Author's notes: This episode took a damn long time to write, and for that I apologise. It's weird how things seem to matter less when the ending line is in sight. I hope it's not going to take another six months to get the next episode out.
Acknowledgements: Anja, as always.
Part One
*Teaser*
The gas station
Bella Banks sat at the checkout, pensively strumming her fingers against the countertop. It was late morning; the day was slightly overcast but still warm, near the end of Spring Break, and from where she sat she could see a few of her Edmund High classmates out on Main Street, heading into the diner across the road.
The answering machine lay by her elbow, and a message was playing on speakerphone.
"Hey Bella, it's David. Listen, I know things got really weird the last time you were here. Lydia told me you two talked and… um, I don’t know what to say. It's weird to say this to the machine and I really need to talk to you, so can you please just call me? Okay… bye."
The message clicked off. She glanced back at the machine and, after a moment's hesitation, pushed the replay button.
"Hey Bella, it's David. Listen, I know things got really weird the last time you were here. Lydia told me…"
"Hey," said Will Krudski, letting himself into the gas station.
Bella hit the speakerphone button, casting the rest of the message into silence. "Hey," she said, getting to her feet. "What's up?"
"Just thought I'd swing by and catch up." He glanced at the answering machine. "Bad time?"
"Not at all," she said lightly, leading the way to the couch. "I'm glad you came. Haven't seen you lately."
"Yeah, I've been kinda busy," he admitted as he sank into the seat next to her. "Had to go in to New York for a few days. They had this induction thing for the summer interns."
"Yeah, I heard about the job offer. Congratulations, by the way."
"Thanks." He gave her a small smile.
"And I hear Maria's back," she nudged him with her shoulder. "I'm guessing you guys had some catching up to do."
He smiled again, albeit uncertainly. "I'm not so sure."
"She seems different?"
"It's not that. I guess I just don't think it's the right time for stuff like that."
"Oh," she said, her smile fading. "I guess you're right."
It had been nearly a month since Faye's accident and, with a few notable exceptions, life had resumed its usual pace. Bella fought the urge to look down; it seemed like the natural progression of things, but at the same time it felt so wrong somehow, that life could go on – that it would always go on, regardless of whatever that came to pass.
"Maria and I went to see Scout," Will said, not looking at her. "Last week."
She glanced at him sharply. "How is he?"
"He's…" Will hesitated before answering, absently tugging on the hem of his shirt. "Not himself."
"In what way?"
"It's like nothing had happened," he said slowly. "Worse, actually. He's partying, drinking… I think he's sleeping around."
"Will, this is Scout we're talking about."
"I know," he sighed heavily. "And he's suddenly started acting like all those Rawley rich boys that we grew up hating. Worse, he's like a caricature of those guys. He's… out of control, Bella, and when I tried to talk to him he just acted like nothing was wrong. Until…" He trailed off.
"Until what?"
"Well, he blew up when I kept pushing him to talk. Pretty much literally - He smashed a glass of brandy in the fireplace." Will's gaze was faraway. "And then he asked me if talking about it was gonna bring her back."
She licked her dry lips. "And?"
"Well, what could I say to that? I left him alone."
"God, poor Scout," she whispered.
"I don't know how to help him," he said quietly. "I wish I did, but…"
She gave him a quick hug, pressing her forehead to his. "It'll be okay," she murmured. "He'll come back to us."
"I hope so," he said dejectedly, and then, "Oh man, what time is it?"
"Eleven. Why?"
"I gotta meet Maria for brunch back at school," he said, jumping to his feet. "I'm really sorry… I'll swing by some other time?"
"No problem," she said, watching him race out of the door. "Take care of yourself, okay?"
"You too," came the answer as he wheeled his bike out of the garage. "See ya, Bella."
"Bye," she said, standing up with a sigh as she watched him disappear.
Sticking her hands in her pockets, she turned back to the counter, where the answering machine lay with its blinking red message reminder. Biting her lip, she looked out the window once more, at the day outside, the people milling on the sidewalk.
It felt like she was living in a goldfish bowl. The life outside didn't seem to touch her somehow, as though nothing that happened in here could ever affect what was going on out there, or the other way around.
She turned with an expression of new resolve. Walking quickly upstairs, she grabbed her overnight bag from the closet and began to pack.
Part Two
*opening credits and teaser*
Ryder's room
"Hey," Josh Sutherland said into his cell phone, coming to a stop in front of the window. "Where are you? I was thinking of maybe having band practice today."
He looked out over the quad. The campus was almost entirely empty, the great majority of the student population having gone elsewhere for the two weeks of Spring Break. It was comforting and disquieting in equal measures, depending largely on his mindset for the day. Right now, he was glad for the peace.
"Band practice?" Bella's voice came over the line, sounding distinctly surprised.
"Yeah, you know, you, me, Emily, Alex. We get together in your garage, we play instruments, then we go over to Friendly's and watch Alex eat twice his body weight in fries."
"But…" she said uncertainly. "Are you sure you're up to it? I mean… we haven't had practice since…"
"I know," he said. For a moment the usual feeling passed, like a shot of adrenalin, as though suddenly realising that the ground had opened up underneath him. But he was used to it by now, and he has learned that the feeling would pass with some studious ignoring. "I just thought it'd be nice to… do things again. I want things to go back to normal." He cleared his throat, closing his eyes briefly. "As normal as they can get."
"I see."
"I think it'd be good for us. Anyway," he managed a small smile. "She'd be the last one to sit around at home, moping."
Bella chuckled over the line. "That's true."
"So… band practice?"
"Not today, I'm afraid," she said apologetically. "I'm on the bus, and… yup, there goes the sign that says I'm officially leaving town."
"Ah," he said knowingly. "New York? Visiting David again?"
"… No," she said slowly. "Greenwich, actually. I'm going to see Scout."
"Oh," he said, and, after a pause, "How is he? I haven't seen him since the funeral."
"Not good, according to Will. I thought I'd better go and see for myself."
"Well, say hi for me. Wait, that's stupid." He sighed. "I don't know. Just… look out for him, okay?"
"I will. Listen, I'll call you when I get back. We can practice in a couple of days."
"See ya." He hung up and spent another moment staring out the window, his brow furrowed.
Behind him, Ryder Forrest leaned back against the headboard and stretched his long legs out on the bed, his hiking boots leaving dirt marks across the sheets.
Josh didn't turn around, but he has seen Ryder's inquisitive gaze enough times to need actual seeing in order to know it was there. "Bella's gone to see Scout," he said, walking to Ryder's side. "I'd forgotten about him. I wonder…" he shook his head and sat down. "I guess we don't need to wonder. We know how it feels."
Gently, Ryder pulled him closer and planted a light kiss on the top of his head. Josh sighed again, taking Ryder's hand.
"It's a nice day," Ryder said after a moment, looking toward the window. "You want to go for a walk?"
"Yeah," Josh gave him a small smile. "That sounds nice."
Ryder nodded and pulled Josh to his feet, leading the way to the door.
With the turn of the door handle Josh could feel Ryder's hand falling away from his. He couldn't help glancing down, but he did not comment as they walked out into the hall, putting a little distance between them. This was what Ryder wanted, their life together remaining under lock and key. It was a secret that Josh could live with.
Still, he couldn't help musing as he followed Ryder down the empty stairs, watching Ryder tuck his hands into his jacket pockets, it didn't seem to be important whether anybody was around; the school was deserted. For Ryder, the issue seemed to lie between the inside and the outside of his room, and not between the existence and non-existence of anyone who happened to be watching.
*Will's voiceover starts*
'Deception. It comes in many shapes and forms, sometimes blunt and forceful and that makes them easy to spot. At other times, though, it hides behind the disguise of something else, as though it's not there, as though we're not lying to ourselves about the things that actually matter. But no matter how deeply it's buried, deception can't hold up forever. Something's got to give eventually.'
***
Jake's room
Jake Pratt lay across her bed, typing furiously on her laptop. The ringing of her cell phone made her burst into a string of curses, and she took care to shut down several programs before she answered. "Yeah?" she demanded, not bothering to keep the anger out of her voice.
"Hey, it's me." Hamilton Fleming's voice came over the line. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She sat up. "You caught me at a bad time. I just hacked into a database that had a time tracking device on it and I can't stay logged in."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I can call back."
"Never mind," she sighed, closing the laptop. "Where are you? The connection sounds good."
"Back at Rawley, actually. I know we're not due back for another couple of days but mom and dad sort of had this huge fight and we decided to leave grandma's early…"
"That sucks," she said sympathetically. "But I'm glad you're back. Wanna meet in town?"
"Yeah, that'd be great." A pause, and he asked tentatively, "Are you with Spencer?"
She frowned. "No."
"I just thought…" he trailed off. She could almost hear him trying to come up with a justification for posing the question in the first place. "Since you've been doing so much hacking with him lately…"
"No, Hamilton, I'm not with Spencer," she said coolly. "Contrary to what you might think, I don't spend every minute with him."
