AUTHOR'S NOTE: Above is a cover, made by Eliza0170. Shoutout to her for being awesome! I love covers, cast suggestions, anything to do with coffee, and basically just hearing from you guys. Feel free to PM me and start a conversation. I don't bite... except on Tuesdays. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think!

____________________________________

He wanted to explain how people were

never quite what you thought they were.

—William Golding

____________________________________

KATIE

JANUARY // WEEK 8

Next to Isabel, the library was probably my best friend, and being surrounded by wood, old books, and pen ink was comforting. Their smells wrapped around me like a vague memory from childhood: chocolatey cereal and Saturday morning cartoons. And my dad. He was still there. I felt a sharp pang in my side, just below my rib cage, almost like a cramp, the ones I got when I didn't spend enough time warming up before a run. Yet somehow this pain was agonizingly worse. I pushed my dad and the memory away quicker than the time it took him to walk out of my life.

Jake. I smelled him before I saw him, and that made my Calc homework very difficult. Confident and relaxed, as I had come to know Jacob Roswell over the past few weeks. I wanted to look up from my paper, flash him a pretty smile, bite my lip, then return to my work like he was just another guy. But Jacob Roswell was not, and would never be just another guy. And it was safe to say that I would never be that girl.

Jake slid into the seat beside me, his arm hanging over the back of the chair. I fought to urge to snap my head up from my book as long as I could. From the time Jake entered the library to the time he sat down, it took a total of twenty-seven seconds—a record for me and the number on the back of Jake's hockey uniform. Instead of saying hello or asking how his day was going, like any normal person with moderate to advanced social skills would have done, I just stared at him.

A piece of art. That was how I classified Jake in my mind, because, God, just look at him. Brown hair, the color of pots de creme, a fancy French dessert Isabel's mother made every once in a while. My stomach growled, quite loudly, though Isabel had brought me a bagel this morning. His eyes had all the colors and properties of ice: a beautiful light blue with a darker, outer rim, and undeniably breathtaking. I shivered, feeling a jolt run down my spine, though I knew he hadn't touched me...but I was kinda hoping he would. I wouldn't let myself even think about, or look at his lips because even I didn't have that much self restraint. But it was safe to say—in the least creepy way possible—that Jacob Roswell belonged a museum.

"So I heard you're amazing," he finally spoke. And it was as if his words had floated over to me and tugged the corners of my lips up slightly.

And suddenly, I wanted to be that girl. Try her out, see how it felt to be witty and charming. "Oh, yeah?" I asked, turning to face Jake. "Where'd you hear that?"

No lip bite accompanied my response though. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them and rested my chin on top.

"Derek." He half-smiled. "Turns out he's actually got a brain in there." Jake tapped his pointer finger against the side of his head. I was jealous of his fingers.

My mouth formed into a small o."What?" I played along, faking disbelief.

"Yeah, it's crazy. I figured, if you managed to pull a 95 out of his head, you could maybe do the same with mine," Jake said, putting his elbow on the table to prop his head up.

"How could you possibly need help? You have a 3.85 GPA, Jake." His name teetered off the tip of my tongue, like a four-year-old learning how to ride a bike.

"Well it's not gonna be a 3.85 if I get a B- in my history class."

"That must be a first," I guessed, with a slight, insignificant roll of my eyes.

"So is a teacher hating my guts! Shocking, right?" Jake said before leaning in closer to me, until our noses were almost touching. I could just barely taste the cool, mint gum that was radiating off of him in waves. "Besides, don't you want to get inside my mind? Unravel the mystery that is Jake Roswell?" He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

"You're hardly a mystery," I replied with a laugh. Every word that passed my lips was a complete and utter lie. But I wanted him to believe them. I wanted my words to wrap around him, make him dizzy, and leave him craving more. Because that's what his entire being—his entire presence—did to me.

"That's where you're wrong, Hawthorne." Jake shook his head. I almost expected him to wag a finger or two at me. Instead, he moved closer, till his lips brushed against my ear. "I'm your mystery."

