QUINN
I woke up early in the morning with achy, puffy eyes. I fell asleep crying, but I couldn’t just cry over him forever. My mom treated me like china when I came downstairs, dressed with my backpack slung over my shoulder. I tried to make myself some toast and pretend like this was any other first day of school.
When my dad dropped me off, he grabbed my arm before I could jump out of the car. “I couldn’t clear up the math class issue on your schedule,” he said. “But I did get your counselor to agree to place you in the AP History class instead of the regular track. We had to pull you out of art, but you have music, so that’s enough fluff classes.”
“Dad! It’s not fluff!” I said quickly. He waved his hand.
“Quinny, you play beautifully, but that is not how you will feed your pups an
