4 3
Graduation
The second the car stops in front of my house, David shoves me off of him and jumps out.
"If there is one fucking scratch on my baby, you're both getting my foot up your asses!" he shouts as he inspects his car.
Malia exits from the driver's side. "Keep your kinks to yourself," she tells him, rolling her eyes. When she sees me slowly getting out of the car, her face softens. "Lyndon..."
"I'm fine," I say, though the break in my voice gives away how not fucking fine I am.
For the first time since moving back here and reconnecting with my cousin, I see her actually look conflicted. Like she doesn't even know what to say to me.
"Wow, you look like shit," a new voice says, coming closer as it continues. "Malia, I asked for your help in cheering Lynnie up, not making it worse. Me and Knox could've just done that."
I don't even bother turning to look at my annoying twin, but the angry glare Malia sends his way succeeds in shutting him the fuck up.
Thanks, Malia. You were always the best at shutting Noah down.
"We can... we can talk about it," Malia says softly to me, stepping closer. "If you want."
Adding the if you want makes me think she'd really rather not hear what happened, and truthfully, I don't even wanna say. How many times am I going to have to cry over him? Feel this way because of him? How many more times can I handle how hurtful our relationship is?
Then, I pause. What relationship is there to handle anymore? If anything was made clear from this airport trip, and finally talking to Jalen after our last fight, it's that we are done.
So why can't I accept that? Why can't I believe that's true? Why does it hurt so fucking much to say we're over, even after everything?
He slept with Cortney. He actually had sex with her. After all she's done to me, said about me and my family. He ran to her the second he was free of me. The girl his parents approve of, the one they're begging him to marry, the biggest obstacle in our entire relationship—and he went to her.
I hate him. I fucking hate him.
Well, I wish I actually did. That'd make this a lot easier.
"Where did you guys even go?" Noah asks while adjusting the watch on his wrist.
I assume he's about to head off for a run, judging by his clothes and the fact that he uses that specific watch to mark his times. I wish he'd just take off. The more we all talk, the harder it is for me to hold it in. I cried enough on the ride here already.
"We went to see Jalen," David answers, apparently done checking his baby and ready to engage in conversation. "Which, as you can tell, was a huge ass mistake. Nice going, Malia."
Malia huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, and for a second, I think I actually see sadness on her face—as if the outcome of bringing me to Jalen really has upset her.
"What!" Noah yells dramatically, eyes looking ready to pop out of his head. "You took her to Jalen? Are you two fucking idiots? Why would you do that?"
"They needed to talk," Malia defends, eyes hardening. "There's clearly been a lot of miscommunication, so I thought..."
She trails off, seeming unsure of what else to say.
"You thought wrong," David finishes for her.
"Yeah," Noah agrees with him, nodding along. "Because clearly," he says while motioning toward me, "nothing was fixed! In fact, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say you've somehow made this whole thing worse."
I'm shocked to see what looks like guilt appear on Malia's face, as if she really is blaming herself for this.
"Well, that's not true," David speaks before I can, shocking me even more. "Sure, Malia fucked up royally by bringing her there, but I'm, like, ninety-nine percent sure those two bozos would've found a way to fuck it up all on their own in no time."
Anger rises in me. "Jalen," I correct him. "Jalen would've found a way to fuck it all up."
David's eyes find mine, squinting a little, as if trying to decipher what I mean. The first thing David asked when he saw me was what did Jalen do, and the look on his face clearly shows that—despite his words—he is blaming Jalen for what happened.
I know I messed up, too. A bunch of times. Elijah had been my biggest mistake of all. But at least I was honest about it, and in turn, Jalen granted me with his own honesty. Too bad his consisted of him fucking the one bitch I hate.
"Great," Noah says sarcastically while throwing his head back. "What'd he do now?"
"Did Jalen say something? Or not say something?" Malia asks, taking another step closer to me.
I take a deep breath. I really don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget. Forget it all—what he said, and everything else. I want to forget him.
"I'd really rather not—"
"Oh come on," David interrupts, rolling his eyes. "After all the shit we went through this morning, I am owed an explanation."
"Hey, I didn't ask for you to kidnap me and take me to see Jalen," I argue.
"Yet you still willingly got out the car, ergo, I get to know what happened," David answers with a smug smile.
Noah steps into my line of sight. "And I do too. I'm tired of you moping around. If I gotta see it, I should at least know why you're acting that way."
"Fine!" I shout at both of them. "You wanna know what happened? Jalen fucked Cortney. Multiple times, apparently. And he seemed real fucking proud of himself when he said it."
Suddenly it's so silent you could hear a damn pin drop. David looks confused as all shit, and Noah... well, I wasn't sure what reaction I was expecting, but the hurt on his face was certainly not it. It's gone in the next blink of his eyes, then he clears his throat.
"Cortney slept with Jalen?"
"They hooked up recently?"
Both Noah and David talk over each other, and all I can manage is a weak nod in their direction as my answer to both questions. Something about Noah's question doesn't sit right with me. Suddenly, it's like the focus is on Cortney, and not on what Jalen had done to me. It's odd.
"That's..." Malia says, but her words trail.
"Fucked up," David once again finishes for her. "It's one thing to sleep with Cort, but to actually tell you? The hell was he thinking? You don't say shit like that to your girl."
