A/N: So I admit I'm writing this for purely selfish reasons, and I've been planning it for a ridiculous amount of time. So I kinda hope you like it.

Prologue

I have no clue how I ended up in this mess.

I'm hiding in my own closet, curled up into a ball with my arms wrapped around my knees. On my birthday, no less.

Please, please, please don't find me.

"Bells!" I hear someone shout from downstairs. I stop breathing and fight to make no noise whatsoever. He won't find me here—even if he happens to inspect my room, he'll only glance and see I'm not here.

"C'mon, this is ridiculous," says another voice that's too close for my liking. I jump, and then hiss—my elbow scraped the wall. "Get out or I'll bring Jacob up here."

"No," I plead. "Alice, really, just leave—"

Then the closet door opens and two big, shining gray eyes are looking down at me.

"Bella," she sighs, "he wants to see you. You're being an idiot."

She crouches down and silently waits for me to cave in.

"I can't," I whisper. "I just can't."

"Why?" she challenges.

I pause. Well, there are a million reasons, really. But now that I think about it, they all sum up into one big, pathetic excuse: I'm scared. To my extreme humiliation, my eyes well up with tears and my throat aches from the effort of keeping them at bay. Alice wraps a tiny, supportive arm around me.

"Oh, it won't be bad," she soothes. "I don't understand why you're so upset."

I'm scared. Really, really scared. But I'm not going to admit it.

"Fine," I whisper weakly. "But if everything turns out horrible, it's your fault."

She beams. "I know."

With strength no one would dream a little thing like Alice possesses, she yanks me to my feet and drags me out of the closet. Her hands grip my shoulders and she leads me to the foot of my bed.

Then I hear a hesitant knock. My whole body tenses in preparation.

"Ye-es?" sings Alice happily.

A throat clears outside the door. "It's me."

"Come in."

I try to escape Alice's grip, but I know it's all in vain. She truthfully is stronger than she looks. Before I can make any real progress, the door opens. My hands automatically fly to my face to wipe away any residual tears.

And there stands Jacob Black.

His hair is longer than it was a couple months ago, when I first met him. It falls into his eyes, and every few minutes, he pushes it back in aggravation. He's taller now, too. We used to be the same height, but now he's exactly five-foot-six—four inches taller than me. He is beginning to look older, the boyish roundness of his face slowly melting away. All these changes somehow make him look even more entrancing than before.

Of course, I'll never admit it to his face. Even if I know he likes me, too. As I think of him revealing his secret the other day, something in my stomach flutters and I struggle to fight a slow smile from stretching across my face. The only thing that holds me down to reality is the situation at hand. This is terrifying. I blanch.

"Bella?" he says quietly, crossing the room.

"Yes?" I squeak.

He takes a seat beside me, and Alice dances out the door with a smug grin.

Jacob groans. "I wanted to wait until high school for this…but when I told Alice, she almost broke my wrist." He holds it up. It's red and swollen.

I gasp and gingerly gather his hand into mine. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

"Your cousin's insane," he mutters.

I laugh weakly. "Yeah…"

Jacob pulls his hand away and rests it on his leg, which is now bouncing up and down. He appears nervous, which is actually adorable, if I'm being honest.

"So, Bella…do you want to…" He clears his throat. "You know…be my girlfriend?" As he talks, his voice goes a little higher with every word.

This time, the smile can't be fought. Except it isn't just a smile, it's a gigantic, glowing grin that makes my cheeks hurt. I'm afraid of what my voice might sound like if I speak, so I simply nod.

I have a boyfriend. He's my boyfriend. I'm someone's girlfriend. We're boyfriend and girlfriend.

Jacob Black is my boyfriend…

It's hard to wrap my head around the concept, but feels wonderful nonetheless. Almost too wonderful to be true.

Jake lets out a breathy laugh and wraps his arms around me, squeezing tightly. He's surrounding me and his embrace feels so nice, I just have to return it. The hug doesn't last as long as I want it to. I immediately feel emptier when he lets go.

"We should go downstairs…" His voice trails off.

I shrug, still smiling and now a bit light-headed. "All right."

This was the best birthday ever.

::

Now that I'm thirteen years old, a teenager, I feel perfectly eligible to have a boyfriend, but I'm afraid of what my dad would think. I keep it to myself, even though I'm old enough to make my own decisions now about these kinds of things. But I always have this feeling that he knows. Whenever Jake comes over to spend time with me, Charlie gets a suspicious glint in his eye that makes me squirm with guilt. He never says anything, though; he just smiles and keeps on doing whatever it is he does.

