Everleigh wanted to be done with school. It was the thought she had consistently after the first month of the semester where she wanted to drop out and, in theory, drop dead as well. As much fun as she'd had joking with Jun about math: Everleigh had reached that point. And it didn't stop there.

Her Los Angeles hotel room was strewn with pages of homework—tossed aside when she realized what the phone call was for. Phone pressed to her ear so harshly, Everleigh thought it might break her skull and penetrate her brain. Maybe if she let it, she'd be out of the conversation she'd been having with a counsellor.

"What does that mean?" Everleigh finally asked, fighting angry tears. Two o'clock in the fucking morning and she had already had enough of the day. "Specifically."

"I need you in my classes this semester. Or I will not pass you."

"No, no, no," Everleigh said. "I joined this program because it was online."

"There are clinical portions to this class," her tech professor said. "Times when I need you doing work in person. The class is mainly asynchronous, but some parts are synchronous. You've already missed two of my classes."

"I've done the work." Everleigh fought the urge to beg her professor for forgiveness or plead to a god she wasn't sure if she believed in to take her away from whatever the hell this nightmare was. "I've participated—I'm halfway across the world right now and I won't be back until next month. At least. That's not something I can control at the moment."

"It'll have to turn into something you can control, miss Meadowlark." The professor said her name like she should feel blessed to even be on the call in the first place. Like this professor taking time out of their day to shit on her dreams was something Everleigh should be thankful for. "None of the other students have protested being present in clinical."

"Are all of them from London?"

"You're from London as well," the professor said. "Your address on file says so."

"That's information you didn't need access to."

"I'm sorry, but there are hands-on aspects of this class."

"How many classes can I miss before it's a drop?"

"You can miss two more," her professor answered, "but I wouldn't recommend it."

"It might take that long to sort out. I'll have to find coverage—" Everleigh started. She was going to have to get flights to Borneo, New Zealand, France, and Portugal covered if she was meant to be in clinical as soon as she landed in London. Fuck.

"Do what you must," the professor said. "But I need you here."

"Can I do clinical in Los Angeles for the next couple days?" Everleigh asked. "Keep a pedometer and timesheet and get a supervisor to email you with my work or something while I try to sort things out?"

"I'll let you attend two clinical sessions in LA. But that's me being nice."

Everleigh bit back a few too many words that were nicer than her professor was being. She swallowed down anything that wasn't, "Thank you."

"I suggest you sort this out quickly," her professor said. "You're a brilliant student, miss Meadowlark, falling behind shouldn't be in your deck."

Ah, yes. Because Everleigh's first thought about university was to fall behind so she could spend more time in pencil skirts and heels. Of course. That was in her deck from the beginning—tuition was simply money she had to spare after letting it burn a hole in her pocket when she paid for textbooks.

Fuck right off.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Everleigh said. "Thank you for a second chance."

"Have a good rest of your day, miss Meadowlark."

"And you," Everleigh said, hanging up her phone. "Bitch."

It didn't take long for Everleigh to cry harder. To wrap herself in her hotel blanket and collapse on her bed and cry the night away. She wanted to call someone. To talk the night away. Times like that were likely the best time for Everleigh to watch something she loved like It Follows or Us. She'd been wanting to rewatch Jordan Peele's films before his newest came out in the summer. It would've been a good time to do so. Take her mind off her reality to the reality of others wrapped into a scary movie. That would be nice, right?

Everleigh cried a little harder. Even watching her favourites wouldn't make her feel better.

She checked the time on her phone. It would be around 10:30 back... home. Fuck.

Everleigh dialled before she could think twice. Hopefully he'd be too busy eating eggs benedict drowned in hollandaise exactly the way he liked it and wouldn't be anywhere near his phone. There'd be a murder if there were phones at the table, Everleigh was certain—

Until she heard a, "Hello?"

"Pa?"

"Leigh, are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" Everleigh sniffled loudly. Which really sold it, she was sure.

"I know you don't like to tell us things," Troy said, "but aren't you in Los Angeles?"

"Yes."

"So it's..." Troy probably looked at the clock. "Half past two in the morning?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"And you decided to call me? Really?"

"Sure."

"What's wrong?"

"Why would something be wrong?"

"You're a shitty lia—" Troy stopped himself when there was background noise. "Sorry. Sorry. You're a bad liar. Especially when you're hurting."

"Mum call you out?" Everleigh let out a small laugh and wiped at her eyes.

"You know it."

"Fuckin' sucks I can say whatever I want and she can't hear me, huh, dick weasel?"

Troy's voice lowered—they both knew it was in good fun. "You're a pisswizard, you know that?"

Everleigh laughed. "Well aware."

"Little shit."

"Troy." That was a thousand percent Dawn in the background. Everleigh fought the urge to laugh harder.

"What's wrong?"

"I..." Everleigh wished she'd laughed. The clinical trial wouldn't stop suffocating her but at least she could've fought back from the way it made her feel with some laughter at her father's expense. He wouldn't mind. "Wanted to say hi."

"Are you ill?"