"Look," he sounded tired. "I just assumed. Never mind. I'm sorry to have brought it up. I'll see you at the diner in twenty minutes, okay?"
"Yeah," she said curtly. She hadn't expected herself to be so short-tempered; somehow it felt like this should have been easier, or have felt better, or something else. He was back in town a few days early; it was usually cause for celebration. She didn't feel like celebrating.
"I love you."
"I love you too," she said, biting her lower lip as she flipped the phone shut.
***
The Dean's house
"Where are you going?" Kate Fleming called after her son as he ran out of the house. "You haven't even unpacked."
"I'll do it later," Hamilton called back, already disappearing down the driveway.
Kate looked back at his suitcase lying across the hall. Sighing, she picked it up and leaned against the wall, taking the rest of their bags into the master bedroom.
Steven Fleming was in the study, rifling through a stack of papers. Kate paused at the door. "Hey," she said, startled. "You're working already?"
"I've been away for two weeks," he said, not looking up. "There's a substantial backlog of administration to get through."
"It's Spring Break," she said. "Plus, I thought Finn was in charge while you were gone."
"He was," he said, sorting the papers into piles. "But that doesn't mean there's nothing for me to do, Kate. I mean, the PR issues alone surrounding Faye Archer's death… all the parents want to know if her dangerous driving was something that we should have picked up, if we should have assumed more responsibility; the PTA have been talking about putting a driving curfew into place. God," he shook his head. "I'd love to see the looks on these kids' faces if I tell them they can't drive their Ferraris out on weekend nights."
"But you just got back," she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "And… we need to talk about what happened at my mom's."
"We had a fight, Kate," he finally looked up, impatience radiating out of him. "The way couples do. I don't even remember what it was over."
"You wanted to get back early so you could catch up on work," she said quietly, dropping her gaze.
"Yes, well," he gestured at his desk. "Fair enough, don't you think?"
"But I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page here."
"Look, Kate," he sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. "This isn't the best time. I'm meeting Finn at my office in ten minutes, and we need to go over all this, not to mention the revised class schedules and arrange a staff meeting, all before term begins. It'll have to take a while."
She nodded, still not looking at him, and she turned away from the door.
"We'll talk when I get home tonight," he called behind her. "I promise."
She merely shrugged and continued walking.
***
The diner
Jake checked her watch as she approached the diner; she was a few minutes early. Quickly inspecting her reflection in the window, she was just about to go in when the door opened to reveal Spencer Harrison. "Hey!" he said, with a flash of the trademark easy grin. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Oh," she exclaimed, startled. "Hey."
"So I haven't really heard from you over the last few days," he said. "Are we cool? I mean, I haven't done anything to, like, offend you or anything, have I? Because if I did, I didn't mean to, and you'd let me know if I did."
"No, nothing like that," she said, glancing nervously down Main Street. "Look, Spencer, this isn't really the best time, I gotta meet Hamilton…"
"He's back from his trip? Cool. I guess it's back to the daily burgers-and-a-Coke after school ritual for you guys, huh?"
"Uh, yeah," she sneaked a look at her watch. "Listen, Spencer, I'll call you later, okay? Hamilton's gonna be here any minute and…"
He raised an eyebrow. "And…?"
"Well, I told him I wasn't with you."
"You weren't with me."
"Yeah, but he doesn't know that, and if he sees you here…"
"Jacqueline," he said slowly. "I'm your friend. At least I thought I was."
"You are!" she exclaimed. "And it's not that. It's just that somehow he has this idea in his head… god, I can't explain it. I just don't think it's a good idea for you to be here when he arrives, that's all."
"Uh, okay," he said, looking bemused. "I guess I'll see you later…"
Before he could finish, there was the sound of footsteps approaching. She whirled around to see Hamilton walk up to the her, the smile on his face freezing as he saw who she was talking to. "Hey Jake," he said dully. "Hey Spencer."
"Hey," Spencer said, looking lost. "Listen, I've got a… thing… that I've gotta… do, so I'm gonna… go do it. See ya."
"Bye," she said mechanically as he turned and strode away, still looking quizzically over his shoulder.
"So you weren't with him, huh?" Hamilton said coolly.
"No, I wasn't," she replied, stung by his tone and, even more, the look on his face - the one that plainly said I knew it, so unsurprised and condescending that she felt a quick flash of anger surge up in her. For a moment she wanted to do nothing more than to knock that look off his face.
Instead she looked down, sticking her hands in her pockets. "I just bumped into him."
He raised his brows, but did not comment as he led the way into the diner. She followed him, crossing her arms across her chest.
"Look," she said as they slid into their usual booth. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I wasn't hanging out with him? He's my friend, we're entitled to hang out. Why would I lie about it?"
"Yeah, I believe you," he said curtly, leafing through the menu, even though she knew that by now they had both pretty much memorised it by heart.
"Doesn't sound like it."
"Well, I do, okay?" He set the menu down, his expression softening. "Look, Jake, I didn't want to meet up like this. I missed you."
"I missed you too," she said, taking hold of his hand across the tabletop. "So your parents had a fight?"
"A major one," he said, sighing. "They've been pretty tense the whole time we were at grandma's. I don't know if it's a new thing – with me living in the dorms, they could be fighting like that every day and I wouldn't know about it."
"I'm sorry," she said, squeezing his hand. "Must be tough."
He shrugged. "What have you been doing?"
"The usual. Not much. Doing some extra-credit programming for school. Hung out with Bella."
"Every time I called you, you seemed to be doing some hardcore hacking." His voice was light, though his eyes betrayed a note of anxious curiosity. If he was hoping she wouldn't notice, he was failing miserably.
"Well, yeah," she admitted. "We've – I mean, I've – been hacking a bit, too. Military databases, mainly. Interesting stuff."
He furrowed his brows. "Isn't that… illegal? I mean, more illegal than your usual stuff? If you get found out, can't you get thrown in jail or something?"
"I'm not gonna get found out," she said, and she couldn't help a small smile. "We've got a system down. We've written entirely new anti-tracking programs and they work so well, I've been able to hack into entire systems without having to log out and shut down every couple of minutes and…"
"'We'?"
She paused, pursing her lips. "Yeah. Me and Spencer."
He merely nodded and looked down at the menu again. She could see a tense squaring of his shoulders; if he was hoping that she wouldn't notice, he would have been sadly mistaken.
"Spencer is a good hacker," she said, setting her jaw. "I couldn't have done some of the stuff I'm doing without his help."
"Great. I'm glad to hear he's so helpful."
Jake stared at him. A waiter appeared to take their order and Jake waved him away without a second glance. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, crossing her arms.
"Nothing." He wouldn't look at her. "He's helpful with the hacking. He's awesome with the computer class assignments that you two always end up doing together. Spencer Harrison is Super Computer Guy. I get it."
"I'm not the one who keeps bringing him up," she said, trying hard not to raise her voice. "You are. What do you expect me to say, Hamilton?"
He shrugged, looking down at the menu again.
"You can't bait me into talking about him and then get mad at me about it. " She leaned back against the booth, fighting the urge to press her hands over her face. "I don't know how to talk to you when you're like this. I don't know what you want me to say."
He shrugged again. When it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything, she shook her head and stood up.
"Where are you going?" he demanded.
"I'm not hungry anymore," she said, striding out of the diner, leaving him staring as the glass door swung shut behind her.
Part Three
Greenwich: Scout's house
"He really wasn't kidding when he said 'forty room mansion'," Bella murmured to herself as she walked up the driveway to Scout Calhoun's house - if it could be called a house at all. Timidly, she pressed the doorbell.
A maid answered the door. "Hi," Bella said, self-consciously adjusting her bag. "I'm, uh, Bella Banks? I'm here to see Scout."
Before the maid could answer, they could hear the sound of footsteps running down the hall. "Who is it, Greta?" Scout asked, appearing at the door.
"Hi," Bella said, hoping that the surprise in her voice wasn't as evident as she thought. Despite all that Will had told her, she still retained an idea of Scout in her head, what he was supposed to look like – perhaps the way he looked at Faye's funeral, pale and dazed, vacant beyond imagining. Instead, the Scout standing in front of her was just like she remembered him, dressed in chinos and a monogrammed polo shirt, his hair carefully tousled, a sunny grin completing the picture.
"Oh my god, Bella!" he exclaimed happily, shoving past Greta in his haste to administer a giant bear hug. "I'm so glad you dropped by! What was it," he tugged her into the house, still grinning. "Just happened to be in the neighbourhood?"
"Very funny," she said, all the time very aware of the strangeness of the situation, all of it, like that metaphorical elephant in the room. "Will mentioned he and Maria came to see you last week and I thought I could do the same, you know. We're relaying it."
