The worst part of the Midwest—and there’s something new to add to the list every day—is that even after a record-setting snowstorm, we still have school. Our snow plows are too good. We, as a township, are too goddamn prepared.

When I arrive at school, I am sleep-deprived, moody, and silent. Coach Ben drives the two of us together, and though he tries to make small talk, nobody engages, leaving him to monologue about weather patterns and cold fronts and the accuracy of NOA.

“It’s all so fascinating,” I say, trying to get him to shut up. It doesn’t work.

In the halls, Conner and I immediately disperse. These textbook swaps are going to be awkward. I just don’t understand—why is Conner acting this way? I can understand being confused, but what I won’t accept is being led on by someone who still doesn’t know what they want. I’m tired of feeling like an experiment. I have been nothing but gracious and kind—well, maybe not always kind—and it feels like a betrayal to have him do something like this.

But, deep, deep down, I understand it’s my fault. I should never have let my emotions get away from me, idiot that I am. It was never going to work out the way I wanted.

I’m about to head to my locker, when a too-peppy Angelica cuts me off. She’s in a pink snow parka and wearing enormous, fluffy ear muffs.

“Hi,” she says. “Insane weather. Who cares about that though? Did you talk to Conner about me?”

I shut my eyes, a weary, deep headache pounding away in my skull.

I open my eyes.

“You know what, Angelica, I did talk to Conner,” I say. “I’ve spent all of this week telling him how cool you are, how pretty you are, how perceptive you are, and how amazing it would be if the two of you got together. The ultimate power couple! I told him all of this, but, damn, he just wouldn’t listen to me. Conner isn’t looking for a relationship right now, and, no offense, I don’t think you’re his type.”

Angelica watches me, her jaw open. I get ready for the inevitable outburst.

Instead, she just lets out a sigh and shrugs.

“Ugh. Sucks. I’m probably too intimidating for him. Oh, well.”

“I’m really sorry,” I say.

“Whatever. He’ll just have to miss out. It’s not like I don’t have a whole list of men to work through. Maybe it’s time to throw Stephen a bone.” She adjusts her ear muffs, then looks back at me. "But, you know what, Dean? I really want to thank you for doing this for me. Even though we hardly know each other, and I would never actually hang out with you, and all that stuff.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve just always made me feel so comfortable around you.”

“I have that kind of energy, for sure. You heard about the party I’m throwing?”

My ears perk up. Every year, Angelica throws the party to end all other parties. Full drunken antics with all the popular kids. There are always shocking make-outs, break-ups, and breakdowns.

“I’m generally aware,” I say.

“It’s this weekend,” Angelica says, “and, as a reward for helping me, I’m officially extending you an invite.”

The surprise I feel actually shows on my face.

“I told you,” Angelica says. “You earned it!”

She walks away, leaving me grappling with this unexpected invitation.

All my high school career, I’ve abhorred the popular crowd. So noisy, shallow, obnoxious. But now, the prospect of actually hanging out with them, at the function of the school year…

“What the fuck was that about?”

I turn and see an angry Bridget storming toward me.

“Bridget,” I stutter, trying to come up with some reason I would be talking to her personal nemesis. I can’t tell her the truth, not without involving Conner.

“Since when are you buddy-buddy with Angelica? What were the two of you talking about?”

“Nothing!” I say, crossing my heart. “I just, uh, ran into her, and she told me off in her usual bitchy way.”

“Not what it looked like from where I stood,” Bridget says. “Seriously—what is going on with you? You’ve been so evasive lately.”

“Nothing’s going on,” I lie.

“First this weird meeting with Conner—”

“That was for the bio project—”

“If you say so,” Bridget says. “Just please remember that Angelica ruined my life. “

“Of course I remember,” I say.

Bridget eyes me, shakes her head. “You are not yourself lately,” she says, then walks off.

As soon as she’s gone, the guilt seeps into me. Poison in my lungs. Every day, I feel like I am digging a deeper and deeper hole with these lies. It’s hard to even figure out anymore why I’m doing it.

But I have to protect myself. My mom. Conner. At this point, it’s all too complicated to unravel.

Which doesn’t make me feel any less shitty.

#

I get home later, after I finish up some more costume designs. I’m beginning to lay out the materials—I need to get supplies soon to start the actual manufacturing. No rest for me.

I’m surprised to see that Coach Ben and Conner are at my house when I get back. When my mom sees me, she calls out to them.

“He’s here!” she says, then turns to me. “Can we all meet in the living room?”

I have a crazy, almost precog sense that something terrible is about to happen. “What’s wrong?” I say.

“Living room.”

I sit down on the couch, next to Conner. He doesn’t look at me once, so I follow suit. There is a grave expression on his face. It seems like one breath from me could knock him out. Fine, then. I fold my hands over my lap and straighten my back. No mixed signals here.

Coach Ben is wringing his hands, his forehead lined with worry.

“Ben,” my mom says. “You want to tell him the news?”

“House got flooded,” he says. “Conner and I got back to the place and saw that the cold burst a pipe in the basement wide open. It happened last night. Too much damage now, too much rot. The place is ruined, or needs some serious fixing.”

“Oh my god,” I say. “What are you guys going to do? Get a hotel or something?”

“No hotel,” my mom says. “You know, sweetie, Ben and I have been together for a while, and this flooding seems to be a sign. An awful, awful sign, but still.”

“What are you saying?” I say. Next to me, Conner squirms.

“Conner and I are moving in,” Ben says. “Meet your new roommates.”

No sixth sense could have prepared me for this, or the feeling of my stomach dropping fifty flights.

Conner and I meet each other’s eyes, and I suddenly realize that if everything was “complicated” before, there is no adequate word to describe what’s going to happen next.