“No, not our problems, me and you, our problems, me and Ava.”
Oh. Right. Of course he didn’t mean that we were an “our.” We’re not an our, we’re just Noah and Hannah. Noah and Hannah. That kind of has a nice ring to it, in a weird, biblical sort of way. Not that I’m religious or anything, but everyone knows about Noah and the Ark, and I’m pretty sure Hannah is some kind of religious name. Which is funny when you think about it, since my mom is, like, the least religious person ever. Actually, I might be thinking of the name Sarah. I wonder if there’s a Sebastian in the bible.
“Wait a minute,” I say. “What problems?”
“The problems Ava and I were having,” he says. “You know, the reason she went away to camp for the summer?” He must be able to tell by the blank look on my face that I have no idea what he’s talking about. “She didn’t tell you?”
“Ava told me she was going away because her mom’s friend needed a last-minute replacement,” I say. I pick up my sandwich and force myself to take a bite, not sure how I feel about this bit of information. Noah and Ava were having problems? Why didn’t she tell me?
Noah nods. “She probably didn’t want you to hate me.”
“Probably,” I say, even though it’s not true and Ava could probably care less if I hated Noah. In fact, if Ava really was having problems with Noah, she would definitely want me to hate him. “So do you want to tell me what’s going on?” I try to act nonchalant, looking away and picking at an imaginary piece of lint that’s supposedly on my shirt.
“I don’t know,” he says. He takes a sip of his chocolate milk and another bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Ava probably wants to tell you herself.”
“Probably,” I say, knowing it’s not true. If Ava wanted to tell me, she would have done it already. “But if you and I can’t hang out, and if you want me to lie to her about where we were last night, don’t you think I have a right to know what’s going on?”
“I guess.” He looks uncomfortable, but I can tell he’s about to crack, and for some reason, this makes me feel a little panicked. I mean, let’s take a minute to summarize the situation, shall we?
1. I am at the hospital waiting for my friend with Noah. Which is a very couple-like thing to do. All you have to do is watch any teen drama—anytime one of the characters is close to death and/or in a coma, the boyfriend/girlfriend teams always end up at the hospital together.
2. We are eating together. (Another coupley thing to do.)
3. We are talking about my best friend, his girlfriend, and their secret problems that she somehow neglected to tell me. Which means that Noah is the one telling me secrets that even my best friend won’t.
4. I like it. All of it. Being here, eating food, telling secrets, everything.
This definitely needs to stop. I need to finish this illicit sandwich and get out of here ASAP. I shouldn’t even have come to the cafeteria in the first place. I should be downstairs waiting for Lacey. I came here to be with Lacey, not to be eating food and sharing secrets with Noah, who ignored me all day.
But before I can put an end to all this madness, Noah starts to talk. “It all started a couple of months ago,” he says. “I was hanging out with my friends a lot and Ava didn’t like that.”
“Ava didn’t like that?”
“No,” he says. “Which was totally understandable. I mean, I wanted to spend time with her, she was my girlfriend.” He realizes his mistake, that he’s referring to Ava in the past tense and quickly corrects himself. “Is my girlfriend. But the problem was, she didn’t really want to do the same things I did.”
“Like what?” I ask, thinking about his comment the other night that Ava was going to end up marrying some rich doctor.
“Well, like shows for one.”
“She didn’t want to go to shows?” I say. “But that was so fun!”
“I know,” he says. “But they’re not really Ava’s thing, you know?”
“True,” I say. Ava doesn’t like crowds and being hot and getting sweaty. Which is why it’s weird that she went away to work at a summer camp.
“So we started getting into fights a lot. I would always invite her to things, but she didn’t want to go. And then, finally, one night I didn’t feel like dealing with a fight.” He takes his straw wrapper and plays with it, twisting it around his finger. “So I lied to her about where I was going. And she found out. Two days later, she told me she was leaving for Maine.”
“But you guys aren’t fighting now,” I point out. “You guys are still talking all the time.”
“I know,” he says. “That’s the thing. She never said specifically she was going away because of what happened. I never even got the feeling she was doing it because she was mad. She just . . . I feel like she kind of wanted to punish me.” He leans back in his chair and runs his fingers through his hair. “Does that make sense?”
“No,” I say. “But yes.”
“No, but yes?”
“No, it doesn’t make sense, but yes, I could see Ava doing something like that.” I could, too. Ava’s very passive-aggressive like that.
“I just wish that sometimes she would talk more, you know? It’s like she shuts down every time something comes up. I just . . . It’s so frustrating.”
“Yeah, I can definitely understand that.” I kind of want to ask him why he’s even with Ava if he’s so frustrated with her, and more about why she went away, and if he’s mad that she just left, but there must be something in my tone that makes him realize what I just realized a few minutes ago—that we’re here, sharing sandwiches, and talking about things his girlfriend doesn’t want me knowing.
Because all he says is, “Yeah, well, I’m sure it will all work out. She’ll be home in a few weeks anyway.”
“Totally,” I say, forcing myself to smile. My cell phone beeps then. Lacey.
