"She doesn't talk about you anymore.
Not like she used to. Now, when she hears your name, when someone brings you up, one of the few of us who know about you, she'll cringe and look at us with these eyes, those brilliant, melancholy eyes of hers, and for a moment you think that all the sadness of the world has been forced into this one body, this one heart that is so fragile and so close to breaking. Then, she'll put on a smile, one that's so obviously forced it's nearly painful to see, and she'll change the subject. But she misses you, I can tell. Some days, she'll be looking out a window, or daydreaming in class, and you can tell it's you she's think about. Her eyes go kind of sad, and she looks hurt. That's how I know. That's how I figured it out. She doesn't just like you, she loves you. And she needs you. She needs you to care. You're the only one who matters anymore."