TWO YEARS LATER
"YOU'RE SENIORS NOW, I expected better," Ms Clementine sighs, rounding her desk at the front of the class. "Hopefully by our next class, you'll all have your summer reading done."
There's a chorus of "yes" in our English class before the bell rings dismissing them all. I hang back purposefully packing the things in my pencil case at a slower rate.
The group I'd sat beside lingered at the door as a nice gesture but I waved them off with a soft smile. Don't get me wrong they're really nice, but it's obvious that they latched onto me because of Amos — that's been a constant over the past two years.
It was bad when we first stated dating and all of a sudden I'd gotten an influx of attention from people I'd never really known. The boys from the football team, their girlfriends, friends, and everyone else that came along with it.
"Lola, is there anything you wanted to speak to me about?" Ms Clementine asks, brushing a strand of her short black hair up with the rest of it.
"Uh yeah actually," I swiftly grab my pencil case and my books before approaching her. "I was just wondering if there was a word count with the piece, and if there was any type of leniency?" Our first project of the year is bound to be a creative piece based off the novel we've read and if I'm smart enough I'm hoping to get that done before feeling overwhelmed with all the other projects I'm yet to be assigned.
"You know I can't share that information with you Lola, but I enjoy the enthusiasm."
I cock my head, knitting my brows together with desperation, "But Ms Clementine it's so obvious that it's going to be our first assignment. We do it every year!"
Her dark black eyes flicker to her laptop and she begins to shut it closed, I watch intently as her slender tan fingers rest on the laptop. "As much that is true, it'd put a disadvantage on the rest of the class."
I'm about to argue but her eyes flicker up to mine and she gives me a look that notifies me whatever else I might say won't work. I sigh, picking my battles. There's no way I can afford to get on Ms Clementine's bad side at the very start of the year.
Not before I ace that assignment at least.
"Fine, but don't say I've never been proactive."
There's a bubble of laughter that sprouts from the short woman, "No, I don't think I can so that."
With a small nod, I mutter a "goodbye," and walk out to the hallway.
The usually jostling hallway is eerily quiet as I enter through it.
"Babe!" Amos's familiar voice calls out from behind me, I turn my head to face him and feel as the claw clip in my hair begins to slowly fall at the movement.
Silently cursing, I dig my free hand into my curly hair to reposition the clip.
"Hey Amesy," I greet with a grin. He's wearing his black RL shirt that I love topped with his letterman jacket. He's filled out his body since junior year, and quite nicely. Amos is the kind of guy that looks so big and firm but he's just a bear. He really is sweet.
There's something off though. When he slow down to greet me he doesn't place a kiss to my lips like he normally does. And he's entourage of boys on the football team don't meet my eyes and greet me like they always have.
A sinking feeling settles it's way down my body. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing's wrong. We just need to—" he gestures to the doors that lead out to the courtyard with his head.
There's a bitter taste at the back of my throat. As I look around to the rest of the hallway it tastes worse, because no one else will meet my eyes. What the hell is going on?
I wouldn't consider myself a popular person or anything, my knowness has always been second-hand. But I've always been liked. I don't give anyone reason to hate me, let alone ignore me.
"Yeah, okay," I agree, wanting to get out of the stuffy hallway immediately.
With a nod and a quick sentence to the boys, Amos rests a hand around my shoulder and brings me in closer to him. I settle into his familiar warmth, ignoring all the quick up-and-down stares we receive from almost half the population.
They're either (1) looking at us weirdly or (2) too focused staring at their phones to be staring at us weirdly.
"So..." Amos starts, letting out a long breath before continuing on. He's chosen to have this 'conversation' or whatever is about to go on beside the old oak tree, I take note of the fact that we're more secluded here than if we'd been out at one of the benches in the courtyard.
"So?" I repeat.
"There's no way easy to say this, Melese."
My mouth is dry like sandpaper, "Are you about to break up with me?" At school, is what I forget to add. "Because if you do then—" Well I don't know what would happen if he did but it's a shitty thing.
"What, Baby? No, of course not. Well, not on my behalf at least. Look, I love you Melese you know that, yeah?"
I nod slowly, confused as to where this is going. "I tried to find you as soon as I heard. I can't believe he cheated Lola!" My head snaps left, at the approaching voice. Micaela Rodriguez is storming towards Amos and me with heated cheeks and her long dark hair whipping across her back.
