I liked the salted chips from Foodie, the fast food place downtown that West took me to.

The breeze out here was cool and refreshing, a big contrast to how it felt at school. Ridgerock made everyday seem bad even though things were perfectly fine away from it, and no matter how long I'd been going there, it was still difficult to get used to.

"Wow," I said to West as we leaned against his bike outside the building, talking around the delicious chips in my mouth. "Of all the places I thought you'd take me."

A car drove past us before he looked at me for the first time in a few minutes. "What were you expecting?"

"Something less delicious?" I suggested, and a corner of his lips quirked up, but he turned away from me again.

"This was the only place I could think of. My sister and I come here a lot."

I smiled at the amount of affection in his voice. "You have a sister?" I put another chip in my mouth, drowning in the taste like it was my first one.

"Yeah. Lily. She's a very petite thing. As delicate as her name, too."

I playfully bumped his shoulder with mine. "Don't refer to your sister as a thing. I know sisters can be annoying."

"I was just joking." He folded his arms over his chest and stared across the street, a distant look filling his eyes for a moment. "She . . . has panic attacks, too."

I stopped chewing, my stomach rumbling at the reminder.

"I bring her here every time it happens to cheer her up."

And he thought it would work with me.

I studied his profile while he was distracted by a laughing couple across the street. He wasn't saying it (or saying much, actually), but I knew what happened was bothering him. He was refusing to look me in the eyes, and something was off about his energy, distant.

I looked down at the little basket in my hand, focusing on the grease-stained napkin at the bottom, feeling embarrassed once again. This was all because of that stupid video.

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes, and I lost my appetite, suddenly feeling like everything I'd eaten that day was crawling up my throat, threatening to make a reappearance.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, his voice low and soft like he was telling me a big secret. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

I played with the basket handle for a while in an attempt to stall, and saw him look at me out of the corner of my eye. "It wasn't your fault. I didn't know it would happen, either."

"Things must be hard for you, right?"

I gave him a humorless smile. "You have no idea."

There was a question on the tip of his tongue, but he thought about it for a few beats before asking, "Is she . . . okay lately?"

I had to give that question some thought. Kairi was anything but okay before Dray came to reconcile with her, and after that, she had been better, happier.

"Lately, she is," I responded. "Her friends are coming back one by one."

"And she's accepting them?"

I smiled, held back tears threatening to come forward. "Unfortunately. First her ex, then her ex-best friend. I mean, it's like nothing happened."

West took a chip from the basket in my hands, then bit into it, chewing loudly. Strangely, it was a comforting sound to listen to. "How do you feel about that?"

"Like I could kill." His eyebrows raised in surprise, but I ignored it and continued. "I feel mad virtually all the time and it's just—" I abruptly stopped, choking on my words. "It's all just infuriating. They ruined her life, took away her dignity, her innocence, and she just forgives them. Just like that." I didn't know why I told him what I did next, but my mouth opened and worked with a mind of its own. "The day Dray came over, she hurt me, you know."

Instinctively, I rubbed the spot her nails had dug into with the inside of my wrist. The sting returned, and another emotion crept in.

"She hurt me for that—" I stopped myself before I said something that would make my mom turn in her grave, then swallowed the lump in my throat.

West let out an amused chuckle that had some of the tension easing from my shoulders. "Now I'm not sure I should take you back to school." He took another chip, then gently nudged me in the side with his elbow. "Have some," he suggested. "It'll soothe your killer instincts."

"Very funny," I said, looking up at him with blurry eyes.

He finally met my eyes, and after taking in my face, his features softened, his eyes now possessing a glint that wasn't there before. I didn't know what it was about his eyes that drew me in—maybe it was the color, or maybe it was the intensity—but every time I saw it, I found it hard to look away.

His lips parted, and I subconsciously leaned forward, paying more attention than I normally did, but before he could say anything, a bike came to a stop in front of us. West looked away from me at the interruption, and I averted my eyes just in time to see the rider take off their helmet.

