By the time Collin and I got home, Henry’s plane was landing. I knew he was going to call the moment he could, so I sat in my closet and clutched my phone to my chest just like a sniper. And when my phone rang, I put a bullet in his heart.

  Our conversation lasted only as long as it took for me to recant everything Elena said and exactly how she said it. I didn’t leave anything out, including her endgame. She knew I would tell him the details. What I hadn’t counted on, though, was how angry he would be at Mischa—his father. Hate for him was born in an instant. And within the hour, he’d personally brought Ms. Manning into the circle.

  So many people keeping secrets. And with one tiny spark, Elena was able to blow up multiple lives. Henry will never trust. Ms. Manning will leave Chicago, and she’ll raise a baby on her own as a woman nearing fifty.

  So much havoc. All from one woman.

  Still…he calls, and when I call…he answers. We didn’t go more than three days without talking over the summer.

  Talking to me makes Henry think about everything here. He forces himself to anyhow, but I’ve noticed how distant our conversations have become. It was supposed to be our summer—I was going to hide away in the Satis House practice rooms, and he was going to wait for me on our rooftop. There were going to be sunsets and kisses. Instead, there’s a lot of dead air on the phone between us.

  Summer is over, though. And I’m moving back in to Satis House.

  And I am sad.

  “You’re really changing the dynamics of our relationship, I hope you know.”

  It takes me a few seconds to react to Nicki’s voice. I’ve been staring at the last notes in my journal, the one Henry found and read the night we snuck him into our room. I haven’t made a single entry since that day.

  “I’m sorry…what?” I close the book to glance at Nicki, but keep my finger on the page.

  “Dark and gloomy is sorta like my thing. Ya know…I wear the black and listen to the death metal and…”

  “You don’t listen to death metal,” I chuckle out, shaking my head.

  “You don’t know that.” She folds her arms and juts her hip as she stares at me. “Maybe I switched things up. You’ve been so lost in your…” Nicki holds one hand out with a bent elbow and flicks her fingers around.

  “What is…?” I make the same, bizarre movement.

  “You know. That’s your black cloud. The one following you around and making you all depressing and shit.”

  I grimace.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry,” I say, letting go of the place I’m holding in my journal. I push the book under my pillow and sit with my feet on the floor and my hands in my lap.

  “Tell me about this death-metal obsession,” I say.

  “Pshh, I made that up. I hate that stuff.” She turns her back to me and goes back to pulling her collection of boots from her trunk. I throw my Satis sweater at her, and she laughs.

  “That’s the Lily I know.”

  Nicki and I finish the afternoon putting our clothes away, and on a whim, we become obsessed with hanging these purple flowers all over our walls. Someone left a bag of them in the common room, and Nicki suggested we decorate with them as a joke. I’m sure she was waiting for me to call her bluff, but the joke’s on her because I actually love the way our room looks covered in the deep purple petals. I’m pretty sure she wants to gag.

  Henry’s call was supposed to come around three. It didn’t. It didn’t come at four or five either. It’s night in Germany now, and his call—it isn’t coming at all. He’s been late before. And since the fall semester started for him, he’s missed a few days. I was sure he’d call tonight though—he knew it was move-in day.

  It hurts.

  It’s the first two days on campus—the best days to be here. All I feel is the void of Henry in every corner, though. Karaoke started in the courtyard an hour ago, and we’ve already listened to Anya sing three Whitney Houston songs. The incoming group of freshmen and sophomores isn’t as spirited as our class was, and I think most of the juniors have grown tired of the same Satis House traditions. Seniors never stick around for the activities. Their nights are spent in the city.

  “Maybe this event wouldn’t suck if people actually participated,” Anya says. She’s being passive aggressive, which causes Nicki to roll her eyes. It’s comforting that at least my friends have stayed the same.

  “Give me the book,” I sigh, taking the list of songs from Anya and flipping through in search of something I can muddle my way through. I can choose to wallow, which I have certainly been doing, or I can rejoin the land of the living. Henry was never the reason I came to Satis—the piano was. Henry was just a perk, a kernel that piqued my curiosity.