Micaela is the first out-of-school friend I ever made, well not out-of-school since she does go to Westgate but I'd met her at my first shift at Frolic Strand — a cafè a half mile away from school that we both work at.
"Woah that is not how I'd put it—"
My head snaps from the fuming girl to the boy standing in front of me. "You did what?" He cheated on me? This must be a mistake. Amos would never do that. He isn't a saint, I know that, really. But he wouldn't cheat on me. Would he...?
Micaela's face goes sheer white, all her features paling. "You didn't know?" She breathes out. I open my mouth and close it when I realize I have nothing to say. "You haven't seen the photo?" She asks.
"The photo?" I can hear my voice as it speaks but I can't register it. "Tell me it's a joke, Amos. Tell me you're pranking me right now and I swear I won't get mad," I will. I know I will but I want him to lie to me anyway.
"I didn't even know I did it, Melese. You've got to believe me, I was so off my head and I only realized on the weekend when—"
"You've known since the weekend!" The growing noise that is my voice halts me for a moment, I suck in a deep breath. I remind myself to not yell. To keep my composure. "It's Monday morning, Amos. You couldn't have told me earlier?"
He cocks his head, brows furrowing with plead. "Melese, baby. You know I can't come over, your parents are—"
"Don't blame my parents." I bite back. Yes, my parents don't know about my relationship, but Amos knows this.
I told him on our third date, that whatever went on between us in high school had to seperate from my family life. My parents wouldn't get it. They'd get me in trouble. Amos has always been chill about it, even when I'd met his parents and they'd asked when our families could come together and celebrate a good meal. It was Amos who shrugged and said, "They're a bit more traditional, you know dating only for marriage. But we're just kids ma, don't you agree?" His parents had been lovely about it. Although they did think mine knew about my relationship with Amos — something they for sure as hell didn't.
"You could've called me, Amos. You have my number." He doesn't say anything in response, he just stands there all six foot two of nothingness. I feel my eyes as they burn. "Who was it?" I ask, finally. Still in disbelief.
He shrugs, "I don't know I was so drunk,"
"Was this recent?" I ask, whilst reminding myself to not cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.
There is no way I can cry at school. That's a low I haven't ever reached and don't plan to.
"Saturday night." He admits.
"Ah," I nod, swallowing down the bile that threatens to rise up from my throat. Saturday night had been the Westgate High's student 'Inauguration.'
It's a student-held event at whoever was stupid enough to place their house up for some of the most diabolical partying of the year. 'Inauguration' was more than a decade-old tradition for the upcoming seniors to have their last 'hurrah' before life got serious. I was going to go to the party, but then coincidently Mom and Dad chose it to be that night to leave for a eight-week holiday.
So now, I'm playing part time-nanny to my younger brother Anthony, whose pre-pubescent mind thinks that annoying his sister and telling fart jokes are top of calibre things to do.
"You didn't answer my question though, Amos. Who is she?"
Amos's eyes flicker from mine to Micaela, I stand still in the courtyard. The tension that forms in my flexing hands has my mind momentarily occupied. I can feel them as they shake, I try to control them but can't.
He shrugs, easily. "I don't know,"
"I don't believe you, Amos."
"Baby—"
"Show me the photo, Micaela. Please," when I look at her, I realise I've made the biggest mistake because looking at her makes me want to cry. She's eyeing me with the most genuine look, and it's in the words not spoken I know what she's trying to say.
Micaela shakes her head and moves closer to me as she unlocks her phone. I realized that the photo had been posted on Brooke Moore's Finsta.
If you thought of the loudest and outlandish person alive and doubled them they still wouldn't match the personality of Brooke Moore. Brooke is on the basketball team with Tate, they're like Nathan and Lucas Scott of Westgate's team. Without all the rivalry and father drama of course.
My eyes glaze over the photo as I try to find any identifying facts of the girl in the picture but I can't see anything. Amos is leaning into her and pressing himself so close to the girl's body that he's completely shielded her.
How coincidental. I swallow the growing lump in my throat and bat away at the wetness that's clinging to my lower lashes.
This is why everyone was looking at me weirdly? This is why none of his friends had met my eyes. Whoever was at the party probably knew this occurred and no one had the heart to reach out to me?
