There's this store a couple doors down from Ophelia's called Torn Pages. It's a used bookstore with some cheap—but quality—literature. It supplies some of the best books from both famous and utterly unknown authors. I usually went over there every Thursday to check out the new books they displayed each week.

         It was two weeks after Marisol and Warren's run-in at Ophelia's and ever since, she'd been acting pretty down in the dumps instead of her usual cheery ditziness.

         I picked up a book full of Shakespeare's best plays. When I was fifteen, I was obsessed with Shakespeare. I would've killed for a book full of his plays. I had to—for old time's sake—buy that book. I bought a few others and made my way to the cafe next door, called Serenity.

         Serenity was the stereotypical type of cafe you'd expect to see in Europe, not America. It was gorgeous, played soft classical music in the background, had comfortable sofas, and perfect reading light. I'd been in Boston for a little over four weeks, and it quickly became part of my routine to go to Torn Pages, pick up a couple of books, and sit in Serenity, reading my purchases on a red couch in the corner of the cafe for a couple of hours while sipping on a vanilla latte.

         As soon as I entered Serenity, I bought a latte, sat down on the soft, red couch that I frequented, and pulled out my book of Shakespeare. I hadn't been reading for ten minutes when someone sat next to me. There were four other completely empty couches in the cafe, so why did they have to choose the one that I was already occupying?

         I turned to face them, prepared to politely ask them to move, when I was greeted with a wide, adorable grin.

         "Tatum?" I said, slightly shutting my Shakespeare.

         "Hey, Kayleigh," he replied. His hands were placed on top of the front cover of a book sitting on his lap, so I couldn't see what he was reading. "Long time no see."

         "Yeah," I said. I wasn't really sure what to say. Honestly, I was pretty glad to see him. We hadn't crossed paths in weeks, but I didn't want to bring that up. That would make me look obsessed with him for noticing. And I was anything but obsessive.

         "Don't you seem enthusiastic to see me." He moved his hands, revealing the front cover of the book. The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare. Of course. "When I walked in and saw you, I was pretty thrilled."

         I laughed. He couldn't have meant that, could he?

         "Romeo and Juliet," I read off of his cover.

         He quickly covered the front of it again and his cheeks turned a bright red. "Shut up. I like it."

         "I'm not making fun of you," I said. I flashed him the front cover of my book. "Romeo and Juliet is amazing. I've read it a few hundred times."

         "Really."

         I nodded and marked my page with a dog-ear in the corner. "I don't like discussing that play with others. People always perceive it as a love story, when it's not supposed to be. It's meant to be upsetting and intense."

         Tatum's jaw dropped as if I had just read his mind. "Exactly! It makes me so mad. It's called a tragedy for a reason, people!"

         I smiled at him and looked back down at my book. Most guys wouldn't care about Shakespeare at all, let alone know that Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy and not a romance. This kid certainly was special.

         "So, what other Shakespeare have you read?" I asked him.

         He shook his head. "Not much, honestly. I don't read much Shakespeare, but I read quite a bit of classic literature. I usually come on Saturdays to have a quiet place to read, but I decided to switch my schedule up a bit today. My dorm is more like a zoo than a dormitory."

         "I can imagine. With people like Lysander Kellams and Chance Felderson, the dorm has to be absolutely wild."

         "You know Chance Felderson?" he asked me, although his attention seemed to be focused squarely on the cover of his book.

         "Yeah."

         "He won't stop talking about you."

         I glanced over at Tatum. He was looking right at me now. "Really."

         Tatum nodded and his gaze shifted back down onto his lap. His expression was somber and a bit annoyed. "Yeah. And, I know this isn't any of my business, but I saw you leave with him at Celia's party, and I just wanted you to know that if you guys did anything, he was probably too drunk to remember so I doubt he'll tell anyone."

         I tried to suppress a laugh, but was unsuccessful. A loud chuckle came out. I couldn't tell which was funnier: the fact that Tatum thought I'd do anything with Chance, or the fact that he was trying to get involved in something that had absolutely nothing to do with him. They probably were on the same level of funny.

