♚ J E S S E ♚

"What the hell is this?"

Bryce smirks while Nina takes a drag from her cigarette, blowing smoke from her nose. "This, my dear Jesse, is The Plan," she says dramatically, swinging an arm over my shoulder and gesturing around the room.

"No, actually this is The Plan 2.0," Preston corrects, getting to work on his fancy laptop. My eyes catch a picture of someone that he edits until he swiftly moves onto another tab.

"The first plan," Allen - who I really want to stab right now - starts, pausing to drink cider, "was the razors and the notes in her locker."

Cynthia lets out a sharp laugh for no apparent reason, fiddling with beads and thread as she makes a bracelet of some sort. "We have three Plans. Each one is better than the last. And then we have the Master Plan, which'll be epic," she announces proudly.

I stand in the middle of it all, knowing exactly what they're going to do before they even tell me. "But why? This has nothing to do with the bet—"

"Fuck the bet," Bryce swears, glaring daggers at me. He turns to print sheets of paper, each one of them getting a word scrawled over it with bold red marker. "It's over. You won. You got your money; use it on your mom. We're not doing this because of the bet. We're doing it for our personal enjoyment."

"So your idea of enjoyment is humiliating a person in front of the whole fucking school?"

"Listen, Jesse," Allen spits, standing up and getting in my face. He's a few inches taller than me - the freak he is - but that doesn't stop me from holding my ground. His eyes are blazing bright blue, and I can tell he wants to pick a fight. "Do I hear you backing out of this?"

"I'm not backing out of anything." I clench my jaw, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Are you sure? 'Cause that's what it sounds like to me." Everyone's doing their own part of the plan - The Plan 2.0, as Preston nicely pointed out - but they don't disguise the fact they're listening in. "Listen to me. If you wanna run back to that freak you're more than welcome to."

"I'm not running back to anyone," I tell him through gritted teeth. For fucks sake.

"Then you'll do exactly as you're told. You're part of this now, Jesse, you were ever since we made the bet. You can't back out now; it's too late."

I step away, going to the cooler to grab a beer. I sit beside Cynthia on the couch, moodily taking swigs from the cold drink.

"He's right, y'know," Cynthia whispers, her near-black eyes focusing on me for a split second before they wander around the room. "If we go down, you go down with us."

"Right," I say shortly, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples. This isn't what I signed up for. It was supposed to be a harmless deed, nothing serious. And I didn't have bad intentions - at least not fully.

I wasn't trying to fuck with her. I just had to fuck her. It was a matter of life and death. That's what I tell myself, and it's true, in a way. My mother and Evelyn. Two lives, one at stake. Except, now that the bet is over, the roles have been reversed.

Cynthia rests her head on my shoulder and babbles, her Korean accent getting thicker with each passing minute. I can't focus on the bracelet she shows me.

I understand what they mean by me being a part of this since day 1 and going down with them.

But if Evelyn goes down, who goes down with her?

∞

✯ E V E L Y N ✯

I haven't talked to Him in so long.

I quietly make my way down a pew, seating myself down on the oak seat and closing my eyes. There aren't many others here, maybe seven excluding Father Todd, and so the entire chapel is tranquil. A warm feeling pulses in my chest. This is my sanctuary. The only place I can go without everyone harassing me or questioning me. The only place where I can confess everything that I have felt.

∞

It's Tuesday the 25th of April, three in the afternoon, and I can't seem to stop shaking.

Maybe it's because Jesse's words keep haunting. Maybe it's because I just confessed all my sins to Him and I'm not sure whether he'll forgive me for being intimate with a girl. Maybe it's because I keep having a recurring bad dream with Jesse cutting me open and leaving me to bleed to death.

I haven't eaten in two days, ever since that awful day at school. I've faked an upset stomach, and Eva believes me. I'm not sure about Charlie, but then again, he is the type of person to just watch from afar rather than confront a person - unless things get out of hand.

I sit alone in the living room, a cup of tea in my hands. My palms are burning, but I ignore the scorching heat and stare blankly at the TV. Eva's gone to work, so is Charlie, all of the adults are gone with the children on a trip around San Francisco. So I'm home alone by myself - excluding the housekeepers, maids, cooks and Noelle - except there's another person in the house who I hadn't even noticed stayed.

Amora.

"Why aren't you gone with them on their trip thingy?" I ask, bored, as she traipses into the room, in search of something.

