Sometimes It Happens (23 page)

I look at him. “No, he stalked her.” But there’s a weird feeling in my stomach because, when I really think about it, I never saw any evidence of Riker stalking Ava. I mean, she told me that he was sending her five million emails and texts a day, and she told me that she caught him following her to the mall and driving by her house. But I never saw any of these alleged texts or emails, and anytime I saw Riker around Ava, he seemed perfectly nice. But I just thought that’s what made him more creepy—you know, that he would be nice when he saw her, like nothing weird was going on.

“No, he broke up with her. Ava was really upset about it for a couple of weeks, but then she met me and got over it,” Noah says. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Ava told you this?” I ask incredulously.

“Yeah,” he says, and shrugs. “So wait, she told you that
she
broke up with
him
?”

“Yeah,” I say. “And that he was stalking her.”

“Why would she say that?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Probably because it’s the truth.” But I can also think of another reason. She was probably embarrassed that she got dumped.

The thing is, I’ve always looked up to Ava when it comes to boys—the easy way she blows off their phone calls, the way she doesn’t obsess about them, the way she always has that perfect comeback for some guy that’s being a douche. I, on the other hand, am a complete disaster when it comes
to boys—trying my best to keep them close, falling apart in bathrooms after they cheat on me, thinking I might have a crush on my best friend’s boyfriend. . . .

Ava loves being the one I look up to, the one who has it all together. It’s our dynamic, and one we’re both comfortable with. But if she couldn’t even tell me that Riker broke up with her, then what does that say about our friendship?

We’re pulling into the parking lot at work now and I turn to Noah, getting ready to ask him about all of this, and about why he was at my house last night, when Lacey comes running out of Cooley’s, her face flushed and her hair a mess. “You guys,” she says. “You have to get inside. Now. Danielle’s here and she will
not
go away.”

“What do you mean she won’t go away?” I ask.

“I mean, she’s, like, refusing to leave.” Lacey bites her lip and glances over her shoulder toward the diner fearfully.

“Okay.” I sigh and get out of the car. “Come on.” I can’t believe it’s only six a.m. and there’s already been this much drama.

Noah looks at Sebastian. Sebastian looks at Noah. Noah looks at me. I look at Noah. Noah opens his mouth, like he’s thinking about saying something, but then he turns around and walks out of the guidance office. And before I can stop myself, before I even know what I’m doing, I’m running after him.

“Excuse me, young lady,” Rosie yells after me. “Once you’re in guidance, you
stay
in guidance. You cannot just start
prowling
the halls; you need to—”

But I ignore her and keep going. Noah’s far ahead of me already, his long legs giving him a head start.

“Noah!” I yell. He doesn’t turn around, he just keeps walking, not varying his speed, but his long, quick strides carry him down the hall and away from me.

I run to catch up with him.

“What’s your problem?” I say, stepping in front of him so that he can’t go anywhere.

He looks at me like he can’t believe I would even ask
such a question. “What’s my
problem
?” he says. “You were in the guidance office, holding hands with Sebastian, and you ask me what my
problem
is?”

“I’m surprised you care,” I say, shifting my bag on my shoulder and crossing my arms over my chest. “Seeing how you told me that I shouldn’t have told Ava what happened last night.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It
is
what you said.”

“No, I said that I never wanted you to ruin your friendship with Ava because of me.”

“That’s the same thing!” I’m almost yelling now, and we’re about one step away from getting yelled at by a teacher, which would not be good, especially since I don’t even have a pass to be here or in guidance or anywhere. Technically, I’m supposed to be in social media, and that’s where I’ll be sent if we get caught.

Noah must realize we’re getting loud, because he takes my hand and pulls me around the corner to an alcove under the stairs that lead up to the science wing. It’s a small space, so we’re forced to stand close, our chests almost touching. “Look,” he says. “After what happened last night, for you to be in there holding Sebastian’s hand is inexcusable.”