My eyes widened in surprise when I saw that I knew the rider.

Skye placed her helmet in front of her as she put her feet down and looked at West and I. Her chin-length jet black hair had fallen over one side of her face, and her equally dark clothes were giving off rock chick vibes. She smiled at me, her eyes straying to West.

"Am I . . . interrupting something?" Her expression turned sly as she fixed me with a pointed stare, and West chuckled next to me before taking another chip from the basket and turning away again.

Was that mock I sensed?

Deciding to ignore it, I asked Skye, "What are you doing here? Aren't you in, like, ninth grade?"

"Ha ha," she said sarcastically, running a hand through her hair. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'll be a senior before this year ends. I should be the one asking you what you're doing out here during school hours."

I didn't point out the fact that we were basically the same age, settling with introducing her to West, instead. "Um, this is West. West meet Skye."

She gave him a chin nod. "Cool bike."

"I hate the thing, but thanks," he responded. Then to me he said, "I'll go get more of this," he gestured to the chips, "to go while you two talk."

"Okay."

Skye and I remained in silence until he disappeared into the building. Then she tapped her fingers against the top of her helmet and said, "So, ditching school, huh?"

"I just needed some air," I told her, continuing to play with the basket handle.

She snorted. "I can imagine. If I went to your school, I would fake the flu until summer. The students there are going rogue."

I managed a smile. "You can say that."

"I have friends that go to your school, and just yesterday, one was telling me about how virtually everyone thinks that Harvard chick did it."

I shook my head, finally meeting her dark-lined eyes. "I don't know, Skye. I'm not really interested in the gossip."

"The whole of the state probably is. Now there's the stuff about the vandals, too." She let out a breath, sending a few strands of her hair flying up.

"Vandals?"

"Yeah. They've been breaking into local stores, taking things, then spray-painting some weird Latin words on the walls."

"Wow. I didn't know about that."

Skye shook her head as a laugh escaped her lips. "And I'm supposed to be a wild child. What am I doing with my life?"

I didn't get the joke, so I just watched her in silence. West returned not too long after, a small plastic takeout pack in his hand.

"Just be careful of dark alleys," Skye continued, eyeing the bike behind me. "And don't go out at night on that thing. Trust me, I've been mistaken for a gang member many times."

I wonder why, I thought, taking in her all-black clothing. I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if she pulled a knife out of her back pocket. I smiled to myself when I realized I actually knew someone like Skye, and her eyes smiled at me.

"I should go now," she told me, revving up her bike's engine. "If you need some more stuff, you know how to contact me." She gave me a wink that made my stomach drop to my feet, but I composed myself and gave her a small wave, which she gladly accepted. "Bye, West."

Without waiting for a response from him, she put on her helmet and rode off.

West waited until we couldn't hear the sound of her bike before asking, "You do drugs?"

I turned to him in shock, and he shrugged.

"What? She asked if you wanted more stuff—which means you've bought from her before."

"Yeah," I said, glaring at him. "The steroids for Axel's "framing." How do you think I got it?"

He looked like he wanted to laugh, but held it in and gave the takeout pack to me. "Hold this, would you?" He went ahead to pull me away from the motorcycle so he could straddle it. "You know, sometimes you take things too seriously. I was just messing with you."

He stretched a helmet in my direction, but I didn't take it, content with shooting daggers at him for what he said. He was a bit distracted with getting his own helmet—which made me wonder why he took two helmets around—but when he realized I hadn't taken it from him, he looked at me.

His eyes were simply curious, nothing harsh in them, but his lips were quirking like he was on the verge of exploding with laughter. It only seemed to annoy me even more.

Of course I took things too seriously, because being carefree had cost me a lot—a lot more than he could ever understand.

After a few seconds of zero movements from me, he sighed, then dropped his hand, sobering up. He looked away from me for a beat, then tried again. This time, I harshly pulled the safety equipment out of his hand.