My mother, Renee, obviously knows. She's my best friend. I suspect that she told Charlie. So in fear of an embarrassing discussion, I've taken to spending a lot of time outside.

"Hey," Jacob whispers to me one day in the middle of October. Our one-month anniversary, actually, but I don't want to act clingy and sappy by bringing it up. We're sitting on my front steps, enjoying the warmer weather while it lasts. According to everyone at school, a cold front is approaching.

"You know what I feel bad about?" he asks.

"What?"

"Not getting you a present."

I almost swoon. He did remember! Okay, so I can't give him that much credit. It's exactly a month past my birthday, after all. But it's still adorable.

"It's all right," I assure him. "I didn't get you anything either."

His expression turns to confusion in an instant. "Why would you get me something for your own birthday?"

My heart sinks. Oh. He isn't talking about our anniversary, after all. I lift myself back up quickly, though, because he's a boy and boys probably don't remember things such as that.

"Yes, you did," I say stiffly. What an idiot.

"What do you mean?"

I sigh, rolling my eyes, and wait for him to come to a conclusion. Is it that difficult to remember?

"Oh," he says slowly. "Bella, that wasn't a gift. That was just…that's what I wanted."

Underneath all the bronzed skin, I notice a pink tinge creeping to the surface.

"Oh," I echo, not sure what to say. At that time, I knew he liked me, but I remember all too well the words he spoke before…I wanted to wait until high school for this… Maybe Alice didn't really force him.

"But I want to get you something for your birthday," he declares. "Even if it's super-late."

"No," I say, sharper than I intended. "I don't like gifts."

"Don't care," he says cheerfully, throwing an arm around me so I was crushed to his side.

I grin into his shoulder. "Fine," I relent, "you can get me a gift. But nothing expensive, okay?"

He loosens his grip and straightens up, almost as if he wants to protest, but then he freezes completely.

"I think I might know," he whispers.

I blink. That was quick. He didn't even rush off to his sisters for advice yet. Maybe that's a good thing—maybe it's homemade or something equally endearing. And inexpensive.

"What do you have in mind?" I inquire slowly.

His cheeks color again before he can look me in the eye and answer. "What about a…a…"

"Spit it out, Jacob, you're making me nervous!"

"A kiss?" he says nervously.

A rush of air escapes my lungs. Jacob wants to kiss me? Well, of course he does. Boys want that kind of thing, after all. And so do I. I've been wondering for the past few weeks when one of us would get enough courage to do something so…coupley.

Apparently Jacob wants to now.

My eyes are wide as I nod, silent.

His face breaks out into a smile, but the smile fades, turning into something more serious and anxious. Maybe he's only doing this to make me happy.

"You want to, right?" I ask.

He scoffs and mutters, "Duh."

I grin. We aren't going to kiss now, because he can probably sense I'm still scared to death. That's fine with me. Jacob gives the best hugs ever.

::

My state of absolute bliss extends well into the New Year, and eventually, Valentine's Day is coming up. I feel bad that I don't have anything for him except for a box of chocolates. Dark chocolate, because I know that's his favorite. I grip the box tightly, hoping he didn't get me anything. His mother and father have no idea we're together and it would look strange if he bought something.

So I sit outside on the front steps, knowing that he isn't going to be here for another twenty minutes, but secretly hoping he'll be early.

And he is. Jacob clambers out of his father's truck not five minutes later. He runs up to me, looking behind his shoulder to make sure Billy drove away, and pulls me into a tight embrace.

When I see what's in his hand…well, the smile on my face is absolutely ridiculous—borderline embarrassing. But of course I don't care. I take it delicately and can't seem to look away from the small Zip-lock bag, almost analyzing it.

The way he only wrote the first letter of my name in cursive, but the rest immaculately printed. And the way he got the B to curl around itself so beautifully…I'm suddenly overwhelmed with feelings of something I can't place—appreciation? But there is something else. Something that tugs and wrenches at my heart almost painfully, but a good painful. Something that sends me soaring.

Inside the bag is a package of typical Valentine's Day candy; I wonder where got it. I smile even bigger at the thought of Jake walking up to the store just for me. Or maybe the candy was originally meant for him, but he wanted me to have it instead? Either way…

Before I can even consider the action, I launch myself at him. A sharp inhale of breath tells me it was unexpected, but I don't care. I just hold him closer and rest my head on his shoulder. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I feel his arms encircle my waist.