         "I would never," I giggled, my hand covering my mouth. "He had to do me a favor."

         "A favor."

         "Yes. I probably shouldn't talk about it, because it could get us into a lot of trouble, but he pretty much sacrificed himself in exchange for Lindsay and I to sneak back into our dorm."

         Tatum smirked. "Did you tell him that you were his girlfriend?"

         My wide smile told him the truth.

         "Oh, my god!" He laughed hysterically. "He told us that he dreamed that he was dating you. He must've not actually dreamt it. It probably seemed like one because he couldn't remember it completely."

         I nodded my head while trying not to laugh again. "Okay, I told you a secret. You tell me one."

         "Hey, when did we come up with this deal?"

         I shrugged and placed my book to the side. "I don't know. But you still have a story to tell me about dishonesty."

         Instantly, Tatum's face darkened. He looked away from me and bit his bottom lip. "Just, don't be dishonest, Kayleigh. It can get you in a lot more trouble than you would ever know."

         I waited a few seconds for him to continue, but he didn't. Instead, he quietly told me bye and left, his tragic book tucked under his arm as he walked out.

         That was weird, I thought to myself, cracking open my own book. Maybe he still wasn't ready to talk about it, although it had been two weeks since he alluded to it on the hill by Pentry Academy. Everyone dealt with things at their own rate, and he obviously wasn't ready to tell me. I had to be okay with it.

         Something was going on with Lindsay.

         Lately, she seemed pissed-off at everything. At first, all of us thought it had to do with Ian, but it was obvious they were better than ever by the way she would talk about hanging out with him and going on another cute date. They went on cute dates all the time.

         I grabbed Lindsay's arm as she walked down the hallway toward her dorm room. "Lindsay, can I talk to you?"

         A look of surprise appeared on her face, as she was obviously caught off guard. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

         We went into my dorm room, where I sat at my desk and she sat on my made-up bed. Marisol was currently nowhere to be found. Lately, she had been worried that she was falling for Warren again. Maybe she was somewhere meeting with him. I certainly hoped not, but knowing her, that was probably the case. She was so stubborn.

         "Tell me the truth," I said to Lindsay, leaning back in my desk chair. "Are you alright?"

         Lindsay looked at the grungy carpet on the floor of the dorm and blinked a couple of times. "Honestly, I'm worried."

         "About?"

         "Carlisle, Marisol, and Aspen."

         "Why?"

         She looked back up at me and pulled a white throw blanket onto her lap. "They're always doing dangerous stuff. It's really starting to scare me, Kayleigh. Every time I'm not with them, I'm constantly worrying about what they're doing and where they're at." She tugged at the frayed hem of the blanket nervously. I understood what she meant. At Celia's party, the girls had gone absolutely wild. It wasn't a pretty sight to witness. "I know I shouldn't. It's not like I'm their mom or anything, but sometimes I worry that they are incapable of looking out for themselves. When we all go to separate colleges, I don't know what I'll do."

         "Have you talked to them about this?" I asked her, slightly spinning my desk chair around.

         "No, but I should. I've been trying to decide how I need to bring it up to them without hurting their feelings, but right now, I've got nothing."

         "A confrontation like this isn't something you can just rehearse," I told her. Lindsay's aqua eyes were focused on me, listening intently. "You care about them, so it should come from the heart. Just talk to them about it. If their feelings get hurt, maybe it's for the best so they can really see how it's impacting you."

         Lindsay shrugged and glanced back down at the blanket, avoiding eye contact with me. I felt really bad for her, because I could tell how much she was hurting. She was one of those people whose mood was contagious. When she was happy, usually everyone else was too. Now, she just seemed upset. That made the whole group agitated.

         "Maybe," she said quietly, almost as soft as a whisper. Her eyes carefully traced the room, analyzing everything before looking back up at me. "Would you help me?"

         "With the group?"

         She nodded. "We could have a little meeting or something before dinner. I could tell them how I feel about it." She fell into silence for a moment. "What if they don't care?"