"How thoughtful of you," he chuckled. "Hey, you're just in time. I'm heading out to grab a bite with some friends, you gotta come with me."
"What, right now? But I just got here and I'm not exactly dressed …"
"What you're wearing is fine," he said, already dragging her halfway out the door. "Come on, we're gonna be late."
***
Spencer's mom, the administrator of the local medical centre, smiled at Jake as she let her into the house. "Hey Jacqueline," she said warmly. "Here to see Spencer again?"
"Yeah," Jake's smile was decidedly more forced. It wasn't that she disliked Spencer's mom per se; the woman just made her uneasy in a number of different ways. She wasn't sure if it was the make-up or the porcelain-capped teeth. More likely it was something deeper than that: the reason behind the smile, the knowing quirk of the brow.
"You guys have another project, I suppose?" The twinkle in the woman's eye, however, suggested the what she had in mind was something far from a school project. Jake found the suggestion a little too overt for comfort, so she merely smiled again, not saying anything.
"Anyway," Spencer's mom grinned again, looking rather pleased as she checked Jake out from head to toe and, by Jake's own measure, none too discreetly. "He's upstairs in his room, just go ahead."
"Thanks, Mrs. Harrison," Jake said, giving her another uncertain smile as she walked up the stairs, all the time aware that she was still watching. Shaking her head, she walked up to Spencer's room and knocked on the door.
"Who is it?"
"It's me, Jake…queline." She couldn't help a wry grin. Even now it was hard to get rid of old habits.
"Hey," he said, poking his head out from behind the door. "Come in."
"What are you doing?" she asked. This wasn't the first time she'd been in his room; they had been spending increasing amounts of time here recently, first with projects for school – it made sense , after the success of their first assignment together, to team up for other projects and extra credit work – and later with their increasingly dedicated effort to hack into the national security database. They weren't looking for anything in particular, of course; the thrill lay in the fact that they could access ultra-confidential files and codes rather than the files and codes themselves. Spencer understood the thrill of hacking. She wished she could say the same for Hamilton. But then, explaining the feeling to somebody wasn't exactly the same as being with someone who had experienced it first-hand.
"I'm rearranging my posters," Spencer said, taking one of his old posters off the wall and replacing it with a new one for Deftones. "Pretty cool, huh? I picked it up at that CD store in Carson. They were having a clearance sale. I got it for fifty cents."
"Very cool."
"Could you pass me those thumbtacks?"
She handed the box over, watching in silence as he finished tacking the poster up.
"So," he said as he stepped back, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "That was a quick burger with Hamilton. I left you barely ten minutes ago."
"He was being weird," she said unceremoniously, walking to his laptop. "I don't wanna talk about it. I just swung by to see if you wanted to work on the program some more."
"Sure," he shrugged. "But there's not much work left. I ran a batch of bug testing after you left yesterday. Everything seems to be working fine. This baby should let us onto the system without that convoluted path we've been constructing, and as long as the Government's anti-anti-trackers haven't been upgraded, we can stay logged on for as long as we want."
"So let's use it," she pulled up a chair. "Show me what you can do with this thing."
***
Rawley Academy
The sky had cleared up as it approached noon. The sun was shining through patches of cloud, showering dappled golden light on Josh and Ryder as they sat near Faye's grave, their backs against the trees surrounding the secluded space.
The Forrests had bought a small plot in the grove of trees next to the lake, right on the edge of the Academy's land. It was a move not unmarked by controversy, but Edward Forrest, in a rare display, actually ended up backing the decision in a firm and vocal manner, even though the decision itself was made largely by Faye's mother and Ryder, and by extension Josh also.
It seemed like the right thing to do. As they sat here, listening to the faint lap of the waves upon the shore, watching the sunlight play over the grave in patterns alternating light and dark, they could feel the reassuring weight of that decision, the measure of peace.
They didn't say anything to each other. In this space, there didn't seem to be a need for words. They sat like they always had, the three of them forming the points of an equilateral triangle, the air easy and unaffected, unmarred by talk and other unnecessary things.
Josh looked at Ryder. It was odd, at the same time, to be sitting here with him, to know that they were finally together in all senses of the word, to know that he was loved and, at the same time, told in unequivocal terms that he was loved. He thought back to the static months before this, the stony certainty in knowing that Ryder would never give up his cold façade, that this love was doomed to be one never reciprocated, never acted upon.
Yet here they were. The price, of course, was something that didn't bear careful scrutiny.
In the quietness the sound of approaching footsteps was louder than expected. Josh exhaled and tried to lean further into the tree; it was probably just a couple taking the scenic route to the boathouse, but it felt wrong somehow. This space should only belong to the three of them; the silence here, that delicate sense of balance.
"So are you going back to Japan after Spring Break?" It was Will's voice.
"My parents said I should stay here to finish out the semester." A girl answered. It didn't exactly take much to figure out that it was Maria Ishizuka. Will seemed to be hanging out with her exclusively over the last few days.
"Do you want to stay?" Will asked.
A pause. "I guess," Maria said. "I mean, it's just school, right? It's the same everywhere."
"I thought they push you harder in Japanese schools."
"Not when you refuse to try."
Josh and Ryder shared an amused glance, and there was the sound of an uncertain chuckle from Will.
"Anyway," Maria said. "You hear about Joe's End of Spring Break party?"
"Is that tonight?" Will asked, his voice growing fainter as they passed by the grove, the positioning of the trees shielding Ryder and Josh from view. "Do you think we should go?"
Maria's reply was inaudible.
Josh glanced up. They had both been in this place for a long time – too long, sometimes it went without saying. The room, or here, her ghost still lingering persistently in all the spaces that they occupied, causing time to slow like treacle, or else stop altogether; sometimes it was comforting, sometimes more painful than they cared to admit. Their lives, too, seemed to stop at the same time hers did. Somehow they were still locked into this, the three of them, living or not living in equal measures.
When, then, did life move forward again? It felt like they were waiting for the next Act to begin, even though the lights had already been dimmed and the theatre emptied long ago. It seemed like they were waiting for a sign, telling them that it was okay to carry on, to move out of the room or this grove of trees and begin again, like real people… but to do so would be like brushing her aside, as though her being or non-being did not matter.
The idea was absurd, they all knew that, but putting it into practice was harder. To 'move on' was an immense concept, filled with unseen dangers and stumbling blocks. But not moving on, also, seemed inconceivable.
Josh thought about this, and about what Maria and Will said in passing. There were still parties, still the same people dancing and laughing and getting drunk together, her death passing over them like wind over water. Earlier, it would have seemed cruel beyond imagining. But now it seemed almost like a kindness, a respite from an otherwise completely stationary world, a world without time, only the dull pain emanating from somewhere deep inside, the memories, and the ghosts.
"Let's go to Joe's party tonight," Ryder said unceremoniously, turning to him. He lifted his eyes to Josh and there was that understanding again, the absence of words, not because they didn't want to, but because the circumstances did not require them.
Josh nodded, and they fell into silence once more.
***
The Dean's house
Kate poured herself a glass of chardonnay as she sat down on the living room couch, tucking her legs up underneath her.
She sipped the wine slowly, watching the sunlight slowly fade to darkness outside. Steven hadn't been gone for long, but his absence lingered in the room, as though all his absences over the years had somehow accumulated into a tangible force, pressing down and leaving the house more barren than it had ever been at any one time.
She heard the front door open, then close with more force than what seemed necessary, and a moment later Hamilton strode into the living room, tossing his keys onto the coffee table with a loud clatter.
"Oh," he exclaimed when he caught sight of her. "Hey mom. Sorry, I didn't think you were here."
"Bad day?" she asked. She could feel the wine loosen her tongue before she even opened her mouth. "Or should I say 'bad date'? You were gone barely half an hour."
"I just came to pick up my bag," he said, ignoring the question. "Where is it?"
"Out in the hall," she said, fighting a sigh.
He started heading back into the hallway, but paused on the threshold, glancing over his shoulder. She sipped her wine again, aware of his eyes upon her, the look of deliberation.
"Mom," he said, coming back to flop down on the couch. "I have a question."
"Shoot." She downed the rest of the wine and went to pour herself another. "I'm all ears."
"So I have this friend," he began, looking down at his hands. "I dunno how to help him. He's kinda jealous of this guy that his girlfriend's been hanging out with, but he doesn't know if he's just overreacting, you know?"
She sat down beside him, setting her glass on the coffee table. "And has your friend talked to his girlfriend about this?"
"Yeah. She says he's overreacting. And she gets annoyed when he brings it up." He shook his head. "I mean, yeah, I think he might be bringing it up too much because he's so worried about it, but… should he be right to be worried?"
"I guess that depends." She looked at him appraisingly. "What has the girlfriend been doing with this other boy?"
He shrugged. "They just seem to have a lot in common."
