TODAY I FEEL EVEN worse about the events that transpired at the carnival last night. Like somehow I put myself in situations where I'm asking for things like that to happen, and it's all my fault.

Maybe it truly is all my fault.

I think I'm getting worse, as I predicted at the beginning of the summer I would.

Aunt Colleen doesn't know this, but I have a whole bottle of anti-nausea medicine buried deep in the drawer of my bedside table. I got it prescribed when I had the stomach flu last year. Of course, I took the proper amount needed to make me feel better, but what Aunt Colleen doesn't know is that I still have leftover just the right dosage to . . . fix things. Maybe.

Truthfully, I waver back and forth on my stance on the issue. Sometimes, it just seems . . . right. Other times, I'm not so sure.

The problem is that usually those other times only occur when Jasper is around. And soon, he won't be.

A knock on my door startles me out of my thoughts. "Come in!" I exclaim, trying to filter the awkwardness out of my voice.

Aunt Colleen emerges from the other side, hair tied up in a ponytail and worry lines crinkling her tanned face. "Honey, you've been holed up in here all day," she notes. "You okay?"

I shrug. "Yeah. Just thinking a lot, I guess."

She joins me on my bed, and crawls under the covers next to me. "Thinking about what, love bug?"

I chew the inside of my cheek. "I dunno. Senior year, Jasper, Noah; lots of things, I guess."

"How are you holding up with that?" she asks. "Jasper, I mean."

"I'm okay," I force out. Aunt Colleen does so much for me, a debt I will never truly be able to repay. One thing I refuse to do is feed into her worry if I don't have to.

"Honey, you can be honest," she says, squeezing my shoulder. "It's upsetting. He loves you so much, and it's not fair that he has to leave."

I shrug miserably. What is there to say?

"I was thinking," she starts, sounding hesitant. Uh oh. "Maybe you should start seeing someone again. I know you didn't like doing that much when you first moved here, but you were so shy and scared back then, you barely uttered two words even to me your first few months. I dunno, maybe it would help you deal with everything."

I can't. Therapy costs money, and Aunt Colleen should be saving what little money she makes teaching for Willie, not wasting it on her seventeen-year-old unstable niece.

"I don't think that's necessary," I say quietly. "Thank you for caring enough to offer that, though."

She cuddles close next to me and coaxes me forward a little, filling the spot behind me. Her fingers start smoothing my hair, just like she used to do when I was younger. She bisects my hair and brushes one of the halves forward, then starts separating three strands to French braid the other. It feels good, even though it's such a simple thing.

"You know," she starts, still braiding my hair, "I love you just as much as I love Willie. You're both my kids, just in different ways. I just want you to be happy; you're my sister's daughter."

I stay silent, unable to find words.

"And Lexi, love, you worry me sometimes," she continues. "Your momma had a history of mental disorders like anxiety and depression, and I know you have anxiety, but sometimes, I just wonder if maybe . . . there's something more. And if there is, I just want you to know that you can talk to me. We can work through whatever issues life throws at you together. Okay?"

"Sure," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. Don't cry. For the love of God. Do. Not. Cry.

"Sometimes I wish the two of us were better communicators with each other." Aunt Colleen sighs. "It's just . . . I dunno, I guess I just wish your Uncle Bill could be here more. I try to be strong on my own, but the truth is, sometimes I'm just not."

Momentarily forgetting she's braiding my hair, I swivel around to face her. "You're one of the strongest people I know," I say, meaning every word. "You're doing a great job."

To my surprise, her eyes grow watery. The corners of her mouth quirk up into a small, genuine smile. "Thank you, Lex Lex," she says, bringing back her nickname for me when I first came here.

I turn back around, and she finishes the braid she's working on and secures the end with a hair tie.  She starts working her way through the next braid, and my heart sinks, thinking about how much my mom would've loved to be present in this quiet moment with possibly the only two people who ever truly loved her.

Why did things have to end so tragically for her? What kind of destiny is that?

"I wish your momma could be here," Aunt Colleen says aloud, voicing my thoughts. "I miss her all the time."

"Me too," I whisper.

"You know," Aunt Colleen says, a glimmer of mirth in her voice, "she always planned on having you, despite how it happened. She would tell boys on first dates that someday she would have a daughter and her name had to be Lexi or they wouldn't work out."

I laugh. "No way."

"I swear! It was very important to her." Her tone sobers up a little. "And you know, Lexi Callaghan, you were everything she ever wanted. We didn't keep in touch as much as we should've, but when we did, you could sense her entire soul just glowing with her love for you."

