Colby

"The way everybody's been staring makes me think I should've come as Mariah Carey's maternity photos," Wynn jokes, ignoring all of the prodding eyes. People have been shamelessly gossiping all week, and she's managed to keep it together through all of it.

Nearly our entire student body turns out for this night every year. A local farm bravely opens its gates, allowing us depraved delinquents to flood their property for the numerous activities they provide throughout the month of October leading up to Halloween.

"I may be your rock right now Wynn, but that's where I draw the line," I say, shuddering at the image. She chuckles as we approach the cider stand.

Wyatt has taken off on a covert mission to secure us some pumpkin donuts with Kanye and Kim, so we order a third cider for when he returns. The aromas of cinnamon and apple twist through the brisk night sky, and the copper mug I'm holding warms my palms as the tendrils of steam dance in the cool breeze.

The Harvest Festival is almost as big of a deal for North High as Prom or Homecoming. The night consists of apple picking, hayrides, a few different carnival games and, of course, dancing. A majority of the participants go all out with their costumes, and I absolutely love it. At no other time could I ever get Wyatt out in public dressed as Edward Cullen.

I still can't believe he did that for me. And, while I adore him for all the effort he put into his get-up, I have to say that Mari's costume wins hands down. The champagne glass attached to her backside sealed the deal, once again affirming that this is by far my favorite event of the year.

Well, usually, that is. This year, everywhere we walk, whispers follow. As strong as Wynn has been, I'm not sure how long she'll last. She's kept to herself throughout the week, not acknowledging comments or accusations, but I can tell she's reaching her tipping point.

"I wasn't gonna bring it up," I hesitate. "But when are you planning to tell Cole?" She casts a dark look at me, and I throw my hands up in surrender. Hot apple cider sputters onto my hand from the jostling, scalding my hand.

"I'm sorry, B," she apologizes, wincing. "I've been trying to think of the right way to tell him. Everything just... escalated."

I nod sympathetically, hating the fact that she didn't have the chance to tell him in her own time before all of our lives erupted.

"I do know two people I'm gonna have a conversation with tonight though," she continues, bitterly, and I follow her gaze.

I spot a pair of platinum heads bobbing through the mob of sweating, grinding bodies, donning costumes varying from a risqué Queen of Hearts, to a monk I spy at the far perimeter of the field. The masterminds under Wynn's scrutiny are in the old pole barn, dancing their backstabbing hearts away. The instant her eyes lock onto them, she's off like a missile.

I stumble after her, mid-cider sip.

"Oh my gosh, hey guys!" Wynn hollers over the music. Lana and Morgan turn their attention to Wynona, and their smiles drop almost instantaneously. "I heard y'all have some juicy gossip, and I'm just dyin' to eat it all up."

A wicked smile spreads over Lana's face. "You sure you haven't heard already?" she asks innocently, taking a swig of her drink. It smells as potent as rubbing alcohol, explaining her glazed eyes. She slicks her tongue across her lips before continuing, her eyes brightening with enthusiasm. "Well, I've always known you're a whore, but word has it that you got yourself knocked up."

Wynn takes a step away from her, eyebrows raised in shock at the blatant callousness of her words. The hurt in her features is difficult to miss.

"Lan, that was way too far," I intercede, but Lana's far from finished.

"You should be the last person to defend her," she continues pointedly. Her eyes narrow as she jabs a skinny finger into my sternum. "You're pathetic. She borrowed your boyfriend for a quick thrill, got away with it, and you're still with Wyatt even after they both betrayed you. Maybe they'll let you be the kid's Godmother." She cackles, having finished with her list of assumed offenses.

I scrape my jaw off the floor, hoping I don't look as stunned as I feel from her verbal beat down. All week I've known people had been saying these things, but hearing it stings, even though they're missing some key points.

"Maybe we should go, Lana," Morgan urges. "You're drunk, and I don't think now's the time to be having this conversation." She's stiff and uncomfortable, but I appreciate her attempt to mediate this conflict. While she has been a co-affiliate in the business of spreading the gossip, at least she's trying to maintain some level of civility. Morgan tries leading her away, but Lana tugs herself free.

"Nah," she hisses. "I think I'll stay here." She turns her back to us, beginning to sway in rhythm with the music once again. Morgan flashes us an apologetic glance, but it's too little, too late in my book.

We've caused a bit of a scene, and I feel several sets of curious eyes searing through us. Among the gawking onlookers stands Cole. He cocks his head to the side when our gazes collide and pushes his way past a few classmates to reach us.

"I'm surprised you two can stand the sight of each other," he scoffs, running a hand casually through his messy hair. I expected a confrontation with Lana, but not with Cole. He's always been a bit arrogant, but never malicious. He appraises Wynona's appearance, and his eyes soften briefly before hardening again.

He's hurt.

"You know, really I just feel sorry for both of you," he continues solemnly. "Lana got it right when she called you pathetic, but she should've included you both in that statement."

Wynn's body stiffens, and she's about to speak when Wyatt finally returns. He hands me the small bag he collected for us and turns to face Cole.

"I suggest you take this opportunity to walk away," he growls.

Cole has the gall to smirk, and if looks could kill, Wyatt's would've killed him dead for sure.

I take in the mass of curious classmates, eagerly awaiting more drama. Wyatt is, admittedly, a little challenging to take seriously with the sparkles on his face glistening under the dim lighting, but Cole should know better than to think Wyatt won't reconstruct his pretty face.

"Y'all should be embarrassed," Wyatt shouts, addressing every person within earshot. "You don't spare a second thought to make sure you've got your facts straight before you pass the gossip on to the next person." He laughs humorlessly, shaking his head. "The worst part is that you're not even considering the toll it's taking on the person you've turned into such a hot topic. She is human, you know."

Wynn places her hand on Wyatt's arm, and he watches her carefully, both of us unsure of what she's planning to do. She's never been passive, and it looks like she may be about to dive into this mess head first.

"You know," she begins loudly, hushing all the whispers. "He's right about that. Y'all can gossip to your heart's content, but it'd be nice if you at least got the daddy right while you were busy theorizing about my personal affairs."

Wynona turns to face Cole, and he immediately begins shaking his head in disbelief. Part of me could almost feel sorry for him, knowing that only moments ago he believed Wynn and Wyatt had been together, when he'd had hopes of having her for himself.

She speaks in a low tone that only he can hear, and his face drains of color. He swallows hard, shaking his head once more. Wynn reaches for his hand, but he yanks it away. My heart breaks for her as I watch their interaction, seeing her deflate with his rejection.

"I'm not gonna be your scapegoat Wynn, you made your choice," he spits, throwing his hands up in dismissal and walking away.

"Aw, hell no," Wyatt grunts, stalking angrily after him. Cole's a few strides ahead of him, but Wyatt picks up his pace in his pursuit. As he passes the doorway to the pole barn, he grabs a forgotten rotten apple from behind the crates of freshly picked fruit.

Wyatt launches the rotten apple with force in Cole's direction, hammering him squarely in the back of the skull. Mealy, rancid juices burst upon impact, splattering his hair as he clasps his hand to the back of his head, rubbing it furiously.

Score one for team Edward.