CHAPTER ELEVEN

I tried to think through all the possibilities of who would have broken up with Trent on Ella’s behalf. Her phone had been found out in the football field, so it was possible the jocks had discovered it and thought it would be funny. Especially since Trent had so often been the targeting of their special brand of bullying.

It could have been Deacon. The tall, blond football player friend of Jake’s. Jake had mentioned a while ago that Deacon had a crush on Ella. The same guy I’d seen Jake talking to yesterday. What if he’d done it to clear the field for himself?

Or the cheerleading squad, who were constantly telling Ella to dump Trent and date someone better. Somebody like Deacon. Maybe they decided to take matter into their own freshly manicured hands.

Maybe it was some freshman or sophomore who was deeply envious of Ella and had decided to try and mess up her life.

But I had the sinking feeling that the person who did this was Old Scratch herself, Mercedes Bentley.

Problem was I didn’t know anybody in the police department so I couldn’t beg for a favor and get them to dust Ella’s phone for fingerprints. (Not to mention that Mercedes’s fingerprints probably wouldn’t even show up. Like how vampires don’t have reflections.) There was no way to prove my suspicions. And I could have been wrong. It could have been someone I hadn’t even considered yet. But my gut told me that it was Mercedes.

Jake called at our regular time. “Hey there, Mike Tyson. I was just calling to tell you good night.” His rich, masculine tone made me melt. His voice was almost as hot as his perfect face and body.

Did that make me shallow?

If it did, did I care?

He asked about my day, and I so badly wanted to demand he tell me why he’d gone to the hospital, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want him to know that I’d been following him because I intended to keep doing it until I had my answers. Until I figured out what he’d been up to and why he was being so secretive and distant. I knew I could have just asked him, but I was afraid he’d lie, or he’d push me away, or worse, he’d admit to everything, and then we’d have to break up.

I didn’t really want that to happen just before prom. Even if that did make me superficial.

The next morning Ella and I saw a big commotion right outside the school’s front doors. When we got close enough to see a man talking, it took me a minute to place him. He was Harrison Phillips, host of that reality show about bachelors pretending to fall in love after going on two dates. There were four women lined up and in formal gowns. I wondered if they were from the show.

Right next to the host stood Alan Feldstein in a suit and tie. He cleaned up nicer than I would have expected. He held a metallic pin shaped like a heart in his hands.

His girlfriend Tori stood in front of them, hands over her mouth as she jumped up and down.

“It’s her favorite TV show,” somebody in the crowd said.

Another voice offered, “I think Alan’s dad is Harrison Phillips’s agent. Or manager. Something like that.”

“Now, Tori, it’s time for the final heart.” The host paused, as if he were actually on television and was creating dramatic tension for the upcoming commercial break. “Will you take this piece of Alan’s heart and go to prom with him?”

Then the four evening gown women turned, and each one wore a letter on her back that spelled out PROM.

“Yes, yes, I will!”

The crowd started applauding as Tori threw her arms around Alan. Then he turned her and dipped her, kissing her soundly. More cheering and catcalling.

Ugh. Some people should get a room.

In Iceland. Or Greenland. Whichever one of those was always cold and would force people to stay inside so I didn’t have to see them.

Ella told me she had an appointment with the guidance counselor, something about submitting her current transcripts to UCLA. She said she’d see me later.

I walked slowly to my first class. If Jake was here at school already, there was no way he could have missed Alan’s promposal. There was no way he could have missed any of them. He couldn’t claim ignorance. Not only were they happening all around us, but they were being shared on every social media platform. Daily. Promposals were literally everywhere. Like ants at a picnic.

And yet he still hadn’t asked.

I spotted Trent’s black, spiky fauxhawk in the hallway. A rush of anger followed by indignation that he’d dare to show his face rippled through me.

Surprisingly, I discovered that I was kind of tired of being angry at him. Like Jake had said, my anger was only hurting me. Me being mad did not affect Trent.

I mean, except for when I hit him.

Maybe Jake had also been right about the whole apologizing thing making me feel better. What if it also made me not feel so mad and churned up anymore?

There was only one way to find out.

I followed Trent until he stopped at that same alcove I’d found him in last week. He pulled out another book and ignored everyone around him. The bell rang, and I waited, just out of his eye line. I was getting pretty good at this whole stalking people without them knowing it thing.

I wasn’t sure if that was something to be proud of.

As I suspected, Trent didn’t go to class. After the hall had emptied, I approached him.

He glanced up at me and scowled. There was a faint purple bruise on his jaw, and I felt even guiltier. “Here to finish the job?”

“Tempting, but no.” I took in a big breath. Admitting I’d been wrong was not something I was known for. “I’m actually here to apologize.”

Trent’s eyebrows popped straight up his forehead in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“As a punch to the face.” He scowled, and I rushed on. “Er, sorry. Too soon? But what I did was wrong. I shouldn’t have hit you, and again, I’m sorry. That’s not how you treat a friend.”

At that, he let out a little guffaw. “You and I were never really friends, and we’re not friends now.” That felt like a crushing blow to my chest. Did he really think we were never friends? I had relied on him for so long. Was I that easy to dismiss and forget?

Despite me trying to move on and be the bigger person, him trying to hurt me stoked up the rage beast currently simmering in my chest. “You’re the one who cut everybody off, not the other way around. But maybe you’re right. No friend of mine could ever have done to Ella what you did.”

“Yeah, well, no friend of mine would ever ditch me just because some jock deigned to date her.”

