"For nothing is hidden except to be made manifest; nor is anything secret except to come to light." – Mark 4:22-23

The same night as Koa and Nikki's double date, Cole found himself stuck in traffic on the 101 freeway. He was heading home from a long, exhausting evening of running errands for Mr. Anderson—errands that included grocery shopping, getting more school supplies, and finding a pair of new boardshorts. Though Cole's stomach was grumbling, the long lines of cars stretching up and over the hill in the distance guaranteed him at least another twenty minutes before he reached home.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He kept his right foot on the brake while reaching down and pulling out his phone from where he had dropped it in the cup holder. He looked at the caller ID eagerly, but instead of Alana's number, he saw a smattering of digits that were unknown to him.

Upon closer inspection, Cole narrowed his eyes and realized the numbers did in fact look a little familiar. He rolled his lips into his mouth and waited until the fifth ring before answering the phone. "Hello?"

For a moment, all he could hear were background noises of thumping music and screaming, laughing teenage girls. Then, almost indistinguishable from the cacophony of sounds, came a choked sob.

Cole leaned forward immediately. "Taylor?" he asked incredulously.

She sobbed again. "Cole," she said quietly. "Can you—I need you to take me home."

"Uh..." Cole strained his ears to pick up any other sounds, but the noises of the party in the background drowned out everything else. He couldn't tell if she was slurring her words or not. She was probably drunk anyway, but what if she wasn't? What if she was in trouble? The simple fact that she was crying at a party came as a red flag for Cole. Taylor was never an emotional drunk; she had always been a feisty, flirty drunk.

"Where are you?" he asked without a second thought.

"Michael's place," she sniffed.

"By the mall?"

"Y-Yeah."

Cole wracked his brain trying to remember where Mike's place was, but all he could picture was driving past the mall next to the freeway. "You'll have to text me his address," he said. "I'll get there as fast as I can, okay? Meet me out front?"

She assented before dissolving into another round of sobs. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Taylor..." Cole sighed. He flicked on his blinker and slowly made his way over to the far right lane. "What's wrong?"

Silence. Then, barely decipherable, came her small voice: "See you soon."

The next thing Cole heard was a click and a faint buzzing, indicating Taylor had hung up. He held his phone away from his ear and stared at it incredulously. He could safely say that had been the weirdest—and most unexpected—conversation he'd ever had with Taylor.

As he slowly crept forward towards the next exit, his worry increased with every yard. What if something had gone horribly wrong at the party and Taylor was in huge trouble? What if she was hurt? Cole clenched his fingers around the steering wheel and slowly maneuvered down the off ramp. A text from Taylor popped up on his phone moments later, giving no information other than Michael's address. Cole tapped the numbers and studied the map accordingly. Whatever was going on, he needed to reach Taylor quickly.

After a few hairpin turns and close calls with red lights, Cole finally reached Michael's house and pulled up next to the curb with a screech. He was parked in front of a fire hydrant, but he didn't care. He flung open his door and strode across the lawn towards the front door. The last remnants of the sunset were blazing overhead, yet already the party seemed to be in full swing. Cole wound his way past a few throngs of teenagers standing outside before reaching the doorway.

Fortunately, he didn't have to search for Taylor long. He heard someone call his voice, so he turned to his left. His eyes widened when he saw Taylor sitting in a shadowy corner of the porch, her knees drawn up to her chest.

"Taylor!" he said quietly, hurrying over. "Are you alright?"

She grasped his outstretched hand with shaky fingers and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Cole shuffled slightly to one side, allowing a few rays of light from the window to illuminate Taylor's face. He was shocked to see her eyes puffy and red, her lips drooping, and her hair and makeup a mess.

"What happened?" he asked, appalled.

Taylor looked like she was about to break down and cry again, so he placed his hands on her shoulders and shushed her. "Never mind," he said. "Let's just get you to my car."

He walked her back across the lawn and into the passenger seat of his Volkswagen. After Cole cleared away some of the grocery bags, Taylor numbly curled up in her seat and rested her head in her hands. Cole walked around to the other side of the van and sat down as well. He swallowed and started the ignition.

"Okay," he said after an awkward silence. "Um, I guess I should take you home, right?"

Taylor didn't respond. She didn't even move, which caused Cole to sigh in frustration. He wasn't good with these types of situations. How could he help her if she didn't tell him what was going on?

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest. Okay—first things first. Before he did anything, he needed God's help. After breathing a short but desperate prayer, he shifted slightly towards Taylor and said, "I understand if you don't feel like talking right now. But I'm starving, so I think it'll do us both some good if I stopped by Subway and got us dinner. How does that sound?"

He winced, hoping his tone was as lighthearted as he wanted it to sound. Fortunately, Taylor lifted her head and nodded slowly.

"Sure," she said hoarsely.

Cole breathed a sigh of relief and headed for the nearest Subway on the way home. The radio blared commercial after commercial, so he finally just muted the volume altogether. In order to pass the time, he resorted to rambling about his day, about his errands, and about the Andersons' kitten, hoping something would amuse Taylor or elicit a response.

