Where she's been hiding for two years. Hiding behind headphones. From the two hottest girls at school, in their impossibly short skirts and unbearably tight tops, their skin close enough to touch. Not talking to her mother, not about what matters. Not thinking of her dad, the drug addict, the ex-con, born-again but far gone. Two years is a long time. Enough for the cave to grow so small that her breath feels like stone in her throat. Two years is no time at all. Nowhere near enough to forget. To pretend that nothing happened. Deep one perfect morning.

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