But something is different in the way he holds me today—something better. Something more powerful. I look up to observe his face (he grew another four inches) and see that it's more nervous than usual.

"Jake? What's—?"

Before I get the entire sentence out, Jacob's head tilts toward mine. I hold in a gasp and struggle for my sanity. I let my eyes close and just as I begin to think he's only playing a cruel joke on me, Jacob's soft, full lips touch mine. So gently, so hesitantly, but it sends shockwaves through my entire body. He kisses me again, firmer this time, and I reclaim enough of my common sense to kiss him back.

Both our eyes seem to open at the same time, our faces an inch away.

"Wow," he whispers.

I can't formulate any coherent words, feeling as if I'm floating on air, so I just smile a bright, glowing smile and leave it at that.

::

The room is dark, because we're watching The Exorcist. I don't know why Jacob wanted to watch a scary move so much, but I agreed because I'll do anything for him. His breathing is a little more labored, like he's nervous, and I wonder why. Is it the movie? It's not scaring me, though the actors seem to be trying pretty hard.

This is one of the darker scenes, so it's hard to see much of anything around me. But somehow, I can tell that Jacob's eyes are flitting back and forth to my hand. Almost like he wants to hold hands with me. Yes, we've held hands before, but never in the dark. Somehow, this seems more…intimate. I wonder if it'll feel different.

And I find my eyes doing the same thing as his. We catch each other's gaze at one point, and I smile sheepishly at being caught. He smiles back and inches his hand in between us. I do the same until they're side by side. My breath catches in my throat as his hand slides over mind. Quite suddenly, I'm overwhelmed by the fact that I can move closer to him. More than our hands could touch—maybe our legs, and arms, and I can lay my head on his shoulder and mold myself into his side. So I do.

My stomach is in knots, but in a good way. It's a strange fluttery feeling. I've had butterflies, but this is even more intense. It doesn't have a name. It feels wonderful and scary and frustrating…

"Bella," Jacob whispers after a few more minutes. "I love you."

My eyes widen and I find myself unable to answer back. He loves me? I never thought about this. Do I love him back? I decide that yes, I certainly do.

"I love you, too."

He ducks his head to brush his lips against mine.

A few hours later, my head is a jumbled mess as Billy drives me home. I'm probably too young to know what love is. But still…it feels nice to say it, even if it might not be true. I really really really like Jake. Love is foreign.

::

"You're...you're…what?" I croak.

"Breaking up with you," he repeats calmly.

I gape back.

"What?" he asks, obviously confused at my mute state. Well, I think it's rude and cold, and my heart feels like it will shatter even further. Does he just not care? I glare, trying to look tough despite everything, and march out of Forks Community Pool.

My mother, who is lounging in an embarrassingly revealing bikini, catches sight of my face. "What's wrong?" she asks in surprise, but I don't answer. Just keep walking.

I need to get out of here, need to get out of here…

Our house is only around the corner. About a second before I walk through the front door, I burst into tears.

Through the agonized sobs, I remember that it's the first day of summer. Wonderful way to celebrate the end of the school year. But the sarcasm is only underneath all my other thoughts tinged with despair—all I'm capable of thinking is why. Why why why why why.

This is the exact moment in which I realize that I really am in love with him.

::

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I turn over to my side, throwing a pillow over my head.

Thump, thump.

"Shut up," I groan.

Thumpthumpthumpthump—

"What!" I snarl, giving up the idea of sleeping in. This is just too irritating.

"Let me in," says a muffled voice from outside. "Bella, seriously, it's almost noon! The pool's been open for two hours, and we're meeting Jess there."

I scowl and cross the room to open my window. Angela Weber climbs through the relatively small opening, wearing shorts and a tank top with a brightly colored towel thrown over her shoulder. When she's safely inside my room, she sighs and looks around.

"You need to let me in through the front door once in a while."

"I'm never downstairs," I mumble.

She rolls her eyes and plops down on the bed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You and your antisocialness…"

"Ang, that's not a word."

"I know."

After I reluctantly dress and follow Angela into the bright sunlight (certainly an oddity for Forks), I'm awake enough to notice something is…wrong. The way Angela is acting today is unnatural for her, like she's carrying something heavy on her shoulders that no one can see.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

Her brow furrows and she looks down. "Nothing, nothing."