Malia shakes her head. "No, I meant... Well, actually, yeah, that is fucked up. But..." she looks off, before her eyes come to mine. "He really just said that to you?"
I swallow hard. "I said something that might've provoked that response."
"Oh nah," David says. "The fuck did you say, Boulevard?"
"Nothing with the intention of being hurtful," I quickly defend.
"Aha," David calls out while pointing at me. "You said with the intention, which means you did say some hurtful shit. You know our boy is sensitive, Boulevard."
"Jalen? Sensitive?" I repeat in disbelief. "Please. He's the biggest asshole in the world."
"Whatever," David replies while waving me off. "Either way, my work here is done. Clearly, you two can't make this shit work."
He walks toward his car, before looking at Malia from over his shoulder. "You want a ride, or you're staying here?"
Malia stays quiet, eyes on the ground as she looks deep in thought. Finally she looks up, right at me. "Are you going to be okay?"
I don't think I've been okay from the moment I moved here. "Yeah," I reply with a nod. "I'll be fine."
She looks like she doesn't believe me, but doesn't bother pushing it as she follows David.
I turn to Noah, who's been far too quiet for too long. "Are you gonna be okay?" I ask teasingly, though truthfully, I'm thrown by his reaction.
"Mhm," he hums, touching his watch again before looking at me. "I'm still gonna go for my run. I'll see you when I get back."
He takes off before I can even reply, and so I head up the stairs and enter the house, ready for a long day of laying in bed and crying.
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I'm sitting on the porch, watching as the palm trees slowly move with every blow of the wind.
I take in a deep breath, realizing just how much I missed this smell. The beach isn't too far from here, and my eyes move to the familiar bike trail. I never used it before, but something makes me want to grab my bike and go for it.
Once I stand, I stop, realizing my bike isn't here. Not the one my parents got for me. From the corner of my eye, I see the new, shiny yellow one he gave me.
"Should we throw it out?" a voice asks. It sounds foreign, but when I turn, I instantly recognize it as coming from my father.
"I don't want too," I tell him, confused by how different my own voice sounds. "But I know I should."
Dad takes the bike, moving toward the trash cans on the sidewalk, and I feel my stomach churning as he dumps it. But a part of me—a very tiny part of me—says You need to let go.
A loud ringing makes me jump, and then my eyes open, taking in my surroundings. I guess sometime in between crying I fell asleep. Sun shines through my bedroom's open blinds, so I know I couldn't have slept for long.
I reach for my phone, debating for a moment if I should answer, but the reminders of Malia's guilt ridden face from earlier makes me press accept.
"Hello?" I answer, voice sounding groggy.
"What are you doing right now?" Malia asks, skipping pleasantries.
"Wallowing in my misery, how about you?"
Malia sighs. "I'm assuming that means you're home," she states, and I hear a car horn honking in the back. "I'll be there in a minute. Think you can take a break from your misery long enough to open the door?"
"It'll be hard," I tell her as I rise from my bed. "But I guess I can try for you."
"I'm flattered," she says, sarcasm coming over the line. "See you in a bit."
She hangs up, and then I slowly walk out of my room and down the hall. The house is unbearably quiet. I wonder for a moment where everyone is. Dad's most likely at work—like always. And Mom must be outside gardening since the weather's nice, or out shopping. Knox is probably with her.
I'm surprised Noah isn't lounged around somewhere, or maybe he's still running. How long was I asleep?
After I unlock the door, I hear a car pulling into the driveway. I peak out and make sure it's actually Malia—and just her this time. I can't take any more surprise visitors or road trips.
Just as I grab a granola bar from the kitchen counter and walk back to the living room, the door opens and Malia steps in, dressed in the same outfit from this morning. "What's up?" she asks with a smile, but that smile drops and she cringes when she sees me. "Jesus, Lyndon. I wasn't gone that long."
"Shut up," is my weak reply. I catch my reflection in the TV's screen, and have to refrain from pulling the same face Malia did. Wow, I really do look like shit. "Anyway, what are you doing back here?"
"Well," Malia begins in a slightly higher pitched voice. An awkward smile comes to her face, one I haven't seen there in a while. She seems hesitant to say anything else. And that worries me.
"What did you do now?"
Malia steps further into the house, then takes a seat on the couch. She motions for me to join her, and I begrudgingly do, tossing myself onto the opposite end so we're facing each other.
"I meddled. Again."
"You bitch," I reply. "Didn't you see how great your meddling went this morning?"
Malia's eyes look me over. "I'll admit, I fucked that one up. But I think I might've actually fixed things this time."
"Unless you dragged Jalen off that plane, built a time machine, and went to the day he first slept with Cortney after we broke up, I don't really see how you could fix things."
I reach for my granola bar and begin unwrapping it, before bringing my eyes back to Malia who's unamused by my words.
"Sorry, my time machine can only go back in minutes, but until I can fix that," Malia replies with an eye roll, "I found another way. Something much simpler. And I wish both you and Jalen would do this."
I stop mid bite, raising a brow. "Do what exactly?"
"Tell the truth," she says with a snicker. "I mean, honestly, it's like you two are allergic to it."
I purse my lips. "Excuse me, I do tell the truth. If I hadn't, Jalen and I would probably be together right now." I pause to think it over. "Ugh. Which means I wouldn't know what he did with her."
Feeling disgusted at the fact that we were so close to getting back together and I wouldn't have known a damn thing about Jalen and Cortney hooking up, I take my anger out on my granola bar and angrily bite into it.