“I wasn’t holding his hand!” I protest. My heart is beating so hard I’m afraid it might pop right through my chest. It doesn’t help that I can see Noah’s face up close, the curve of his lip, the stubble on his cheeks that tells me he didn’t shave
this morning, the way his hair flops over his forehead.

“That’s what it looked like to me,” Noah says.

“He
took
my
hand,” I say, hoping that will make a difference. But it seems to make Noah mad.

“You let him,” he says.

“Not really,” I say.

“Hannah.” He looks at me, the same way he looked at me last night in the diner, with longing and sadness, and it’s like everything I’m feeling I can see in his eyes. I want to kiss him so bad it hurts, but I know I can’t. So instead, I tear my gaze from his and look down at the ground.

“Don’t be mad,” I say.

“I’m not.” He takes a breath and lets it out slowly, then runs his fingers through his hair.

“You’re not?”

“No,” he says. “Not at you.” He seems like he’s thinking about something for a second, and then, before I can stop him, he’s leaving the alcove and walking back toward guidance. Oh, Jesus. What the hell does he think he’s going to do? Go into guidance and fight Sebastian? That’s the worst plan
ever,
especially since when you get in trouble for fighting, guidance is where they send you. So starting a fight in guidance is like going to a police station to commit a crime.

“Noah,” I yell, running after him down the hall. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to end this,” he says.

“Noah! You can’t just barge in there and start threatening
him.” I’m struggling to keep up, my bag banging against my hip as I go.

“Oh, I’m not going to threaten this time,” Noah says.

“No,” I say again, stepping in front of him. But before I have to worry about how I’m going to stop Noah, who’s twice my size, the bell rings and the hallway fills with kids. It’s like the noise and traffic breaks the spell, and suddenly Noah’s face changes.

For a second I think he’s going to reach out and take my hand, I
want
him to reach out and take my hand, I want him to pull me close to him right here in the hallway and tell me everything’s going to be okay, that we’ll be together, that whatever happens with Ava, we’ll figure it out together.

But before I can see if any of that is going to happen, there’s a hand on my shoulder and someone’s whirling me around. Hard. For a second, I think it’s going to be Ava, back to finish what she started in the diner and kick my ass. But it’s not. It’s Lacey.

“Hey, Lace,” I say, trying not to let my voice betray what’s been going on for the past few minutes. Then I realize I don’t have to worry about that because Lacey doesn’t look like she’s in the mood for a chat. Her green eyes are flashing, and I forget about Noah instantly.

“Is it true?” she asks.

“Is what true?” I’m a little confused and having trouble moving from one conversation to the next, and, honestly, so much crazy stuff has happened this morning that I really
have no idea what she’s talking about. Still, the tone of her voice makes me really nervous, and my stomach flips into an anxious tangle.

“That you slept with Noah.” She’s talking a little louder now, and a couple of girls in our class turn to stare, then completely stop and huddle over by the wall, watching us.

“Lacey,” I say quickly, grabbing her arm and trying to steer her down the hall. “Let’s get out of here, let’s go somewhere and talk about—”

“No,” she says, wrenching her arm out of my grasp. “Is it true? Tell me. Now.”

“Who told you that?”

“Ava,” she says. “Ava told me.” Figures. Now that Ava’s pissed at me, she probably decided she would tell Lacey and ruin my friendship with her, too. They probably sat together at lunch or in class, bonding over what a horrible person I am. I picture the two of them becoming best friends, wearing matching sweaters and going on double dates, filling up each other’s Facebook walls with private jokes. Suddenly the room is spinning and my face is really hot, and I feel like I can’t control my thoughts. But I know, at least, that there’s no sense in lying, so I take a deep breath and say, “Yes, it’s true.”

I wonder if Noah’s still behind me, watching, if he’s okay with me telling people what happened, if he’s mad that Lacey is probably going to hate him now, too. And I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but I think I hear the two girls who are watching the drama gasp.

“How could you?” Lacey asks.