I breathe out shakily.
I need that picture down. I need to find Brooke Moore.
Without much thought, I turn away from Amos and ignore him as he calls out my name. There are lingering glances but I don't pay any mind to them, I'm too busy trying to find Brooke.
I know where he's most likely to be, growing up around Tate, he and the third to their erratic duo — Johnny Delgado have taught me one thing; those boys are always in a one mile radius of a basketball court.
If my preconceived ideas are correct then they should be located in the indoor basketball courts. My shoes make a repetitive slapping sound as they hit the tiled floors of the school's hallway.
"Ms Rodriguez, did I or did I not tell you to change that top of yours," Principle Rodriguez's voice calls out, momentarily pausing my steps and stopping the girl beside me.
I hear Micaela's irritated sigh before I even turn to face her. "Respectively, Mom, my top is the least of my problems right now!" Micaela calls out, less disobediently and more irritatingly.
"I assure you Micaela, nothing is more important than you changing that top. It is not the same one that I assure you you're father let you out of the house wearing."
"Actually, Dad said it was fine and I looked pretty. I'm really confused as to why you can't say the same." Micaela's dad is the coach of the boy's basketball team.
Coach Rodriguez has been Westgate's coach since the school first started up. I do think it's a tiny bit odd that the principal and one of the teachers are in a relationship because well — conflict of interest and all — but I'm not here to judge. Plus, they're a cute couple and a reason why Micaela is alive.
"Micaela, change ahora," the Spanish on Mrs Rodriguez's lips is swift and sharp. I don't have to know the language to know that she's telling her to change quickly.
"Ugh, fine!" Micaela throws her hands up, bowing out.
I look over my shoulder and catch the brunette's distant eyes. She crosses her arms over herself and mutters a swift "goodbye," before storming off.
Behind her trails Mrs Rodriguez, keeping an eye on her daughter whilst simultaneously greeting students and teachers that walk down the hallway.
"Hey, Lola," I turn my head to face the unfamiliar voice. The sight of Emma Miller — one of the girls on the cheerleading team surprises me so much so that I halt from my vicious trek.
There's a frown on Emma's elfish-like face. "I heard about Amos and I just wanted to say I'm really sorry. That really sucks." She frowns.
"Yeah, thanks."
I can't be bothered to linger because for every Emma there is there's also a Kady, Sarrah and Aveena who all have their faces stuck in their phone before eyeing me with putting glances.
I feel my skin begin to itch all over. I hate pity. I hate sorrow. I hate anything that has me look anything but strong.
I turn around and march down the corridor, not stopping until I reach the wide double doors that lead into the indoor basketball courts.
Not caring that I'm bound to create a disruption I slam both the doors open, and consequentially, my wrists ache after the harsh movement. I may have underestimated the weight of the doors, but who the hell knew they were so...heavy?
As I thought, Tate, Johnny and Brooke are all throwing hoops. I draw closer to them, swallowing down my resolve. "Hey Brooke, can I talk to you?"
All three boys turn around, but I don't pay mind to any of them except the curly-headed one who's currently got a ball in his hands that he stops mid-bounce by catching it.
I catch the movement of him staring back at Tate who's currently eyeing me. I don't meet his gaze.
"Yeah sure," He agrees, before jogging over me to me.
The other two stand around awkwardly for a moment before going back to doing whatever it is they are. The sound of chains rattling as they score has me settling back into myself.
"What's up, Lola?" Brooke smiles greeting me with that head gesture that all boys do. It's not quite a nod but it isn't anything else either.
"Do you think it's funny to humiliate me?" I seethe the second he's in close enough distance.
I've never had any problems with Brooke, we've never gotten into any serious arguments. Maybe some petty ones when we were younger — like what type of pizza that Ms Bridges should order, and how Amethyst was not a "brat" even though she did happen to whine a lot when things wouldn't remotely go her way. But nothing strong enough for him to incite this onto me.
He draws back, his smile fading. "I—what?"
Why's he acting so clueless? He knows what he's done.
"Everyone follows your burner account, Brooke. You knew they'd all see it," I frown, crossing my hands over my body.
I'm partially regretting the fact that I hadn't worn a cosier top than my white knot front frill top. The air conditioning in the room nips at me causing goosebumps to ripple across my skin.
