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I nodded my head. “Yeah, it’s my first class. Can’t believe you remembered that, though.”

“What can I say, I listen when you speak.” He shrugged.

“Even when I sing?” I smirked at him.

“You know very well that’s impossible when you make me go deaf.”

“I’m offended you would say that, Marshall.” I faked an insult. Most people called him Tatz, but I tended to not do what everyone else did. So I sometimes called him by his real name when we mucked around.

“Only you, Hannah, would say my first name without me wanting to kill you.” He handed me the textbook.

“Come on, Marshall, you love it.”

“Stop it.”

I grinned. “Thanks for the book. You didn’t have to bring it. I know you’re usually busy on a Sunday.” I glanced down at my textbook and then looked back up at him, seeing him frowning.

“Are you okay?”

I was taken aback for a second. “Um, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Don’t look fine.”

I swallowed sharply. My breast was burning like someone had lit it on fire. I don’t know why it had come out of nowhere but it had. I had been warned about it. Sometimes it happened, sometimes it didn’t. I was hoping that it wouldn’t be a regular thing. That it was a one-off.

“I’m just not feeling well.” I told him the truth. I was surprised he noticed. “Don’t look so concerned, Tatz, people will think you’ve got a heart.” I forced myself to smile at him.

But he knew I was forcing it. “What have you eaten today?” He looked at me, determined.

I rolled my eyes. “People need to stop thinking it’s okay to ask about my diet!” I was sick of it. So what if I didn’t eat? It wasn’t like I was bothering anyone!

“Hannah.” His voice went stern and he stepped in closer to me, which was a brave move to do in front of Dad. “What happens when you don’t eat?”

“I’m not that type of sick,” I whined. Why couldn’t people leave me alone?

“So, tell me what you’ve eaten today.” He wasn’t backing down.

I huffed. “I haven’t.”

“What have you drunk today?”

“Water.” I dodged his question and then sighed. “Half a glass.”

“Let me guess. You’ve been studying all day.” Tatz shook his head. “Guessing you’ve got a headache and feel like spewing when you look at food?”

How did he know that? My breast was burning but I also had a rotten headache and the smell of food was making me sick.

Tatz looked over my shoulder. “Did you know your daughter has an eating problem?” He spoke directly to Dad and he wasn’t polite; if anything he was rude.

I turned, seeing Dad standing up. “It’s come to my attention, yes.”

“Have you also noticed she studies harder when she doesn’t eat?” Tatz said that like he knew me back to front. “Then it reaches a point where she’ll shut down, stop talking and then within an hour of that she will be in the bathroom.”

This couldn’t be happening. Tatz was sharing information with Dad that I didn’t want him to know. That was stuff that happened at Layla’s—that was stuff I didn’t want my family to know. I wasn’t eating because I was stressed, which was making me sick. And why was I stressed? Because I have cancer!

The only person that got me, that got my situation, was Layla. Which was why I was always at her house.

Dad was staring at me, looking disappointed.