I had it all planned out. I was going to graduate high school, go to the state school, get my degree, get married, have two kids, a boy and a girl, and a house with a white picket fence.

But first I needed to get Braxton Peter Morris to notice me. I drew his initials in a heart in the corner of my math notes. Mr. Kelter droned on about exponents and I reviewed my game plan.

At lunch I sat one table closer to Braxton today. I wanted him to notice me. Our eyes would meet. He would be drawn to me.

Then Abby Krenshaw sat down beside him. He smiled. He put his arm around her! They kissed! This was not supposed to happen. I was going to have Braxton’s babies, and we were going to be the hottest non-traditional high school pairing and happiest married couple in the whole world!

I threw my tray in the garbage, tears streaming down my cheeks, and ran for the bathroom.

I shut myself in the stall. I ripped my notes into tiny pieces, flushed them, then tried to throw up. I might as well die, my life was over.