"He didn't do anything with her."
"Huh?" I ask around a mouth full.
"Jalen didn't do anything with Cortney," Malia clarifies. "They didn't have sex after you two broke up."
I almost choke.
Correction: I do choke, and Malia quickly pats my back as a round of coughs escapes me.
"Breathe, Lyndon. Fucking breathe."
"Bitch, I'm trying," I tell her as I feel the broken pieces of the bite I took scratching my throat on it's way down. "Water."
Malia jumps off the couch to head to the kitchen. She's back with a bottle of water soon after, and she takes off the cap before shoving it in my direction.
I gulp half of it down, then place a hand to my chest, feeling my heart beat rapidly from her words and my almost death.
FML, I knew Jalen Uccello was gonna be the fucking death of me.
Once I've calmed, and taken another sip of water, I turn toward my cousin. "What the fuck do you mean they didn't have sex?"
Malia's face remains blank. "I mean exactly that. They didn't have sex, Lyndon. Jalen hasn't been around Cortney or done anything with her."
I shake my head. "No," I croak out, throat feeling sore from my coughing. "No way. He literally said he was with her after we broke up."
"And suddenly you think Jalen's a saint who never lies?" Malia asks, tilting her head and letting her long, black wavy hair cascade to the side. "Aren't you the one never believing a word he says? Why'd you so quickly believe this?"
My mouth falls open. "So I'm at fault for believing Jalen?"
"No," Malia says calmly, shifting slightly closer. "But for someone who spent so long constantly doubting Jalen, I'm a little shocked at how quick you were to believe him this time."
"Because who lies about something like this?" I ask, hating the way my voice breaks. I don't want to cry anymore, not over this, but I already feel the tears coming. "Who purposely says something that hurtful?"
Malia's lips form a frown, and her hand lightly touches my shoulder. "I guess Jalen does."
I look away, blinking hard several times to keep the tears at bay. "How do you even know that? How are you so sure? Did he tell you that he lied? Did he tell you to come talk to me, to clear his name?"
"I called him, but it went straight to voicemail. I don't know if he purposely ignored my call or..." her voice gets lower, until she completely stops. Clearly, she means she doesn't know if he didn't answer because he's currently on a jet to Italy. "Either way, I wasn't expecting an answer from him. Not about this."
"Then how the hell are you so sure he lied?"
"I went to the only other person who would know the truth."
I pull my head back, scrunching my face in confusion. "The only other person? But that would mean..." I trail off as it finally clicks, and I feel my hand form a fist, crushing my barely touched granola bar into pieces. "Cortney."
Malia holds up her hands and waves them, as if trying to calm me. "I know, I know. We don't like her," she says, though from the tone of her voice, I get the impression she doesn't actually dislike Cortney. Not the way I do. "But if we wanted an honest answer, and if we wanted it fast, I had to speak with her. There was no other way."
"There was a lot of other ways," I tell her firmly, rising from the couch. I'm not sure where I want to go, I just know I can't keep sitting here after that bomb was dropped.
"Oh yeah? Like what, Lyndon?" Malia asks, standing up as well. "Jalen's not answering, and David said he never talks to Jalen about Cortney, so he wouldn't have known. But he found the whole thing weird, too. So what else could we have done?"
"Stop saying we!" I shout in annoyance. "This was my problem, the whole thing was, but you keep on insisting you involve yourself!"
The broken granola bar falls to the ground, and as I watch the pieces pile onto the hardwood floors my mother just had waxed the other day, I completely freeze.
Why am I taking my anger out on the food? On the floors? On Malia of all fucking people? She may have been a shady bitch when I first moved back, but recently, she's shown me time and time again that she's still my cousin. Little pieces of that girl I used to know, love, and admire are still there.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry," I tell her, stepping carefully over the mess I made so I can get closer to her. "I shouldn't have... that was... I was wrong, Malia."
She stays quiet, eyeing the crumbs on the floor, before finally bringing her dark brown eyes to mine. "I shouldn't have gotten involved, I can admit that."
The guilt in her tone literally hurts me. She isn't the one I'm mad at. She never was. Neither was Noah the time I lashed out at him. And my mom wasn't either that day when I crossed the line and threw her marriage in her face.
"You were trying to help," I say in a low tone. "I should be thanking you for caring enough to try."
A small smile graces her face, and then it's wiped away. "He didn't sleep with her, Lyndon. Cortney has no reason to lie."
I sigh. I would've preferred to just keep apologizing to Malia for yelling, but if she insists we talk about Jalen and his bullshit again, then so be it. "Are you sure? That's an insane lie to tell, even for Jalen."
"I've known Cortney for many years, and I've always been able to tell when she was lying," Malia says in a firm voice, sounding entirely sure of herself. "She was telling the truth."
I mull it over in my head. Jalen's voice and tone comes back—he sounded so sure. But what if he was lying? What if he really didn't sleep with her?
I'm reminded of the New Year's Eve party, and how sure of it I'd been then. Jalen told me he didn't, and he was telling the truth. He knew how much it hurt me. How could he choose to lie about it now?
"Malia, I don't know..." I tell her, feeling the most lost I have in my whole entire life. "I don't trust Cortney. What if this is just another game?"
I've learned the hard way that Arlin Prep and every student that attends loves games.