  He was a cute boy that made private school a little more interesting.

  My thumb passes by the Aretha song I sang two years ago. Henry didn’t stick around to watch.

  “Hey, who wants to duet with me?” My eyes travel around our small table, first to Nicki who just scoffs at my suggestion. Anya holds up a hand but lowers it to half-mast.

  “I’ll go with you if no one else wants to, but honestly…I think if these people hear me sing one more song they’re going to start to throw things,” she says.

  My eyes flit to Ava.

  “Hard pass. We can all agree that I don’t sing, right?” She’s quick to pass, and we collectively nod.

  Anya starts to stand, her head ducked low in anticipation of groans from the few people still hanging out in the courtyard.

  “I’ll be the Sonny to your Cher!”

  The smile colors my face fast. Caleb wasn’t supposed to get here until tomorrow.

  “Deal!” I slam the songbook closed and rush around the table to hug my friend. He wraps his arms around me and swings me in a circle, and when he sets me down, I realize how suspicious we probably look to everyone else at the table.

  “Well, that sure perked you up,” Nicki says. Her tone is snarky, maybe a little accusatory.

  “You guys, stop. I just missed him, that’s all,” I say.

  “She’s a liar. She totally wants me, and now…my love,” Caleb says, dropping to one knee. My eyes stretch wide and my cheeks get hot. I could kill him. “Henry is out of the picture, and we can be together ha, ha, ha…”

  Caleb’s pretend evil laugh dies off with zero reaction from the peanut gallery.

  “He’s kidding,” I say, my head leaning to one side.

  “Yeah, we got it. He’s a real gas,” Nicki says, dragging the songbook toward her to flip through the pages.

  “Oh, now you want to sing,” I sigh at her.

  She pauses with a page turned halfway and her eyes slowly pan up to meet mine. She blows a bubble with the gum she’s had in her mouth since about noon, I swear. It snaps against her lips and she pulls it back into her mouth.

  “No, I don’t want to sing. I was just looking at this book because I didn’t want to have to fake like I didn’t think it was weird that you and Caleb flirt all the time.”

  She blows another bubble, and I reach forward and pop it with my finger then flip her off. That makes her smirk.

  “Atta girl,” she says.

  Ignoring my judgmental friends, I turn to Caleb.

  “We’re singing Aretha.” His saunter stumbles a bit.

  “Wow. I probably should have asked before I signed on for this.”

  “Too late. There is no going back from an offer to be someone’s Sonny,” I say, curling my finger and calling him to join me on the center stage.

  I tell the DJ what song we’d like to do, and he puts it in the queue. One of the new students, probably a freshman, is singing Gaga. She’s good—she’s their year’s Anya. It seems I have a thing for following epic performances.

  Caleb’s dressed like Henry would be if he were here—khaki shorts and a form-fitted black T-shirt. His skin is bronzed from an entire summer in California, and his bright-white shoes stand out against his sockless feet. Preppy.

  We look like twins, only my shirt is a light green. It’s an outfit I bought on a shopping trip with Henry—part of what we called “project un-tight.” I put my hands in my pockets and sway a little with performance anxiety.

  “How are you doing?” Caleb whispers, leaning into my side.

  “Fake it ’til you make it, right?” I respond.

  His lips settle into a comforting smile and his eyes blink once, slowly.

  Caleb became the person I talked to over the summer when I couldn’t sleep, and that—the faking it bit—became our inside joke. I don’t even remember the origin now, but it’s evolved into this cure-all, magic eraser. We say that, and all of the gross feelings eating me up inside have to go away. Same goes for Caleb.

  This is the year he wants to come out at Satis. We practiced for all outcomes, and just now with our friends would have been the perfect time to test the waters, but then again—easy for me to say. I just have a broken heart and a long-distance boyfriend-ish…sorta. Caleb has part of who he is that might get judged.

  The singer before us hits her final note, and that rush sinks into my chest. It’s the performance rush; I get it even when I play the piano, something that I am way better at than singing. I love the feeling, though. I love the triumph of it, when I’m in the middle of it and actually doing it.