“Where r u?! Turns out it was just hives!! Have Benadryl & m ready 2 go home!!!”
“Lacey’s ready,” I say. “It was hives and she wants to go home.”
Noah smiles, then picks up his tray and mine, dumping the rest of our sandwiches in the garbage on the way out of the cafeteria. I follow behind, feeling like, even though we’re talking again, things are even worse and more complicated than they were this morning.
The First Day of Senior Year
After Ava slaps me, she stands up and walks out of Cooley’s, leaving me sitting at the booth by myself, both of our plates of food still on the table. I’m so shocked that I don’t move for a second. I take a couple of deep breaths, and turn to look at myself in the mirrors that line the wall behind the booths. There’s an angry red splotch on my cheek where Ava hit me, and I reach up and touch it. It doesn’t really hurt, but it stings a little. And seeing it, thinking about it, the shock of it and what it means, makes me eyes water.
“What was that about?” Cooley asks, walking by. He’s wearing his trademark white pants with a red silk shirt that’s unbuttoned to midchest, and three heavy gold chains with huge Cs on the end. “Did that girl just heet you?”
“Yes,” I say. “She did just hit me.”
“Wowiee wow wow wow,” he says. He starts clearing away our dishes, which is the first time that I’ve ever seen Cooley bus a table. Which is a sure sign that he wants gossip. “You should have kicked her ass, Hannah,” he says.
“This isn’t the UFC, Cooley,” I say, sighing. Cooley loves the UFC. He orders the pay-per-view fights on the TVs at the diner so he can write them off as a business expense. Which I’m pretty sure is illegal.
“Who was that girly anyway?”
“That was Ava,” I say.
“Ava, your best friend, and Ava, Noah’s girlfriend?” Cooley’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. I guess he’s been paying attention after all.
“Yes,” I say.
“You better,” Cooley says seriously, “warn Noah. Because that girl is not going to be too happy. She might heet him too.” He takes the dishes and heads back beh
ind the counter, shaking his head as he goes.
I sigh and put my head down on the table, not even caring if it’s gross. Worst. Day. Of. School. Ever.
Of course I have no ride back to school, so I pull my phone out and text Lacey.
“911 cll me immediately”
Five seconds later, my phone rings. “What’s wrong?” she asks immediately. “Is it Ava? Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I need you to pick me up,” I say.
“From class? Okay,” she says. “I’ll see you after the bell. You’re in gym, right?”
“No,” I say. “I’m at Cooley’s.”
“At Cooley’s? What the hell are you doing there?”
“I can’t explain right now,” I say. “Just come and pick me up, okay?”
Ten minutes later, her car is pulling into the parking lot. “If we hurry, we can get back before fifth,” she says as I hop in. “Now tell me what the hell you were doing at Cooley’s. And how the hell did you get there?”
“Ava wanted to go,” I tell her. “She, uh, needed to talk to me about something.” I look out the window as Lacey pulls her car out of the parking lot, wondering if maybe Ava is lurking around somewhere, getting ready to jump me or something. But I don’t see her. Or her car. She must have gone back to school. Or maybe she went home.
Shit. I have to tell Noah that I told her. Don’t I? I pull my phone out of my bag and scroll down until I find his name in my contacts list. I run my hand over the send button, not sure what to do. Warn him? Or let him deal with it by himself, the way he’s been letting me deal with it by myself all morning?
“About what?” Lacey asks. “Her new teeth?”
“What?” I look up from my phone.
“What did Ava have to talk to you about that was sooo important she had to pull you out of school on the first day?” She says it like she can’t possibly imagine Ava would have anything to tell me that could be important enough for me to skip class. Well. She’s in for a shock.
“She had to tell me,” I say, “About how her and Noah broke up.”
“What?” Lacey screeches. She’s so excited she almost runs through a stop sign. The car jerks as she slams on the brakes. “They broke up?! Did you have any idea?”
“No,” I say. “Not until she told me.”
“Wow,” she says. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell us he was planning to break up with her! I hope I don’t sound like a complete bitch, but I’m kind of glad. Noah is way too cool for her. No offense, I know she’s your friend.” She looks at me out of the corner of her eye, checking my reaction, like she’s afraid I’m going to be mad.
But I’m not. I’m just sad. I look out the window and try not to cry.
“What happened to your face?” Lacey asks.
“What?”
“You have a big red mark on your face.” We’re at a stoplight, and Lacey reaches over and grabs my chin, tilting it up to look at my cheek. “What happened?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” I say, pulling away from her. “It’s nothing, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t want to talk about it?” she says. “You leave school in the middle of the day, then ask me to pick you up, which I do without any questions, and then you show up with a big red mark on your face and tell me you don’t want to talk about it? You’re talking about it. Now.” She waits, and the fact that she didn’t even sanitize her hands after touching my face makes me realize this is serious.
“Fine,” I say. “You’re . . . you’re probably going to find out anyway. Ava slapped me.”
“She did what?” The light turns green, and Lacey slams on the gas, her car flying through the intersection. “I’m going to kill that girl!”