"The idea of going on a drive with seven other kids squashed in a car with no bathroom breaks or pit stops isn't as fun as it sounds, trust me, I've been there before." Amora's curly hair is tied in a very high ponytail that sits on top of her head, but it looks pretty on her. "And besides, I'm grounded." Right, I remember. For getting drunk with Michael next door. "Do you have a pair of scissors and glue I can borrow?"

I look up at her from my cup. Wow, she has changed a lot. The last time I'd seen her she was five and I was seven, and we were best friends despite our ages. I'd like to get back that friendship. We were more sisters than close friends. "Um, yeah, I have both of them in my bag, in my bedroom."

She gives me a thumbs up before disappearing, and I faintly hear her feet thump up the stairs.

Some reality show is playing on the screen but I can't seem to focus. I'm getting this inkling that something is about to go wrong very soon, that I've done something I shouldn't, or that someone's going to do something that'll change everything. This sort of sick feeling in my gut. Or maybe it's just hunger pangs.

I change the channel and watch an episode of Bob's Burgers. Watching it brings back so many memories. I remember watching it when I was younger. I'd watch it with Evian, and we'd laugh over the stupid parts and argue over anything they'd say that didn't make sense.

"Evelyn . . . " I turn my head and see Amora standing in the doorway, wearing an unreadable expression.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

She hesitates and nods, eyes holding mine for a few seconds before she looks down at the ground. "Yeah, I did. And, um, also a few papers. Well, a lot of them," she admits, and all the color drains from my face.

Shit, shit, shit. I whisper, realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. The notes. I hadn't taken them out since I shoved them in yesterday.

"Evie, are you being bullied?" she asks softly, a concerned look on her face.

"N-no, those were just for a project," I fib weakly, heart hammering in my chest. How could I have been so stupid?

She gives me a skeptical look, "What project?"

I'm at a loss for words. "I—it's j-just—well—"

"Evelyn, you don't have to lie to me," she interrupts, folding her arms across her chest. I stop in my tracks, glaring down at my black pajamas. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. That's what I am. "I thought we were friends."

I sigh heavily, guilt eating at me. "We are."

"And friends tell each other everything, especially when something's wrong." Amora rubs her arm, worry showing clear on her face. "So no secrets between us, yeah?"

I nod mutely, wondering how a five foot nothing, fifteen-year-old girl like her can make me feel guilty with a single look.

"So, what's up with all those papers?"

"A couple of people stuffed them into a girls locker, I was there so I figured I'd help her throw them away." After everything she just said, I'm still lying to her face. I'm a disgusting, horrible, selfish person. But I'm scared of what she'll say. To me, to my parents, who in turn will make a big deal out of this. They're still trying to find out who had hit me with that car those months ago, and I'm sure when they find out they'll somehow put him on death row.

When I zone back to reality Amora gives me a wary look. "Is that true?"

"Yeah." I swallow the lump in my throat, twisting my lukewarm tea in my hands.

"And is the girl okay?" I can't bear to look at her sympathetic face.

"She was crying before, but I think she's fine now." I glance up at Amora to see her shoot me a sad smile before she leaves the room. I just lied to her. I try to shrug off the feeling. If I had told her the truth she would have told everyone. And that would've infinitely been a thousand times worse.

∞

"How are you feeling now, sweetie?"

I almost groan at the fact that Eva's back from work early, and I can't pig out on Chinese takeout like how I intended to. She bustles around the kitchen where I'm sat at the island, taking out a veg stir-fry and her latte from the refrigerator. One of cooks must've made her food, because though she tries, Eva can't cook for her life.

"I'm fine, Mom. I feel better." I stir my warm-ish milkshake around with my straw, watching the caramel melt into chocolate.

"That's great news," she says absently, grabbing a kiwi from the fruit bowl and gathering her pre-pilates food. I can tell she isn't listening attentively, but I know she has a lot on her mind - as she always does - so I forgive her for it.

"Listen, I haven't been home much these past few weeks, and I just want to check up on you." Eva grabs a fork from the cutlery drawer, leaning against the kitchen counter. "You've been going to your sessions with Dr. Paige, yes?"

"Yup." I hate the word 'session'. It makes me think of mental illnesses and a problematic life, and although I am fully aware that I fit into both categories, I still don't like the word. I prefer . . . 'meetings' or 'one hour talk every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday'.

"You're doing alright at school, grade-wise?"

"Uh-huh," I say before I decide to expand, "I've been studying for at least two hours a day and my grades in assignments and tests have jumped from awful to impressive."

