Quinn found me in the basement the next day, dancing ballet to Megan Thee Stallion. My Grand Adage was nearly ruined when she opened the door.

Sweating, I pulled out my ear buds and grabbed my water bottle. "I told Trina not to let you in."

"I know. But I brought those Godiva chocolates she likes." Tough crowd, she mouthed, scratching her head in the awkward silence. "I brought your favorite ice cream too, salted caramel... Look, Ali, you have every right to be upset. And I get it—"

"You really don't." I dotted my face with a towel. "I'm not upset that you and Tyler had a... thing. But I am mad that you pretended not to know each other."

Quinn winced. "And you should be mad. That was such a shitty thing to do, A. I'm so fucking sorry."

"Quinn, you and Tyler should know by now that you can always tell me the truth. Even if you think I don't want to hear it."

"I know. You're right. Tyler and I screwed up. It was one stupid night. Tyler was in town; we just bumped into each other. I missed my dad, he was lonely, and a celebrity... We felt so terrible afterwards." Quinn's face was splotchy. Her cheeks and nose were red from crying, and she was still beautiful. "I should have told him who I was, but I didn't... I just used the things you said about him to make him like me. And it worked, for about ten minutes."

"Ew, please spare me the play-by-play. Why did you do it? I understand lying to me, but why did you lie to Tyler too?"

"He likes you. Even then, the way he found a reason to bring you up in every conversation, I felt it. And, I guess, I just wanted someone to feel that way about me too. Even if just for a second. There were so many times I wanted to tell you the truth. I guess I didn't tell you because I was ashamed." Quinn walked back to the door. "Anyway, that's all I really came to say. If you don't wanna be friends anymore, I understand. And if you drop out of the talent show, I'll understand that too."

"I really hate what you did," I said, playing with the cap of my water bottle. "And not because you slept with Tyler. It's because I can't trust you anymore, Q. I understand if you both needed someone that night. But you haven't been here for me."

Quinn nodded in silence, rubbing her elbow as she gazed at the floor.

"I won't drop out of the talent show, but I think senior year is it for us.

She took a deep shuddering breath and nodded. "You're right. I think I kind of knew this was coming..."

Quinn had used me to get to Tyler and then lied about knowing him. Even before that there were moments where our relationship was put to the test. Sometimes friendships have a shelf life.

She didn't care that I was sweaty or that my hair was wet. Quinn threw her arms around me and I knew that hug was one of the last we had left.

"I already fucking miss you, A."

"Miss you too."

Quinn sniffed and stepped back, still gripping my arms. "Did I mention Robin's bathroom burned down after the party?" She chuckled, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I still talk to a few girls on the squad. They said her parents cut up her credit cards and threatened to send her to boarding school. Can you believe it?"

If there is a goddess, her name is Karma.

***

Monday morning, I drifted from one class to the next, hollow inside, like a zombie that had ghost for breakfast. The only time I really felt awake, tethered to something in a world I was beginning to understand less and less, was during a random, meaningless moment in the hallway.

I was headed to English, my stomach in knots at the thought of being in class with Robin and Tyler at the same time, when I saw him. He was coming from the opposite direction, heading away from class. That didn't seem right at all...

His backpack was abandoned, nowhere to be seen. One hand was stuffed in his jeans pocket, the other tucked around his iPod. Both buds were planted in his ears as he chewed his lip, studying the iPod's screen, immersed in music he was probably writing lyrics to. I debated, tossing the coin between whether the song in his head was fast or slow, lamenting that I couldn't just ask him, when he glanced from his iPod—and caught me staring.

Over the years, Tyler and I had developed the ability to speak without speaking. He took great pleasure in using his powers for evil. Sometimes, when our conversations were tagged by a third wheel, he would find himself compelled to mock and/or insult the person standing between us. The game was to make me laugh without letting the stranger figure out why. We had a knack for silent communication.