         "I'm sure they will," I comforted her. "They want you to be happy."

         Lindsay got up from the bed and wrapped her arms around me, enveloping me into a tight hug. "Thank you so much, Kayleigh." She let go and slowly padded down the hallway back to her room.

         It felt really good to help her. In Bunting, I wasn't very popular, so I didn't have many friends. None of them would allow themselves to open up to me and be vulnerable, like Lindsay had just done.

         Lindsay's anger about the girls' partying made me realize something about myself. Was that the type of adventure I wanted to have? Was I attracted to that lifestyle?

         Honestly, no. Yeah, it looked fun. Television shows, movies, and magazines glamorized partying and living like you could die any day, which was just an excuse to party some more.

         I didn't want to drink alcohol until I got drunk and wake up the next morning not remembering what happened and depending on someone else to get me home safe. I didn't want to smoke and get high, letting a substance control me and cloud my perception of reality. I didn't want to upset my friends and make them disappointed in me. Maybe that sort of lifestyle seemed appealing at first, but it could cause a lot more harm than good, and that wasn't something that I was willing to risk.

         But, still, I didn't want to be the boring person I had been in Bunting. That version of me was the type of person who constantly stayed in her comfort zone, uptight and refusing adventure. Although that had been all I'd ever known, that wasn't appealing, either. I wanted, more than anything, to spread my wings and not feel like I was wasting my teenage years away. I didn't have to drink, smoke, mess around with guys, and party to make those years count. I just had to enjoy myself, which I was doing so far. I needed to find a middle ground.

         It was almost half after five. Dinner was in a half hour.

         Marisol came back to the dorms about an hour ago. She explained to me that she, indeed, went to go see Warren. This didn't surprise me in the least.

         She told me that he's apologized for everything he's done and begged her for another chance. And, because she's almost entirely incapable of saying no when she feels bad, Marisol took him back. I didn't approve of this, but it wasn't my decision. It was Marisol's.

         Carlisle, Lindsay, Marisol, Aspen, and I were in Carlisle and Lindsay's dorm. It was full of colors, from lime-greens and purples on Carlisle's side to the pastel pinks and blues on Lindsay's. Half of the room was filled with in-your-face colors, while the other felt like you were in a tub of cotton candy.

         Lindsay slightly paced around the room, nervous about this intervention. If I were in her place, I probably would be, too.

         "Why were we all called in here?" Aspen asked, running her fingers through the entirety of her waist-length blonde mane.

         Carlisle, Aspen, and Marisol were sitting on Carlisle's bed. I sat on Lindsay's, and Lindsay was still pacing, seeming oblivious to Aspen's question.

         "Lindsay needs to talk to you guys," I answered her. Aspen didn't seem fulfilled with that answer.

         Lindsay sat down beside me and took a deep breath. "You guys broke your promise."

         "It's been a month," Carlisle said with a laugh. "This was a month ago, Lindsay."

         "It's been bothering me ever since. When we all parted last year, you guys promised me you would improve on this. And what did I see? Marisol was drunk out of her mind, Carlisle was stoned, and Aspen was both."

         Aspen blushed and pursed her lips together. "We've improved a lot, Lindsay."
          Lindsay narrowed her eyes at Aspen. "Really. Tell me how."

         "I stopped smoking," Marisol piped up, grinning, "and now I don't get those weird headaches anymore."

         "I quit getting drunk and lost five pounds because of it," Carlisle added, placing her hands on her hips.

         We all turned to face Aspen, who was trying to come up with something that she improved upon.

         "I don't sleep with that many guys anymore," she offered, her statement sounding more like a question.

         Lindsay sighed and covered her face with her silver-ring-adorned hands.

         "In Aspen's defense," Marisol started, patting Aspen on the back, "that's a huge accomplishment."

         "You guys honestly don't understand," Lindsay said, still not making eye contact with any of them. "I worry about you all constantly. I'm worried that one day you guys will do something and I won't be there to stop you from drinking something drugged or pick you up when you're completely incapable of driving. I feel like your mom or babysitter half the time, and that isn't healthy in a friendship."
         Aspen, Marisol, and Carlisle sat there in silence, their faces stunned. They exchanged glances and Carlisle opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when she couldn't think of anything to say.