"But honey, lots of people have lots of things in common with their friends. It doesn't necessarily…"
"Yeah, I know. But I… I mean, my friend… is just feeling left out. He doesn't know if he can compete with the other guy."
"It sounds like your friend isn't really confident about his relationship with this girl," she said carefully. "Has she ever given him anything to worry about?"
"Not really." He looked thoughtful. "I guess not."
"So what makes him think she's going to start now?"
He was silent for a moment, looking down at his hands. She watched him, slightly amused by the fact that he was still keeping up the hypothetical 'friend' scenario, but she could also feel the tinge of apprehension inside her, worrying away without rhyme or reason.
It was true that she had grown distant from Jake after her true identity was finally revealed last semester, but Kate still had a soft spot for the girl, if nothing else, then for the influence she'd had on Hamilton. Over the last two years he had grown from a lonely, somewhat eccentric boy into a confident young man, and that was due in no small part to this loving, long-term relationship. It was a new and somewhat frightening revelation, to see Hamilton acting like this, to know that even their relationship could not go unchallenged.
"Munchie?" she asked softly, wanting to reach out and touch him. But she didn't, only watched as he stirred, his jawline visibly tightening as he lifted his gaze.
"He doesn't like the way she talks about the other guy," he said, staring blankly at the opposite wall. "He knows he's being too clingy and that she doesn't like it, but he can't help it. And he's afraid he's just driving her away even more by acting like this, but he can't stop. He doesn't know how to."
"She thinks he's being too clingy?"
He nodded, not looking at her. "She needs her space and… I guess he's not giving it to her. But it seems like she's going further and further away from him every day, and he doesn't know how to stop it."
"At least he's still trying," she said softly. "That means something."
"But what if she doesn't love him anymore?"
She looked at him. "Do you honestly believe that, Hamilton?"
He sighed. "No. I guess not."
"I wish I know what kind of advice to give to your friend," she said. "But I would just tell him to hang in there. I know their relationship is strong, and even if they're in a bad patch right now, I'm sure things will get better soon."
He glanced up, proffering a small smile. "Yeah?"
She nodded.
"Thanks, mom," he said with a chuckle, reaching over for a quick hug. "I better pass your advice on to my friend."
"You do that," she smiled, watching him head toward the door, picking up his bag as he went. "You going back to the dorms?"
"Yeah. I'll see you at Sunday night dinner."
"See you then," she replied, listening to the door close behind him.
Things were suddenly still again. This was a house of silence; no matter how she had tried to keep it at bay, with the TV on, with Kenny G turned up loud, with friends coming over – what friends, she silently asked – the ending was always the same. The silence won every time, austere and all-knowing, every moment a soundless comment on the state of her life. Wife and mother, faithful and desperate, never quite abandoned but always alone.
"But what if she doesn't love him anymore?" she repeated to herself, softly, no longer sure to whom she was referring.
Part Four
Spencer's house
"I wonder if the codes for detonating nuclear warheads would be online," Jake wondered aloud as she and Spencer navigated through the US military database. Most of the information had absolutely no bearing; there were a lot of numbers, acronyms, symbols whose meanings they did not know. Not that they had wanted to know particularly; the thrill was in the hacking itself and not what they could unearth.
"I doubt it," he chuckled. "In all the movies they get carried around by a guy in a suitcase that only the President has keys to. They're not gonna post it on the general database that an idiot with half a brain can hack in and find."
"Two idiots with half a brain, thank you very much."
"You got me there. Hey, do you wanna call it a day? I can't take more of this, I'm starting to see double."
"Me too," she yawned, logging out of the database, erasing her electronic footprint as she went. "God, what time is it?"
He checked his watch. "Quarter to nine. I can't believe we spent the whole day hacking."
"It's Spring Break. It's not like you've got something better to do… right?"
He glanced at her, a smile tugging on his lips. "Right."
"Good." For a moment their gazes locked, and she quickly glanced away, feeling her cheeks warm. "Uh, I guess I better go home."
"Or…" he said slowly. "There's always Joe's End of Spring Break party."
She couldn't help glancing at him again. Night had fallen; there was only the light of a single desk lamp in this room, a soft, pervasive gold melting into the shadows around them.
He noticed her watching, and gave her a slow smile, looking simultaneously complacent and somehow expectant, and she had to force herself to wrench her gaze away, licking her dry lips.
"So what do you think?" he asked. She could feel his eyes on her, could almost sense the semi-amused grin.
"Um," she said. He smelled nice – like cinnamon and limes. She hadn't quite realised how close they were sitting; she could almost feel the heat emanating from him. "Um," she said again. Her head was light; she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt like this, hot and cold at the same time, a gentle fluttering in her chest, a yearning reaching out from within her like a beckoning hand.
But then the memory came flooding back. The white suits, 'Bogey from Casablanca', the empty bathroom and… that kiss.
As soon as those images surfaced, however, others came with them, flitting in like dark shadows that could not be disconnected from their physical halves. The accusing looks, the sullen silence, the oddly uncomfortable walks back to her house in the dark. She could see Hamilton's eyes, very blue and very wide, critical and expectant. She could hear his voice in her head, could feel his fingers gripping onto hers, almost hard enough to hurt.
"All right, yeah," she said, standing up. "Let's go."
Spencer grinned, getting to his feet. "I didn't think you'd agree so easily. You sure Hamilton won't mind?"
"Hamilton's a big boy," she said shortly, grabbing her jacket as they headed out the door.
***
Greenwich: China Palace restaurant
"Oh my god, Bella," Scout said, raising his voice to be heard over the others at the table, "you totally should have come earlier. You would've loved the party at Blair's on Friday."
Their table at China Palace was by far the most raucous. Bella hadn't realised that Scout had so many friends out of school, although now that she thought about it, it seemed obvious. There were eight other kids at the table, and that, according to them, was only a fraction of their usual group. "It's Spring Break," said Mel, Blair's girlfriend, as though that explained everything. When Bella gave her a blank look she giggled and said, "St Martin's, silly."
"Oh," Bella said. "Right."
"Almost everyone's gone to St Martin's for spring. It's a thing," Scout explained, pouring himself and Bella more Tsingtao beer. "Not to mention the ones at Gstaad who decided to stay in Europe."
"Gstaad?" Bella repeated blankly.
"Swiss boarding school," said one of the guys by way of explanation. Bella had forgotten his real name, but in her head she had long resorted to calling him Ken, seeing that he was generically handsome in a tanned, blond, semi-unreal kind of way. His girlfriend - six feet and thin as rails - had naturally been nicknamed Barbie.
While Bella hid a smile at her ingenious naming convention, Ken turned to Scout. "Gstaad? Have you been living under a rock? No one goes to Gstaad anymore."
"My humble apologies," Scout raised his beer. "So where are the cool kids at these days?"
"Let's see," Blair said, counting them off on his fingers. "Dirk and Francine are at Monte Rosa, and so's Margaret, the last I heard…"
"Oh no," one of the other girls – Bella thought her name might have been Amy – interjected. "Margaret's not at Monte Rosa anymore. She's…" she made air quotes. "'between schools'."
"Rehab?" Scout asked, looking sage. Bella couldn't help glancing at him. He, however, seemed oblivious, taking a large bite out of a prawn dumpling.
"Abortion," the-girl-who-might-be-Amy said in a stage whisper. "Her mom pulled her out of Monte Rosa last month. She's at home, 'recuperating'."
"Under lock and key, more like," said Angela, rolling her eyes. "I just don’t understand parents. They send us away to freaking Switzerland and somehow they expect us to remain perfect little angels all through high school? Puh-leeze."
"Anyway," Blair continued, unfazed by the interruptions. "Marcus and Antoinette are at St George's, and Jeffery is at Mont-Fleuri last I heard…"
"Well, if Jeffery is there," giggled Mel, "then you can bet on Liam transferring to Mont-Fleuri the first chance he got…"
"No," shrieked Angela, upsetting a tray of mini spring rolls in the process. "Jeffery and Liam? Get out of here!"
"Calm down, Jeffery and Liam are old news," Amy said, rolling her eyes. "But Mel's right, you know. If Jeff's at Mont-Fleuri then you can count Liam in as well."
Ken stifled a yawn as he reached across Bella for a slice of Peking duck. "Can we talk about something else? As exciting as gossiping about other people's love lives…"
"Hear, hear," Scout and Blair said simultaneously, raising their beers. "Change of topic, please," Blair added, looking bored.
"You boys are no fun," said Angela, getting up. "But now seems like a good time to excuse myself to the little girls' room. Be back in a tick."
"I'll come with you," Bella said, tossing her napkin on the table.
"Girls," Scout said with a mock sigh, rising to help pull her chair back. "Never capable of going to the bathroom alone."
"You know us," she said, forcing a smile as she followed Angela to the restrooms.