I sigh heavily. "If you're not going to tell me, I'll just ask Jake…" That is, if he feels I'm worthy enough to talk to today.

"No, no!" she counters swiftly. "I haven't eaten yet. We should get something from the snack bar."

The terrified look on her face does not escape me, but I don't push it. Maybe Angela and Jacob got in some sort of argument. That is morbidly satisfying, pushes away my foreboding thoughts, and makes sense all at once. But it's not like I'm jealous of Angela for suddenly being BFFs with my ex-boyfriend. They tell each other everything—things that he never would tell me…

"He tells me so much that I'm actually a little disgusted," she said one day last week, after a long phone call. "I think I know everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything."

I did my best to ignore the sharp pangs of betrayal, anger, and jealously, but it was too much. And it showed. Angela then sighed sadly and swung an arm around my waist, pulling me in for a much-needed hug.

"He's nothing special."

And that's what I tell myself now, or whenever else I need reassurance that I'm not missing out on a great deal: he's nothing special.

But he is.

The pool is crowded as usual. It seems as though everyone in the little town of Forks gathers here on Saturdays during the summer, but today especially, since it's sunny. I recognize everyone, but some faces stick out more than others—or just one. Jacob…

When my eyes finally latch onto him, Angela's face grows more anxious and she tugs on my hand. "Snack bar. Let's go."

I don't move. Jacob is laughing at his friend from the reservation, Embry, who just pushed Sam Uley into the pool unawares. Stupid boys and their stupid pranks. He doesn't even spare me a glance. Then the sparkling grin seems to shift to something softer…something that I recognize. It's my smile. He's my Jacob again. I let myself hope that maybe he'll look at me…

But his head turns the opposite way, toward the entrance. There's a throng of people crossing the threshold, but I mostly notice Jessica Stanley. She's my best friend next to Angela.

"There's Jess," I say, working hard to keep my tone even.

"Yeah—c'mon," Angela hisses in my ear, pulling harder. "We need to leave, now!"

"Why?" I ask faintly. "It's Jessica. You said we were meeting her…"

She huffs. "Yeah, never mind that. I'm kind of…mad at her." Her gaze wanders over in Jacob's direction.

"Why?"

She just shakes her head. Before we can reach the snack bar, Jessica catches up with us.

"Bella!" she squeals and pulls me into a tight hug, decidedly more similar to a chokehold.

"Hey," I laugh quietly. "You're late."

"Sorry," she says earnestly. "My mom needed help around the house."

Her and Angela fall into idle chat while I look back to Jacob. He's no longer looking at the entrance, but at us. Well—no. Not us. More like…someone in particular. Not me. Angela? Jessica? I nix those ideas as soon as I think them. Jake wouldn't look at Ang like that, and him and Jess hate each other.

But there is no one behind us.

Jacob eventually turns his attention back to his friends. It's the Jacob that I've come to know in the past month: hardened, bitter, and rude. Like Sam. I worry for him every day, worry about exactly how bad of an influence his Quileute friends are. They turned him into someone I don't recognize. Sometimes when it's just us, when it's almost like old times, I can see the old Jacob underneath the new exterior. It's rare, though. Very rare. I wonder if it's because of his parents fighting so much these days…

All this thought about Jacob is making my chest tighten in that familiar, painful way that I like to avoid at all costs.

"I'm going swimming," I mutter.

They don't hear me, though, as their conversation has turned into fierce, intense whispers that I can't understand. Jessica looks pleading, and Angela looks furious. I figure that I probably don't want to be stuck in the middle of it for any length of time. Jessica is always dragging petty drama with her and dropping it on anyone she can, which is why we aren't as close as we used to be. Angela is too good to be fazed by that, though. I envy her patience.

In the water, everything is so much simpler. It's just the cool, calming liquid against my skin, keeping me afloat. I can hide in the crowds of people, pretending not to exist. The very best part is that Jacob can't see me.

But I can see him even more clearly than before; he's looking back at my two best friends with that soft expression again. I feel an irrational spasm of hurt before I quash it.

Angela, quite abruptly, storms away with the angriest look I've ever seen on her relatively calm face. I'm curious as to how Jacob feels about this new development, but his eyes are still trained in the same place.

Then it clicks.

Jacob is looking at Jessica.

I suck in a mouthful of air and duck my head underwater, then find a corner in the deep end of the pool to sit and lean against. I wonder how long I can stay down here; maybe if I'm lucky, I'll drown.

