I expect Helen to say something encouraging. To try and convince me otherwise. But she must hear the certainty in my voice because she doesn’t. She just pats my leg.
“Why don’t you pack up and see how you feel? I’ve phoned Gene. He’s leaving work early, and I’ve sent Noah out to meet him at the pub for a late lunch.”
“Really?” I can’t help the surprise in my voice.
“He needs to be out right now. With his father. I think you both could use the space,” Helen says, standing up from the bed.
I nod at her, agreeing.
“Thank you.” I give her the best smile I can manage. “For everything. For listening. For caring. I know that it can’t be easy. Seeing Noah hurt. Having me here. I know that I could have gotten us in real trouble because of my actions, yet you asked me how I was. You didn’t lecture me.”
“I can almost guarantee that Headmaster Compton will phone your school, so don’t go thinking you’re out of trouble just yet,” Helen warns. “Though with me, I’m more concerned about you and Noah. And I think the situation is punishment enough.”
When Helen gets to my door, she turns back to me, her fingers resting on the knob. “Once you’ve gotten that case filled, come downstairs and join me for lunch.”
I nod at her before she closes the door, leaving me alone again. I can barely stomach the idea of eating. My insides are so twisted up; I’m not sure any food would actually make its way through. If anything, it will just sit at the base of my throat, making me feel like I’m going to be sick.
But I know that Helen is worried about me. And I’m grateful that she cares. I fold up a few more stacks of shirts, shoving them into a suitcase before venturing downstairs to join her.
They can hate me.
4:20pm
I spend the rest of the afternoon hiding in my room. Packing. I’m not sure when Noah will get back, but I don’t want to chance running into him downstairs. I haven’t checked my phone since, well, before school. I know that I should. It isn’t out of the question that Mr. Compton called my parents. And if he did, I’m sure that they have called me by now. But I can’t bring myself to look at my phone. Mostly because I’m scared of who else has called or texted me. Or who hasn’t.
But I know that I need to look.
I have to check.
I grab my phone from my bag, biting my lip as I click it on.
There are rows and rows of texts. From Naomi. Mohammad. Even one from Olivia. There aren’t any missed calls though, and there aren’t any texts from my parents. Or Harry.
I open up the messages from Mohammad.
Mohammad: What. Happened?
Mohammad: Call me.
I force out an unsteady breath. He didn’t send either of these texts until after school was out, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But I owe it to Mohammad to call him. The phone rings only once before he picks up.
“Mallory?” he asks, like he isn’t sure it’s actually me.
“I’m sorry,” I say shakily.
“Explain.” That’s all Mohammad says back.
“The whole thing is sort of a blur. I know that it was bad. That it seemed bad.”
“Bad?” he gasps. “Bad?”
“Okay, it was worse than bad.” I don’t know what else to say. This is why I told Helen that it was best if I stayed in. If I stayed quiet. Because there’s no explanation. Nothing I say will make this better. But I need to try. “I’ve never believed in … the gray area, but, Mohammad, this wasn’t a black-and-white situation.”
“I didn’t expect it to be,” he says quickly. “But what happened? You two kissed, and then you and Noah both left. A second after that, Harry was gone too.”
“I snapped at lunch. I was so, so mad at Noah. And I wanted to hurt him. To hurt Harry.”
“What were you thinking?” he asks, his voice quiet.
“Did Harry not tell you?” I ask, trying to figure out what Mohammad knows.
“I’m headed to his place now. I haven’t talked to him yet.”
“Noah told Harry that he … fancies me.”
“Fuck me,” Mohammad replies.
“Yeah …”
“So, you kissed Noah because …”
“I kissed Noah because I thought I could prove a point. That it wasn’t true. When Harry had spoken to me after Latin, he broke up with me.”
“He broke up with you?” he repeats, trying to piece things together.
“Yes.”
“But why did you kiss Noah? Why like that?”
“I wanted to hurt him,” I say, frustrated. “Don’t you get it, Mohammad? I’m a terrible fucking person. I wanted to hurt them both.”
“Your actions might say that, but I know you aren’t. And I want to know the real reason,” he demands.
I push my hair off my face. Mohammad isn’t going to let up until I give him an answer. Until I give him the truth.
“Noah has been telling me that my best chance at moving on is to forget about the three of you. To cut my ties before I leave. He didn’t think I would be able to handle being away from you. When Noah told Harry how he felt, I thought he did it so Harry would break up with me before I left. But I didn’t want that. And I thought if I kissed Noah, I could prove to Harry that he’d made a mistake. That there was nothing between Noah and me.”
Mohammad inhales a sharp breath.
“And was there?” he asks.
I swallow.
“What did you see?”
“I saw you kiss him.”
“And?”
“And … he kissed you back.”
“He kissed me back, and then he told me that he would never forgive me. So, it’s fitting. This is how it should be, Mohammad. I will leave, they can hate me, and their friendship will survive because of it.”
“It was the wrong decision.”
“It was the only option.”
“Miss America—” Mohammad drawls out, sounding defeated.
I cut him off, “You should hate me too. Promise me that you will?”
“I can’t promise you that. Where is this coming from?”
“I thought that I could prove Harry wrong. I wanted to show him that I wanted him. That I chose him. That there was nothing between Noah and me. But I managed to do the exact opposite. I hadn’t intended to hurt Harry. I wish I could just apologize. For all of it. But it’s too late. My words won’t mean anything after my actions. And they shouldn’t. Noah will never forgive me. Harry won’t either. He shouldn’t. And I’ll never forgive myself.”
“It was catastrophic to watch,” he says with a deflated voice.
“It was our destruction. I knew Noah and I would eventually come together. And that when we did, we would hurt everyone around us. So, maybe it was fate and its forceful hand.” Tears form in my eyes.
“Fate made you kiss Noah?”
“No, I forced that upon fate,” I say with a sad laugh.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah,” I say into the phone.