“No,” I say. “It’s fine, we . . . we got in a fight, and she just got carried away. It didn’t hurt or anything.” Which is actually true. It didn’t hurt all that much. Mostly I was just shocked, but the actual slap wasn’t even that bad.
“She can’t just go around hitting people!” Lacey says. “What were you guys fighting about?”
“It had to do with Noah,” I say slowly. “Ava thought that something was going on between us this summer.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Lacey scoffs, and I’m glad my face has a red mark because suddenly I feel hot. She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “Isn’t it?”
I hesitate. I know I should tell her the truth. I know I should tell her about what happened last night between me and Noah, how it was building all summer, how I couldn’t stop it, how I didn’t want to stop it, how I wish now that I could take it back, how I’m so confused I can barely think straight.
But the reason I couldn’t tell Lacey what was happening over the summer is the same reason I can’t tell her now. After the situation with her, Riker, and Danielle, she has a zero-tolerance policy for cheating, especially for hooking up with your best friend’s boyfriend. (And she should have a zero-tolerance policy; everyone should have a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to those things, including me.) So if she finds out what happened, she’ll probably never speak to me again, and right now she might be the only friend I have left. So I lie.
“Yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes and hoping she believes me. “So ridiculous. Nothing is going on between me and Noah.”
“I can’t believe she would even think that!” Lacey rages. “You would never do something like that. And then to hit you! Who does she think she is?”
She rants the whole way back to school, and once we’re in the building she walks me to my locker so I can get my stuff for fifth period.
“Are you okay?” she says. “Do you want to just go home? I can take you.”
“No,” I say. “I’m okay, really.” Going home sounds tempting, but to do that would be taking the easy way out. And I kind of feel like I deserve to be punished. “Listen, I’m going to run to the bathroom before fifth. I’ll text you later?”
“You sure?” she asks. “I could go with you. Or I could cut out with you, I don’t mind, seriously.”
“I’m sure,” I say, and give her hand a squeeze. “I promise.” I leave Lacey and head to the second-floor bathroom to wait for the bell to ring, signaling the beginning of fifth period.
My eye makeup is running down my face, the same way it did that night at Jenna’s party, and it almost drips onto my first-day-of-school shirt. I rip some paper towels off the roll and try to clean myself up. The bell rings as I’m doing it, and the door to the bathroom flies open. A few freshmen trail in and chatter about their classes and how much homework they have already.
I fix my face as best I can, take a deep breath, and head out of the bathroom. And when I do, I bump right into Noah. Again.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hi.”
I expect him to keep moving, to push past me and go walking down the hall the way he did earlier, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stops and looks at me awkwardly. “So, um, how—”
“Listen,” I say, cutting him off before he can say anything else. “I have to tell you something.”
“Okay.” He shifts his books to his other hand, and his features arrange into a look of concern. Which is actually good. He should be concerned.
“I told Ava what happened between us.” We’ve moved a little bit out of the way, standing over to the side by a row of lockers, while kids go rushing by us. Kind of a weird place for us to be having a potentially life-changing conversation, but what choice do I have? Actually, now that I think about it, probably lots of potentially life-changing conversations take place in this hallway. I mean, isn’t high school just a string of life-changing moments interspersed with football games, proms, and homework?
“You what?” Noah asks. “Why? Why would you do that?” His tone is halfway between annoyed and disbelieving, like he has no idea how anyone could be so stupid.
“Because I thought she had a right to know,” I say, suddenly indignant. Why is he so concerned about Ava knowing anyway? If he broke up with
her, it’s not like he has anything to lose. It doesn’t make any sense, unless he wants to make sure that he comes out of the breakup looking good. The thought fills me with rage. “And besides, who cares if I told her? You guys broke up, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but . . .” he trails off and looks at me. “Hannah, I never wanted you to wreck your friendship with Ava because of me.” His tone is suddenly softer, and almost sympathetic.
I stare at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”
“I just mean that what happened last night . . . I never meant for you to tell Ava about it, to ruin your friendship over me.”
My mouth drops open. “I didn’t ruin my friendship with Ava over you,” I tell him. Which is true. I didn’t tell Ava because I somehow thought Noah and I were going to be together. I told Ava in a fit of weird anger that somehow led me to tell her, for reasons that had nothing to do with Noah and everything to do with the dynamic that Ava and I have built up over years and years.
“Okay,” he says. But he doesn’t sound like he really believes it.
I can feel the white-hot wave of anger start in my toes and slide all the way up my body. “I wouldn’t just end my friendship with Ava because of you,” I say. “That’s ridiculous.”
God, what an asshole. Noah apparently thinks he can just have sex with me, and then, the very next day, tell me that he doesn’t want me to ruin my friendship with Ava because of him? He should have thought about that before he got me naked last night. I turn around and start marching down the hall, my strappy black first-day-of-school shoes making loud noises on the floor.
I turn the corner, not even sure where I’m going. I’m so enraged that I can’t even remember what period it is. Fifth, I tell myself. It’s fifth period. I pull my schedule out of my bag, and my hands are shaking. Physics, room 341. Which is on the complete other side of the school and one floor up.