The Time We Lost (Rosehill Hearts #2)

Prologue

Diana’s room has always smelled like bubblegum.

I’m lying on my stomach on her pink bedspread, flipping through one of those glossy teen magazines, pretending to care what’s inside. The pages stick to my fingers from the heat, so I flip onto my back and fan myself with it. A much better use, in my opinion.

Diana’s closet door is open, as she rummages through hundreds of hanging clothes. She pulls a blue skirt up to her hips, turning this way and that in front of the mirror. “Do you think this one makes me look too young?”

“You are young.”

She lets out an annoyed little sound that makes me smile. “You know what I mean. I want to look grown-up. This is High School, Lily.”

I roll over, pushing myself up onto my elbows. “You’ll be the prettiest one there no matter what you wear.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” I insist. “You could wear a paper bag, and it’d still be true.”

She turns back to face the racks of clothes with pink cheeks. “You should borrow something, I think I have a pink one somewhere. We can match!”

I run my fingers over the fabric of her comforter. It’s the kind of nice that feels like I shouldn’t be touching it with my hands, the same ones that were soiled along with the rest of my family’s name. It didn’t use to feel that way.

“I can’t wear your clothes.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re yours.”

She tosses the pink skirt at me anyway, ignoring my protest. “I have plenty. This one will go much better with your hair.”

I roll my eyes, but I still pull it over my shorts, just to make her happy. When I join her at the mirror, she rests her chin on my shoulder in that intimate way she never seems to shy away from and looks at my reflection. “See? It’s a perfect fit.”

That’s generous. I tug at the hem, the expensive fabric, probably costs more than anything I own, while her breath leaves goosebumps crawling up my neck.

Diana, oblivious, pulls away. “Tomorrow’s going to be so different! I hope I get math with Mrs. Clarke, my brother says she’s the best. And at least one class with Scott, of course.”

That name makes me tune back in from wherever my brain had gone. “Scott?”

She looks away, picking at an invisible thread on her tank. “You know, Scott. From church.”

“Oh.” My face falls. “Why would you want a class with him?”

She shrugs, suddenly very focused on a pair of shoes. “He’s cute.”

Cute.

I don’t understand what she means by that.

Cute is the way she looks when she falls asleep on my shoulder and her pout when she wakes up with her hair stuck to her cheek. Cute is the way she snorts when she laughs.

Boys don’t have anything to do with cute.

Before I can respond, there’s a knock at the door.

Diana’s mother opens it with a sharp expression. Her eyes flick over me, lingering at the skirt I’m wearing, and they narrow slightly in disapproval, making me feel smaller than I already do.

“Lillian,” she says, too much meaning behind the way she says it for it to be polite. “It’s getting late. Surely your mother will be expecting you.”

I don’t say I doubt she even knows I’m gone.

Diana pouts. “Mooom, can’t she stay another half hour? Please?”

Her mother’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s time to let her get home, dear. You need your beauty sleep for tomorrow, it’s a big day.” She doesn’t wait for an answer before turning on her heel. Her word is final. Not to be argued.

Diana sighs and flops down on the bed, her signature pout still firmly in place. “She’s so… ugh!” I slide the skirt off carefully and hand it to her, but she tosses it to the side like it’s worthless, getting up to pull me into a hug too tight and too long to be normal.

We don’t talk about where I’m going after this. About how far I’ll have to walk home in the dark. But I know it weighs on her mind just as much as mine. I used to only have to go across the street, back when things were simple. When my father hadn’t left us with nothing.

It’s okay, though.

Maybe my feet will be hurt by the time I stroll into the ‘Meadows Trailer Park’.

Maybe I’m preparing myself for a night in my too hot room with gross sounds from my mother’s man of the night drifting through the thin walls.

But I don’t despair.

I have Diana.

And that’s everything.

High school doesn’t feel any different than junior high. Everyone’s making a big deal about it, wearing their best clothes, trying way too hard. I can’t bring myself to care. Just another day in Hell.