I didn’t know what deigned met, but I caught that he was insulting me and accusing me of ignoring him. Some part of me wondered if he was right. I couldn’t remember the last conversation he and I’d had. I had been very wrapped up in Jake. Maybe I had neglected Trent before he found out about the end of his parents’ marriage.

But it wasn’t as if I could go back in time and undo what had already been done. It was sad to think that Trent used to be there in my life, so significant and important, and then he wasn’t.

Even if I hadn’t been a good friend to him, I could still be a good sister to Ella. “She didn’t break up with you. Somebody else sent you that text.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that last night when we talked. But whatever. It doesn’t matter now.”

I tried to hide my surprise. Um, that was fairly significant information she hadn’t shared with me yet. Why hadn’t Ella told me about her chat with Trent?

He got up from his seat, putting his book into his backpack. I probably should have let him go, but my curiosity was killing me. Had the fake text prompted all this? Or was that just an easy lie for Ella to believe? “How long have you been dating Bronte?”

“That is none of your business.”

“My sister thinks it was since she lost her phone. I believe the opposite.” He shifted from one foot to another, looking like he just wanted to escape. It was also his tell. I didn’t know why I had to know; I just did. Maybe it was because I was tired of all the not-truths in my life. “You don’t need to lie to me. I won’t tell her either way because I would never hurt her like that, but just be honest.”

He paused, considering my request. “For a few weeks. Bronte gets me.”

The implication, of course, being that Ella and I didn’t get him. I didn’t even feel any satisfaction that I’d been right. If I was a better person, I’d want him to be happy. But part of me hoped that Bronte would dump him.

Then he walked off, without saying goodbye to me. It was probably our final conversation, and it hadn’t really ended. I hoped that Ella had gotten the closure she wanted at least. I watched him go, dealing with the warring emotions inside of me. Some piece of me was relieved that it was over. That I didn’t have to think or worry about him anymore.

Another part felt so sad. I supposed some friendships were meant to die and not last forever. Like I somehow always knew in the back of my mind that our friendship wouldn’t last past high school. Especially with him going to college on the East Coast and me staying out here in LA.

It was hard to believe we weren’t friends any longer. But we weren’t enemies, either. I could never really hate him.

Which essentially made us like strangers. But with shared memories.

“Just a footnote,” I murmured to myself.

But that didn’t make it any less painful.

In my next class with Ella, I had to wait for the end of class bell to ring before I could confront my sister. “You talked to Trent last night?”

“I did.”

And she didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “And you didn’t tell me why exactly?”

“I don’t know. I’m still kind of processing it. And honestly, there’s not much to tell. I told him he hurt me, and he didn’t really say much in response. It was just a chance for me to express how he made me feel, and he . . . let me. How did you know we talked?”

“Because I had the pleasure of chatting him up today.” I filled her in on my conversation with him and the realizations that I had come to. That not only was she done with him as a boyfriend, but we were both done with him as friends as well.

“You never know,” my eternal optimist sister said. “Maybe someday.”

“Maybe,” I echoed. But I wouldn’t be holding my breath.

“Do you know one of the things that’s been hardest for me?” she asked.

“What?”

“I wish I had known that our last time together was our last time together. I would have tried to . . . I don’t know. Enjoy it more. Appreciate it. But I guess you never really know when the last time is happening, do you?”

“Now I need M&M’s,” I told her, feeling depressed.

We walked together in silence before Ella offered, “I do have to tell you that I’m pretty impressed you apologized to Trent. That’s so out of character for you.”

“Right?” I agreed. “I thought it was very big of me.”

“What’s big of you, Chuck Norris?” I turned to see Jake standing behind me with that blinding, perfect smile, and I threw my arms around his neck. “Whoa, what’s going on?”

“I did what you said. I apologized to Trent, and he says we’re not friends and never were.”

Jake must have heard the pain in my voice as his arms tightened around me even more. “That’s not true. You guys were definitely friends. Do you know how much time I spent being jealous of that guy? Because you were always together.”

My heart skipped a beat at the idea that Jake had been jealous, but then sank again as I thought of all the time Trent and I used to spend together.

And despite Ella’s hope, I knew that he and I never would hang out again.

I turned to look for her, but she had disappeared, leaving us alone.

“I know just what to do to help you forget your conversation with that Goth jerk. We should get out of here,” Jake said.

“And go where?” Would it be to the hospital? The place I suspected he’d been sneaking off to, like he had the day I followed him?

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. Maybe we can catch a movie? Something to take your mind off things for a couple of hours.”

It sounded good, but with all the school he’d been skipping lately, I didn’t want to add to it. “You’ve been missing a lot of school.”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve been missing it,” he teased. “What can I say? I have a serious case of senioritis. We’re graduating, and I’m passing, and we’ve been already been accepted to UCSC. There doesn’t seem much point in going to school all the time.”

What about me? Spending time with me in class? Walking down the hallway hand in hand? Eating our lunches together? Was I not worth coming to school for?

And how completely insecure would I sound if I asked him any of that?

As if he sensed my hesitation, he said, “Come on. I’ll even let you pick the movie.”

“Yes! Romantic comedy, here we come!”

He let out a fake groan, and I laughed as he put his arm around my shoulders. We walked toward the exit, and I thought of how much I loved this. Feeling like I belonged to him as he held me close and that he belonged to me.

He kissed my left temple, and I sagged against him. Just a little. “I can’t believe I agreed to go see a romantic comedy. I must really love you, Evander Holyfield.”

And for right here, right now, that was enough. I might have wanted (and not wanted) answers, but I would go, and I would be with the beautiful boy I loved and just let myself live in that moment.

I’d already had one ugly confrontation for the day. I wasn’t in the mood for another.