"Oh my lord," Angela said, dashing to the bathroom mirror. "Look at me. I'm a mess." Sighing, she pulled a tube of lipstick out of her Fendi bag. "How do you keep your make-up perfect, Bella? What brand is it? Wait, let me guess… it's Chanel's new stayput line, isn't it? You know, Antoinette swears by it but I never got around to trying it because this season's colours are so unflattering to someone with an autumn palette…"
"I'm not wearing make-up," Bella said, mystified.
Angela paused mid-application, appraising her in the mirror. "Oh my lord," she giggled, "you're right. God, I hate you. If I had those eyelashes and that skin tone I wouldn't have to work so hard to look presentable in the morning."
"What are you talking about?" Bella laughed, embarrassed. "You look great."
"You wouldn't say that if you saw me in the morning, honey," Angela took out a powder compact and dabbed at her nose. "I could give RuPaul a run for her money."
Bella laughed weakly. "Hey," she said. "The reason why I came with you… I mean, I just arrived this afternoon and everything was so hectic and I didn't get a chance to talk to Scout…"
"No one gets a chance to talk to Scout these days," Angela said, applying a coat of clear gloss over the lipstick. "We call him 'the blur'. Life of the party, but he never stays long enough to make chit chat. Is he like that at Rawley as well? Funny, he never talks about it. How is Rawley? I'm thinking of enrolling there next semester." She capped the lip gloss and turned back to Bella. "Maybe for Summer Session. Unless it's one of those hardcore schools that actually make you do work over the summer."
"I don't go to Rawley," Bella said quietly. "I live in town."
"Oh," Angela said, blinking. "That's nice."
"You say he never talks about Rawley," Bella said slowly. "Listen, Angela, do you… know about what happened?"
"Know what?" Angela visibly brightened. "Oh lord. Don't tell me. Scout's on hideout from some hideous scandal. No wonder he doesn't talk about it." She sidled closer, grinning. "So what is it? Did he get kicked out? Funny, we never thought he'd be the type. He's always so clean, you know…"
"It's nothing like that," Bella interrupted. "God, you really don't know, do you?"
"Know what?" Angela giggled. "Don't make me beg. It's not pretty."
"It's his girlfriend," Bella said quietly. "She died in a car crash. Three weeks ago. That's why he's back."
"That's…" Angela gave her a blank stare. "That's not funny."
"It's not supposed to be funny."
"He didn't say anything," Angela said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "All this time, he didn't say a word."
Bella bit her lower lip. "Yeah."
"Were they… serious?"
"Very."
Angela leaned back against the sink, still staring. "Wow."
"Listen," Bella said. "Don't… say anything, okay? I mean, if he had wanted to tell you, he would've. I guess he just didn't want to…" she shrugged. "I dunno, deal with it."
"Yeah," Angela said blankly. "Yeah… sure."
"All right," Bella said, awkwardly patting the other girl on the arm.
They made their way out of the bathroom and back to the table, where Scout was in the middle of another round of toasts, his laughter righing out clear and unaffected. Bella shared a brief look with Angela as they sat down; this was going to be a long evening indeed.
***
New Rawley: Joe's house
Joe Paterson wasn't the cleanest kid on the block when it came to shady dealings in the New Rawley scene, but he also threw one hell of a party. By the time Josh and Ryder arrived, the party was in full swing. The kids there were mostly Edmund students, though they spotted a few Rawley stragglers as they made their way into the house.
"Why do I get the feeling we're being watched?" Josh whispered to Ryder, sticking his hands in his pockets. People fell quiet as they passed, casting none too discreet glances out of the corners of their eyes, a small wave of indistinct chatter rising as soon as they were out of immediate earshot.
"Life of the local celebrities," Ryder replied wryly, scanning the room.
Josh couldn't help a cynical grin. They had expected this, but the actual experience was different again. Perhaps it was too soon.
"You want a drink?"
"Yeah…" Josh's reply was interrupted by the sight of Sean McGrail walking toward them, looking ill at ease. "Hey man," he said to Ryder before he nodded at Josh. "Hey."
Ryder nodded in reply. Meanwhile, Malcolm Harding, sitting on the couch in the corner, looked up and caught Josh's eye. Josh gave him a small smile.
It didn't escape Ryder's attention. He furrowed his brows slightly as Josh walked toward Malcolm, tossing an 'I'll be right back' over his shoulder. He watched as Malcolm rose from his seat to embrace Josh, planting a quick kiss on his cheek.
"You all right, man?" Sean asked.
It took Ryder a moment to snap back to attention. "Uh, yeah," he said, shrugging. "You know."
"I didn't expect to see you two here," Sean said. "I mean, with everything going on."
Ryder shrugged again, accepting the cigarette that Sean handed him. "We wanted to get out of the house."
"Yeah," Sean helped him light up. "I don't blame you." A pause, and he asked gruffly, "How you holdin' up, man?"
Ryder didn't answer. He was watching Josh and Malcolm, sitting side by side on the couch, already deep in conversation.
***
Rawley Academy: The Dean's office
"Hey," Kate said at the door to Steven's office, knocking lightly.
He glanced up. "Kate. Is something wrong?"
"No," she shut the door behind her. "Why would anything be wrong? I just came by to see you."
"Oh," he looked down at his work. "That's good, then."
"How was the meeting with Finn?"
"Stressful," he said without looking up. "There's even more work to do than I feared. We're never going to get through this on time for the start of term."
"Well, it's late, and I just wanted to know when you were coming home."
"I can't say," he said shortly, leafing through a stack of papers by his side. "I still need to make a few calls."
"Have you had anything to eat?"
"Finn brought along some takeout."
"Oh, okay," she said, nodding. A pause, and she asked, "Should I wait up?"
"No," he glanced at her briefly. "Just go to bed. I'll join you when I can."
"And when will that be?" She hadn't intended to sound so accusatory, but the words came out more dejected than she'd anticipated. "Maybe we should just set up a camp bed for you here. It wouldn't be the first time you fell asleep in the office."
"Kate," he sighed as he put down his pen, looking up with an air of irritation. "Please. I have work to do. Try to understand."
"I understand perfectly," she said, her voice low as she turned away. "I've done nothing but understand for the last eighteen years."
She could hear him emit a huge sigh behind her. "Kate," he said, but she was already out the door.
Her head lowered, she walked down the hallway quickly, taking no notice of the staccato beats her heels tapped out on the hardwood floor, nor the flickering of the sconces overhead.
She walked straight into Finn at the main entrance. "Oof!" he exclaimed as her forehead made contact with his nose, staggering back.
"Oh my god, Finn," she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
"Just swallowed about a pint of my own blood," he rubbed his nose, blinking dazedly. "But otherwise fine."
"Are you sure you're okay? Let me have a look."
"I'm fine," he said, blinking again. "Are you going anywhere in particular? It's getting dark. If you want, I could walk you."
"Thank you," she said gratefully as the two of them came out into the night air, descending the stone stairs.
"So," he said, still rubbing his nose gingerly. "Where to?"
She shrugged, looking down at her feet. "Anywhere."
He glanced at her. "Everything all right, Kate?"
"No," she said, striding ahead into the shadows. She hadn't intended to say it, especially not to Finn, of all people. Yet somehow the word just slipped out, and she could feel her face crumpling. Shaking her head, she pressed one hand over her mouth, running down the path to the lake.
"Kate," he called, chasing after her. "Kate."
She slowed down to a brisk walk but did not turn to face him, preferring to watch the lake instead, the ripples tipped silver by the moonlight.
He caught up to her, panting. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"There's nothing to talk about," she said quietly, following the path, its winding shape vaguely phosphorescent by the moon. There was a light breeze blowing and she shivered, buttoning up her cardigan as she went.
"It sure doesn't sound like it from where I stand," he said, keeping pace with her.
She didn't reply for a few minutes, doggedly striding ahead. The wind had picked up a little, causing her eyes to water as they passed the docks. Angrily, she dabbed at her eyes, coming to a stop in front of the boathouse.
"Are you crying?" he asked softly.
"No," she said, turning to face him. She couldn't help noticing that he was keeping his distance: he was at least a good two feet away. Perhaps that was a good thing, given the circumstances.
He watched her, his eyes dark and liquid in the night. "Is it Steven?" he asked.
She turned away again, hunching her shoulders against the wind. "It's Steven, it's me," she muttered. "I don't know anymore. I don't think I care, to be honest."
"You don't care?" His tone was incredulous.
She lifted her head but did not glance back. "Yes," she said, her voice clipped. "I don’t think I care anymore. About any of it."
"But Steven…"
"Steven is married to work, not me," she said, setting her jaw. "I've been trying to convince myself otherwise for eighteen years, but you know what? I'm sick of trying to make excuses for him, thinking he'll come around, thinking that one day things will change…"
"He won't be Dean forever."
"Maybe not at Rawley," she said, with a short, mirthless laugh. "But then it'll be another school or something else. I can't win, Finn. I'm always designated to be second best. And I was fine with that – at least I thought I was – but not anymore. I've had enough."