You. Tyler raised his eyebrows. What?

Nothing. I rolled my eyes. I'm leaving!

He glared back. I'm leaving more!

Tyler sauntered past. I scoffed, watching him go. He turned and walked backwards, shrugging at me with the ultimate disregard. Whatever, bro.

Offended by his indifference, and the fact that he hadn't fallen on his knees at the very sight of me, begging for my immediate forgiveness, I turned on my heel and marched to English without him.

In class, I tried to forget Tyler even existed, but somehow, his empty chair communicated for him.

That night, at the dinner table, my guilt over the fire pressured me to ask Trina if she believed in hell.

She laughed and grabbed the Ranch, trailing liberal spirals all around her garden salad. Since her trip to the ER, Trina's appetite was back with a vengeance. Now she ate everyone's food.

"Look, I know I'm the adult figure, and I'm supposed to have al-l-l-l-l the answers, but I'm gonna be honest—I don't know shit. What I believe is that we're each responsible for our own lives. We make our own heaven, our own hell."

I pictured Tyler, looking like an angel as he lit those golden candles... and stayed silent, dragging my fork listlessly across my plate.

"Ali? Is there something on your mind? Besides eternal damnation of the soul?"

I sighed. "What if you like someone? But say that someone has... baggage."

"If this someone is who I think he is—he's seventeen. How much baggage can he have?"

I sucked through my teeth in frustration. Adults never took anything seriously.

"Alright, alright, I'm just kidding. Look, technically, everyone has baggage, right? I have an embarrassing credit score. Hudson came back from his first overseas tour eating camel. And your mom—she would have been a stripper if I wasn't such a good sister and convinced her to become a ballerina instead. But that's what family does—they stick around, pull you through the hard times."

I guffawed, slapping the table at her silliness.

Trina chuckled. "See? Everyone makes mistakes—we all have baggage. But if that's the reason you're holding out on this someone, then you have a decision to make—is he worth the trouble?"

The million-dollar question.

I was still mulling it over the next afternoon, at dance practice. Tyler had skipped yet another English class, and my growing concern subsequently had me skipping the simplest steps. I faltered, right under Madilyn's watchful gaze, and she finally cut the music.

When Madilyn Moore entered a room, it was immediately known where Tyler received his good looks. They had the same dark hair, her waves fuller, longer. She was also fit and athletically toned like him, but not nearly so tall. And her green eyes were much wiser, her temper less volatile than her manic son. Mostly.

"Aaliyah, when you told me you made the school talent show, and that you wanted me to help you prepare, I was more than happy to do so—but I knew it was just your nerves asking for my help. This choreography is yours—you don't need me anymore. With your kind of talent, you deserve a real stage. But that requires real focus—what you'll need at the Conservatory at all times. You're clearly distracted—that kind of dancing has no place anywhere."

"I know. You're right. I'm sorry, Madilyn." I slid my arm across my forehead, removing the sweat.

Madilyn placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head in amusement. "Maybe it's summer fever or senioritis—Tyler's pretty distracted himself these days. He came home to clear his head, but all that boy does is write sad songs and go to parties."

"Are things okay at home?"

"When he's there." Madilyn pressed her lips in disappointment. "Ever since his father and I divorced, Tyler's had it in his head that he'd be choosing sides if he moved in with one of us. He's been staying at the Maison."

"Sounds lonely."

"I don't like it, but Tyler's emancipated. Us parents don't have much say in what he does anymore—maybe that's for the best. At least I still get to boss you and Emma around." Madilyn winked.

I smiled back, but I felt terrible. I had been so wrapped up in my own stupid problems I hadn't stopped to consider any of Tyler's. His parent's separation, his struggles with his manager, the expectations from his fans... Obviously he came home because he needed a break, to be around people who would cut him a little slack for once. Instead, he got me, and a leaked sex tape.

I could shut Tyler out, but I could never escape my conscience.

***