No luck. With a sigh, he added, "Subway is coming up in a couple miles. You know. If you're hungry like I am."

She warily looked out the window. In the semi-darkness, Cole could barely make out her features, but he was sure he caught a glimpse of a glistening tear here and there. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and wished he knew how to console her. He sighed and prayed another prayer: God, give me the right words to say! I want to help her, but how can I help her?

"Cole?"

He did a double-take. Finally, some sort of communication! "What's up?"

"I have to tell you something."

The way she spoke was slow and deliberate, yet monotonous, like someone who no longer was capable of experiencing emotion.

The van grew eerily silent as Cole slowed to a complete stop. The whirring of the engine faded into a dull rumble while the traffic light up ahead glowed red.

"I haven't exactly given you a good reason for how I've been acting lately," she said just barely loud enough for him to hear. Cole glanced over and saw her thread her fingers together in her lap.

"I have a secret," she whispered. "A big one."

Cole wanted to tell her that he'd already seen her late-night weed hits—like the time he and Blaine had skated past her group of friends one Sunday night—but he held his tongue as she continued.

"I haven't told my parents yet. I haven't told any of my friends, either. I just keep drinking and taking hits and hoping it will go away—hoping that somehow all my partying will solve the problem." She laughed harshly.

"Taylor," he asked gently, "why did you call me?"

"Because one of them found out." She turned away from the window and finally looked him in the eye. "He and I were...I mean...I just couldn't do it because it didn't feel right!"

His heart thudded in his chest.

"He said it so stupidly. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. All he said was, 'Oh, it's not like you'll get pregnant.' And then I froze."

This time, it was Cole who froze. If he guessed right, the conversation wasn't about Taylor's drug addiction.

"He guessed it," she continued bitterly. "And now I don't know how many people he's told. I don't know how I can ever show my face at school or to my parents."

Awkwardly, knowing that he was treading on thin ice, Cole asked, "How...?"

"How what?"

He quickly shook his head.

"Say it," she demanded.

He paled.

"Say it."

"Taylor, I—"

She clenched her fists. "Ask me how I got pregnant!" she screamed. Then, with tears rolling down her cheeks, she sobbed, "I'm pregnant and...and...now my whole life is ruined."

Cole was officially freaking out. He hadn't known what to say during Taylor's silence, but now that she was having an emotional meltdown he had absolutely no clue how to help.

"Um," he said uselessly.

She filled the silence with her wracking sobs. Only when the light turned green and the van was filled with the noise of the engine did she slowly calm down.

"I—I can help you," he said. "I can let you stay at my place for the night. I can call Maya and Alana over to—"

"I don't care about them, you idiot," she half-laughed, half-spat. "Don't you get it?"

"Get what?" he asked stupidly.

"The baby is yours."

As soon as she spoke those words, he slammed on the brakes. The Volkswagen squealed and fish-tailed in the narrow lane, forcing Cole to swerve and end up in an awkward parallel park on the side of the street. Cars honked and maneuvered around him, but he was hardly aware of the chaos.

"What did you just say?" he asked coolly.

"It was you," she accused. "You're in this just as deep as I am."

He held up his hands in exasperation. "Are you kidding me? We never did anything like that, Taylor! How could this baby be mine?"

When she didn't answer right away, his gaze slowly traveled down the length of her shirt to her stomach. It was still as small and flat as it had ever been, but in Cole's crazed mind he thought he could already see the beginning of a bump forming.

Taylor laughed. "I think you're forgetting the time you showed up at my house, in the middle of my end-of-summer bash, wearing a hoodie and jeans..."

Cole narrowed his eyes. Her end-of-summer party? He thought they had called everything off before that happened. Unless...

"The night you came back from your surf trip, remember?" she sneered.

Cole's eyes widened. No. No way. He could see it clearly now: speeding home after witnessing what he thought was a kiss between Koa and Alana, deciding to crash at Taylor's house for the night, being persuaded to down a few drinks...

He paled. And then waking up in Taylor's bed.

"Oh, God," he moaned, covering his face in his hands.

"Whatever," Taylor scoffed. "This is your problem now, too."

His mind was reeling. How could he not remember? Did he really have that much to drink the night of Taylor's party?

"You played just as much of a part in this as I did," Taylor said. She sniffled and wiped a few remaining tears from her cheeks.

But Cole was still in shock. He couldn't believe it. How could he have been so careless?

"You were drunk, Cole," Taylor added. "I was too."

"But...but..." He still didn't understand it. "Was my drink spiked?"

"Not that I know of."

He slumped against the back of the seat. So that was a possibility. But still...

"You can't tell anyone, Cole," Taylor threatened.

He laughed wryly. She wouldn't have to worry about that.

"You don't want your good guy reputation to be soiled all of a sudden."

He quieted down and clenched his fists. She was right. But what she didn't realize was that his reputation was already soiled by this single colossal mistake of his. With a sudden surge of anger, he slammed his fist into the horn and yelled an obscenity. Never before had he felt such a combination of rage and revulsion.

He suddenly realized Taylor had been wrong: her life wasn't the one that was ruined. His was.