My first day back at school was even more alienating than the entire first semester. At least, the rumours about me had, from what I knew, entirely dissipated, but I still had no friends.

I mumbled to myself, face hidden in my locker, about Sovernon and dreams of escape. I couldn’t help it, which made it worse, but I didn’t have the energy to care about what anyone thought about me. If Erica was right about how everyone had heard the rumours, then there was no point in trying to be normal, anyway.

I kicked over every trash can on the way home, flipped off anyone who yelled at me. Not thinking, not really feeling. Again.

As soon as I got home, to an empty house, I called Underground. I always did.

“Good morning…” Answered a sleepy voice. It was three-thirty in the afternoon.

“Hey, is Wyatt there?” I asked, biting my lower lip.

“Uh, no, no, I don’t think so. Want me to give him a message or something?”

“Just tell him Layne called, willya? Thanks.”

“Of course. Bye-bye.”

I slammed the phone back into the base, frowning, and stalked back to my room, where I shrugged on that leather jacket that still smelled like alcohol and October.

I crashed down into my bed with a sigh, but only for a moment. I jumped back up to put In Utero on, roaring loudly, and then sat down on the floor with the book I was reading.

The days of sludgey gray January passed all the same, no difference between them except for what I ate for dinner that night. Most afternoons, someone from Sovernon would call, whether it was Ana or Wyatt or Kat or someone else. Sometimes my mom would let me talk to them, other times she would say I was busy and hang up the phone before I could protest.

“I’m writin’ more songs,” Wyatt told me over the phone one soggy late-January afternoon. “Well, all of us are. We’re gonna see if we could make this whole album, you know?”

“That’s great, that’s really great,” I replied, forcing my voice to be more enthusiastic.

“The scene here will be better than in Seattle, promise! Everyone’s writin’ something or other now, ‘cause they wanna be like us and get on a label and stuff.”

“Is Sleze still going?” I asked, heart breaking at the thought. Without Sky.

“Oh. They kinda went their separate ways, you know. Starting up new things. I dunno.” There, that tone again. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.

“Oh, yeah…”

“I can’t believe it’s already nearly February,” he hastily changed the subject. “I’m coming to town on that Valentine’s Day no matter what. I don’t care who’s busy, I’m gonna.”

I cracked a smile. “Fucking perfect. And it’s a good thing I’m not ever goddamn busy anymore…”

“Don’t worry, Layne, everything’s gonna be great soon.”

“Sure, yeah. It will.” I tried to smile, staring at a house plant vacantly while Wyatt told me everything about the music, the bands, the gigs, the parties, the scene… Until someone in Underground screeched at him to get off the phone, and he hung up.

I scurried back down the hallway to my room before anyone could question: who’ve you been on the phone with for over an hour, Layne?