"How impressive are we talking here?"

I barely hold back my smile. "Well, I got an A+ in my last Portuguese test. I'm staying at a B-/B+ in the rest of my subjects."

Eva's smile is wide enough to spilt her face in half. "That's amazing! Really impressive, darling, I'm so proud of you." It's the first time she has said this in a very long time, and my face is on fire. I'm taking small sips from my drink when suddenly she looks up at me from the last of her stir-fry, a soft smile on her face.

For some reason, in that moment, my mind drifts to think about Lio. My smile slips away, and I look down at the marble counter. She's probably just busy, I try to convince myself, but I think it runs deeper than that. There's a reason why she hasn't tried to communicate with me. She's purposefully avoiding me. Did I do something to hurt or offend her? I try to think back to the last time I saw her. That was at my party. I'd only seen her once and then—

I'm dragged from my thoughts by Eva, who sets aside her empty dish. A playful smile graces her lips, and I can instantly tell what she's going to bring up. Here we go. "So. Have you seen Jesse lately?"

She says Jesse's name like it's fragile, and also with a suggestive tone. I try hard not to roll my eyes at her behavior, my mood dampening further. "No," I reply shortly.

Eva's eyebrows raise, and I can tell she doesn't want to pry but she wants to know what's going on. "Oh?"

"Yeah, 'oh'. We haven't talked since the party—"

"Since you two had sex," Eva states bluntly, calmly sipping her coffee while I'm barely holding myself together. She knows? She shakes her head at my shocked expression, tapping her nails on the counter. "I'm not stupid, Evelyn. He was looking for you, and I told him you were probably upstairs in your room, being as antisocial as you usually are—"

"Hey—!"

"—and I know what went down—or, who went down. I'm not as dumb as I look, Evelyn," she squints at me, tutting in a falsely disappointed way.

"I never said you looked dumb . . . " I rub the back of my neck, embarrassment seeping in at the fact that all cards are on the table. She knows exactly what happened - well, not a detailed account - and yet she isn't yelling at me because of it.

Strange.

"I just hope, for the love of God, that you two used a condom, because you're way too young to be a mother," Eva finishes, chopping her kiwi and scooping out the flesh with a spoon.

"Yep."

"Wait, so you said you haven't talked since then? Did something happen between you two?"

Her persistent eyes make me look away. "Well, no, not really. I mean, we didn't have a fight. But I know that ther—that there's tension between us. I-I don't know what from—" Lies. "—But that's the way it is. I haven't spoken to him since then."

Eva she chews thoughtfully. "Did you see him at school yesterday?"

"Y-yeah, but I didn't approach him, and he didn't walk up to me either." The familiar sensation of dread and angst about yesterday's incident hits me hard, and I stare down at my chipped nails, my hair falling before my face to hide my damp eyes.

"He hasn't called or texted since?" I shake my head, finally breaking. My eyes fill with tears and my shoulders start trembling as sobs engulf me. Eva wordlessly walks over to wrap her arms around my shoulders in a side hug.

"What's wrong with me, Mom? Did I do something to push him away? Why is he ignoring me?"

"There is nothing wrong with you, Evelyn. And I doubt he's ignoring you. Maybe he just needs some time to digest everything that happened," Eva soothes, but I know it's not the case.

"But shouldn't he have at least texted me, or even said hi? The way he looked at me yesterday. . . " I don't hold back my wretched sobs, scrunching my eyes up and feeling like I'm in physical pain. "It hurt, Mom. It hurts so much . . . "

Her arms tighten around me, and I know she's trying to come up with something to say, but that's the thing: there isn't anything to say. Nothing she can say can make this pain go away, nothing she can do can turn back time.

I wish I had never picked up that damn note from Jesse. I wish I had never spoken to him.

"I want Dad," I wail, badly needing a hug from Charlie. I haven't seen him in two days because of his work, and the longing for him is hitting me hard in the chest, so hard that I can't breathe properly. "I want to see Dad, I need my Daddy."

And I hear and feel Eva's cries that are caused by my pain.

∞

"Hey, Evangeline is it?"

I turn around, my footsteps halting as two girls with matching cornrows blink back at me. I grip my satchel, wanting to get to class as soon as possible. "Evelyn. My name is Evelyn," I say through gritted teeth, ignoring the wolf whistles from jocks walking past. How does Evelyn sound like Evangeline?