         "I'm sorry, Lindsay," Marisol apologized, getting up from Carlisle's bed and sitting on the other side of Lindsay. "I don't want you to feel like that."

         "I don't either," Aspen said, joining the two of them.

         The only one left was Carlisle, sitting alone on her own bed. All of us watched her, waiting to see if she'd surrender her party lifestyle that she was so accustomed to and join her friends in a healthier pursuit.

         Finally, slowly, she got up from her bed and sat the rest of them, wrapping the three of them into a large hug. They stayed that way for a good minute, until Marisol said, "Guys, it's dinnertime."

         Marisol, Aspen, and Lindsay rushed down to the dinning hall, leaving only Carlisle and I left in the room. I got up to follow them, but Carlisle grabbed my arm and pulled me back down.

         "Can we talk, Kayleigh?" she asked me. To be completely honest, I was pretty surprised that she actually knew my name.

         "Sure," I replied, my voice sounding like a little squeak. I was positive that I seemed nervous, probably because I was. What did she need to talk to me about? Did she think this intervention was my idea? It was, but I had almost nothing to do with the actual intervention.

         "We're friends, right?"

         My eyes shifted around the room. Great question. What was I supposed to say to this? Did Carlisle count me as a friend?

         "Uh, sure, I guess."

         "And friends are honest with each other, right?" Carlisle narrowed her eyes at me and raised an eyebrow.

         "Yeah."

         "So," she said, taking Lindsay's ladybug stuffed animal from the corner of the bed and placing it on her lap, "I think Chance kind of likes you. I know you told me before that you didn't like him, but I want to make sure nothings changed. Please tell me if you're interested in him. We can work something out."

         That was it? Of course I still wasn't interested in that guy. He was absolutely disgusting. But, if he was Carlisle's type, she could go ahead.

         "I told you before, I'm not interested in him at all."

         "Great!" She clapped her hands together and smiled, revealing her tiny teeth, which were slightly stained from smoking cigarettes. "Next time you see him, would you please tell him that? And, maybe, you know, hint that he should ask me out, or something like that. No pressure."

         For such a popular, admired girl, Carlisle seemed to be quite self-conscious. It was obvious to me that she was just trying to make sure that she didn't have any competition. If she even viewed me as competition.

         "I'll tell him," I said. "You guys would be cute."

         She glanced down at her white Keds and tapped the toes of her shoes on the floor. "Be honest. Do you think Chance would like me?"

         I looked over at her. She refused to make eye contact with me, in fear that I'd be able to detect her insecurity. "Of course," I said to her. "You're pretty, and nice, and almost all of the guys at Pentry are in love with you. Why wouldn't he be?"
   She shot me a smile that looked genuine, but at the same time, seemed like she was trying to brag. "Thanks, doll," she said before getting up from Lindsay's bed and making her way down the hall, leaving me alone in her own dorm room.

         The door shut beside her, clicking to signal that it was locked. I stood up to leave when something sitting on Carlisle's bed caught my eye. Her cell phone.

         For some reason, I was intensely drawn to it. Carlisle always had her cell phone with her at all times, so it baffled me that it was sitting there, in front of me. Unoccupied.

         I pressed the home screen button and the screen lit up. A picture of Carlisle, Lindsay, Marisol, Aspen, Lysander, Ivy, Warren, Tatum, Ian, and Chance in front of a huge fountain was set as her lock screen wallpaper. I recognized the picture. It was the same picture that Lindsay had as her lock screen wallpaper.

         With the lightest touch possible, I slid the screen to unlock it, only to reveal that her phone was locked with a passcode. I typed in "Chance", knowing that it probably wouldn't work. Imagine my surprise when it did.

         The phone unlocked to her text messages. The open conversation was between her and Tatum. Maybe I was meant to see this after all.

         I couldn't help myself, so I scrolled up to read through them. She had acted like she didn't want me