"I wish I had a better answer for you," Malia says, and I can tell she genuinely means it. "I don't know why the hell Jalen would lie about this, but I do know Cortney wasn't lying. I didn't feel like she was."
"You didn't feel like she was lying," I say, hanging onto her last word. Malia didn't feel it. She claims to have known Cortney for a while, enough to know when she's lying. But should I just go off of Malia's gut instinct? No. I shouldn't, and I won't. "Well, I feel like she is."
Malia sighs. "Lyndon, are we gonna just go back and forth over this? I'm trying to give you peace of mind. Jalen lying obviously doesn't clear his name, but at least you can now know he definitely didn't sleep with the girl you hate."
I shake my head. "But I don't know that. Apparently, I don't know anything."
It goes silent between us, and since Malia has nothing else to say, I start pacing. I walk from the TV, to the couch, to the TV, and then back. With each step, I question why Jalen would lie to me, why Cortney would lie to Malia, and why I should trust Malia's words.
Trust is a tricky thing. It's what's torn Jalen and I apart time and time again.
I'm not saying Malia is anything like Jalen's lying ass, but at this point, I'm too skeptical to believe anybody's word. Even hers.
I've dealt with nothing but liars this past year. My dad. Liam. Jessica. Jalen. Even my mom, who covered for my father. Is Malia just covering for Jalen? Is Cortney?
I can't be sure. And now the only logical way to at least try to be sure of anything is to see for my damn self.
"Where's Cortney now?"
Malia furrows her brows. "What? Why do you care? I doubt she's with Jalen."
"I don't care where Jalen is," I say, and for once, I actually mean it. Right now, I don't give a damn about him. "I wanna know where Cortney is. I wanna see her."
"Lyndon..." Malia says warningly. "The last time you were anywhere near her you almost got yourself expelled and arrested."
I take in a deep breath. "You said she told you she didn't have sex with Jalen, right? And you believe, based on a feeling you have, that she wasn't lying?" When she hesitantly nods, I march toward her. "Well, I need to have that feeling. I need to see her, and talk to her. That's the only way I'll even consider believing what she says."
"I don't know about this..." Malia starts to say, but I cut her off with a pleading look. "From what I know, she's getting ready for her recital. I caught her right before she was leaving. We probably won't be allowed—"
"You're a fucking Carrington," I say over her. "You'll be allowed in anywhere."
Malia huffs. "I don't want to use that last name."
"You said you wanted to help, right?" I feel bad for a second at the look in her eyes. I thought she loved that name, especially with all the perks that came with it. But it's clear that she doesn't, and I really wish I didn't have to ask her to use something she doesn't like just to solve one of my problems. "Please, Malia."
"Fine," she says with an annoyed groan. "But if you use that name to get in and then lay one hand on her, I'll make sure you face Kendrick's wrath, not me."
I gulp, remembering how mean that man looked the one time I met him. "Okay," I say with a squeak, then silently pray Cortney doesn't say some dumbass shit that's gonna make me have to slap her.
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"She should be right in there."
I follow where Malia's pointing, hands gripping the pass around my neck tighter. Like I expected, the Carrington name easily got us into the sold out recital. Apparently, Cortney's competing in the New York International Ballet Competition. On the way here, Malia gave me the rundown on how dance was Cortney's entire life—other than trying to get Jalen to want to marry her, of course. But dance was what mattered, and the fact that we were about to crash the one important thing to her almost made me feel bad about it.
Almost. Fuck it, she'd done enough shit to me, and it was time to repay the favor.
"Alright, I'm going in," I say while turning the corner.
"Wait," Malia calls out, grabbing my arm. "Remember to use your words, not your fists. I'll stay here and make sure none of the other dancers interrupt."
I nod my head, then grab Malia's hand as she pulls it away and squeeze it once, before dropping it. "Thank you."
I turn after, marching into the room. Immediately I spot Cortney sitting in a chair, examining her makeup in the mirror. Her light brown eyes find mine quickly, and the satisfied smile she had been wearing quickly morphs into a scowl.
"What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk," I tell her, stepping closer and looking around to make sure we're alone. "It's long overdue."
Cortney rolls her eyes, going back to fixing her eyeliner. "Get out, Lyndon. There's nothing we need to say to one another."
"Funny, I felt that way when you came up to me in the hall that day, yet you didn't care," I say as I make it to the side of her chair. "Now it's my turn to not care."
She side eyes me while reaching for her lip gloss. "I'm on in ten minutes. So, you have five. Start talking."
As she reapplies her lip gloss, I take a second to realize just how pretty she is. She's nowhere near Malia—I'm convinced no one ever could be—but it's clear Cortney has a natural beauty to her, one that's elegant and sweet. I wait for a rage of jealousy to course through me, but instead, all I feel is sadness.
Maybe Jalen would be better off with her.
"Well?" she asks expectantly, placing the lip gloss down and staring at me. "Did you come here for a staring contest, or did you want to talk?"
"I just want to know if you slept with Jalen after we broke up," I say, deciding there's no use in beating around the bush. I came here for one thing, and I'm already losing the willpower to get it.
Cortney's shoulders tense for a moment, before she regains her perfect posture. "What? Malia didn't come running to tell you after she bombarded me before I left my house?"
"She did, but I want to hear it from you," I tell her. I see her eyes slightly widen, as if she's shocked by my honesty. I guess I really am the only person from Arlin that doesn't play games.
