“How did you see this playing out, exactly? You string her along until you actually are eighteen and then say, ‘By the way, baby, funny story, I’m actually five years younger than you’?”

Ryan can’t even glare at me, though I suspect he wants to. “It seemed simple at first. Age is just a number, right? But then we were hooking up, as she has time, because she works two jobs and she thinks I do, too. Then there was the sex—” He trails off, seeing that’s not a good tack to take with me. “And I thought I was in love with her, okay?”

“Thought?”

“It’s complicated. At first, it seemed harmless to let people think we’re together, Sage. It was easy. It gave both of us some cred, you know?”

The rage pushes. I shove it down, trembling as I listen.

“At school and on Friday nights, you feel like my girlfriend. Most people think you are. So the line started to blur. It’s just physical now with Cassie … and everything else…” Ryan takes both my hands. “Sage, you’re everything else.”

I’m so angry I can hardly speak. The feeling is fire, and it’ll burn me up if I don’t lock it down. I’m so scared. I can’t feel this. I close my eyes and breathe, willing it away. It’s better to be sad and hurt. I’ll take the damage rather than inflict any.

When I finally speak, my voice is quiet and calm. “Are you asking me to be with you? While there’s a girl who still thinks her hardworking, nineteen-year-old boyfriend loves her?”

To make matters worse, I know why he’s moving on me now. He was fine keeping Cassie and me in our respective roles, until it looked like I might be interested in someone else. Now, suddenly, Ryan wants to promote me to full girlfriend status. I guess he doesn’t want to lose the “cred” he mentioned before. He’s my best friend, but at the moment, I don’t like him very much.

“Did it ever occur to you that I wondered if something was wrong with me?” I ask quietly.

His eyes widen. “What—”

“You never made a move, but nobody else asked me out, either. Other girls date all the time. But not me. Of course I worried about why. I try to be positive, but sometimes? It felt pretty crappy.”

I can see the pain in Ryan’s eyes, but it doesn’t make mine go away. “I’m so sorry. That’s a hundred percent my fault.”

“Because it was easier for you. That’s really selfish.”

“Let me make it up to you.” He leans in, but I turn my face, so his mouth glances across my cheek. Ryan McKenna will not be getting my first kiss.

“If you’re unhappy with this girl, you need to break up with her. She’ll probably be furious and ashamed, but that’s better than letting her think the relationship failed because of something she did.” I pause, weighing my next words. But, yeah, I mean them, though it means I’ll effectively be alone. “Once you do that, plus some hard thinking, I could consider being friends with you again. But right now? I need some time.”

His mouth twists. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Since I didn’t even know we were dating, that strikes me as funny. “I guess I am.”

“You promised you wouldn’t judge me,” he says softly.

“That was when I thought you might be gay. I can’t support you being a liar.”

He flinches, but doesn’t dispute my assessment. When Ryan leaves, he takes a chunk of me with him. We’ve been through so much together, shared everything—I thought—but he had this whole other life that I never even suspected. It makes me feel stupid and disposable, like a paper towel he used to clean up his mess.

I don’t sleep much that night, and it’s not because of the Dream.

CHAPTER FIVE

Monday morning sucks so hard, I have no words.

Somehow I managed to hide my colossal bad mood from my aunt. She makes a point of doing stuff with me on a regular basis, which is more than my mom ever did. This weekend, we made falafel and flatbread, then gave each other pedicures. Which might sound boring, but it was exactly what I needed after the drama with Ryan.

To distract her from my life, I asked all kinds of questions about UPS Joe. The date went well, I guess, and they’ll be doing it again. I joked, “Tell me if you need me to have a sleepover some night,” and to my amusement, Aunt Gabby turned bright red. The teasing carried us until bedtime.

Then I overslept this morning and didn’t have time for more than a ponytail. No makeup. And I’m in my usual Crappy Weekend outfit: pink-and-black-print skirt, black leggings, pink tank, black shrug. The idea is that the pink will cheer me up. Mostly I remember Ryan saying I look like a hydrangea in this. My life has Ryan McKenna’s stupid size 13 shoes all over it. I’m realizing I don’t have many other close friendships; I let him eat up all my time, though we weren’t even dating. God only knows what would’ve happened if we had been. We might’ve merged into a mecha-something or fused consciousness like the Borg.

So, yeah, Monday morning, and I’m alone. There’s no Ryan waiting for me at the double doors. Though I know this is the right move, it still sucks. Which makes me even surer this is the best decision because maybe we’ve gotten codependent. But this feels like the first day of school all over again; in my head, I’m thirteen, nobody likes me, and they’re going to find out where I lived before, what I’ve done. Crap. Ryan isn’t the only one keeping secrets, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. I ride past the students milling in the parking lot, the few perched on cars, and lock up my bike along with a couple already secured to the rack. Come winter, I’ll be the only one still riding. It doesn’t get easier inside the building. The usual groups are clustered around their lockers, but now they look like aliens with their craning necks and curious eyes. It’s like they’ve never seen me before. I slide past them, heading for my locker, where I pull up short. I glance to either side, wondering if this is a joke. Then I imagine this is how other people feel when they find my pink Post-it. But this one is bright blue and it’s written in black Sharpie. It says, You are the silver lining.

I love that phrase and the fact that it came from John Milton. “Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud / Turn forth her silver lining on the night?” So somebody out there thinks I’m the bright side of a dark cloud. I take down the note and stick it inside the cover of my binder. Feeling someone’s gaze, I glance around, hoping to catch the person who wrote it, but there’s only Ryan, watching me from his locker across the way. From his expression I can tell he saw the Post-it, maybe even read it, but he didn’t leave it there.

I turn away without speaking to him and the girl next to me notices. Lila’s not goth, but she wears a lot of black, and she’s a pro at rolling her eyes. She thinks everyone except her has an IQ of seventy-five. “So, are you two done?”

God, I don’t even know how to answer that. It isn’t what she thinks, but I still care about him, and I won’t dump his secrets in the lap of the first person who asks. Soon enough, gossip will hit that we’re “over.” Awesome. All the break-up bullshit, none of the making-out.

“For now,” I say finally. “Sometimes it’s good to take a break, get some perspective.”

“Somebody cheated.” She smirks. “But you both look so squeaky clean that I can’t guess who’s the injured party.”

“Good talk, Lila. See you later.” Though we’ve been locker neighbors for two years, this is the most she’s ever said to me.

She laughs. “That was almost sarcastic, Princess. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

She doesn’t mean it in a bad way. I get it; I’m a joke to most people. The people at JFK think I never get down—that I don’t have shitty days and dark thoughts. I’ve just learned not to follow them down the hole. I’ve seen what lives in there, and it’s pretty awful. Depression threatens. I can’t bail on all my activities, but I’m no longer enthused about the meetings because it will be beyond awkward, dealing with Ryan. I’m just grateful I have a few things of my own, like my part-time job at the Curly Q.