Page 6 of Runaways

"Bye, Noah," Tate says in a mocking, singsong tone. "See you soon."

"Are you okay?" I ask as we ascend the staircase, even though I already know the answer.

"No, I'm not fucking okay," she says. "Why would you ask me something so stupid?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be stupid. I just want to help you, but I don't know how."

"You could stop thirsting after my brother. That would help."

"I'm no—" I start, but I'm cut off when my mom steps out of our unit.

"Oh, hi, Noah," she says. "Paul ordered Chinese food. Are you hungry?"

It's clear she's been crying; her face is flushed and her eyes swollen.

"We ate already. And I'm going to stay at Mia's since everything in my room is packed, okay?"

"Okay," she says. "Paul wants to leave by nine tomorrow, though. So, please set an alarm and don't be late. He's really busy."

But she doesn't saypleaselike she means to be polite—she says it like she's afraid of what will happen if I don't wake up on time.

"Uh, yeah. I'll set an alarm. Good night."

"Hey," she says, calling my attention back as I continue down the corridor. "This is going to be great for us—you'll see. We deserve this; we can finally be happy."

I shrug. "I washappy, Mom."

She tries. Ithinkshe tries; we both do. But the truth is she missed the early years of my life when I really needed an adult to take care of me, and because of that, there's something missing between us—something neither of us would know how to fix even if we tried.

"Ow—shit!" Paul calls out from inside. "God damn it! I can't wait to never have to come back to this shithole. Kathy!"

"Coming!" she shouts back.

She forces a smile in my direction before disappearing back inside our apartment. With Mia no longer at my side, I walk to the larger unit at the end of the hall, letting myself in. It's dark, the lights off as I pass through the living area toward the dining room that Mia's parents converted into a small bedroom so there would be space for the four of them.

When I push the curtain aside, I find Mia in bed and under the blankets, facing the back wall. I don't ask before getting into her dresser and picking out some dry clothes for myself to sleep in; we've shared everything for the better part of our lives. We wear the same size, but she's a little shorter and bustier than I am. I pull on a pair of tiny cotton shorts and a cropped t-shirt before crawling under the covers beside her and hooking my arm around her waist.

It occurs to me, not for the first time, that I'll never have a friendship like this one again. I wonder how that will feel.

"Portland is only forty minutes away," I tell her. "And Paul said I could drive one of his cars. I could come and see you every weekend. Or you could come there and hide with me, and you won't have to deal with any of them. You won't be alone."

I am, though—I'm going to be alone. I almost want to scream it, but I haven't been allowed to be sad about it because Mia is hurting right now. And Mia has a history of not handling sad very well.

"I miss him," she says, sobbing softly. "You don't know what this is like; you've never been in love."

Her words cut like a knife. "You're right. I don't."

"Tate doesn't like you," she says. "And I don't even understand how you could look at him like that. I mean, I look at Silas like a brother. Don't you think of them like bro—well, but I guess you don't have siblings, either. Pro-tip from someone who does: You shouldn't want to fuck them."

"Mia, I don't think I'm looking at him like anything."

"Good, because he's only flirting with you because you're leaving, and he's wondering if he can fuck you before you go. He doesn't like you."

"You said that already, and—"

"And you're not pretty enough for him. I'm sorry, but you're not."

I pull my arm away and roll onto my back. "I already know I'm ugly, Mia."

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