"So…" he said, the sound of his voice carefully measured. He trailed off.
"So I'm leaving him," she said, resolutely, without sentiment. She pushed her hair from her face. "I should have done it a long time ago."
"What about Hamilton?"
She smiled grimly. "We haven't been shining examples of parenthood for him so far. I don't think this is going to do any additional damage."
"Kate," he said, sounding pained. "Have you thought about this? It's so sudden, and…"
"Sure it's sudden," she interrupted. "In a manner of speaking. And it's not sudden at all. This has been building up for years, Finn. Don't play dumb; you were even a part of it."
"I didn't mean to…"
She shook her head, silencing him once more. "You were a symptom, not a cause. If there is a love triangle, it's between me and Steven and his damn career. It always has been."
"So… that's it?" He still sounded dubious, a disembodied voice in the dark. "You're sure you just want to… end it? Shouldn't you sleep on it first, Kate? You might find that in the morning you'll be thinking differently."
"Of course I'll sleep on it." She couldn't help a small, incredulous laugh. "What was I gonna do? Just go home, pack my bags and check into a motel? But I'm not changing my mind. Not tomorrow." She sighed, looking down. "Not ever."
He looked at an absolute loss for words.
"Don't… say anything to anyone," she said. "Please. Until… until I talk to him. And Hamilton."
"Of course."
She nodded, and turned around after another moment, beginning to walk back toward the lights on campus. A minute later, he followed. The boathouse remained shrouded in darkness, as though waiting.
Slowly, a figure emerged in the doorway, disentangling itself from the shadows.
It was Hamilton.
He thought he would have reacted badly to the news. As it was, he could feel nothing. He didn't know whether it was because it still didn't feel real, here in the dark, his mother's disembodied voice saying these things, resolutely, without his father taking any part in it. Or perhaps he had seen it coming. It was inevitable; perhaps everyone knew it all along. He certainly wasn't surprised in any event. He had been privy to too many stony silences, too many road trips that ended in tears, too many arguments hushed up just as he entered a room.
Still, he thought he would feel sad when the time came. But instead there was nothing. He was surprised at that more than anything else. Things made very little sense lately; it was as though nothing really touched him anymore. Death of a close friend, and now his parents splitting up, all within the course of one month. And somehow he seemed to make it through, his emotions barely stirred. He wondered if it made him a bad person.
Shaking his head, he pulled out his cell phone, its face illuminating the surrounding darkness with a faint blue glow. He had been angry with Jake – the reason why he was out here, alone, in the first place – but suddenly he wanted her again, to be there with him, to talk. Not about Spencer or anything else that was causing so much trouble for their relationship lately, but just to talk. About life and their places in it. About the ways that they mean more to each other than anybody else ever could.
The call went straight to voicemail. He looked down at the phone, biting his lower lip as he sank slowly to the ground, leaning back against the damp, splintered wall.
Part Five
Joe's house
*Nelly Furtado's 'Say It Right' plays*
Spencer and Jake grabbed a paper cup each and went to fill their drinks at the keg. "Joe always knows how to throw a party," Spencer said with a small laugh, looking around at the packed house.
"Yeah," she said, downing the entire contents of her cup in one go and promptly filling it up again.
"Whoa, easy there," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You might wanna pace yourself."
"I just wanna have fun tonight," she said, not looking at him as she downed the second cup and grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him out to the centre of the living room floor. He followed, bemused but relenting.
In the day, in the night
Say it all, say it right
You either got it or you don't
You either stand or you fall
When your will is broken
When it slips from your hand
When there's no time for joking
There's a hole in the plan
Oh you don't mean nothing at all to me
No you don't mean nothing at all to me
Do you got what it takes to set me free?
Oh you could mean everything to me
She threw her head back as she joined the throng of people on the dance floor. The beer had gone to her head, but not as quickly as she hoped. There was still too much of a crystalline awareness, an overwhelming sense of disquiet as she drew close to Spencer and danced, forcing Hamilton - the idea of Hamilton, the mirage, the disapproval burning behind his eyes, lips perpetually pressed into a thin line - forced him out, forced him away from her thoughts here on this floor. She watched Spencer watching her, his body moving in time to hers, his face impassive. The air seemed dense, packed with possibility.
I can't say that I'm not lost and at fault
I can't say that I don't love the light and the dark
I can't say that I don't know that I am alive
And all of what I feel I could show you tonight
From my hands I could give you
Something that I made
From my mouth I could sing you another brick that I laid
From my body I could show you a place God knows
You should know the space is holy
Do you really want to go?
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something that she didn't know the words to. Hamilton felt a million miles away, indistinct as though seen through a haze. Of anger and frustration, she supposed. Spencer, on the other hand, was here, confident and knowing, and it had been a long time since she had felt something so full of possibility; she could simply reach out, and step forward - God knows that she wanted to - and then… there would be something new. Something far less complicated, something that could set her free, not tethered to this earth, rolling in the hot mud of somebody else's perpetual disappointment. Was she capable of that? She could feel the alcohol humming through her body, like little fingers deftly unscrewing the nuts and bolts in her brain. She just needed to take one step forward…
She felt a hand close around her arm, followed by a sharp tug that didn't seem to mind whether it would hurt her in the process. "What?" She exclaimed, turning as the hand gave another insistent tug, dragging her away from the dance floor. She could just make out a shock of bright red hair. "Lena!" she exclaimed, shaking her arm free. "Jesus, let me go."
"It's none of your business," Lena Fletcher said crisply, tugging on Jake again. "I need to talk to Jake here, if you don't mind."
Spencer looked from Jake to Lena, and back to Jake again. "Jacqueline?" he asked.
"It's all right," sighed Jake, feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. "This'll just take a minute. I'll catch up with you."
He nodded dubiously, casting a backwards glance as he disappeared into the crowd.
"Just what," Lena demanded as soon as he was out of earshot, her eyes blazing, "do you think you're doing?"
"Dancing," Jake said defiantly.
"It's not the fact that you're dancing, it's who you're dancing with," Lena said. Her face was nearly the same shade as her hair. "Who the hell is that guy? Where's Hamilton?"
"Hamilton's back at Rawley," Jake said, folding her arms. "And you have no right to start jumping all over me."
"Does Hamilton know you're here?"
"I can do what I want, Lena," Jake said icily. "I'm a big girl. Now excuse me."
She turned to go, but Lena grabbed her again. "What the hell is going on, Jake?" she demanded. "You're acting like a completely different person. Did you have a fight with Hamilton? Look, even if you're mad at him, it doesn’t give you the right to…"
"Just leave me alone," Jake said curtly, shaking off her arm once more.
"Jake…" Lena said, but Jake was already pushing her way through the dance floor. A moment later she re-emerged with Spencer and, with a dark look in Lena's direction, she led the way out of the door, slinging her leather jacket over her shoulder as she went.
"God," Lena said angrily, plonking herself down on the couch. "I hope she knows what she's doing."
"Hey, Lena, right?"
She looked up to see a stocky blond boy standing in front of the couch, holding a couple of cups of beer. "Is anybody sitting here?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Go ahead. You're… Sean, right?"
"Yeah." He grinned. "Sean McGrail."
"I've seen you hanging out with Will and the others," she said.
He nodded. "And I've seen you hang out with Jake and Hamilton."
"God," she muttered, shaking her head. "Don't mention those names to me. Did you see Jake just then? She looked like a mental patient. I don't know what the hell is going on with her."
"Well, everyone's acting a little crazy right now," he said sensibly. "A lot of things happened lately, you know. Maybe we should cut everyone a little slack."
"You really believe that?"
He shrugged, looking across the room. She followed his gaze to Ryder Forrest, who was leaning against the keg, his eyes narrowed, watching Josh Sutherland in the couch all the way over the other corner of the room.
"I mean, look at them," Sean said contemplatively. "I would've never guessed that they'd be out partying. But I just talked to Ryder, and you know, what he said made sense. He said they can't just keep sitting in this tiny room forever. One of these days they'll have to get out and start having a life again. Why not now?"
"I guess that makes sense."
He gave her a sideways smile. She smiled back, a little self-consciously. "Hey," she said, "this is gonna sound like it came out of nowhere, but I'm not exactly known for subtlety…"
"I heard that," he said with a smile.
"I don't think that was meant as a compliment," she laughed. "But that's okay. Um… okay, it's like this. We seem to share a lot of the same friends and a lot of them seem to think that we should, uh…"
"Date?" he finished for her, laughing. "Yeah, believe me, I've heard about it. It's kinda insane."
"I dunno," she said, eyeing him with a degree of interest. "Since they all seem to think we are so great for each other, I wanna run a basic compatibility test."
He blinked. "You what?"
"Likes and dislikes, the usual stuff," she said matter-of-factly. "To see if they're right."
"You're a very strange girl," he said slowly.