And the shivers that juddered and rattled down my spine were nothing compared to the ones I'd felt moments ago. It was like Jake Roswell was my own, personal earthquake, and his words were the Richter scale. I knew it would only be a matter of time until he broke me apart, splintering me into a million could haves, would haves, and shooting stars that I actually wanted to wish on.

Jake pulled away, almost reluctantly, but that could have just been the aftershocks of the earthquake infiltrating my mind. When he was sitting far enough away from me, I attempted to catch my breath, which seemed to always take a stroll whenever he was around. Jake handed me a few pieces of lined paper and a pen.

"So, Katie Mae, unravel me." His eyes held a mischievous and sincere look all in one moment—a look that made me want to tell him everything. My tiny fingers skimmed across Jake's long, graceful ones as I took the blue pen from him. And just like that, I found it seemingly impossible to breathe again.

△

"I am so putting this in my book!" Isabel's squeals reverberated off the metal lockers as we walked down the hallway towards the cafe. I laughed at the thought of my life becoming a novel.

"Whatever makes you happy, Is," Her and I entered the large room filled with students haphazardly strewn about, waiting in disorderly lines for lunch.

"So have you talked to your dad since that whole dinner incident?" Isabel asked me, referring to my father like he was just some minor passing in my life.

"Nope. Kinda hoping it will stay that way." I shrugged, even though I was kinda upset that he hadn't left a note in my locker or tried to talk to me. I was about to ask her a question when I felt someone tug me away.

"Yeah, like Michael would just forget about dinner the other week." Ava jumped into our conversation." She let out half a laugh. "By the way, Katie, you're sitting with me today at lunch." The tone in Ava's voice told me that what she had just suggested wasn't up for discussion. I looked back towards Isabel for help, but she only nodded before turning to walk away.

"Uhh, okay," I said, letting her pull me towards the centre of the universe.

She stopped before we got to her table and pulled me aside, away from the stampede of people trying to get their lunch. "What he did at dinner the other week, springing us on you, that wasn't fair."

"What's it like?" I asked her. "Living with him," I clarified.

"He's..." Ava thought for a moment. "He's good to us, to me." I desperately wanted her to tell me she hated it and that he was the worst person ever. "He has a son, you know," Ava said to me. "That little boy that was sitting next to me in the restaurant."

"I have a brother?" I whispered. Well, half-brother... but still...

"Yeah, we both do." She gave me a sad smile before scrolling through her phone. Ava turned her phone towards me so I could see. "Kinda looks like you. Kinda looks like me." She shrugged.

"What's his name?" I let my fingers skim over the screen, over his smiling face. His hair was a pretty brown color; darker than mine, but lighter than Ava's. And he had green eyes to match.

"Finn." Ava smiled a little. "He's 4."

"He looks happy."

"Yeah, Michael is good with him." Ava nodded and slipped her phone back into her pocket.

"Must be trying to make up for me..." I exhaled a shaky breath.

"Hey," Ava put her hand on my arm. "It's okay." I nodded.

I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist and lift me off the ground. A small squeak escaped my mouth. "You are awesome!" I recognized Derek's voice. He carried me over to the table before gently setting me down on the bench. I felt his lips on my cheek and tried to not to completely freak out. "You are a genius, and I love you!" Derek said with a childish grin plastered on his face. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, from what I imagined my face used to look like. A smirk played on Ava's lips.

"Jeez, why don't you just ask her out on a date already." A-Mart said hitting Derek on the shoulder as he took a seat across from me.

"What'd she do?" Ava asked.

"Got me a 95 on my presentation for Mr. Devoney's class." Derek sat down and took a handful of chips from A-Mart's plate.

"Dude, shove off, you scrub." A-Mart stole some grapes from Derek.

"Impressive." Ava nodded. "So, guys, I'm having a party this weekend." Ava leaned in slightly, like she was sharing a secret, but I knew that half the school would show up.