"Pa."

The silence that met her on the other side of the line was one that Everleigh and Troy frequented. There was enough information unsaid that Troy didn't pry and Everleigh didn't tell. It worked for them. If Everleigh wanted to, she would've talked about it, and her father knew that.

"How's Los Angeles?" Troy asked.

"I got to go somewhere that was really fun," Everleigh said. She tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach when she thought about how she probably should've done more statistics homework rather than listen to Maverick and Stevie duke it out with their verses. (Everleigh didn't even let her brain start about the one verse.) (At some point, she probably had to talk to Maverick about that.) (Ew.) "That was nice."

"Where'd you go?"

"I'm not sure I'm allowed to say." Everleigh didn't sign an NDA, but she was sure that she wasn't allowed to talk about it. Even to her father. Who barely knew what the internet was. She'd rather err on the side of caution and not get on the wrong side of a potential lawsuit. "But it was really great."

"Was it with that boy?"

"Pa." Everleigh groaned.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"I wasn't there for him," Everleigh said, "on record. He was just there."

"Okay."

"Just saying."

"Mhmm." Troy sighed softly. "Does thinking about it make you feel better?"

"I... I never said I was feeling bad."

"Right. You wanted to say hi. Would you like to talk to—"

"No."

Troy laughed. "Be nice."

"I'm sorry." Everleigh pressed her cheek into her pillow a little more. Everything she thought had sunk in hit her over again when she had a moment to think about it. "I might be home sooner than I thought."

"Really?" Everleigh could imagine him running his hands through his short bangs. She got that tick from him and never quite outgrew it.

"I think so," Everleigh said. "I have school things I need to do there."

"It'll be nice to see you, Leigh."

"You can say you miss me."

"We do miss you. A lot. Always," Troy said. "Come on, Leigh, we're your parents. You don't think we want to see you whenever we can? Why do you think I picked the phone up in the middle of breakfast?"

"And you're not on mum's chopping block?"

"Everleigh Jane."

"I'm sorry," Everleigh said. And she meant it. She hoped Troy knew she meant it too.

"You're really coming back soon?"

"Got to do some clinical rounds," Everleigh said. Tears welled up in her eyes again. She stared up at the ceiling as she tried to will them not to fall. They did anyway. "Lots of hands-on."

"If you're working long clinical shifts, promise me you'll come visit after?" Troy asked. "Your mum and I'd love to have you over for whatever meal is next. Every day you need someone else to cook for you. You're gonna be tired."

"I'll be there." Everleigh nodded. "Promise."

"Good."

"Pa?"

"Yes?"

Everleigh wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry I'm not home as often as I should be."

"Kiddo," Troy said, his voice softening. "You can spend your whole life trying to please your old man and your old lady with what you think we want. What I need you to do is make yourself happy. Whether that's in London or not. I promise."

"I love you," Everleigh said.

"You're sure you're okay?" They both knew she wasn't.

Everleigh sniffled. "Sure."

"Call me after you wake up again?" Troy asked. "You should get to bed. It's too early for you to be awake."

"Okay."

"Okay," Troy said. "Love you, Leigh. Don't be daft and stay up after we hang up, got it?"

"Got it."

"Bye for now."

"Bye."

Everleigh was daft.

She stayed up and cried and cried until she thought she had no more tears and then she cried some more. Some part of her knew that any crying after ten minutes was moot and that she was making herself cry because she was... God, probably a masochist or something. Took pleasure in her own misery like some schadenfreudian idiot. Fuck. (Also, fuck her in-progress degree for making her feel like she wasn't allowed to feel any emotions no matter how much mental health training she'd dealt with.)

Everleigh pressed Juno's contact with blurry eyes. Called her and pressed the phone to her ear. A standard female voice on the answering machine that picked up immediately let Everleigh know her phone was off. God, she was probably at work; Everleigh should've hung up.

"Hi there, leave a message at the—" Beep.

"Hey, June," Everleigh said, her lip trembling. She figured letting her voice break was a good way to let herself move past whatever the fuck these feelings were. Right? "When you have a moment, could you please call me? I just... I got some news. And I need to get coverage for the next couple weeks for clinical. And I know that's not that bad." A loud snort so Everleigh didn't snot on the hotel pillow. "But I feel so... so fucking defeated. Like I can't do anything right? And I know that this is a shitty message to leave on an answering machine, but—" Everleigh pouted and wiped a few more tears from her cheeks and closed her eyes. Troy was right. She should've gone to sleep. "I could really use a friend. If you have a moment. I'm sorry if you're busy. You're probably busy... I'm sorry. You know what? Never mind. Um. This is fucking embarrassing. Just. Never mind. Sorry... Sorry."

Everleigh hung up before she could embarrass herself anymore. God damn it.

She tossed her phone across the room before she could do anything else stupid. Like call her mother. That would be a thousand times worse.

Everleigh sighed. Stared at the ceiling.

Tried not to cry harder. Or tell herself she'd fucked up. Tried not to run away in her nightmares that felt a little too real.

Everleigh tried her best.