St. Clair has a bushy-haired friend named Meredith, and Josh befriends her, too, and the three of them are uncannily reminiscent of Harry, Ron and Hermione. St. Clair is the leader, Josh is the clown, and Meredith is the brainiac. But in this version, Hermione is clearly in love with Harry.

The scenes with his friends are fun. They feel like characters, not like the real people that I used to see around school. Though they do trigger that accompanying, always-underlying twinge of hurt. I’ll never know this part of his life. But the scenes where Josh is alone, he becomes Josh again, and everything is heightened. I pour over these panels with an intensity that makes me feel uncomfortable, maybe guilty, but the harder the scenes are to read, the faster I turn the pages. Josh thinks about girls constantly. He sees a beautiful, too-tall French girl on the street, and I’m horrified to flip the page and find him masturbating back in his room to the thought of her. Over the summer, he gets his first kiss with an older girl who works at his favourite comics shop in Manhattan, but the next time he goes to see her, she brushes him off in embarrassment.

It took guts to draw these things. It’s a different kind of excruciating to read about them.

SOPHOMORE begins. St. Clair starts dating a girl named Ellie. She’s two years older than Josh, and he struggles with feeling cool enough to hang out with them. He and Meredith swap unkind words about Ellie – each out of a different type of jealousy – but his eventual coming to terms with Ellie means getting to know her best friend.

Rashmi Devi.

She’s pretty and smart and sarcastic. And I hate her. She flirts with Josh one day in their art class – of course she can draw, when I can’t – and he becomes consumed by thoughts of her. Page after page of Rashmi shining like a gorgeous Hindu goddess. They go on for ever. He woos her pathetically, desperately, until she agrees to go on a date with him. And then I’m forced to relive the painful moments of my past as they engage in on-the-page PDA.

It gets worse. Josh tells her that he loves her. She says it back. He touches her. She touches him back. And then they’re losing their virginity on the floor of her bedroom beside her pet rabbit, Isis.

A rabbit.

Josh literally lost his virginity in front of a metaphor for sex.

There’s another single-panel page, and this time Rashmi has been drawn na**d like the ancient Egyptian goddess Isis, who – it turns out – is the goddess of fertility, and she’s holding her pet rabbit, and she’s surrounded by more rabbits, and enough with the stupid rabbits and fertility and sex already.

Ohmygod. I hate rabbits.

And I feel ill and furious, but there’s no way I’m stopping now. It’s masochism. There’s a weird, out-of-place flashback to Josh getting his tattoo. It doesn’t make sense. But it’s probably because he was so eager to draw more na**d pictures of his girlfriend that he figured the story of his own body modification could wait. Or whatever. I grab the next stack of pages from the box and realize, at some point, that I’ve pushed his T-shirt onto my floor. I don’t pick it up.

Finally, Josh and Rashmi are fighting. And it’s nasty. She’s pissed because he’s skipping school, and he lashes back at her in full force. I relish his anger. And I feel vindicated because I never yelled at him for skipping class to work on this book. Though maybe I would’ve if I’d known what was in here. But then the school year ends, and he flies out to join her family at their vacation home in Delhi.

He once told me that he’d spent “some time” with her family one summer, but…an entire month? In India? No wonder he knew so much about Sanjita. Somehow, the idea of Josh spending an entire month with the Devi family hurts almost as much as the rabbit.

JUNIOR begins without any mention of Josh’s time in New York. His parents were everywhere in the beginning, but they’ve almost entirely disappeared. It’s a strange omission.

School kicks off, and St. Clair moons over Ellie’s absence, even though she’s attending a college nearby. Anna shows up. I remember watching her in the cafeteria that first week of school, seething with jealousy because she made the leap to their table so effortlessly. I wanted her luck. I wanted her confidence.

And then, suddenly, Josh is alone.

St. Clair gets a crush on Anna. He’s torn between her and Ellie, and he spends so much time running between them that he hardly has time left for Josh. And the more time that Josh spends alone, the more he realizes how alone he actually is. All of his friends will be gone the next year. Josh grows increasingly antagonistic towards school, which makes Rashmi increasingly antagonistic towards him, which makes him increasingly antagonistic towards her. And she’s upset because Ellie dropped her as a friend, and Meredith is upset because now St. Clair likes two girls who aren’t her, and Anna is upset because St. Clair is leading her on, and then St. Clair’s mom gets cancer.

It’s a freaking soap opera.

As the drama between his friends grows, Josh pulls away and into himself. His illustrations become darker. The slack-jawed freshman is long gone, the oversexed sophomore has disappeared, and now he’s a sullen junior. His parents briefly, randomly, appear to hassle him about the election. He wants to break up with Rashmi, but he’s too depressed to find the energy. He stops drawing and skips class to sleep. The head of school – having called him into her office for the hundredth time – tells him, “I think you’re passively trying to get me to kick you out. So I’m not going to.”

I’ve never thought about their actual interactions. I’m shocked as the head pulls out his records and informs him that he had the highest pre-acceptance test scores that she’d seen in years. He’s the brightest student in our class.

Josh is the brightest student. Not me.

I’m ashamed to admit that this hurts. It definitely hurts. And yet…I’ve always known it to be true. I’ve always known that he’s been putting on an act. That he can see through the bullshit, and he’s not willing to participate in it. It’s one of the reasons I was attracted to him in the first place.

“For a certain type of person, high school will always be brutal,” the head says. “The best advice that I can give you is to figure out what comes next, and work towards that.”

The following scene shows him in detention. My skin flushes when I see him hunched over in the back corner of the classroom beside the window overlooking the courtyard with the pigeons.

I have been sitting at his desk. I knew it. Somehow, I knew it.