Brooke squints his eyes and his dark brows burrow as he shakes his head. "See what?"
"You're such a dick!" I scoff, I know Brooke finds it hard to take most of life seriously but this should be an exception. When I leave this room, everyone will be staring at me weirdly and sympathetically but Brooke? He gets to laugh about this, that's so unfair.
I breathe out a shaky breath and allow my nails to dig into my palm so I don't cry.
"You need to chill, just because I'm hot it doesn't mean I don't have feelings. I don't really appreciate—"
"Oh my God!" I yell. He's unbelievable! The boy isn't even taking this seriously. "Can you stop joking around for two seconds and take this seriously?"
Something flashes across the taller boy's eyes — I must be going delirious because it looks a lot like genuine concern.
"Uh, is everything alright here?" The familiar voice has me huffing out an irritable breath. I snap my head to the side, meeting the sight of a confused Tate who's stupid big hazel eyes glisten.
"Clearly not," Brooke scoffs, signalling to my face.
I wonder what he's playing at before he signals to my cheeks. Delicately, I tap my cheeks with the pads of my fingers — only to feel the dampness.
I wipe frustratedly at the stray tears that keep falling. God, this is so embarrassing. Can't Brooke just take down the post so I can go and have a good cry by myself?
"Look I don't know what you're getting so worked up about. I'd really appreciate it if you could—"
"You posted him cheating!" I finally snap. What does Brooke not understand? Is he purposefully trying to make me go insane or is this some sort of joke to him?
"Who cheating?" He asks. The genuineness of his confusion unsettles me, did he seriously post the photo and not think of the repercussions that the photo would bring?
"Abraham fricking Lincoln, who do you think?"
"Wait," Brooke searches my face with his deep set of brown eyes, I can't take him seriously with the neon shade of fuchsia that his headband is, "What?"
"Whitaker cheated?" Tate's the one to ask, his voice is barely above a whisper.
I look over to the quieter boy and nod, "Yeah, and your stupid friend posted it for everyone to see! No wonder everyone's been acting weird all morning!"
No recognition flashes across Brooke's eyes, but I'm cut off from saying anything else because Tate speaks first. "You okay, Lola?"
Surprisingly, his features are drawn in with honest concern. I can't help but feel worse at the question.
"God, Tate you don't go ask a cheated-on girl if she's alright. That's like the number one rule."
Tate's head snaps to the side, the sight of his bare neck shows off the linework that's hidden behind his ear. I stare at the ink, analyzing the delicate daffodil.
"Number one rule of what?" Tate's voice snaps me out of my trance.
"Oh my God guys, can we get to the real point of why I'm here!" Both boys instantly quiet down. "You," I point to Brooke, "need to take that photo down, now!"
"You posted about it?" Tate yells. "That's definitely the number one rule spot taken."
I draw back, "Are you being serious right now? Why can't any of you take this seriously? Half of the school is talking shit about my relationship—"
"Ex-relationship," Brooke cuts in, raising his hands in surrender after I send him the dirtiest look I can muster up. It's the look that my mum calls 'poison.' "Can you guys please take this seriously," I sigh, defeated.
Tate must see the desperation on my face because he immediately goes quiet and nods.
Brooke on the other hand has got an innocent look plastered across his features. "Look, I'm really sorry Whitaker cheated on you, really. It's a shitty thing to do. But I don't know what you're talking about."
With an irritated sigh, I take my phone out from the back pockets of my dark-wash jeans. Unlocking my phone I press on Instagram before searching for Brooke's account, everyone's got his handle memorized. It's pretty hard not to.
I press on his most recent post which dates back to five hours ago and ignore the three hundred and fifty likes I see it on before scrolling to the third slide. A bunch of the guys from the football team have sloshed on smiles — obviously drunk, they're pointing to a wall where Amos is clearly wrapped around the girl and eating her face off.
Forcefully, I peel my gaze away from the picture and hand out my phone to Brooke. My stomach churns nauseously at the depicted image. It's burnt into the back of my eyelids, forever.
"That picture? That's not Whitaker, Lola. That's me."
"That isn't you, Brooke." I seethe, done with whatever it is he's pulling. If this is another prank of his, I'm sorry to say that I don't find it funny. Amos has already owned up and almost half the school has already recognised it as him.
