Page 56 of Your Fault

I took a few deep breaths and stood.

“We’ll go, we’ll pose for the cameras as you wish, but I’ll warn you, when they eventually figure out what’s going on with us, Dad’s going to look like a fucking liar.”

We walked out to the backyard. I was so mad that I stared wordlessly at the waves breaking on the cliff below the house, trying to calm down. I felt Noah’s arms embracing me from behind and her cheek leaning softly on my shoulder. Putting a hand on top of hers, I felt a little better.

“It’s not such a big deal, Nick…” she said. I turned and looked at her sternly.

“For me it is… Noah, I can’t stand people thinking you’re not mine.”

“But I am, you know I am, and it’s just a stupid party. We’ll be there for a few hours at the most. Don’t overthink it.”

I shook my head. “It’s important, though. This is the last time I give in to something like this.” I kissed her. “I want to shout to the whole world that I’m with you. I can’t believe you don’t feel the same.”

She shrugged and smiled. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You know I’m yours. That should be enough.”

I sighed and kissed the tip of her nose.It should be, but it isn’t, I thought to myself. Things needed to change.

23

Noah

I was going to meet up with Jenna that afternoon. I hadn’t seen her in a month, since before I’d gone to Europe, and I had the feeling she was avoiding me. Finally she’d agreed to let me come to her house. As I was waiting by the door, I couldn’t help admiring their huge front yard. They didn’t have a private gate like the Leisters, but it was a far walk to reach the entrance. They had a bunch of very tall trees and yellow swings and a small pond with frogs and pretty flowers to the right of the house, which gave it a fairy-tale air. Almost all the mansions in that development were incredible, but Jenna’s had something special about it, and that was probably thanks to her.

“Come in, Miss Morgan,” Lisa, the maid, said. I smiled back at her.

“Is Jenna in her room?” I asked. I could hear video games in the background, so I knew her brothers were home, at least.

“Yes, she’s waiting for you,” she answered. Then she took off running when she heard something break in another room.

I laughed as I headed toward the stairs, which were next to an elegantly decorated sitting room and a bar with hundreds of bottles of liquor meant to tempt you.

I knocked on Jenna’s door and went in, and I found her sitting cross-legged on her zebra-skin rug surrounded by suitcases and piles of clothes. Her hair was pulled back on the top of her head. A smile appeared on her face when she saw me, and she got up to give me a hug.

“I missed you, Blondie,” she said as she let me go. It was weird not to see her jumping around or dragging me over to sit on the bed so she could gossip and grill me for the latest details in my life. I could tell something was bothering her, something that kept her from being her usual energetic, entertaining self.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to hide my worry.

She looked around, almost clueless.

“Oh, this!” She sat back on the floor and motioned for me to do the same. “I’m deciding what to take to school. Can you believe it’s so soon?”

Despite all the times we’d talked about college, our independence, and how we would make sure to come see each other, I was surprised she seemed so excited to go.

“I haven’t even started packing my bags…” I said and remembered with apprehension that I still hadn’t confronted my mother to tell her I’d be living with Nick. I also needed to tell Jenna, but something told me this wasn’t the time.

I spent a few minutes helping her fold T-shirts and looked around, distracted, anxious to find out what was going on with her.

Jenna’s room was the complete opposite of mine. While mine was blue and white and tranquil, an invitation to relax, Jenna’s had pink walls and black furniture. She had hung up a big mannequin with a bunch of necklaces around its neck; we’d tried to untangle them before, because they were supercool, and we wanted to wear them. But our attempts were in vain—they’d never be more than decorations. On another wall, a black-and-white zebra-print sofathat matched the rug was turned toward the TV across from it. She, too, had a walk-in closet, but just then it was an utter disaster.

In the background, I heard Pharrell Williams playing. I was surprised she wasn’t humming along. I looked at her for a few more seconds. Since when did Jenna Tavish spend more than five seconds in silence? I laid the T-shirt I was folding on the ground.

“You can go ahead and tell me what’s up with you,” I said in a slightly firmer tone than I had used thus far.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s up,” she responded. But she then got up and turned her back to me, sitting on her immense bed, which was covered in clothes and fashion magazines.

“Jenna, we know each other… You didn’t even ask how my trip was. I know something’s going on with you. Now spit it out,” I said, getting up and going over to her. I didn’t like seeing her like that: my friend, my best friend, normally so cheerful and alive, all depressed.

She looked up from a piece of paper she was holding in her hand, and her eyes were damp.

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