"What's the harm?" she raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you curious? If nothing else, this might shut everyone up about how great we'd be together."
"All right, all right," he raised his hands, with a confused chuckle. "I'll play. What's your favourite movie?"
"Gone with the Wind."
"Über-chick flick," he said, making a face.
"Don't tell me, yours is Die Hard or The Terminator or something."
"Close. The Fast and the Furious."
"Disappointing but predictable," she laughed. "Favourite music?"
"Green Day."
"Ani DiFranco. Favourite food?"
"Mexican. Bring on the jalapeño peppers."
"Mine's Japanese, preferably low sodium. What's your favourite book?"
"You mean there are people who actually read for fun?" he asked, his expression one of good-natured mock surprise.
She laughed. "I guess you and Will aren't that alike."
"Well, we have other interests in common. We used to play a lot of baseball together. Do you play any sports?"
It was his turn to laugh. "Whose great idea was it that we should get together?"
"I have no clue," she giggled. "I think they just liked the idea of all of us all paired off. I think it's pretty safe to say that you and I are not gonna work."
"Agreed," he chuckled. "At least that's the awkward should-we-date question out of the way. How about sharing a friendly beer?"
She grinned. "I'd love to."
On the other side of the room, Ryder was still staring intently at Josh, who had spent the last half hour talking to Malcolm, the two of them looking cosier and cosier as time went on. Ryder found himself oddly torn between two very opposite urges - he could stand here, watching, as he had always done in the past; or perhaps he should stride across the room, fuming, like a man on a mission… but what then? It was he who decided that he wasn't ready for the next step, after all.
But it wasn't stopping him from standing here, glaring. If Josh noticed, he gave no sign. Malcolm, on the other hand, kept glancing over quizzically, meeting Ryder's eyes a few times. Each time Ryder had looked away coolly, pretending to fix his attention elsewhere. But he was well aware of how idiotic that must have looked; once the king of all poker faces, he had somehow found himself in a position where he was fooling no one.
"Hey man," Joe sauntered over, handing him a new cup of beer.
"Cheers," Ryder said absently, taking a sip. A pause, and he glanced at Joe. "All right?"
Joe shrugged. "Same old, same old."
Ryder nodded, kept staring. Malcolm shifted again, glancing up at him briefly before he ducked his head, whispering something in Josh's ear. Ryder narrowed his eyes, raising the cup to his lips again and taking a rather larger gulp.
"I never got a chance to talk to you, man," Joe said after a moment, his voice quiet. "I'm sorry about what happened."
"Yeah," Ryder said, looking down into his cup.
"I mean, your sister," Joe smiled sadly. "She was a character. Cool chick."
Ryder nodded, still watching Josh, the way the dim light played off his dark hair, the way his lashes cast feathery shadows over his eyes, the slight smile playing about his lips as he talked to Malcolm. Ryder could feel his jaw muscles tightening.
"I just want to say, man," Joe said, laying a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't," Ryder interrupted, not looking at him. "I get it. Let's leave it at that."
He could sense Joe looking at him with a distinctly understanding expression. It relieved and annoyed him in equal measures.
"Sure," Joe said, patting him on the shoulder again. "See you around, Ryder."
Ryder nodded as the other boy walked away, his eyes still firmly trained on Josh across the room.
In the kitchen, Will got a couple of cups from the keg for both Maria and himself. Careful to keep the beer from sloshing on his sneakers, he manoeuvred his way through the dark hall.
Halfway to the living room, however, his attention was distracted by the sight of a couple making out near the stairwell. Not that couples making out were a rarity per se, but he recognised the girl – he had been on the receiving end of that make-out session quite a few times last semester. It was Anita Simons, sister of Lydia, and a guy that Will vaguely recognised as a freshman from Rawley.
He hadn't meant to stare, but they broke apart, and Anita turned right to him. Will gave a start, not sure if he should stay or scuttle away. "Uh," he said.
"William Krudski," she drawled, her arms still wrapped around the boy's neck. "Long time no see."
"You too, Anita," he gave her an embarrassed grin. "Look like you've got your arms full."
"In a manner of speaking," she said, finally unhanding the boy. "Can you get me a drink?" she asked him, batting her eyelashes.
Will couldn't help rolling his eyes as the kid gave Anita an uncertain smile and walked off in the direction of the kitchen, looking dubiously over his shoulder. Will waited until he was out of earshot. "New toy boy, Anita? Isn't he a little young for you?"
She shot him a dirty look. "And I see you've hooked up with Maria at long last. All your dreams are finally fulfilled, huh?"
He paused, unsure of how to answer. But he had forgotten how perceptive she was; it only took her a couple more moments before she grinned, tossing her hair back. "You guys haven't hooked up, have you?"
"Not really your business, Anita," he said, though his voice lacked conviction. Even he could hear it.
"It was kinda my business last semester when you dumped me for her," she said matter-of-factly, reaching over and taking one of his beers. "Thanks," she said, taking a sip and leaving a ring of lipstick around the rim. "I was getting thirsty and who knows where Doug went." She glanced in the direction of the kitchen. "Rich as blazes and my-god-so-very-pretty, but he's thick as a post. His dad had to make a six-figure donation just to get him into Rawley."
Will couldn't help chuckling. "You haven't changed."
"And I see you haven't, either," she gave him a quick, appraising look. "Still sitting on your heels, waiting for things to happen."
"That's not true."
"It is and you know it," she drawled, eyeing him. "Why haven't you and Maria hooked up, huh? You've carried a torch for her since last semester. And you know she likes you."
"Yeah, well, I'm not so sure now," he said, casting a glance into the living room. He could just see Maria in the corner, chatting animatedly to some of her friends from Rawley. He turned back to Anita. "It's just a weird time."
"You want my advice?"
"Not really," he grinned. "But you're gonna give it to me anyway."
"That's right. Listen, you're a jerk."
"Whoa," he exclaimed, forcing a laugh. "Be a little less subtle, Anita, I don't think I quite understand what you're saying."
"I'm serious," she insisted. "You are, Will. You try to come off like a nice guy, but I know you better than that."
He shifted his weight, crossing his arms. "You do, do you?"
"What you did to me last semester," she said. "That definitely fell into the jerk category. What you did to Maria because of me, well… that was even more jerky. I'm surprised she'd want you back after the crap you put her through. Hey," she said, feigning surprise, "maybe that's why you guys haven't hooked up yet. Ever think about that?"
He frowned, at a loss for words. She smiled at him nonchalantly, taking another sip of beer.
"Just say you're right," he said begrudgingly. "What can I do now?"
"Show her you've changed," she shrugged. "Prove it through your actions, not your words. Make her feel important. Come on, Will, you're the romantic. This stuff should be second nature to you."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said, chuckling.
"Just making sure you don't make the same mistake twice," she said just as Doug returned with two cups of beer, a wide grin plastered over his face, which fell rather dramatically as he saw the cup in her hand.
"Thanks sweetie," she said, plucking one of the cups out of his hands and giving it to Will. "Give Maria my best."
Will laughed and turned away.
***
Greenwich: Arcadia nightclub
The music in the club was deafening. The bartenders all seemed to know Scout and the others, serving up anything that they wanted without once asking for ID and putting it all on a tab that seemed to have no upper limit. Bella sipped her Manhattan, leaning back against the bar, watching Scout on the dance floor with a girl that he'd met upon entering the bar.
His friends came and went. Bella thought, uncomfortably, that she saw Blair pocket a small packet of white powder from a dodgy-looking guy and head to the bathrooms with a couple of the other guys in tow.
"At least Scout's not with them," she muttered to herself, watching him grinding up against the girl with a studied sort of abandon She grimaced and looked away.
A few minutes later he was beside her, smoothing his hair off his face. "Why aren't you dancing?" he asked, grinning, as he waved down the bartender. "Bloody Mary, thanks."
"Gotta finish my drink," she said, biting her lip. "Scout, are you sure you're feeling all right?"
"I'm feeling great," he laughed. "You havin' a good time?"
"I guess," she said, forcing a smile. Before she could say more, she spotted Anne and Amy coming their way, their faces identical masks of concern. She stood up straighter and nodded at Scout, who looked over his shoulder.
"Ladies," he said, pretending to tip an imaginary hat. "How's it going?"
"Oh my god, Scout," Amy said, coming forward. "I'm so sorry."
"What are you talking about?" He raised an eyebrow. Bella thought she saw something slip over his face, almost imperceptible, like veil against thought.
"We heard about her," Anne said, coming up behind Amy. "Your girlfriend. We're so sorry. We had no idea."
Scout stood very still, his eyes glazing over. Anne and Amy stared at him, uncertainly, Amy's hand still lingering on his arm.
He didn't answer. Instead, he turned to Bella, his movement slow and measured. She couldn't help recoiling when she saw the look on his face: it was bleak, vacant, as though complete devoid of life.
