"Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known." – Luke 12:2

Alana came home from her usual surf session on Sunday morning with a smile on her face. The waves had been hard to catch (and equally hard to ride), but she always loved a good challenge.

"I call showering first!" Tammy hollered, sprinting up the stairs.

Alana frowned at the sandy footprints her sister left on the carpet as she darted away. She loved Tammy to death—especially when they surfed together, like this morning—but sometimes her sister drove her up the wall.

As Alana sighed and kneeled down to clean up Tammy's mess, a large clump of her salty hair fell in front of her eyes. She groaned and flung it back over her head. The momentary pause caused her whole body to exhale in unison. She felt the tension from the past few weeks roll over her. Had it really been over a week since she had last seen Trevor? School, church, and surfing had come and gone in a blur, but it was her new and improved schedule that caused a lot of the stress she was feeling.

For starters, while she enjoyed Coach Alvarez's training sessions, they took up huge chunks of time after school multiple days a week. Also, he had radically changed her diet, which meant cutting out cheeseburgers, fries, and soft drinks at Scottie's. Alana certainly felt fitter and healthier, but she admittedly would like to have some junk food every now and then.

Finally, her surfing career had officially taken off thanks to multiple photoshoots and added sponsors. She received hundreds of dollars' worth of merchandise from Roxy and Vans; she had her image posted on multiple posters, advertisements, and social media; and she had two boards shaped specifically for her by Mr. Anderson.

However, Alana found all of the attention—which only increased day by day—extremely embarrassing. She found herself turning down five modeling gigs in order to actually spend some time with her family. It seemed like Sunday mornings before church were her only free time during the entire week.

Fortunately, the gang was supportive of Alana every hour of every day. They didn't treat her like some mini-celebrity, but rather joked around and teased her like they normally did. Alana was immensely grateful for having such a tight group of friends.

As she fingered the grains of sand left by Tammy in the carpet, Alana's frown deepened. There was one friend who hadn't exactly been with her every step of the way. It wasn't Koa; he had surprisingly been happier and more lighthearted than usual. It wasn't Maya or Jake, either—they had gotten back together and were once again the model couple at Ventura High. Blaine, too, was just as kind and observant as he'd ever been.

Alana stabbed the sand deeper into the carpet. Cole. The first few days he began to act strangely, she had pinned it on a random mood swing. But now it had been two whole weeks, and Cole's attitude hadn't improved since. They had attempted one measly date with Jake and Maya, but Cole barely smiled or cracked a joke. Alana didn't know what to do. No matter how many times she asked, he always deflected her question. She figured the best thing to do was give him some space.

Of course, the thought that maybe she had made a mistake in dating him had come to mind, but she quickly pushed it away. Cole couldn't be moody because of her, could he? She hadn't done anything wrong...she hadn't acted any differently.

But multiple conversations with Blaine had yielded no other answers. Clearly, whatever Cole was upset about had to remain a mystery. All Alana could do was stand by him and try to cheer him up.

Suddenly, Alana heard footsteps pounding down the stairs. She quickly masked her frown with a small smile and watched as Dylan came into view.

But his expression was one of horror. "Alana," he said, his breath catching in his throat. "You have to see this."

"What?" she asked, immediately jumping to her feet and following him upstairs. Upon reaching his bedroom, she peeked over his shoulder at his laptop and knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. Words and images stared out gloomily from the screen. When she leaned forward in order to better distinguish them, she gasped. "No way. Is that—"

Dylan shook his head sadly. "I'm so sorry, Alana."

She reached over his shoulder and pulled the laptop closer. Dylan obediently moved aside as she mouthed the words on the screen: Breaking news—teenage driver killed in car crash.

The photo betrayed the identity of the driver, but Alana greedily skimmed over the adjacent article for more information. She found out that there had been a party, and the intoxicated driver had made it only two blocks before swerving onto the opposite side of the street and crashing headfirst into a parked SUV.

Alana slumped against Dylan's desk. "I don't believe it," she murmured.

Taylor Rosalind was dead.

The next hour involved a plethora of phone calls, text messages, and voicemails. Alana finally succeeded in getting ahold of the entire gang, and Blaine suggested they meet at Scottie's right away.

When Alana arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later, she saw everyone sitting at their usual booth. The mood was sobering. Though Nikki greeted the gang with a smile, ready to take their orders, her face fell when they gave her a brief rundown of what had happened.

"I take it no one's hungry?" Jake asked, trying in vain to lighten the mood.

They all shook their heads. Nikki politely excused herself and headed to the back of the restaurant, leaving them to their conversation.

"Thank you for getting ahold of us, Alana," Blaine said quietly. "This is terrible."

She nodded and slipped into a vacant seat next to Maya. "Even though we never got along with Taylor, it's still difficult to imagine that she's gone," Alana said. "I bet her parents are taking it really hard."

"I know she wasn't the most responsible girl at school," Jake added, "but that doesn't mean she deserved to die this way."

"She was asking for it, though," Maya said quietly. "I mean, she went to so many parties and hung out with so many people from the wrong crowd."

"I think she was the wrong crowd," Koa muttered.