Then, she giggles. First softly, before turning maniacal, making her look like some villain from a children's show.
She wipes mirth from her eyes, looking at me once more with shock on her face. "My god," she calls out. "You really don't believe it?"
I stay quiet, crossing my arms. Obviously I don't, bitch. I bite my tongue. That response will certainly make fists start flying, and I promised Malia I'd try to not do that.
"He doesn't want me, Lyndon," Cortney finally says, words coming out slow as if she's talking to a little kid. "He won't even pretend to want me in public, even if that'd make both our lives a lot easier. Why would you think he'd want me privately?"
"Because he told me so," I explain. She seems genuine right now, but I still feel like I can't trust it. Why would Jalen lie?
"He told you so," she repeats mockingly. "Wow. Well, if Jalen says it, it must be true."
From her tone, I get the feeling I'm not the only person Jalen lies to. Clearly, he has a track record, but I shouldn't be surprised. At least I know he lies to Cortney too.
"I'm not sure why he'd tell you that, but who ever knows why Jalen does anything? He wouldn't even get on the damn jet to Italy, and that was such a simple task."
"I'm sorry... what?" I ask, arms dropping to my sides. "Jalen didn't go to Italy? How do you know? That trip did have something to do with you?"
Cortney seems a little thrown from the rapid questions coming her way, but she composes herself and sighs. "He was supposed to go, and from what I've heard, he didn't. Did the trip involve me? I'm not sure. It was something about family blessings and heirlooms, so maybe. But does that matter? No. Because he didn't fucking go."
I can't help noting how honest, sincere, and torn she looks. Fuck. I'm just like Malia. I'm starting to believe Cortney.
"They're sending another jet, and I'm supposed to head to his place to convince him to get on it this time," she confesses, rising from her chair. She turns and faces me, placing us at eye level thanks to the little step she's standing on. We hold eye contact for a second, and right then and there, I feel whatever issue we have go away. Like the fight is over. "I'm not going to. I'm tired, and I have a dance to complete. I'll just be wasting my time going over there, anyway. We both know why he's refusing."
"Because he doesn't want to be forced into a marriage," I state, but my tone comes out questioning. The answer is logical—who would want a forced marriage?—but from the look in Cortney's eyes, I feel like I'm wrong.
She giggles again, stepping down and walking around the chair to the other side of the room. "Going to Italy doesn't make the marriage set in stone, Lyndon. He's not going because of you."
I watch as she sits on another chair and switches into ballet shoes. She ties them quickly, and with ease. Like she's done it many times before.
"Why wouldn't he go because of me? He basically pushed me away this morning. According to you, he lied to me. Why stay after that?"
Cortney rolls her eyes and stands. "Haven't we already established that no one knows why Jalen does anything? That his brain clearly works differently than most?" She places a hand on her jutted out hip. "I know he didn't go because of you, and I know he's not going to get on that second jet, even though I wish he would. I just hope my parents don't figure it out. Hopefully they're as dumb as you and refuse to see the obvious."
Her insult doesn't make me want to cross the room and strangle her, which is good. I'm too caught up in trying to figure this out.
Cortney's saying they didn't have sex after we broke up, which means Jalen lied. And now she's saying he didn't get on the jet, that she doesn't think he'll get on the next one. Because of me.
"Are we done here?"
I look over, finding Cortney standing by a curtain on the other end of the room. With her hair tied in a tight bun, her ballet outfit on, and a look of determination coating her soft features—I get my answer.
"Yes," I firmly tell her. "We're done here."
She's out of the room after that, strutting off to go do what she apparently does best.
I turn and start to walk out, feeling the weight of my words with every step I take.
We are done. I'm done fighting with Cortney and letting myself get so worked up over her existence. And I want to be done with every other person from Arlin
Prep.
I'm so tired of all the lies and games, and those are the two things that seem to make up the foundation of Arlin Prep. All the trust that's been betrayed, the deceptive nature everyone has.
I'm done with this high school treachery Arlin thrives on.
"How'd it go? I didn't hear anything falling over, so it couldn't have been too bad," Malia says once I walk out the room.
I nod. "You were right. I believe her."
Malia smiles. "Good, that's really good."
It doesn't feel really good, but I keep my mouth shut. "I guess she's heading on stage now."
"Yeah," Malia says, looking out toward the crowded room. "There's so many people here."
"So many people here to see her," I add, eyes quickly finding the stage as the lights go down. A spotlight appears, and seconds later, so does Cortney. "There she is."
"You don't wanna watch, do you?" Malia asks in a tone full of disbelief and clear disinterest.
Despite not liking Cortney one bit and wanting to still blame her for a lot of wrongs in my failed relationship with Jalen, I can't help watching her perform. She moves effortlessly, and looks so at home and free on that stage.
It makes me miss that feeling—it was exactly how I felt in the water. I wonder if a fraction of the peace Cortney seems to be feeling while dancing is the same kind I used to feel in the water.
Just now, I realize how desperately I'm craving some of that peace. How I haven't had any in a long, long time. Even more once coming to Arlin Prep.
"Lyndon? Are we leaving or do you want to watch the show?" Malia steps in view, blocking the stage and facing me with an amused expression.
"Let's go," I tell her, glancing back at the stage once more before leaving it and any beef I have with Cortney behind.
