Page 117 of Intermission
“Grounded.”
“Okay . . .” Not what I was asking, but . . .
“I guess your mom called my mom a while back. She was worried you were pregnant.”
“But you know we never did anything.”
She shrugs.
“Ever.”
“There was that condom in your bag last year.”
“That was Gretchen’s!” I hiss. Is she serious? “Come on, Jen! You know me better than that.”
“I thought I did.” Jenna’s eyes are filled with accusations. “But my mom made some good points actually, that made me wonder if maybe you didn’t tell me everything.”
I can’t believe this. I can’t... believe this. “Like what?”
“Like how when you were with Noah, you acted like I didn’t exist until you needed an excuse to meet up with him.”
I can’t deny it. I didn’t know I was doing it at the time, though. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, whatever. And I know what youtoldme about the condom, and about why your mom made you go to the women’s clinic, but...” She shrugs and looks away. “I mean, how many times did you ask me to lie so you could be withhim? You lied to your mom. You usedmeto lie to your mom. Why would it bother you to lie to me, too?”
My eyes slide shut. “Because you’ve been my best friend since elementary school.”
“Have I?” Jenna’s jaw twitches. “Because the way you were with Noah, I think maybe he took my spot.”
“Is that what this is about?” My jaw drops. “You’re jealous of Noah?”
“No, Faith. Noah is gone. This is about me not knowing if I can trust you. I don’t even know if I know you anymore. We’ve changed. We’ve grown apart. I mean, really... what do we have in common?Nothing.”
When she meets my eyes, her expression is one I’ve seen many times through the years, but never before hasthat lookbeen directed at me. Not seriously.
“My mom made a really good point when we were talking about this last night.”
I don’t think I want to know, but I have to ask. “What’s that?”
“She said you seem awfully attached to Noah Spencer for someone who claims to have never gone past first base.”
What is she saying?
“There’s a private women’s clinic in Sommerton. Geez. I mean, your dad’s a doctor at the hospital, too. And as far as privacy goes, there’s that hypocritic oath or whatever. They have to keep things private.”
Hippocratic, she means, and it’s not really about privacy, but I don’t correct her.
“So why would you go that far unless something happened and you wanted to make it... you know, go away?”
I . . . I can’t . . . How could she think . . . ?
She’s supposed to be my best friend. We have history. She knows me. She knows I would never...
“Jen.” Cold spirals through me. “I told you everything. I wasn’t... I never...” When I inhale, everything shakes. “I’m sorry I asked you to lie for me about Noah. That was wrong.”
And Ididapologize. Months ago. Before Noah ever left.
“But I never liedtoyou, Jenna. Noah and I never—you know. Mom made me go out of town because she didn’t want anyone to recognize me at a local clinic.”