“Lacey, I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t—”

“You didn’t
mean
to? Hannah, I don’t like Ava, but she was your best friend! You know that exact same thing happened to me with Riker, and now you . . . you just did it to someone else.” Her eyes are filling with tears, and for some reason, I have a feeling that this might be hurting her even more than it hurt Ava.

“Lacey—” I start.

“No,” she says. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

And then she’s gone. And when I turn around, Noah’s gone, too.

“So what’s she doing in there?” I ask, walking toward the diner, Lacey ambling along behind me.

“Just sitting.” Lacey chews on her lip. “And she’s insisting that we talk. Like, really insisting. She won’t take no for an answer.” She frowns. “It’s kind of scary, actually.”

I turn around and look at Noah, who’s out of the car now and a few feet behind us. “Would you mind going inside and starting to open?” I ask. “Lacey and I will be in in a second.”

“Sure,” he says, and rushes toward Cooley’s. He actually looks a little relieved, probably because he doesn’t want to get too involved in the drama. Guys get all weird when it comes to things like this. They have a hard time comprehending things like feelings and talking things out and sorting through problems. They just want to fistfight and get it over with. That’s probably why so many relationships have issues. Guys just don’t know how to resolve conflict in a way that makes sense to girls, i.e. marathon phone conversations and lots of crying.

“Now,” I say to Lacey. “We cannot stay out here.”

“Why not?” she asks.

“Because she can see us through the window.” Lacey turns around to look, and there’s Danielle, sitting at one of the booths by the window, peering out at us with a pissy look on her face. “Don’t look!” I say. Lacey averts her eyes immediately. “What is she doing here so early anyway? Shouldn’t she be in bed?”

“She has a new job working overnights at an answering service,” Lacey says. “So she got off work and came here. And she says she’s going to come back here every day until I talk to her!” Lacey looks like she really might lose it. I hope she brought her Xanax.

“Okay,” I say, squaring my shoulders and looking Lacey in the eye. “Listen. We are going to walk back in there, and you are going to tell her that you have to go into the back to take care of something, something very important and work-related. Then you and I are going to go into the storage room and make a plan.”

“Okay,” Lacey says, but she doesn’t seem that certain. I wouldn’t be either, if I were her. I mean, all you have to do is look at my love life, and you’d be able to see that I’m definitely not to be trusted when it comes to making plans and dealing with interpersonal relationships. Not to mention, I have no idea what kind of plan I’m going to come up with.

But I guess she really has no other choice, because she follows me inside and tells Danielle that we have to take care
of something in the back, just like I told her to.

“Okay,” I say once we’re in the storage room. “Tell me everything.” I pull up an empty bucket that we use for mopping the floors, flip it over and sit down.

“Well,” Lacey says, “She came in here and I said ‘sorry, we’re not open yet, you’ll have to wait outside’ you know, all mean-like.” She looks proud of herself.

“Good for you,” I say, nodding. “She shouldn’t feel like she can just show up here before we’re even open.”

“I know!” she says. “It sucks the way people are just always showing up here! I mean, who cares if it’s a public place? It’s our place of business, and they should respect that. And it was really hard for me to tell her we weren’t open yet, you know? Because I was sooo afraid I was going to break out in hives again. The doctor said stress could bring them on.”

I just nod, not pointing out that if she
does
break out in hives again, it would be fine, since the doctor gave her a cream and told her she could take Benadryl. They think the hives were probably caused by stress, or maybe an allergic reaction to something, which, of course, is driving Lacey completely crazy since she has no idea what she might be allergic to. It was all I could do to keep her from throwing out all her clothes (it could be something in the fabric) and quitting her job (it could be something in the air).

“And what did Danielle say to
that
?” I ask.

“She said ‘Lace, I really need to talk to you.’”

“She calls you Lace? I thought I was the only one who called you Lace!” Not that I call her that very often. But still. I don’t want Danielle calling her that, too.