"That's definitely me. Tate, you have a look." He hands out the phone to Tate, who drops the basketball that is underneath his arm as he accepts the phone. The ball dribbles on the floor. I ignore the urge to pick it up.
After a good second of eyeing the figure, the brunette-headed boy opens his mouth, "That's not you, Brooke."
Finally! I want to yell. Someone who isn't insane.
"Yes, it i—" Brooke's voice comes to a halt and I watch as he zooms in on the picture, his face gradually falling. "Oh shit you're right, my hair isn't that dry."
"Brooke," Tate scorns.
Brooke smiles sheepishly, muttering an apology under his breath before passing his phone over to me. "Yeah, so—"
"Will you take it down?" I ask, a little too pleading for my liking. All my fight from before had dissolved at the realization that every second the post is up more people are bound to see it.
"Shit, yeah of course," Brooke digs into his shorts before a crease is formed between his brows, "shit, I left my phone in the change rooms. I'll be right back," with another swift apology he goes jogging down the court.
I watch silenced by the situation. "Do you know who it was with?" Tate's voice somehow surprises me.
"Uh—" I go to look at him, "No not really. I mean I wasn't even at the party so it's not like I can recall it."
"Why don't you ask Whitaker?"
"I did. He doesn't remember, drunk and all."
"Ah," Tate nods, "so...you two still a thing?"
I scoff, "How low of me do you think, Bridgers? No way! The guy cheated on me, didn't tell me about and waited until school where everyone already knew because of..." I groan, dragging a hand down my face.
"Brooke," he finishes off for me. I nod. "I don't know how you haven't broken down or anything. I mean if this was Amethyst she'd be in tears."
He's right about that, but I don't let him know it. "I'll probably be a mess once I get home. Have to keep my cool now, trying to upkeep my reputation and all." I'm partially joking — about the reputation part that is, I'm definitely crying over this once I'm in the secludedness that is my bedroom.
"Reputation?" Tate echoes, mockingly.
I don't have to feign offence for it to cross my face, "Uh what's with the attitude?"
Tate's brows dip, as his eyes scan my face. When I don't relent he just shrugs, "It's just that I didn't know that you consider yourself to have a..." his eyes look askance, "reputation."
"Oh har har, Bridgers," I roll my eyes but when his face doesn't relent, I pause. "Are you being serious?" His nod shows me enough, "I was joking but now I'm just offended."
"Well don't be offended," Tate starts, I feel myself raise a brow at that. "I mean you're entitled to your emotions but I'm just trying to say that when I think of you — well not that I always think of you but..." Tate takes in a deep breath, I feel a smile twitch at my lips. "I just don't think you have a reputation."
The smile falls, and subconsciously I take a step back "That's really rude." Who the hell would just admit that to someone?
"Sorry?" He offers.
"You're such a dick," I smile, unable to stay entirely mad when he seems to be the only person who hasn't made me want to hit my head against a brick wall.
"Lola!" I whip my head over my shoulder, only to see Amethyst with reddened cheeks and widened eyes. "Tate?" She questions a second later. She's bent over, hands on her knees. She inhales a large breath before jogging over.
"Is she dying?" Tate asks from beside me.
"I came as soon as I heard," she heaves out once she reaches us. I'm touched that she ran for me, the only other time I've seen Amethyst run was when we were ten and Tate got an asthma attack a mile away from home.
"How bad is it?" I ask, accepting her as she drags me into a hug.
"Pretty bad," she says into my hair before pulling away. "The whole school is talking about how you ran away from Amos with tears down your face. I thought you'd fully lost it and were sobbing so I headed to the bathroom but then Emma and the cheerleading girls said you'd headed to the courts and I was so confused—" she swallows down a deep breath, "but then I realised that Brooke posted it and you were probably asking him to take it down."
I nod, thankful that she understood my plan without me having to explain it. "I just can't believe he cheated," I murmer, truthfully.
Amos was a good boyfriend, he was patient, sweet and mostly skipped out on the days that the other boys on the Football team would sneak into the clubs. He liked driving me to the bookstore and used to come up and kiss me after he scored a touchdown. He also made one of those obnoxiously big posters to ask me to homecoming last year.
"Did he tell you who the girl was?" She asks.
I shake my head, "He," I pause, raising a hand and air quoting, "doesn't remember."