"I just feel terrible thinking about it." Maya cringed. She suddenly turned to Cole. "You were the closest to her out of all of us. How are you holding up?"

He pursed his lips. Alana detected a slight pallor in his cheeks and a few nervous twitches from his fingers. She knew he had had a rocky relationship with Taylor.

"Well," Cole began slowly, "I haven't been close to her in months, but hearing that she was gone made me wonder if I could have done something more."

Blaine placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You did the best you could," he said quietly.

Alana wondered what that meant. Had Cole talked to Taylor since their breakup? If so, she hoped he had gotten through to her somehow. Taylor needed a good role model in her life.

As Jake chimed in again with his two cents, Alana reached across the table and wrapped her hand around Cole's. She nearly pulled away when she realized he was icy to the touch. Her eyes immediately flickered up to his face. What's wrong? she asked silently.

Cole merely looked away. A cloud of despair had settled on him, and Alana felt the beginning of its despondent effects on her too. "I'm sorry," she said, barely loud enough for him to hear.

He cautiously met her gaze again.

"After you and Taylor parted ways," she said, "you were still the best role model for her. I'm proud of you."

Suddenly, Cole's hands began to shake, and he abruptly pulled them away and hid them underneath the table. The sudden motion caused everyone's heads to turn in his direction, and Blaine let his own hand drop from Cole's shoulder in surprise.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Cole," Alana stammered. She could only imagine what he was going through.

The others chimed in with similar murmurs of sympathy, but Cole merely sat in stony silence. Alana glanced over at Blaine and saw him narrow his eyes. What was going on...?

"What's wrong?" she asked, quietly but firmly.

Maya gave her a look. "Alana, it's only fair that Cole is taking the news harder than us," she said. "Out of everyone at this table, he's the one with the closest relationship to her."

But Alana never tore her eyes away from Cole. "Please tell me," she said. I know there's something else.

Cole tensed up, the muscles in his arm growing taught and firm while his shoulders rose a little higher than normal. He suddenly clenched his fists and brought one down firmly on the table. "Fine," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll tell you what's wrong."

Everyone flinched. Blaine was the only one who made a move forward, but Cole pushed back his twin's hand with a steely look.

"Do you want to know why I've been so depressed lately?" he erupted. "Do you want to know what really happened between Taylor and I?"

Alana suddenly wasn't so sure. By the looks on her friends' faces, they didn't want to know either.

"When I left you all stranded at Trestles," Cole said, going back to that fateful moment during their surfing safari, "I knew it was a foolish and impulsive thing to do. But everyone saw me as a hero the next day when I saved Tammy."

Alana remembered that moment with sincere thankfulness. Cole had been in the right moment at the right time.

"Well, the night before that, I ended up crashing at Taylor's house."

Her ears perked up. This was something new.

"It wasn't my smartest move," Cole continued, anger laced through his words. "I needed someplace to crash, so Taylor's seemed like an easy option. But her end-of-summer party was going on, so I got caught up in the drinking as usual."

Alana suddenly got a bad feeling in her stomach.

"I don't know how I got so wasted, but the next morning I—" His voice finally faltered. "I woke up and...and...I realized—"

Blaine made another move to help him, but Cole twisted away. His voice contorted into a mixture of shame and vehemence as he stammered, "I realized we had slept together."

The last two words were spoken in a whisper, but it radiated throughout the group like the force of a hurricane. Aside from a small gulp from Maya, they all leaned back, stunned into silence. Alana felt anger and confusion swimming inside of her. All this time, she thought Cole had never gone that far with a girl before. But now, hearing that he ­did—all while entertaining a crush on Alana at the same time!—made her heart sink to the lowest depths of her stomach.

Cole shifted in his seat. His eyes, which had just been flashing in the heat of the moment, were now directed downwards. "When she crashed her car," he said quietly, "she was pregnant."

It was the final straw. Alana felt her jaw drop open and her hands fly up to her face, but she didn't remember what happened next. No tears blurred her vision, but for some reason she still had trouble seeing Cole stand up, stumble out of the booth, and flee the restaurant.

Blaine was the first one to break the shocked silence. "I didn't know," he said, as if talking to himself. "But I had my suspicions..."

Alana suddenly felt one of her hands enveloped by Maya's. "I'm so sorry," her friend said.

The statement was almost ironic. Maya was sorry? What about Cole? Where was his apology? Cole hadn't just screwed Alana over; he had screwed the entire gang over—not to mention his father and the rest of his family and friends. Alana thought he had changed for the better, but apparently he couldn't let go of his deceitful habits, not even after their conversation about trust and loyalty. Alana had confided in him about Koa, and this was how he returned the favor? She felt betrayed.

After gathering most of her emotions under control, she stood up and headed to the front door. Despite cries of, "Alana! Wait!" she jerked open the door and made a beeline for Dylan's car, which was parked outside.

Dylan glanced up in surprise. "That was fast," he said casually.

"Let's go," Alana demanded. Her self-control wouldn't last long. She felt her anger and frustration mounting.

"Whoa, what happened?"

"Just drive, Dylan." She covered her face in her hands. "Please."