My heart droops a little in my chest at how far I've gotten from the kid my mom was once so proud of. Now I have "just in case" anti-nausea medicine in my bedside table and a mind so scribbly messed up I don't think even the most experienced puzzle-solvers would know where to begin.

Aunt Colleen finishes my second braid, and kisses my head. "I love you, kid," she murmurs into my hair. "So much."

"Love you too," I mumble back feebly, feeling my insides fill up with that gross gray matter feeling. How do I manage to feel so worthless even with such a solid support system like my aunt?

She gives my arm one last squeeze before getting up and leaving me be, gently shutting the door the way it was before she entered behind her.

I pull out my phone and stare at the screen, contemplating texting Jasper. But then I put my phone down, thinking better of it. What's the use?

I don't understand it. How is it possible to feel so much pain all the time? Why can't there be an easy escape?

To my surprise, my phone pings, and I pick it up, astonished by Jasper's wavelength aligning so perfectly with mine when I need it to.  But it's not Jasper that texted me. It's Noah.

Noah Martinez: Hey. I'm sorry again about last night. I feel like I freaked you out, punching that guy. I just hated the way he spoke to you.

Sent 4:40 PM

I exhale a tiny laugh and text back.

Me: No big deal. I appreciate you sticking up for me. If anything, I'm sorry I put myself in a situation where you felt like you had to do that.

Sent 4:44 PM

Noah Martinez: That wasn't your fault. The guy was just a scumbag. Are you okay today?

Sent 4:46 PM

Me: Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for asking. How are you?

Sent 4:47 PM

Noah Martinez: I could lie and say I'm doing great, but I'd rather cut the BS. Earlier Anna, my stepmom, told me that I need to stop being so disrespectful to my dad after I got into an argument with him about my black eye. I used to get into some not great stuff at my school in Michigan, like parties and fights and stuff, and he thinks I'm already falling back into old patterns down here. I tried to explain that I was defending you from a creepy pervert, and then Anna tried to intervene, which is so not her place, considering I've known her for barely a year. And I guess my family just exhausts me sometimes, you know?

Sent 4:51 PM

Me: I'm sorry! That sounds really difficult. I never exactly dealt with divorce or parents remarrying, but I relate to having a rocky parent situation. I watched my mom die and my dad was just all around awful.

Sent 4:54 PM

I'm not sure what prompts me to say that. I guess Noah's honest admission inspires me a bit to do the same.

Noah Martinez: Good lord Lexi. That's terrible. I'm so sorry.

Sent 4:55 PM

Me: It's okay. My aunt is amazing, so things are a lot more stable now.

Sent 4:58 PM

Noah Martinez: I hope so. You deserve stable. And happy.

Sent 5:01 PM

Me: So do you.

Sent 5:02 PM

Noah Martinez: Friendship pact for the upcoming school year: we have to make sure the other person is happy and stable at all times. If they aren't, immediate intervention is mandatory until that status changes.

Sent 5:07 PM

I smile down at my phone. That sounds nice. A little unrealistic, but nice.

Me: I like that pact. I'm in.

Sent 5:09 PM

Noah Martinez: Good. I have to go because my family is calling me for dinner, but let's talk more later. I like getting to know you :)

Sent 5:10 PM

Me: Sure, I'll talk to you later. Hope your family dinner goes okay. And I like getting to know you too :)

Sent 5:11 PM

The gray matter feeling is replaced by a new sudden giddiness. These text messages signify hope. Hope for a future in which I can be something more than a broken best friend. Hope for a future where I exist, period.

I know better than to put all my eggs in Noah's basket after doing exactly that with Jasper and allowing myself to be devastated when he has to be ripped from my grasp. But the prospect is tempting. And I'm reaching a level of desperation where I'll cling to anything I can reach.

author's note: i'm gonna finish this story y'all. i'm nearly 2/3 done with the chapters (and then there will be two letters at the very end, ooooo teaser). but i need some fresh comments to fuel me. i thrive off of feedback. so if you want faster updates, please consider taking a minute or two to let me know your thoughts. i know i sound like a broken record, but it's all for good reason. also wondering what y'all think about this whole texting format. i try to avoid text-y chapters, but this is kinda necessary for the progression of part of the storyline. it'll hopefully make more sense later. hope you're having a great day!!!!

p.s. thank you @slightlydelusional for making the super cute cover. if anyone else is artsy and wants to send me covers/fan art, PLS DO! i live for that stuff.