  “We’re up,” Caleb says, taking my hand and leading me to the mic, which the girl before us left on the stand.

  Caleb spins me so I’m facing him and takes both of my hands. We look like a couple at the altar, and I’m sure our friends will continue their gossip about us. Is it really gossip, though, when it’s to our faces?

  I’m so busy musing about the question that I don’t even realize Caleb has switched our songs. The familiar Motown I was expecting is instead a steady seventies oom-pah-pah, and when I realize what I’m hearing, I rock my head back and laugh.

  Caleb has to start without me, I’m laughing so hard, and the comedy of it all prompts our friends to join in. Soon, the courtyard is filling up, and everyone is howling out the chorus of “I Got You Babe."

  I reach for the mic, taking it from the stand, and I lean into Caleb as we both sing loudly together. Our voices are obnoxious, but nobody seems to care. He takes my hand and twirls me out for the next verse, and I sing the first two lines, then give the mic to him. We switch off and on like that until the end, when the song is basically the same proclamation, over and over. What a simple pledge—they got each other. We got each other.

  “I got you…” I say through my uncontrollable giggling. Caleb wraps me in his arms from behind, and I hold the mic close to my cheek so he can lean over my shoulder and sing along. We’re rocking, and Satis House student arms are swaying. The scene is ridiculous and corny.

  And then it suddenly isn’t.

  “Nice!” Henry bellows a single word. He’s standing just outside the glass doors to the study room for the boy’s dorm. His eyes level me, and the music drones on without a single person singing along.

  He’s here. He came back.

  Right now.

  I’m so in shock at the sight of him, I don’t register the visual he’s getting until I feel Caleb’s hands slip loose from their hold on my waist.

  “Shit,” I say, dropping the mic to the floor and walking right off the stage toward him.

  The glass door rattles as he lets it go. His stride is long and fast, and I find I’m beginning to jog in an effort to catch up. I’m not interested in shouting his name as I rush out in chase, but if I don’t do something, he’s going to sprint or climb into some car and dash away without giving me a chance.

  I weave through the dark halls of the boy’s dormitory, around the mailroom area and lobby desk until I’m faced with the heavy metal doors that lead to the main walkway on campus. I can see Henry distancing himself across the lawn, so I open the door and call out his name. In a breath, Caleb shouts his name after me.

  “It’s my fault. I’ll fix this,” Caleb says, squeezing my bicep as he picks up into a run and rushes by me. Our friends have caught up, along with a few nosey underclassmen who need to mind their own business.

  I begin my march across the grass, but before I can catch up to Caleb and Henry, my Boyfriend-ish cocks his arm and sends his fist into the jaw of Dark Hair and Ice Eyes.

  “Henry!” I break into a run, and my friends aren’t far behind me.

  Caleb is holding the side of his face, wobbling a little bit on his feet, while Henry is circling him like a Mike Tyson in his prime. He rotates his wrist and rubs his palm over the knuckles of the hand he took the swing with.

  “What the hell, Lily!” Henry shouts. His eyes flash with hurt, but I’m too pissed to feel sympathy. I rush at him and flatten my palms in the center of his chest, shoving him off balance for a step or two. He’s bigger than me, and hard to move, so I push him again, this time using more leg power.

  “You’re being an ass, Henry!” I slap at his arm, my fingers leaving a stinging, red slash on his skin.

  He holds up his palms quickly and starts to back away, as if we’ve trapped him and he’s terrified. The more he mutters the same phrase over and over again—what the hell? —the more empathy forms in my gut, until I realize that right now at this moment, what Henry feels is my worst fear.

  Betrayed.

  “Henry, man…look. We were just goofing around,” Caleb says.

  “They were,” Nicki adds in. “We were all messing around. It’s Karaoke Night!”

  Henry’s eyes snap to Nicki and they see right through her fake enthusiasm. It probably should have come from anyone but her. His feet begin to prowl again, and Caleb starts to work in opposite directions. I continuously keep my body between them both, my hands stretched out in both directions as if I have some mighty strength or superpower.