Why is Jake looking at her like that—like she's the only girl in the world? If anyone isn't special, it has to be Jessica. She's so generic and airheaded. She isn't right for him; I'm right here, can't he see that?

For the first time in two months, I feel like I could cry.

My lungs are burning, but I force myself to stay underwater for a little longer. I'm not sure why—maybe because I don't want to see their faces again. I only come up five seconds later because I see a familiar face swimming toward my corner of despair, looking urgent. I welcome the opportunity to get some much-needed oxygen. The eight feet I have to swim to the surface feels like forever; I'm not a fast swimmer.

I gulp as much air into my lungs as possible before turning to Mike Newton and smiling. "Hi, Mike. What's up?"

He casts an apprehensive glance toward Jacob. "I dunno if I should be telling you this…"

I grimace. Maybe I really don't want to hear it.

"Tell me or I'll drown you."

Okay, maybe I do want to hear it. Just a little.

"Jake's gonna kill me," he sighs.

He begins a long-winded explanation of a night of truth-or-dare. "Lauren Mallory thought it would be funny to dare Angela to kiss Jacob, and I don't know why, but she did. Then Jake dared Jessica to kiss him, and she acted like she was all disgusted, but I could tell she wanted to. They kinda…enjoyed it a little too much…"

"Oh."

I'm in denial. What a load of crap! But then I think about it—Mike never lies to me. He likes me too much. He wouldn't say something cruel to hurt me. Yeah…I believe him. I'm fuming and heartbroken, but remind myself to keep it underneath the surface.

I exhale and run my fingers through my wet, tangled tresses. "Thanks, Mike."

"No problem, really." He leans in closer. "Jacob is an asshole if you ask me."

I nod vigorously, but don't believe it. No, not really…I'm trying to convince myself of something that isn't true. I still love him. Of course I do. How can I not?

Mike wades away without another word.

::

"You can say no."

I will not cry.

No matter what they say, no matter how they look at each other, I will not cry.

"Seriously, it's all right," I manage to choke out. "You really like each other."

Jacob looks anxious as he surveys my face. "But if this is gonna hurt you, Bells…"

I shake my head. "No, no, really. I'm happy for you."

I will not cry. But it is swiftly getting to the point where I can't swallow past the lump in my throat, causing physical pain alongside the mental. So I do the only thing I can think of before losing it—I run.

Angela catches up to me before I can go far; I'm alerted of this by a gentle hand on my back.

"I'm sorry," she says earnestly. "I tried to tell them."

"It's okay," I whisper. "They were just trying to be…you know…"

She sighs. It's silent after that for a long time. It warms me minimally to know that I have such a good friend. I can't even hold it against her for kissing Jacob. It was probably just a peer pressure issue.

"You know what I don't understand?" she asks quietly. "Why they're asking your permission. They knew you'd say yes, but mean the opposite. I think it's kind of cruel."

"They like each other," I murmur. "Why shouldn't they be together?"

"Because best friends aren't supposed to date each other's exes," she says fiercely. "And you… I mean, she knows how you feel about him."

I nod, but don't offer anything else.

::

I feel like I'm trapped inside a box.

Really, that's the best way I can describe it without getting too melodramatic. It's like it's suffocating me. Sometimes it gets better, sometimes worse…

And everything feels distant. I know everything around me is happening, but it doesn't feel that way. It doesn't affect me like it should; it doesn't sink into every inch of me. One thing does, though—one thing only. But I don't know how to break loose. Maybe it's stuck with me forever, no matter what I do to change. I keep thinking, it's my life and I'm moping around, wasting every minute of it. I used to laugh at those girls going crazy over one guy and acting like a zombie when they broke up. Now I'm one of them.

I've thought about someone, pondered their thoughts until their face is etched right into my skull. I can't help but think there might be something wrong with me, because she's living the life I've always wanted with him. I worked so hard to get there…but it never happened, and it was all over because I was scared. Of what? I'm not really sure anymore. I think it's because I spent so much time denying it. There are a million excuses I tell myself: he didn't care about me as much as I cared about him, or I wasn't ready for it. But I know deep down inside that it's not even close. It's because I was scared.

I keep telling myself that I can't mourn over the past; I shouldn't look back. Yet there's something keeping me there in those few moments when I was held close to him. Sometimes I've moved on, sometimes I haven't, but those are two different worlds. I try to stay in the happier, carefree world, but sometimes I can't help but slide back into depression. Is depression the right word? I don't know. I don't care. It feels like depression.