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Three days of complete radio silence go by. I asked Malia to keep me updated on where Jalen was—meaning, let me know if he leaves for Italy or not. But she keeps telling me she has no idea, he won't answer her calls. I'm not going to ask Danny for an update, because that means he'd have to involve David, and I'd rather avoid having him up in my business for the rest of my life.
"Aren't you happy I tricked you and Mom into thinking you wouldn't graduate if you didn't complete that course?"
I turn to face Noah, watching as he struggles to zip his graduation gown.
"Why would I be happy about that?" I step toward him and smack his hands away from the zipper.
"Because it got you to do the course, which is what's allowing you to attend the graduation ceremony," he explains with a smug smile as I finish zipping his gown. "Thanks."
I nod, and then say, "Thanks to you too, I guess. Even though I would've been fine without this shit."
"Nope, don't even start," Knox says as he comes to stand by us. "Ma's already making a big deal about this, and if she hears what you just said, she'll cry. I can't take anymore tears."
"My babies are graduating," Mom says with a cry as she walks toward us.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Knox mutters under his breath, but quickly smiles once she's by us.
"I can't believe it. You're both so grown up. Where has the time gone?" Mom continues as she grabs both of us and holds us close.
"Mom," Noah groans in annoyance. "You're wrinkling my gown."
"Now that's something I never thought I'd hear you say, yet it sounds so fitting," I comment with a smile.
Noah raises his fist enough to lightly punch me in our mom's embrace, causing her to finally release us.
"You're just mad because your gown is two sizes too big."
I roll my eyes because it's true. "I definitely misjudged my height in these heels."
"Yeah, you look so fucking dumb," Noah says, turning to Knox to see if he agrees.
Our baby brother nods and laughs. "Fuck my life," I say. "You guys are right. I do look dumb."
"Well, I don't care about how dumb you look," Mom says, being the comforting mother she's clearly always been. "I need pictures. Pose together."
Noah quickly dives into a number of ridiculous poses, and once he does a Charlie's Angels inspired one, motioning for both Knox and I to join in, I can't help but laugh and do it—just as Knox does.
The three of us laugh, and then so does Mom, even if our movements are causing blurry pictures. It's a rare but somewhat nice moment for us all.
Dad walks over at that second, holding a professional camera and a small little gift bag in each hand. "I finally got the camera to work. I needed to change the batteries."
"Perfect!" Mom cheers, placing her phone into her clutch and grabbing Dad's arm to pull him where she is. "Start snapping away!"
It takes a moment for Dad to get the camera going, but once he finally does and the first flash goes off, Noah's pulling away. "Damn it, Noah. That would've been a good one."
"Sorry," Noah calls out, sounding real unapologetic. But Dad was clearly kidding and didn't care anyway. "I'll be right back. Take pics of Knox's pissed off face. It's camera gold."
Knox flips him the finger and the flash goes off, but Noah pays it all no attention as he's raising his hands to cup his mouth and shouting, "Yo, Eli!"
My hands feel sweaty at the name, and I turn to Dad, moving my head toward the gift bag he's holding. He realizes what I want and hands it over. "Give me one second, too."
I don't wait for their okay to leave, but I know I have it from Dad, seeing as he made sure to bring the gift bag from the car like I asked earlier—meaning he knew I would eventually walk off to give it to someone.
As I get closer to where Noah and Elijah are, I see Noah finish slapping Elijah hardly on the back as they pull away from a hug. "Happy birthday, bro. Officially eighteen. Must be nice."
Elijah nods, a smile coating his face. "Thanks, man."
I creep up behind them, placing one arm around Elijah's broad shoulders as best as I can and hugging him. "Happy birthday, Eli."
He glances at me from over his shoulder, reaching his hands up to hold my arm that's hanging onto him. When one of his hands gently rubs my arm, I can't help noting how comfortable this feels. But as his eyes catch mine, it's obvious the awkwardness from prom night still remains. And the sad part is that it probably always will.
His eyes leave mine, finding the gift bag in my other hand. "Oh, is that for me?"
"Who else?" I reply jokingly, lifting the gift and letting go of him.
He turns to face me, reaching for the bag, and that's when I realize that the gift I really should give him isn't this lame snapback with an orange on it. I had thought that was funny, since he works at an orange juice shop and could wear it there as part of his uniform. It's a harmless thing to give him—especially after what we've gone through. But now I see that what I should give him, what I owe him, is an apology.
A genuine one this time.
"I'm sorry," I tell him lowly. Noah seems to have stepped back once I came over, but just in case he is still in hearing distance, I talk low. "I really am."
"Lyn," Elijah replies with a sigh. "You already did this."
"No, I did that for myself," I say with a shake of my head. "I tried easing my own guilt. But this time I know what I did was wrong and I am really sorry for taking advantage of you like that."
"We were both drunk, remember?" he tries insisting.
But I'm not allowing it. I know what I did, and I know it was wrong. I used him. And no one deserves to be used like that, especially Elijah.
"Eli, you and I both know why I did it and how wrong I was."
I was hurt over Jalen, and rather than handling those feelings, I turned to Elijah, got us both drunk, and took his virginity. I knew—even in that drunken haze—that that was a big deal. And I still did it anyway.
Elijah goes quiet, and I can see with just one look at his pretty light brown eyes how much of a mess I made. I can see how much I hurt him.
"It's okay to tell me that I was wrong," I say gently.