  “You’ve always been flirty with her. Face it, Dude,” Henry scoffs. He leans to the side and spits at the ground. “And you,” he points at me. “Ice eyes, dark hair…”

  His brow lowers a little, and his eyes dip away from the light.

  “I’m gay, Henry.”

  The first time he utters the one thing he’s been terrified to say, his voice gets lost in the breath of flared nostrils and pleas from my friends on my behalf. I begin to wave my hands, urging everyone to hush—to just fucking listen.

  “I said I’m gay, Henry,” Caleb says more forcefully this time.

  His voice cuts through the anger and commotion, and just like that, everyone is perfectly still.

  “Lily’s the only one who knew. And I’m sorry if you’re not okay with that. But that’s who I am. Take your caveman shit somewhere else, because, while Lily and I are good friends, she is so not my type romantically.”

  We all gawk at one another, nobody sure what to say next. Henry struggles to let go of his rage, to make sense of where it fits with this new feeling. Caleb stares at his friend—his best friend—and I watch as his eyes fall as hope slips away that things will ever be anything like what they were before he let everyone know.

  “I’m sorry, but what?” Nicki’s eyes squint, and she steps closer to Caleb.

  He turns a little, shifting his stance, and looks my goth friend in her eyes.

  “I’m gay,” he says, the tiny sentence coming out with more confidence this time.

  “Yeah, yeah…I got that. But you said you were sorry. Don’t say that part. You’re gay…and you’re not sorry.” Nicki moves closer to Caleb, one careful step at a time, and the closer she gets, the more both of their smiles grow.

  “You’re not my type either,” he jokes when they’re standing toe to toe. Nicki flips him off.

  “I’m everyone’s type,” she says, lifting up on her toes and kissing Caleb on the cheek. He pulls her into a hug, and his shoulders visibly lower from the burden they’ve been carrying around.

  “You’re not…messing around,” Henry says, his finger drawing an invisible line that dashes between Caleb and me several times.

  “No, Henry. We’re not messing around,” I say, moving close enough to him that we could touch if I felt like it. At the moment, though, I feel like folding my arms over my chest and narrowing my eyes.

  “You let me hit him,” Henry says to me, nodding toward his friend.

  “I didn’t let you do shit. You hit him all on your own. Because you’re an asshole.” I add on that last part and Nicki makes a rebellious fist behind Henry’s back.

  “I only thought…” Henry pauses, his expression relaxing as his pulse settles in. Realization of everything is hitting him, and his hands move to his temples, his fingertips rubbing in small circles.

  “Shit, man…I’m sorry,” he says, his hands holding still for a beat as his gaze moves to Caleb.

  “Did you hear the part about the fact that I’m gay?” Caleb lifts his brows, still waiting for some verbal acceptance.

  “Uh yeah…a little late, but I did. And I don’t really care. I mean, I support you, but you’re not hitting on my girlfriend, so…”

  “Excuse me,” I say, waving my hand in his line of sight to bring his attention back to me. “If I’m your girlfriend, why didn’t I know you were coming?” I lean to the side with my question, cutting off more of Henry’s view. His eyes blink away from me for a moment, then meet my questioning gaze. He stares at me without words for several breaths.

  “Elena’s sick.”

  And in a single heartbeat, I wonder if somehow, I made this happen.

  CHAPTER 20

  Most cases of acute kidney failure can be treated and reversed. Elena’s kidneys, though, would have none of that. Naturally, she wanted a new one.

  Elena never really wanted Henry to know. Her driver Phillip, though, thought maybe if he just reached out…Henry would come home.

  He has no idea why he did.

  We’ve lived in melancholy for the last eight hours back here at Elena’s home. Henry spent an hour apologizing to Caleb, and another hour apologizing to me before we left campus. We were all sitting outside in the grass where the fight broke out. Then finally, Henry just got up and started walking without another word to anyone. I followed him, forcing his hand in mine and his grip felt cold—lifeless. We came here and walked right into the music room. We haven’t left it once. It’s the same conversation being spun over and over, and mostly Henry has it with himself.