"You know," I began, "if you don't know me, you should really keep your opinions to yourself. I didn't ask for them."

"Noted," he answered, voice plain. "It won't happen again, I'm sorry."

I knew he thought I was too messed up, too troubled—like he put it during our first meeting—and I was probably just turning his assumptions to facts, but I was too moody to care.

As we neared school, me gripping his jacket like I would die if I didn't hold on tight, and him going past the speed limit, exerting all his emotions on the bike, I started to feel bad about the way I talked to him. This outing was for me, after all, and he was there to assist me during my first panic attack. I owed him for that, and he didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of my pent-up emotions.

Immediately we stopped, I got off the bike and took off the helmet. He took it from me without a glance in my direction, and I got my answer. He was annoyed at me.

I tucked strands of hair behind my ears, then folded my arms over my chest. "Um, thanks for this. I really needed it. Here." I gave the takeout pack back to him, but he didn't take it.

"It's yours," he said, still refusing to look at me, and it made me feel even worse.

"It is? I mean, thanks. I appreciate it."

He gave me a brief nod of acknowledgement, then got off his bike after securing the helmet. I got his back for a few seconds, before he turned around and brushed past me.

"Get inside before you get in trouble," he mumbled as he walked away, and I turned to his retreating figure, feeling like an idiot.

I didn't know how long we were away, but immediately I stepped through the front doors, the bell rang, allowing me to easily blend with the students rushing out of their classes.

When I got to the library, I was surprised to see West's backpack already gone.

Throughout the rest of the day, I hoped I'd bump into him so I could apologize, but it was like he'd suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth. I found myself scrolling to his text from the previous day in my last class, and staring at the absence of a reply.

Why didn't I reply? An I'm fine, or even a smiley face would've been okay, but no. I didn't even make an attempt.

After the last bell rang, I walked to my car, a little angry at myself and slightly deep in thought. I was too occupied with my own problems that I didn't notice the girl leaning against my vehicle until it was too late.

If it was possible for a bad school day to get even worse at the last minute, then mine just did.

Macy smiled as I approached, completely ignoring my glare, and I felt like screaming. What did she want this time? Didn't she take the hint?

"Hey," she said when I was within earshot. "How are you feeling now?"

"Just . . . quit it, Macy. Please." She looked at me like she was confused, so I continued. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but I need you to stop. I'm not in the mood for this right now."

"What's wrong, Kimie? I'm just trying to be of help."

"And I'm trying to tell you that I don't need your help, Macy. I'm perfectly fine on my own. If I could survive a year without you, then that kinda makes me a superhero, doesn't it?"

"Kimie—"

"Just move away from my car. I'm going home."

"At least let me drive you. You don't seem like you're in the right state of mind to drive."

"I'm fine," I snapped at her, unlocking my car and pulling the door open. "I don't care if I had pizza with you, or if you and my sister are back to being BFFs or whatever, but don't assume I like you again, okay? It's over. It's been for a long time."

I just couldn't stand her at the moment. She made my blood boil to a point where it was spilling over, and it was severely uncomfortable.

She looked hurt as she watched me get into my car. "If only you'd let me talk to you, Kimie. I swear, I'm sorry. I'd take it all back if I could. That's how sorry I am."

That last sentence was what did it for me. All my emotions bubbled to the surface right from the depths of my stomach, and I looked her right in her glassy eyes. "Okay," I said, my voice low but promising something more, and Macy's eyes filled with hope—that I was just about to crush. "Do something for me. Restore my sister's virginity, and I promise to forgive you. Deal?"

I stretched a hand in her direction, daring her to shake it, but she blanched and took a step back. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but she seemed to think better of it, because they closed quickly. I saw her swallow, her courage evaporating like a water spill on a hot day. She stepped away from my car and didn't stop putting distance between herself and it, like she was trying to escape something.

"Yeah," I said, turning the key in the ignition. "I thought so, too."