Sometimes It Happens

And Hannah?" he says. "Don't beat yourself up too much. You know, about the whole Noah thing. Sometimes it happens.

[at the hospital]
"What do you think's taking them so long?"[...]
"Well," I say "They obviously don't think it's a big deal or they would have carted you right back here."
"Or," Lacey says, "they probably know I'm going to die and so they're leaving me out here because they need to help the people who actually have a chance."
"Lacey," I say. "Did you see them bringing in the guys who was bleeding profusely from the head?"
"Yes," she says.
"If that guy has a chance, then you definitely do.

Brooke Wilkins?" I ask [...]
"She's this really annoying girl from Cali who, like, constantly talks about all the girls she's hooked up with. It's just so freshman year, you know?"
"What is?"
"Bragging about how you've hooked up with girls."
"We never did that."
"No, but everyone else did. Remember Sonya Fullmer?"
"Oh, right," I say. "She was always kissing girls to get guys interested in her."
"I remember her," Noah says, grinning.
"Figures," Ava says.

But when I look at him, his face is surprised, like it should be obvious. "Now," he says, "we figure it out together.

Does he know that I called him three times and hung up right after we broke up? (I totally *67'd my number to block it, but with technology these days, you never know when someone's going to invent a way to get around that. Nothing's private anymore, you know?)

Everyone know that you should never wreck your life for a boy, and especially not one that you meet while you're in high school. Seriously, everyone knows it. You never hear someone say, "Oh, wow, you're seventeen and you really like him? That's great, you should do whatever it takes to get him, even if it means wrecking your whole like.

Everything I have is dirty, but I'm sure I can figure something. Maybe I can make a dress out of a garbage bag. Lady Gaga wore that meat dress to the VMA's, so I should be able to dress in a garbage bag. I'll get black ones, to symbolize my current state of mind. Like performance art of something.

I am at the hospital waiting for my friend with Noah. Which is a very couple-like thing to do. All you have to do is watch any teen drama - anytime one of the characters is close to death and/or in a coma, the boyfriend/girlfriend teams always end up at the hospital together.
We are eating together. (Another coupley thing to do.)
We are talking about my best friend, his girlfriend, and their secret problems that she somehow neglected to tell me. Which means that Noah is the one telling me secrets that even my best friend won't.
I like it. All of it. Being here, eating food, telling secrets, everything

I couldn't tell you how I felt before talking to Ava, and I felt like I couldn't talk to Ava until she got back. But then last night, there you where, and you looked so beautiful, and I couldn't stop myself anymore. But I shouldn't have done it, I should have stopped it, I should have put you first. I was trying to do the right thing, but all I did was fuck everything up. With you, with Ava, with your friendship...

I look around for someplace to sit, but of course there's nowhere. It's the bathroom in the math wing, not the bathroom in Blair Waldorf's house.

I put my own feelings before what was right for you, for us. And I shouldn't have done that. Seriously, I fucked it all up.

I traded being heartbroken over one guys for being completely heartbroken over another.

I traded being heartbroken over one guys for being completely heartbroken over another. And I didn't even get to have any fun in between. No relationship, no sex, not even a good makeout session.

It's definitely broken," my mom says [...]
"Maybe it's unplugged or something," [...]
"Honey, it's broken," my mom says. She sounds like she's trying to break it to me gently. I can't really blame her. The other day she told me there was no more vanilla ice cream, and I burst into tears right in the middle of the kitchen. She obviously knows I'm fragile.

it's wrecked, our relationship is smashed, and we don't have to pretend anymore.

I wanted to say I'm sorry. It doesn't make it right, it just... makes it what it is."
The bell rings then, and I turn around in my seat, thinking I agree with her, that it is just what it is. And not just the situation with Sebastian. But still wish I knew how I could make it right. How I could make everything right.

Oh, geez." Noah feigns that I've shot an arrow into his cchcest and falls on the ground. "You''re killing mme, Hannah, you''re killllllinnngg mmmmee.

One large soy latte." [...]
"You mean a Venti," [...]
"What?" I ask
"A Venti," he says. " that's what we call larger here. You know that Hannah."
"Well, whatever," I say, my bad mood deepening. "Whatever you call them, that's what I want." They should just call them larger. How stupid.

People make mistakes.

Replace the old memory with a potentially crappier new one? No thank you.

Something passes between us that I'm pretty sure both of us can feel, even though neither one of us says anything. It's not even any kind of attraction, even though I've been feeling that on and off all night. This is something different.
We have a secret now. A secret from Ava.

Sometimes people do things that are complicated. For complicated reasons.

So what now?"
[...]
"Now," he says. "We figure it out together.

So what now?" I ask when I finally pull away. I bury my head in his shoulder, not sure I want to know the answer.
But when I look at him, his face is surprised, like it should be obvious. "Now," he says. "We figure it out together.

So you were checking up on me?" I aks
"No," Noah says. He puts a faux-shocked look on his face, then turns back to his magazine, pretending to be engrossed. I take the magazine our of his hand and toss it back onto the table.
"That's good," I say, "That you weren't checking up on me. Because I'm totally fine."
"I know." He shrugs.
"And I don't need to be checked up on."
"Definitely not."
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"Perfectly."
"So we agree."
"Yup."
"So then where are you clothes?"
"What?"
"Your clothes," I say. "Where are your clothes? You came to the Laundromat so you must have some clothes." I fold my arms across my chest and wait,
"Oh, my clothes," he says, giving me an easy grin. "I didn't come here to do laundry."
"Oh, really?" I say. "The what were you here to do?"
"I was here," he says, rolling his eyes like it should be obvious, "so I could go across the street to Cooley's and check my schedule for the week."
"And you just happened to see me coming into the Laundromat?"
"Exactly,

The firs day of high school is bullshit anyways. It's supposed to be about new beginnings, but really all it does is wreck your life. And set you up for failure. And make you realize everything is completely and totally fucked.

The first day of school is bullshit

The secret to a great ice cream, is crunch coat."[...]
I look at him, aghast. "Crunch coat? Oh, Noah darling, you are so wrong. Everyone knows you ruin ice cream by putting crunch coat on it,"
"Crunch coat," Noah says, "is delicious. And besides, I'm supposed to be taking advice from you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You listen to Lady Gaga.

You don;t believe me?" He sound wounded, like the thought of me not believing him makes him incredibly sad.
"No."
"Then come with me," he says. He unfolds his long legs and stands up. "To Cooley's. You'll see they just posted the schedule. If I'm lying, I'll buy you a chocolate shake."
"And If you're not?"
"Then I'll still buy you a chocolate shake." He grins at me.

You don't know what you're talking about," he says. "And you shouldn't talk about things you know nothing about.