royaltimingâ , cassie.
      âi wasnât looking for you,â cassie sniffled. it was just one of those days that started off really wellâ the kind you wake up thinking itâll be a â GOOD DAY â until itâs just ⌠not. cassie even woke up early to get her hair done, her make up on. to pick the right dress which will match her small socks. even the hello kitty clips in her hair. you see, the logic was: if she looked good, sheâd feel good. but just as it happens ⌠you canât run away from the sadness, the loneliness. the pressure to please.
   though, you can sit with it. for a moment. not too long. and just acknowledge that itâs there. aside from ice skating, cassie liked to go to the park to get her mind off things. she used to come around with her father. before âŚÂ âi kinda just wanted to sit here, too âŚâ she pointed to the swing beside the young man before her inching her way every so slowly toward the swing.
     she almost didnât recognize him. miguel diaz. heâs that karate kid who got pushed off the balcony. it wasnât her fault really, they didnât really follow the same crowd. but cassie remembered him from their spanish class in sophmore year when they sat next to each other⌠he was always nice to her. and he had these soft brown eyes âŚ
            shame on him for assuming that someone would be looking for him. maybe it was wishful thinking. maybe miguel didnât actually want to be alone in his sadness. he had a hard to admitting how lonely he felt, especially when he was always surrounded by people who love him. the conflict of wanting to be found and wanting to hide remains, even as he shrugs toward the swing, urging cassie to sit down if she really wanted to. why was she sad? crying like he was? it couldnât be for the same reason, but maybe something similar. regardless, he doesnât ask yet, and he doesnât know if he will. they arenât exactly friends, or even acquaintances. partnering up a couple of times in spanish class didnât give you allowance to console someone.
â do you... come here a lot? when youâre... yâknow... â sad, crying, depressed. miguel, himself, used to simply hide in his room, letting tears fall and dampen his pillow. however, after the school fight, after breaking his back, his mom started checking on him more, so miguel figured it was better to leave, go somewhere where no one would be at this time of night. or, where he thought no one would be. miguel canât help but wonder what cassie howard could possibly have to cry about. she was pretty, popular, she was nice, she had friends and boyfriends and what seemed like a good reputation. but not everything is as it seems, nothing is as perfect as it looks one the outside. swinging slowly back and forth, the toes of his sneakers dig into the dark beneath the swings. â you donât â have to say anything. we donât actually have to talk, if you donât want to, â
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