunday night. The worst time. My parents started the usual “tomorrow is Monday” speech. Maya’s face went blank, then red, then tears. She clawed at her own arms. “I CAN’T,” she screamed. “I’d rather die.”

I asked her, “What’s the final better, then?”

We talked for 15 minutes about dinosaurs, then about nothing. I learned Rule #1: Do not mention school first. Let her bring it up. She never did.

“I’m going to try three classes this week,” she said. “Art, English, and lunch. Just lunch. I can sit in the corner.”