Preview 6:59
6:51 p.m.
I close my AP Calculus book and place it into my black, Jansport book bag. I close my calculator and place that, too, carefully into the calculator slot. Inserting my pens and my pencils, I slide the silver zipper around my bag to close it.
6:54 p.m.
I'm in my bathroom. I stare at my face. My ocean blue eyes. My dirty blonde hair. My tan skin (acquired from this summer in Cabo, Mexico). I splash water on my face.
6:56 p.m.
My heart's starting to beat faster. It always does at this time. I try to control my breathing as I continue to organize the already organized room. I feel my eyelids beginning to droop.
6:58 p.m.
My heart beat slows. I crawl into my bed and pull the covers tightly around me, caging my body so it couldn't flee. I breathe out of my mouth as my lids droop down, down, down.
6:59 p.m.
Everything goes black. Cameron is suffering from "schizophrenia"—or so they thought. By day he's a regular boy with good grades and many friends,...
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