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God, if my mom finds out about Noah, she’s going to freak and I’ll get one hell of an I-told-you-so lecture. See, I warned you! You shouldn’t be involved with these people, Amelia. You need to keep your distance or they’ll end up hurt. He’s not even here and one of your friends is in the hospital! Haven’t you learned your lesson yet? The people around you get hurt.
I laugh humorlessly. She wouldn’t even be wrong. My last best friend was clocked over the head with a gun. And that’s not something you easily forget.
Moping in bed, like I’ve been doing all day with the guilt eating me alive, I’ve debated about going to visit Noah or not a half dozen times. At the top of the cons list is what worries me the most: finding out Noah hates me. Right now, by not visiting, I can prolong finding out and can live in denial a little while longer. He’s such a fun, goofy guy. Hurting him is like kicking a puppy, and I can’t face the fact that hate would fill his light-green eyes when they looked at me.
When the doorbell rings, I barely get it open before Charlotte pushes it open the rest of the way and walks in like she’s lived here forever.
“Why haven’t you answered your phone? And why does it look like you haven’t moved from bed since yesterday?”
“I lost it,” I say, leading her into the house. “And because I haven’t.”
“Why?” Charlotte sits down on the couch opposite me and crosses her legs.
“It’s my fault Noah’s in the hospital.”
“What? No, it’s not, Ameli—”
“Yes. It is.”
“No, seriously, it’s not. You didn’t do anything. Tha—”
“If I had just handled things with Dave differently, or not punched that guy when he lunged at Noah, or not gone at all; if I had done anything differently, things would have turned out differently.”
“Stop interrupting me!” Charlotte looks at me sternly. “You’re new, so let me explain how things around here work. The K. C. High boys and C. S. High boys have never gotten along. Since ever. They’ve been fighting since freshman year. Whether you went to Noah’s party or not, a fight would’ve broken out. The Silvers use any excuse they can to fight Aiden and them—it all goes back to some rivalry between Ryan and Aiden. The Silvers would have crashed Noah’s party and fought with them no matter what. You just happened to be the thing that they decided to start the fight over this time. Shit happens. But it’s not your fault.”
She takes a breath, and I sit there staring at her, trying to process. There’s that name again: Ryan.
“People who saw told me what happened between you and that guy, Dave?” she continues. “You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I know he slapped you and started choking you before Aiden pulled him off. That was not your fault, you understand me? No victim blaming here. The Silvers are assholes who go looking for trouble.” She finishes her rant and gets up from the couch. “Now, get your sorry ass up, go shower, and get dressed. Noah’s awake and we’re going to visit him.”
I look at her with wide eyes, and slowly get up from the couch. Crossing to her, I throw my arms around her, and she easily hugs me back.
“Thanks,” I say.
“What are friends for? No moping on my watch! Now hurry up before visiting hours are over.”
On our way to the hospital, I realize something and look at Charlotte. “I thought you hated the Boys?”
“They’re not that bad,” she mumbles, not taking her eyes off the road.
“Yeah, they’re starting to grow on me too.”
“I guess in his own way, Aiden’s not that bad either,” she admits.
I gasp theatrically. “What? Has the alcohol from Friday permanently damaged your brain?! Should you be driving? This is not good—the delusional should not be operating heavy machinery!”
“Shut up.” She laughs. “For real, though, he pulled that first guy off you. He beat up, like, six guys by himself to protect you. When they all lunged at you, he pulled you behind him. I’m just saying I don’t hate the fact that Aiden was at the party. Not that I want to invite him to my house for a sleepover-slash-movie marathon.”
At the hospital, I hesitate by Noah’s door, nervous to go in. Charlotte assured me that Noah wouldn’t hate me, but I’m still worried. Taking a deep breath, I walk into the room behind Charlotte.
“Charlotte! Amelia!” Noah’s happy expression reassures me, and I exhale the breath I hadn’t realized I’ve been holding. He’s sitting up in bed wearing comfy-looking sweats.
Despite being in the hospital, he still looks cute, his dimples never disappearing beneath the slight bruise on his cheek.
“Hey, Noah.” We smile at him. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now that you’re here.” He winks at us.
“I’m glad to know this isn’t a setback for your flirty attitude,” I laugh as Charlotte and I sit beside his bed. “For real though, how are you?”