"Scout," she said, the words drying up in her throat.
Without a word he pushed past Anne and Amy and, within moments, was lost in the crowd.
***
New Rawley: Joe's house
"I'm sorry I haven't been able to speak to you," Malcolm said, leaning in. In the smoky darkness his eyes were pinpoints of light. "I mean, earlier… I wanted to, but you were never alone and I didn't really know how much you wanted to talk…"
"It's okay," Josh said, giving him a small smile. "It's nice of you to think about me."
"I kept thinking about you during the past few weeks," Malcolm said, lowering his eyes. "What you're doing, what you're feeling."
"I'm okay," Josh said, watching him. "I'd be lying if I said it was easy, but… you know, I'm doing all right."
Malcolm nodded before he sighed quietly, looking up. Ryder was still standing in the corner, eyes narrowed, glaring straight at him. "What's Ryder's deal?" he asked. "He keeps giving me evils tonight. Looks like he wants to kill me."
Josh hid a smile. "Does he?"
"Yeah," Malcolm said slowly, turning to face Josh again. Josh smiled back, cryptically.
It seemed to take a while, but finally a light seemed to dawn in Malcolm's eyes, and he raised an eyebrow. Ever so slowly, Josh gave him a nod.
Malcolm looked like he was halfway caught between shock and amusement. "Wow," he said quietly. "I… uh… didn't think I'd live to see the day."
"Well, he's not ready to out himself just yet," Josh said carefully, glancing over his shoulder. "Which is why he's over there, honing his heat vision."
Malcolm couldn't help laughing. "The idiot."
"Don't I know it," Josh sighed.
Still smiling, Malcolm leaned in, patting him on the hand. "Don't worry," he said, glancing slyly at Ryder as he leaned in close to Josh's ear, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I'm sure it won't last."
"What are you doing?" Josh asked, looking as though he knew exactly what Malcolm was doing but was simply too amused to stop it.
"Let's just say I'm playing cupid for once," Malcolm said, quickly kissing him on the cheek before pulling back, both of them carefully not looking in Ryder's direction.
Meanwhile, Grace Banks had sauntered up to Ryder, hitting him playfully on the arm. "Hey," she said. "Having fun with the… glaring?"
He tore his gaze from Josh and Malcolm. "Enjoying the party, love?"
She shrugged. "Not as much as I thought I would. Maybe I'm getting too old for these things."
He couldn't help a derisive snort and she hit him again. "I'm serious," she said. "I think I'm over the whole party scene. Every day is exactly the same." A pause, and she looked toward the door, a dreamy expression settling over her face. "I think I'm gonna go home."
"It's nine-thirty," he said, not taking his eyes off Josh. Malcolm had moved in closer, still whispering in Josh's ear, and Josh looked like he was about to burst out laughing. Ryder could swear he could hear his own teeth grinding.
"I know," Grace said airily. "Still… I think I'm gonna go home. Maybe give Pagan a call, see if…"
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Ryder exclaimed, leaping to his feet.
Grace gave a start. "What?"
Crossing the room in three or four quick strides, Ryder walked right up to Josh and Malcolm, his eyes blazing. As everyone watched he grabbed Josh by his shirt collar, yanked him up to his feet, and proceeded to kiss him on the mouth, roughly and without hesitation.
"Oh boy," Grace said, her jaw dropping. Hers wasn't the only one in the room.
When Ryder and Josh broke apart, Josh looked like he was barely keeping from cracking up altogether. "What happened to taking it slow?" he asked.
"Fuck taking it slow," Ryder said, kissing him again, resolutely ignoring the gaping crowd.
"You're welcome for that, by the way," Malcolm said with a slight grin, slapping Ryder on the back as he walked away. "See you later, guys."
"Joshua," Ryder said threateningly, following Malcolm with his gaze. "Please don't tell me this was all some stupid…"
"Just shut up," Josh said, grinning, as he pulled him down for another kiss.
Somewhere in the room there was the sound of a catcall, and that somehow broke the stunned tension, and people began to laugh, bursting into excited chatter, still looking over their shoulders at Josh and Ryder. They, however, seemed blissfully oblivious.
Grace giggled along with the others as she made her way to the door. "Classic," she muttered, stepping out onto the patio and raising her face to the stars. "Just classic."
Still smiling, she walked out onto the street, heading for home.
Part Six
Greenwich, Scout's house
Scout had driven them home in absolute, stony silence. He pulled to a stop in front of the house and immediately extinguished the engine, getting out and slamming the door.
"Scout, wait," Bella said, scurrying out of the car, trailing after him as he pushed past the maid who answered the door and strode purposefully down the hall to the east wing. "Wait! I'm sorry, okay? I told Angela not to say anything…"
"This is your room," he said coldly, pointing at a large guestroom that had been freshly made up. "Greta already took your bag up."
"Thank you," she said, not looking at the room. "Scout, talk to me. I'm sorry, okay? But it wasn't right, they had no idea and I can't believe you didn't tell them and…"
"You had no right," he said. His voice was low, his eyes an intense blue under the hallway lights. "No right."
"They would have found out eventually!"
"No, they won't," he said. His fists were tightly clenched at his sides, and she couldn't help taking a tiny step back. Did she seriously think he might hit her? She didn't know the answer. Perhaps that was the part that frightened her the most.
"They don't need to know, Bella," he repeated. "I didn't want them to know. And now you've ruined it."
"But can't you see that's not normal?" she yelled, losing her composure. "God, Scout! We all know you're hurting like hell, but it won't help to block it out!"
"Don't talk about this like you know what you're saying," he said quietly, his eyes burning into hers. "Don't you dare."
"You have a problem," she exclaimed. "We all know it. Will's worried sick about you, not to mention everybody else. We hate it, Scout. We hate that you won't let yourself feel any of this. You've become a different person and none of us know you anymore! You can't keep going like this, shutting it all out, shutting her out, one day you're going to have to actually face what happened and…"
"Good night, Bella," he interrupted, brushing brusquely past her. "I trust you can let yourself out of my house tomorrow morning."
"Scout…" she called, exasperated.
He did not look back.
***
New Rawley: Joe's party
"Wow," Will said as he and Maria joined Lena and Sean out on the porch, still looking a little shell-shocked. "I did not see that coming."
"I did," Sean said with a small shrug.
Will turned to him, his jaw dropping again. "You're not serious. How did you know?"
"Well, I didn't hate Ryder as much as you did," Sean said dryly. "Gave me a more complete picture, y'know."
"You mean you knew he was…" Will gestured wildly toward the window. "And that he was… with Josh? When did this happen? How? Why? But he gave Jake and Hamilton so much crap!"
"As if that wasn't a clue," Lena said sagely.
Sean and Maria couldn't help chuckling. "She has a point," Sean said.
Will was still looking distinctly flustered. "This is too much to take in, guys."
"Yeah," Lena murmured, peering through the living room window. "Ryder, of all people."
"I thought you said his homophobia was a clue," Will said.
"I think it was," she said, still looking. "That's not what I meant. I was talking about the way he just walked up and kissed him in front of everybody. That's not the Ryder I know."
"Yeah," Sean murmured. "Who'd have thunk it?"
"You can't hide from what you want," Maria said quietly. "Not forever."
Will glanced back at her, thoughtfully, but her eyes were trained on the window like everyone else.
***
Susan Krudski's house
*Switchfoot's 'This is Your Life' plays*
*Will's voiceover starts*
'We grow up. We look around, and we think we know what true deception is. But we'd be wrong. It's not the person who hides a truth from everybody else. It's not even the person who avoids the truth of something, even though they know everyone else have seen it coming from a long way off. The truest form of deception, the most hurtful, the one that's the hardest to make sense of, are the lies we tell ourselves. In the end, we are always the ones who we deceive.'
Jake let herself into the house quietly, closing the door behind her. Walking over to the window, she parted the curtains with one hand and looked out.
Yesterday is a wrinkle on your forehead
Yesterday is a promise that you’ve broken
Don’t close your eyes, don’t close your eyes
This is your life and today is all you’ve got now
Yeah, and today is all you’ll ever have
The night pressed in, like inky tide. Spencer had just made his way back down the footpath and onto the street. As she watched, he zipped up his leather jacket and turned left, heading toward his house.
She walked up to her room only after he finally moved out of sight. The hall was dark; Jake let herself into her room silently, carefully guiding the door shut behind her.
She turned on the light, and the room suddenly came into view. The same old bed, the same old desk, the same old laptop. Everything was simple, and clear-cut, and she was almost surprised at how mundane it was, the everyday boredom of it. This was her life; the thought comforted and terrified her in equal measures.
She didn't know how long she simply stood there, at the centre of the room, here in these perfectly ordinary surroundings, here in this foreign land.
This is your life, are you who you want to be?
This is your life, are you who you want to be?
This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be?
When the world was younger and you had everything to lose
