Page 7 of Runaways

"Well, that's step one," she says.

She isn't normally mean like this—it isn't her. She's hurting, and I know that.

But it doesn't make it fair. It doesn't mean she's wrong, either.

"If you fuck him, you're dead to me; you know that, right? You'll ruin everything. You'll ruinallofus."

"I got it."

I lie there, staring at her ceiling, feeling smaller and even more ridiculous as memories from the past couple of months flash through my mind like a movie.

A really fucked up movie about a really,reallystupid girl.

I manage not to cry until after I hear Mia snoring softly beside me, and then I run to the bathroom, closing the door behind me just as the first sob escapes my throat.

Gripping the sides of the sink in my hands, I sob for minutes—for everything.

The way I feel, the things Mia said, my mom, the move. All of it hurts.

After a few minutes, I make the mistake of looking up and meeting my reflection under the florescent lights. My face is already flushed, my blonde hair that hits just at my shoulders and refuses to grow any longer is frizzy and matted to my face from the weather and my tears. Mascara stains the skin around my eyes, and it occurs to me that I've looked like this all night—in front of them. And then there are the freckles I try to hide under makeup and the small gap between my front teeth, which makes me reluctant to show my smile.

Mia is right—I am too ugly. It's not the first time I've heard it; she's always been the pretty one—with her long, thick, dark hair, a complexion that tans instead of freckles and burns in the summer like mine, full lips and hazel eyes that match her twin brother's.

But it is the first time I've heard it from her.

I splash water on my face and dry it with a towel, but it smells like him. And that makes it worse.

"Fuck," I cry, throwing the towel into the sink. I slide down the wall onto the ground, sobbing with my head in my hands.

"Noah?" Tate calls from the other side of the door. "Are you crying?"

I take a deep breath, attempting to gather myself before answering. "No. I'm fine."

"You need to come out."

"Just a minute."

"I'm going to pick the lock. Be right back."

Shit.

The doors inside all our units can be unlocked from the outside with a penny, and we've all been doing it for years, so it isn't an empty threat. As soon as I hear him step away from the bathroom door, I unlock it and dart into the hallway, hoping to make it back to Mia's room before he sees me.

It doesn't work.

Tate grabs me by my arm from behind, stopping me. "Hey," he says in a low tone. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Look at me," he says.

I shake my head, and he steps in front of me. He places his hands on my cheeks and tilts my head upward until our eyes meet in the darkened hallway. "Tell me why you're crying. Is it the move?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," he says, resting his forehead against mine. "You know that, right?"

I shake my head and choke on a sob. "No. Not really."

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