I'd like to say that we made up the day after. I'd like to say that I got a good night sleep, woke up, met her in the hall, had a deep conversation about needs and wants and our relationship, and then we went to my room to make out.

Then again, I'd also like to say that I've stood up to my dad at least once in my entire life. I'd like to say that I was still editor of the paper, that I understood science, and that I wasn't still a virgin.

I'd like to say a lot of things that will probably never be true, especially considering the fact that Jillian and I did not act out the picturesque scene I kept playing in my mind.

I went out to the hall at our usual time and waited. Five minutes later, I was still waiting. After ten minutes I knocked lightly on her door.

"Hey, everything okay in there?" I called cautiously.

"Uhh, yeah," Jillian answered, as if debating whether or not she wanted to speak to me. "I overslept, that's all. You can head down if you want. I'm almost ready."

"Nah, I'll wait," I said, leaning against the wall. "I'm not too hungry."

"No, seriously, go on ahead," she urged. "I'm meeting my friend, so I won't be able to eat breakfast with you anyways."

"Um, okay," I said. "Yeah. I'll… I'll go down."

"See you soon!" she promised, though it sounded like she just wanted to get rid of me.

I walked down to breakfast by myself, replaying last night's conversation – or, as I liked to think of it, incident – in my head. What had I done wrong? I felt like there was something that Jillian was keeping from me, but I didn't want to pry. I liked her a lot, and anything to lose her – well, it would be extremely awkward, for one, and two – I had gotten to the point in our relationship where I didn't know if I would be able to go on without her.

I hadn't told her I loved her, but I may as well have. I mean, the feelings were out there, right? I just hadn't voiced them yet. It was moving right along. I just hoped we were on the same page.

I stood in line alone awkwardly. What had I done before Jillian and I started going out? My hand felt around the air for her fingers, but they weren't there. Where was I supposed to put my arm, then? It didn't serve a purpose. I let it swing by my side.

"Yes, yes, Dr. Quinton. We have only the best and the brightest at Welton. Or rather, only the best and the brightest survive the four years."

There was a bellow of laughter from in front of me. Nolan was in line for the buffet in front of me, laughing and talking with some guy in a suit that I think would have been fancy by my dad's standards.

"And I'm told you're opening your doors to… women?" The stranger looked at Nolan.

Nolan laughed a little nervously. "Not women, plural," he said. "Just one. Quite a nice girl, tragic story – no where else to go. It's a temporary thing, really – a semester. And she's proven to be quite an asset to the school, with very few distractions. It's a win-win situation, really."

"Ah, yes," the stranger agreed. Pause. "Why, exactly, was she let in? I'm sorry, but inspections you know… got to be a valid reason for everything."

"No, no, I understand. Not a big deal at all. The poor girl – her mother died last year, and…"

"Sorry to interrupt," the stranger said, pulling out a notebook and pen. "Really sorry. But just let me jot this down. And, um, the cause of the mother's death? What did you say again?"

Neil, a fly on the wall, decided not to point out that Nolan hadn't mentioned it in the first place.

"A sore subject really, I would advise not to bring it up with Miss Walker," Nolan began. "But it was about a year ago that the woman was diagnosed with leukemia. Terrible business. But they survived – got to hand it to Jillian and her father – they survived. No treatments really… just a timer. Three months, about, with her mother. Then when she finally passed… well, her father had to leave – charity, you know?"

The stranger nodded.

"Anyways, she was left here with her uncle, our science teacher Mr. Walker. Good man. But like I said – it's only for a semester."

"I'm so sorry. If I don't see her today, give Miss Walker my regards, won't you? She's had a rough year."

"Will do, sir, will do. Now would you look at these hash browns? Our cook – delicious!"

I left my place in line and sat down at an empty table. There was a seat open at my friends' table, but I needed to think, not talk. The talking would come later.

So… Jillian's mom didn't die in a car crash. She died of cancer.

It wasn't a huge lie, I told myself. It's not like it changed the course of her life, or mine, or our meeting. A death was a death. God, I sounded so shallow. But really. Did it mean anything?

Not the lie, per say, but I couldn't shake off this feeling. It wasn't what she said, not what she didn't say, but why she didn't tell me. Why not?

I was glad I skipped the eating part of breakfast. My stomach was started to churn.