"I'm there, and there's no way I'm being designated fucking driver this time." Jules sat down.

"Katie, you're coming right?" Ava checked with me. Out of all the people she wanted there, why me?

"Yeah, you totally have to come Katie!" Derek hit the table. "I promise I'll keep you relatively sober this time, since Ava clearly didn't do her job right the last time." Derek nodded. "Can't have you all messed up. I need you to tutor me more." Derek laughed.

Ava looked at me for an answer. "As long as we play that card game again." I couldn't help but smile.

"Perfect, so after the boys's hockey game, everyone can just come over to my place," Ava said with a shrug. "I'll have Claire and Amy spread the word around."

"What about your parents?" I half-whispered to Ava.

"What about them?" She looked at me like I had two heads. "They're going over to my aunt's house for the weekend." She clarified.

Jake walked by me, kissed Jules on the cheek before sitting down at the table, took a bite of his pizza, and almost choked when we made eye contact. Derek clapped him on the back.

"You okay, babe?" Jules leaned into him, and I fought the urge not to vomit. He nodded before taking a smaller bite of his pizza and chewing it carefully.

"Jake, this is Katie. She's the genius I've been telling you about. She's all mine so you can't have her. Katie, this is Jake. He's an asshole, so you probably wouldn't want him anyways." Derek formally introduced us, ducking as Jules threw a grape at him.

I wanted to shake his hand, just to touch him, but resisted. "Yeah hi, I'm the asshole," Jake waved and I giggled. Not laughed. Giggled. When was the last time giggled?

"That was cute." Derek grinned at my laugh. I saw a brief look of anger flash across Jake's eyes, but he didn't say anything. Instead, I felt a foot on top of mine, and just knew that it was Jake's.

"Yeah, it's how I get all the guys," I told Derek hoping he'd catch my sarcasm.

"So, how's your day?" Ava asked me.

"It's good. I had a Calc quiz today." That was the only thing I could think of that was relatively worth mentioning. "How's yours?" I asked trying not to be awkward.

"Good, good." Ava took a bite out of an apple. A few people sat down at the table, murmuring hellos and whatnot. She continued talking but all I could think about was this morning with Jake.

"Ava," I began, but felt a hand on my shoulder. Couldn't I get through one meal without being interrupted, or something. It wasn't Derek because he was sitting across from me and it certainly wasn't Jake because Jules was right next to him, and her and I were pretty hard to mix up. Mistaking me for Jules would be a compliment. I sighed and turned around. "What the hell do you want?" I asked my father who was looking down at me with apologetic eyes. I couldn't believe he had the nerve to come in here, during lunch—during school—and talk to me.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

I lifted up my apple I was eating and looked under it. "Are you planning on springing something on me again, like oh I don't know, the fact that you have a family?" I wanted to yell at him, but surprisingly, I kept my voice controlled. He just walked away, like he expected me to follow like some lost puppy.

"You should go talk to him, hear him out." Ava told me. When I still wasn't convinced she continued. "Bonus points for making a scene."

Derek winked at me as I got up from the table and walked across the cafe, feeling the entire student body staring at me. I thought I was going to burn up at a moment's notice. I knew Jake's eyes were on me, watching my every step. I concentrated somewhat on breathing, but mostly on not tripping. As welcoming as the floor looked, I didn't really feel like saying hello to it today.

"Live with me," were the first words out of my dad's mouth when I stepped into the hallway.

"What?" I was so caught off guard that I actually took a step back.

"Live with me," he repeated.

"Why in the world would I ever do that?" I asked him.

"Because you need a stable environment. Because I'm trying to make up for not taking you with me all those years ago. Because your mother's a damn alcoholic, who doesn't give a damn about you, or anyone else in this world!" he shouted, listing off three very good reasons, one on each finger.

"You don't know what she's like," I interrupted before he could keep going. I was afraid he might actually get to 10.

"Oh, don't give me that shit, Katie!"

"She got a job," I said in a defiant manner.

