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“Doesn’t solve anything, though. It won’t bring her back.”
    “I know that, but I still hate it.” He pulls me closer and I sink into his chest, and he puts a hand on my hair, stroking it. For a second, I wonder if he’s going to try to kiss me or put some sort of move on me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just holds me while I cry.
    I don’t know how long we stay like that, but finally I feel all cried out and I pull away from him and wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt. “Sorry for blubbering all over you,” I say.
    Landon looks down at his sweatshirt, now wet on the front where I cried into it, and shrugs. “It’s okay. It’s washable.”
    “I should probably go wash up,” I say, nodding in the direction of the restroom. I’m a little embarrassed, both for breaking down like that and for clinging to him the way I did.
    “Sure. I’ll wait, then I can walk you back to your dorm.” He’s being cool about all of this, but I figure he’s had enough of me by now and I want to give him a chance to get away, so I shake my head.
    “No, it’s okay. You go on ahead. I’ll be fine.”
    “You sure?” He looks at me uncertainly.
    “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll see you later.” I get a few steps away before I turn back around, and Landon’s still standing there. “Thanks for dinner. And the therapy.”

CHAPTER SIX
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    ~Kori~
    M y visits to Dr. Morris always start the same way, with him asking me how I’m doing. Seriously. My mother’s dead. How the hell does he think I’m doing? He’s been my doctor my whole life, though, and he’s a nice old guy, so I tolerate the insipid question. Besides, today I have some news that I think might make him happy and get off my case a little bit about trying therapy.
    “I met someone,” I tell him. “I have a friend.”
    Dr. Morris nods, his expression kind. “That’s a hopeful sign. Do you want to tell me more?”
    One of the reasons I’ve been resisting therapy is I feel like I can talk to Dr. Morris. Sure, he may not be a trained therapist, but I’ve known him a long time and I feel comfortable talking to him. Why would I want to open up to a complete stranger? “His name is Landon, and he’s a pitcher on the college baseball team,” I say. “You told me I should get outside more, so I started going to watch baseball practice, and Landon came up to me the other day and talked to me.”
    Okay, so it’s Landon that initiated the conversation, not me. I didn’t ignore him or shut him out, though. I engaged. That has to count for something.
    “And now you might have a new friend.” Dr. Morris smiles. “That’s very encouraging, Kori.”
    I shrug my shoulders and stare out the window. “I suppose. Anyway, he’s also in my Psych class and we’re going to study together.” At least assuming Landon still wants to after I cried all over him last night. “Oh, and his mom died a few years ago.”
    Dr. Morris’ mouth opens, then closes. “So you have something in common with him,” he finally says.
    “Yeah, but he’s doing a lot better than me. He seems happy, adjusted. And I’m totally not.” I hate it too. I want to be normal. I want to feel normal. Whatever that is.
    “You’ll get there,” my doctor assures me. “The grieving process takes time. Your friend has had longer. Your pain is more raw. Do you think the medication is helping any?”
    I think about that before answering. I mean, I’m still depressed. I still don’t like being around other people, except maybe Landon. But I’m crying less, at least aside from last night, and I haven’t thought about ending it all for at least a couple months. “I think so. Maybe,” I say. “I seem to be doing a little better.”
    “I’m glad,” Dr. Morris says. “Psychotherapy is still an option, though. Have you given that any more thought?”
    “Yeah, but I don’t want to do it.” My answer is always the same. “I’ve already got a lot going on with school