He nods. "Yeah," he says in such a low tone I almost don't hear. "I tried really hard not to be mad about it, but not being hurt was... harder to avoid."
"I'm so sorry, Eli," I say again, because really, what else is there to say? There's no justifying my actions or my reasonings behind them. I wish I could, but I can't. And Elijah doesn't deserve some bullshit excuse.
"I still don't regret it."
I can tell he means it from the look in his eyes, and so I decide to be honest too. "I don't regret it either," I say, but I know I can't just end my honesty there. "I wish it didn't happen like that or at that time with everything else going on, though. I really wish it didn't."
His eyes move to the ground, and he goes quiet again. I worry I hurt him more, but I've learned this past year that it's better to hurt someone with the truth than soothe them with a lie.
It's shitty, but so is life, and that's just the way it is.
"You're right. I wish it didn't happen like that too," he finally replies, agreeing with me. It lessens some of my guilt, but I know it'll be awhile before I ever truly stop feeling like this when I think of prom night. "I do forgive you, though, Lyn."
I smile. "Of course you do. You're just that kind of guy."
The good guy. The better guy. Much better than me.
"And you should forgive yourself," he adds in a whisper.
I take in a deep breath, feeling like there's so much else I need forgiving for—from myself and so many others. And there's still a lot of forgiveness I need to give out. I'm just not sure if I'm in the right headspace to handle all of that yet.
I'm just happy I have Elijah's forgiveness for now.
I raise my arms out, gesturing for him to come closer. "Happy birthday, again, Eli," I say as he opens his own arms to me.
Some of that peace I realized I wanted while watching Cortney perform courses through me during our hug, but I quickly pull away. There's too much else going on. Still so much else unresolved. Plus, Eli's going to Ohio. He won't be around, and neither will I.
That's just the way it's meant to be, I guess.
"Valencia!" An obnoxious voice calls out on the other side of the parking lot. I spot David—the source of the sound—and Daniel right beside him. They get closer, and then David's pulling Elijah toward him and ruffling his hair. "You're finally fucking eightbeen, bro. How you feel?"
"Dizzy," Eli answers as he pulls away, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to fix it. But he still laughs. "And glad to be done with high school."
"Ain't that the fucking truth," Noah calls out in agreement as he takes a step closer now that the other set of twins have joined us. "This year couldn't have ended soon enough."
"Tell me about it," Daniel says with a sigh. "This school year was nuts. Thank god it's over."
David nods, glancing around the parking lot before moving more into the little circle we've formed and grinning. "Who wants a celebration shot?"
His hand moves under his halfway zipped gown, pulling out a flask. I roll my eyes. "Are you serious? At our graduation ceremony?"
"As if there's any other place that's better to get hammered at?" David asks jokingly, before taking a quick zip from the flask.
Noah holds out his hand. "I couldn't agree more."
As David hands over the flask to Noah, Daniel nervously looks around. "We can't take you two anywhere. This is insane."
Elijah laughs while still pushing his hair around with one hand, clearly struggling. I resist the urge to walk over and fix it for him. Thankfully, Daniel realizes what Elijah's doing and moves toward him.
"Just let me do it," he says while knocking Elijah's hand out of the way and quickly fixing it. "I don't know who's worse when it comes to caring about their hair today. You or Jalen."
My neck feels like it almost snaps with how fast I turn toward Daniel. "Jalen's here? I thought he went to Italy?"
When Malia said she didn't know where Jalen was, I just assumed that meant he did board the second jet that was sent. I thought he was gone, and took any chance of us ever truly reconciling—or at least clearing the air—with him.
"No, he's here. I just saw him parking his car and fixing his hair in his mirror," Daniel says, completely oblivious to how vital this information is.
I can feel Noah, David, and Elijah's eyes on me.
The disapproval from my twin is clear, and I expect it. Who would want their sibling going off to find someone who they've already seen cause so much heartbreak? I get it.
As for David, I expect the same from him, because he's always seemed to hate the idea of Jalen and I together. But when I look at him—because looking at Elijah is too hard now that Jalen's name's been mentioned—all I see is a blank stare.
And then he motions behind me, toward the other end of the parking lot.
"Go," David says in case I don't understand what his gesture means.
He doesn't need to tell me twice.
I take off, going as fast as I can in my too-high heels. This feels like déjà vu. Like I've ran after Jalen at events before, like we've been on bad terms before, like we've both clearly wanted to fix this—fix us—but couldn't figure out how.
Yet, I still search for him. I ignore the people watching me as I rush past them, the little whispers of There's London! and Where the hell is she going? and Oh my god, is she chasing after the King? Still? After all this time?
I'm not sure how I'll feel when I see him. All I know is they're right. I am chasing after Jalen after every goddamn thing we've been through. I'm still holding onto the belief that we deserve better than the crappy endings we've gone through.
I round a corner, ready to curse wildly at how large this parking lot is. But those complaints leave my mind when I spot his black sports car, and any other coherent thought is completely gone when I see him.
His graduation gown is off, lying in the front seat of his car, putting his fitted black dress shirt and slacks on display. The door is wide open and he's standing by it, back facing me as he furiously types on his phone. I feel my phone vibrate in the small clutch I have tied around my wrist, and I decide to take a guess at who just texted me.
"Jalen!" I yell out my answer.