"What a pig," she spits, disgusted. "Does he not understand how humiliating this is?"
I shrug, anable to answer. "What do I even do?" I whisper, suddenly aware of the unkowingness I harbour when it comes to moments like this. I know I should break up with him, I know I should cry, I know I should go crazy and burn his things but I can't find it in myself to do anything. A moment passes until I realise I'm lost and helpless.
"You go home and pack up any of the items he's given you, except the jewellery that's yours to keep. Then, you put it in a box and leave it outside his house. After that, you drive yourself home and put on a good old soap opera and cry to it. I'll be there, obviously. Then we find you a boy toy."
The last piece of advice has me halting, "What?" I hear Tate, Brooke and myself chorus.
I turn my head over my shoulder at the sound of their voices. In the commotion of Amethys's arrival I hadn't noticed Brooke's reentrance nor the fact that Tate was still standing there.
"You guys are eavesdropping!" I scorn, frowning.
Brooke raises his hands in the air, "I came back to tell you that I deleted the post, but you were mid conversation." I sigh letting him have it before flickering my expectant eyes over to Tate, he shrugs - offering up no explanation.
"Ugh, whatever," Amethyst's scoffs is directed at the boys, "but yes, of course you need a new boy toy!" Noticing the dubiousness painted across my face, Amethyst's dark ruby painted lips part. "He humiliated you Lola!" She reiterates, "you have to get back at him and do that by showing him how little he mattered which you show by moving on and pronto." Amethyst's logic — although very flawed —makes partial sense.
"No one is going to get with me now," I retort.
Even if Amos is the one who cheated on me, all the boys here have some stupid 'boy code,' where no one can get with anyone else's 'girl.'
It's stupid — trust me I know, and it's worse for me because everyone loves Amos. They probably still do. He's untouched, and I'm just 'Poor Lola.'
"Your humbleness is sickening. Tate, Brooke tell Lola she's a total catch and not all the boys at this school completely suck up to he-who-shall-not-be-named."
The boys are quiet, and I peep the glare that Amethyst sends their way. "Oh, a hundred percent," Brooke rambles, "A catch, the ultimate catch, the most beautiful of catches. In fact," he begins, "I'm disappointed I didn't catch her first..." as if realising what he's just said he begins to backtrack, "not that Amos dating her first means that I wouldn't date her. Lola, I would date you now, I swear. I promise."
With my brows drawn up and my lips parted I turn over supplying an apperecitaive yet horrified look. "Thanks?" I reply, unsure on what to say.
Expectantly, I eye Tate. "Anyone's dumb if they let a previous relationship ruin one they want to start with any girl," he shrugs.
The generalisation of the statement leaves me confused as to whether or not he means it or not, but I don't comment on it as I offer him a grateful nod.
"Why are you so adamant about this, Ames?" I finally sigh, turning to face her. I appreciate what she's trying to do for me, but this is all just seems so...exhausting. I don't want to fight back, I don't want to perpetuate the whole 'crazy ex-girlfriend,' stereotype.
"Because Lo, everyone out their is pitying you and whispering wack stuff and I don't want that for you. We're barely a day in senior year. Is this how you want to be defined for your last year of school? Lola the poor girl who got cheated on by oh so hot Amos Whitaker."
Anger begins to burn deep within me, "of course not." I want to have a fun year and that's not going to happen if everyone and their mother is pitying me, won't it? "But," I chew at my bottom lip, thinking everything over. "I don't know how I feel about playing with someone elses feelings," I announce.
Amethyst's dark brows pull in together, "Who said playing with anyone's feelings?"
"What do you mean? I just assumed that—"
Amethyst clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth interrupting my explanation."Nuh-uh, we're going down the other route."
"The other route?" I whisper, trying to rack my brain for any sense making. What does she mean, 'the other route?'.
"Fake dating of course."
Oh. Oh no. "Who'd you have in mind?"
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a/n
so so unsure about the book's cover but i've left it as is for now since i wanted to get uploading this out of the way! #iwillchangehersoon...hopefully
hopefully you enjoyed this chapter, so sorry if it seems slow (it is a pretty long chapter so i'll give her that.)
^^^ all this negativity needs to go.
begging y'all to be nice cause i'll take this down if i see one mean comment lmfaoooooo (i am crying, dying & heaving on the inside.)