I was a liar. Not a good one, either. My parents used to say I had crocodile tears for how easily I could shed buckets of tears at anything. This was especially useful when I wanted to get Zach in trouble.

Now, most of my tears are real.

I couldn’t switch classes, not this late in the year. It was an empty threat. There was no way around me seeing him again, considering we were neighbors. All there was to do was sit in my bed, and frown at a wall for long periods at a time.

One Monday, my heart was heavy. My parents had come home from the...