He quickly turns, eyes widening as if he can't believe I'm actually standing here, staring at him, and calling out his name.
But once those blue eyes are on me, all I can remember is how cold and angry they looked when he lied to me. Again. For what feels like the thousandth time.
I guess we're even then, since I fucked Cortney a couple of times after our breakup.
I know now that he lied, and only did so because I said I slept with Eli. But does that make it okay? Do any of our actions make any words like that okay?
No, my brain shouts at me, it doesn't!
So despite how Jalen quickly holds up a hand, a look of remorse coating his face as he's clearly ready to explain away his latest lie, I charge forward until I'm standing in front of him.
And then I raise my fist and deck him right in the face.
Jalen reels back immediately, both hands coming up to cup his nose.
I got him good. I can tell from the vibrations running up my hand and wrist after making contact.
"What is wrong with you!" I shout once my hand's back at my side.
"What's wrong with me?" he yells hysterically, voice muffled by his hands. "I'm not the one who just sent their fist flying into someone's face!"
I know he's right, this wasn't the best choice. But it's been building, and I've truthfully wanted to punch him in his face since the night we played twenty-one questions together. The night we met.
"Stop fucking lying to me!" I tell him angrily, as if that sentence will explain my actions.
It seems to click then, as he realizes I already know about his stupid lie.
"I won't," he quickly says, still holding his nose and looking a bit frazzled. "I won't lie anymore. Not after this. I promise."
I'm not sure if by this he means after his last lie or getting punched in the face, but either way, having that out there—and knowing that part of me understands why he stupidly chose to lie—makes me feel better.
And then I feel a little sad watching him pull his hands away from his face, only to lightly tap his nose and then cringe.
My god, he is so fucking cute. Even when he's in pain.
"Shit, I'm sorry about that."
I reach out to try cradling him and soothing some of what I caused. He quickly recoils when he sees my hand moving, but must realize my intentions are pure this time, and relaxes into my touch when I lightly cup his jaw.
"Damn, Lyndon," he says with a small groan. "I've been in a good amount of fights, but I think I'd have to rank this punch in the top five most painful. You got me right in my fucking nose."
He sounds both impressed and frightened, still lightly prodding at his nose. I remove my hand from his jaw and step back, watching him.
I realize right there that, no matter what happens, no matter what he does, I'll always love him. And even if that's the stupid, dangerous decision to make, I'll make it anyway.
Jalen Uccello is never leaving my heart, whether we choose to leave each other or not. He'll always have a place there, and I'm okay with that.
I throw my arms around him, and he hesitates, tensing in my embrace, before slowly relaxing and draping his own arm around me.
"Are you bleeding?" I ask softly, voice almost drowned out from my face being pressed against his smooth dress shirt.
"No," he tells me in the same low tone. "This isn't a top five punch anymore."
I let out a small laugh, and he does too, before slightly pulling away. He keeps his arm secured around my waist.
"What does this mean?" he asks in such a soothing and gentle tone. "What does this mean for us?"
"Honestly, I'm not sure," I tell him, bringing my arms up to his shoulders. "Everything is still so up in the air."
"I don't care anymore about anything else," he quickly says, finding my eyes again, and I can tell he truly means it. He wants to move on from it all. "The thing you said at the airport..." he tries clarifying before his voice trails off and his grip tightens on my waist possessively. "It doesn't matter. As long as you're with me, I don't give a fuck about that night."
The look in his eyes shows how much it hurts him, and even though I can bring up the things he's done just as wrong as me to ruin our relationship—many of them while we were actually together—I don't. It doesn't matter at this moment. I hurt him, and because of that, I can't just sweep that night under the rug. And neither should he.
"I just want you," he says softly, leaning down to press his lips to my forehead.
I close my eyes and savor the soft touch of his lips. When I reopen them, he's staring down at me, and when he leans closer again, I don't pull away. Our kiss is soft, slow, and sweet—three things our relationship never was. And though I wouldn't trade it for the world, I know that doesn't make it right.
But I also know I want him, too. More than anything.
My mind feels like a whirlwind trying to figure this all out, and that's not how today should feel. This is a happy day. We're graduating. Both of us are graduating and moving on from the teenage hellhole that is Arlin Preparatory High School.
We should be happy, and celebrating. Jalen's parents most likely aren't here since they had gone off to Italy before him. I'm not going to ruin this moment for him by trying to figure out our relationship status—not when I know if shit goes south, he has no one else to celebrate with.
Jalen deserves to be proud of himself for graduating.
"Let's just enjoy this moment before we go walk across that stage," I suggest as my fingers run through the soft hairs reaching the nape of his neck.
Jalen nods, leaning down to press another chaste kiss to my lips. "That sounds good to me."
I smile, and then he smiles, and we enjoy another moment in each other's embrace—where it's only us in the world—before heading back to where everyone else is.
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A / N:
And there it is, the final chapter of High School Treachery.
It feels so weird to write that. The entire time I wrote this chapter I kept thinking how much I'm going to miss writing from Lyndon's perspective. She's such a mess, but in a good way.
I hope everyone enjoyed the final chapter! Remember: we still have an epilogue and four bonus chapters to go before HST is officially over.
The epilogue will be up tomorrow! Once again, thank you so much to everyone that read, voted, and commented on my story. It means the world to me. I never thought this many people would read it when I posted the prologue and first chapter back in December 2018. It's wild to me. Thank you!