I cringe at the thought of her. She has everything I have to live without. I know she's better than me, but whenever I bring it up, Angela protests and tells me she's just different. Well, apparently "different" is better, because if it wasn't, would I be where I am today? Somehow I don't think so. I am so many steps behind her—she's outgoing, confident…everything I stride for, but I always seem to be held back.

I'm not confused anymore. Not at all. I know the truth when I see it, and I never knew this kind of pain existed within me. It's not really physical, but not mental, either…maybe a combination of both, or something else entirely. I don't know. It hurts. I thought I could handle it at first, but when I bottle it up, it just keeps building and building until it all explodes and I lash out at people that don't deserve it. Because, after all, it isn't Jacob and Jessica's fault that I can't control my emotions.

Angela once told me that the way to forget him is to not think about him. But how can I when he's everywhere? In my thoughts, in my dreams, hanging off Jessica's arm… I tried, I really did. I tried.

Memories still slip into my mind when I'm not expecting it, and it's painful. I don't know if it's love or addiction. It could very well be both. But…aren't I supposed to be ridding of these emotions? I've found it impossible. I should've never burnt him into my mind—otherwise, he'd be gone. Though still, there's something telling me to never let go. Maybe it's because I feel insecure without reassurance that he'll always be there when I need him. So far, it's been proven wrong, because he's there for her instead. He tells her things he'd never dream of telling me. He holds her like he never wants to let go.

And when did he ever really love me? I don't think he ever did, because he never felt the same, and I know it, I just know it. The worst part is that I can't do anything about it. They're his feelings, not mine; it's his world. All this bullshit I'm enduring was initially just to be a good friend, but I also knew that even if I said no, even if I spoke the truth, he wouldn't live up to his word. They'd still be together.

It took a long time to convince myself that it wouldn't be better to just go away. Still, sometimes I wish that I could. I wish that I could escape this madness. This is the only thing that creeps fully into my mind. It's not distant like everything else in my world, because this is the first time I've really felt pain—shredding and ripping and tearing at everything I have within me. Somehow he's made his way into the box I've taken to living in. It's left but one scar, deeper than you could ever imagine. I can hide it, but it still shows sometimes if I let something slip. It's difficult, and I'm a terrible liar.

I can keep secrets, just not as easily my own.

::

I slam the car door shut and withdraw into myself as raindrops pelt me. I only have to walk a few yards to reach my bus stop—their bus stop, that is. It's not mine anymore.

"Jessica," I call.

"Bella!" she shouts, running up closer to me. We're in the middle of the road, so I lead her to the sidewalk, right behind everyone else. They watch with half-hearted interest. "Where have you been? You're usually—"

"No, I know," I say, cutting her off. "I…I'm leaving."

Her eyes are wide. A small noise from the back of her throat escapes, like a disbelieving squeak, but otherwise she's speechless. She didn't expect it. Not so soon.

"Forever?" she finally manages. I can't tell if it's rain or teardrops on her cheeks.

"Yeah," I say quietly.

"When?" she whispers, stepping closer.

"Now."

There isn't a doubt in my mind that she's crying now—sobbing, actually. She hugs me tightly, as long as possible before we hear the squeal of brakes behind us.

"Love you, Bella," she mutters into my shoulder. "I'll miss you."

"Me too."

She sniffles, wipes away the tears, and runs on the bus.

I'm not thinking of Jessica, but Jacob. I can't get the look on his face out of my mind—like…helplessness or shock or something.

The drive is quiet. I refuse to speak to my mother, as she's the one dragging me away from my best friends—the only place I'll ever fit in. I didn't even get to say goodbye to Angela in person, the only person who stood by me in this whole mess. Jessica, on the other hand, is strange. Sometimes she talks to me and acts like we're best friends again, and other times, she couldn't care less. But aren't I entitled to be angry with her? She used to flaunt her relationship with Jacob in front of me constantly, unapologetically. Even when they broke up, she'd whine and moan about it. But God forbid I mention him at all—that was "insensitive". She knew I was going through a hard time, yet acted like a complete bitch. My parents…

It was so sudden. Last night, her and Charlie had this massive blowout. Here I am now. I knew they'd been fighting, but I didn't realize how bad it was. I'm still in complete denial. My parents are in love. This is just a dream.

As well as leaving Jacob. The look on his face…it will haunt me forever.

He heard.