I don’t share any classes with Diana, but I expect her to find me between classes or during lunch like she always does, but today, she doesn’t.

I spot her once, across the hall, surrounded by a group of girls I don’t recognize.

All pretty sure, but in a regular way. Nothing like Diana.

She’s laughing at something one of them says when I lift a hand to wave.

That’s when something strange happens. She doesn’t wave back. Doesn’t even acknowledge me. I tell myself she didn’t see me. It’s loud and crowded, people are moving everywhere. Everything is fine. Diana would never ignore me.

I catch up to her outside after school, finding her with a smaller group of the same girls from the hallway, standing in a little circle as they share a quiet conversation. “Diana!” I call, weaving through the crowd toward her.

She looks so pretty today, just like I thought she would. Never seen anybody prettier. Her golden hair shines in the sunlight, and the blue skirt matches her eyes perfectly. “There you are,” I start, with a smile, putting a hand on her arm. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”

Her friends share a look of disdain before turning it on me. I couldn’t care less what some rich girls think of me. I’d be doing the same thing if I didn’t think that would upset Diana. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, the way she does when she’s nervous, giving me an odd look. “Lily…”

“Do you want to hang out?” I ask, ignoring her new friends. “We could go back to your house and—”

“I can’t,” she cuts in. Then, quieter, glancing back at her friends. “Can we talk? Somewhere alone?” I nod. That sounds like a great idea.

We move away from the students gathering in front of the school, toward the side where the buses are departing. Diana keeps looking around, paranoid, almost like she’s afraid someone might see us, but that doesn’t make any sense.

“What’s going on?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her behavior. “You’re acting weird.”

She takes a deep breath, her hands clasped in front of her. “Lily, I think it would be best if we didn’t spend so much time together.”

I stare at her, huffing out a laugh at the joke. “What are you talking about, Di?”

“It’s just… It’s high school. It’s different. People are different.”

“People?” I echo. There’s no way she’s serious. My heart doesn’t understand that, already picking up, like it’s bracing for something horrible.

She sighs, fidgeting with her bracelet. The same one that I spent six months saving up to get her for her birthday last year. “You wouldn’t get it, Lily. You don’t—”

“I don’t what?” I snap, loud and sharp, cutting her off. I can’t believe she’s actually saying. “I don’t have nice clothes? A fancy house? Money? You can’t be seen with me now that I’m below you?”

She flinches. “That’s not what I meant.”

I cross my arms, like that will do anything to help me feel less vulnerable. Unwanted. “That’s exactly what you meant.”

Her voice drops to a whisper, still playing with that stupid bracelet I want to rip off her arm and stomp on until it’s nothing. “You don’t understand what it’s like.”

“Oh, I don’t?” My laugh comes out broken as I try not to cry. “You think I can’t understand you not wanting me anymore?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean, Diana?” I ask, my throat tightening and my eyes filling with tears, I’m desperately holding back. “Because I thought we were—” I stop myself before the word best friends can leave my mouth.

She won’t even look at me. “I just can’t, okay?”

For a second, all I can do is stare at her. She looks like the same girl from last night. My best friend since forever, the prettiest girl I ever seen, the blue skirt she wanted to match in last night.

But this isn’t my best friend.

This is a stranger.

A stranger who knows everything about me. Who is the only person who can make me feel better when I’m sad. Who shattered my already fragile heart into so many pieces that I’ll never be able to put it back together.

But I don’t cry in front of her. I don’t beg her to change her mind, to want to be my friend. I take a step back, and I don’t look at her stupid, beautiful face. “Right. Got it. I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”

“Lily—”

“Don’t.” My voice cracks, but I can’t even care. “Just don’t.”

When she’s completely out of sight, back with her new, better friends, I let myself break. Quiet, alone, with no one to care when I stumble home two hours later than I should be with puffy eyes.

The only one who would care is gone.