The taller one - who chews her gum furiously - gives me an apologetic smile, and I can tell she's genuinely nice. "Sorry, Evelyn. Is it true you slept with Jesse Garza?"

My heart sinks at his name, but I make sure my face is impassive. "I don't remember that being any of your business," I tell them rudely, and I watch a fleeting look of panic on the other girls face.

"No! We just heard rumors—"

"Well, to hell with the rumors. Fuck the rumors. Fuck you. Fuck everyone," I all but hiss, swiveling on my heel and walking away from them. I can feel anger bubbling inside me, but I try to calm myself down as I walk to my next class. They're nice girls. They're just curious. They just heard the rumors and wanted to know if they should believe them.

Ignoring the intense stares from classmates, I seat myself at the back of the class, placing my books on my desk. This class just has to be AP European History. The class I share with Jesse. I feel sick to my stomach.

It's as if I conjure him up when I think about him, because I look up and there he is in the doorway, happily talking to a girl with lilac hair. Villette. She listens intently to what he's saying, a bright smile on her face. What I wouldn't give to be her. I force myself to think the opposite, needing to brainwash myself into believing I hate Jesse Garza.

His eyes lift to lock on mine, and it takes all I have to look down at my fingers, pretending to be fascinated in my nails. The familiar pang of hurt punches me square in the chest, and I have to repeat a mantra in my head to keep myself sane. I am my own person. I am my own person.

I am my own person.

I don't need someone who'll betray me when I don't do what they want. I don't need someone who'll immediately stab my back once it's turned. I don't need someone who manipulated me into thinking they're a great person when they're actually the incarnation of the devil.

I'm not necessarily saying Jesse is the incarnation of the devil. But he isn't an angel either.

In that split second our eyes connected, I saw something more than impassivity in his eyes.

I saw regret.

Just regret. But regret over what? Over the fact that he used me for some sick bet? Or regret over the fact that it was me, of all the pretty, sane girls in the whole school? Does he regret talking to me? Does he regret making me trust him? Does he regret that nigh—

I focus on my fingers in front of me, but I watch his vague outline at the same time. He takes a seat near the front - beside Villette and her boy toy of the week - and doesn't look back. Ignoring the fact that he used to sit beside me in this class, I take out my notebook and copy down the title on the whiteboard with more force than necessary, almost ripping a hole in the page. I just want the teacher to hurry up and arrive on time to class to teach the lesson so I can take my mind off the whole messy thing.

I don't understand how he could do such a thing after I spilled all my secrets to him.

But I guess that's just the way life is. You've gotta give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and if they betray you, you gotta let the wounds in you back heal over time.

∞

"I'll miss you," I whisper in Aisha's ear, hugging her so tightly that I feel my lungs shrink.

She embraces me just as tightly, her curly hair tickling my neck. "I'll be back before you know it, I promise," she tells me, pulling away to give me a sad smile.

"I'll be holding this against you, you know."

"I wouldn't put it past you." Aisha laughs softly before she glances around the ice cream parlor, a wistful expression on her face. "I'm gonna miss this place."

"We're gonna miss you," I reply truthfully, twisting my R3 cap in place on my head. The heavy smell of mint and bubblegum almost makes me gag, but I ignore it and focus on the girl who'll be leaving the U.S.. "Tell your mom I say hi, and I hope she gets better soon."

"Me too," she sighs, pushing back her tresses into a ponytail. Outside the parlor, a dark blue car pulls up, and a short beep emits from it. "Well, that's my ride."

"Did I mention how much I'm going to miss you??" I give her another quick hug, so tempted to tell her to stay, but that would be selfish. Her mother needs her more than I do.

"Yeah, I think you did." A longing expression cuts through her features, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Well, this is it. You better call me everyday or I'll go crazy. Contrary to popular belief the Caribbeans aren't as cool as everyone makes it out to be."

"I'll keep that in mind," I chuckle, and wave back at Oscar. "Your honeyboo's waiting for you outside."

"Shut up," she laughs, shaking her head. We both know it'll be harder for her to leave if we linger, so she leaves with a little smile. I watch as she climbs into the car and kisses Oscar's cheek. I smile back when she waves at me, and before I know it, they've left in a cloud of dust.

I flip the sign on the front of the door so it says 'open' on the outside. Nobody else - aka Landon who almost always works shifts the same time as me - but Paul is present, and he's in the back, taking a phone call.

It's going to be so weird without Aisha's perky smile around here.