I wiped my own face and cleared my throat.
“Yeah, well.”
I didn’t know what else to say.
Maybe there was nothing else to say.
MENTAL HEALTH DAY
Monday morning, Mom knocked on my door.
I rolled over in bed and groaned.
I’d turned my alarm off when it woke me for my run, and I’d fallen back asleep, despite the noise of everyone else waking up.
Well. First I tried Sohrab.
Again.
And he didn’t answer.
Again.
That’s when I went back to bed.
Mom knocked again.
“Darius?”
“Yeah?”
Mom cracked the door and peeked in at me.
“You okay?”
I sighed.
“Can I take a mental health day?”
I hadn’t taken a mental health day since fall of ninth grade, when I was going through a medication change and having anxiety attacks every morning when it was time to get dressed.
Dad was a big believer in mental health days.
Mom came in and sat on the bed. She brushed my hair away from my eyes and rested her hand on my forehead, as if she could diagnose my mental state like a fever.
“Are you sure it won’t just be harder tomorrow?”
That was the thing about mental health days. Sometimes,you needed them, and they got you back on your feet. But sometimes, when you said you wanted a mental health day, what you really meant was you were avoiding something, and the more you put it off, the bigger it got.
“Maybe,” I admitted.
I hadn’t told Mom much about the dance.
Just that I had gotten into a fight with Landon.
And another one with Chip.
“Well, if you need to stay home, you can. You have some time to decide. I’ll check on you before I leave for work.”