"Another one? I'm shocked." Dad put his hands on his head. "How long is she gonna keep this one, a few months at most?"

"You wouldn't know because you left." I hadn't realized how close I was to him until I jabbed a finger into his chest. "Besides, why do you even care?"

"I'm trying to fix this—fix us," he said.

I shrugged. "Your guilt of leaving keep you up at night, next to your pretty little wife?"

"Why is it so hard for you to give me a second chance? I'm not asking for you to forgive me. But if you ever feel like doing that, there's always a room for you." He handed me a pink slip of paper, the size of a business card. I subconsciously ran my finger along its rough edges. I looked at the card to see an address written on it. Mulberry Lane. "People get divorced. They screw up and they make mistakes, but I'm not a bad person, Katie." This was the first time he said my name. "Whenever you get tired of taking care of her..." he trailed off before walking away.

I was too stunned to walk back into the cafe, much less react. Instead, I walked off towards the library, knowing Isabel had the next period free.

△

"Mom, I'm home!" I called out loud enough to wake her from her drunken slumber, if she was still in one from the night before. Usually there was no response, but today, a voice called back.

"Hi, Honey!" she said, annunciating each word. Sober Sally is in the house tonight, ladies and gentlemen. She reappeared from a room that used to be my father's office when he lived with us, but after he left, Mom decided to throw everything she hated into that room. "I was just tidying up the office a bit," she smiled at me. I peered around her to see the room still contained a desk, a chair, and surprisingly, a floor.

"What's the occasion?" I asked, dropping my schoolbag onto a barstool.

"I got the job!" Her eyes grew wide.

"What job?" I asked. This was normally how these conversations went. She would get a job, usually waitressing, and then a few months later she'd quit.

"The concierge desk lady lob at that fancy palace, The Castleton." My mother nodded, sure of herself, something I didn't see too often.

"Holy hell, no you didn't." I said quietly, shocked.

"Yes ma'am." She beamed. "I start tomorrow!" she plopped herself down onto a barstool. "Now, why don't you go pick out something from the fridge for dinner. I thought we could celebrate tonight." She gestured towards our ancient fridge that clunked and grumbled most of the time, sounding like it was about to collapse from old age.

I pried open the door to our fridge and gasped when I saw that it was full of food. Like, actual food. "Things are gonna change around here, Darling." She told me, and I wasn't sure if she was trying to convince me, or herself. But I played along, my eyes scanning the countertops. My mother was just full of surprises today, because the countertops were free of bottles. I kept staring, as if I expected a bottle of Malibu to suddenly reappear.

"You threw them out?" I guessed, because every once in a while, Mom would throw out all the bottles and attempt to declare that she was a new person. But then after a few days, something catastrophic would happen (according to her), which lead to her retrieving her best friends and drinking them dry.

"Dumped." She held a finger up, as to correct me. "Dumped them all out, Kate. Right down the drain." She and I looked over towards the metal kitchen sink. I didn't know what to believe right now, so I pulled the trash can out from its home underneath the sink, and found nothing but an empty, white trash bag.

"Where are the bottles?" I asked, my mouth forming a thin, hard line.

"I tossed them into Mr. Gilligan's trash can." She laughed a little, but essentially, just brushed it off like it was nothing. This was my mother's best attempt at cold turkey, and I wondered how long it would last this time.

"Wow, Mom. That's awesome!" I told her, trying not to let myself get too excited.

"Yeah, it's garbage day tomorrow. He won't care," she replied, thinking I was congratulating her for disposing the bottles in a more discrete manner. I couldn't help but laugh a little as well. "So, what do you want for dinner?" She asked me holding up a spatula with a wide grin on her face.

I went back to looking in the fridge and thought about the pink card in my pocket Dad had given me earlier. It felt like a ton of bricks. The address was either threatening to pull me through the floor or jump free and take me with it. It kept replaying itself on repeat. Mulberry Lane. Mulberry Lane. Like it was taunting me.

Mulberry Lane I thought. Maybe it wasn't such a bad place.