WARNING: This chapter may contain body image and mental health triggers.

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The emergency waiting room is packed with kids from the party, though none are speaking to one another. Instead, they stare off into the distance or at the folded hands in their laps, mouths grim. Even Nick looks worried—an emotion I didn't think he was capable of unless it was directed toward his car.

Bastian sits a few chairs away from me with his knees pinched together, his tall frame folding in on itself. He's still wearing his dress, but he left the wig and hair net behind. He looks out of place in the hospital waiting room, sitting among visitors dressed in shorts and sweat-stained T-shirts. He reminds me of the purple hyacinths that bloom in front of my house every spring. Even during freak April snowfalls, they manage to push their way through the soil and ice.

I'm planted in a corner with Penny and Jolie, my heart in my stomach, waiting for someone to explain what's going on. But they're silent, lost inside their own heads. There's an unspoken current between them. Something that tells me they've been down this road before.

Finally, Penny's red-rimmed gaze finds mine. "Gwen." She hesitates, clutching the tissue in her hand. "There's something you need to know."

I have no idea what she's about to say, but already I don't like it.

"Hartley's sick," she begins, pushing back mussed strands of brown hair. She looks older, the creases at the corners of her eyes more noticeable than before. "She's been battling an eating disorder for the past two years. Ever since her father's accident."

My stomach flips into a free-fall. "An eating disorder?" It's all I can say.

Her eyes fill with tears. "She said she'd be better if you were here. She said she'd be stronger. She promised." She covers a strangled cry with her hand.

I stare at the ground. Hartley's been sick all this time and I didn't even know? What kind of best friend am I? I could tell something was off with her, but never did I think it'd be something like this.

A sudden thought breaks through the fog and I'm thrown back to the argument I walked in on when Sully dropped me off after our first date. "I thought this would help," Penny had said as I stood outside the front door. "I thought having her here would make things easier for you, but I'm not sure it has."

The early-morning runs, Hartley pleading to go farther. The pushing of her food around the plate; the minuscule bites. Throwing up after Melanie's parties even though she hadn't had that much to drink. Penny asking me to make sure she finished her dinner. Even that morning at Sully's, when I watched a lone jogger advance down the street. The sun hadn't even risen yet but Hartley was wide awake when I got home, sitting in her robe at the edge of the bed, fresh out of the shower.

Jolie wraps an arm around Penny's shaking shoulders, her dark hair disarranged. "You bought your plane ticket to stay with us the day she was released from the hospital."

The words ping inside my head. "Hartley was in the hospital?"

She nods. "For four weeks this past spring."

Four weeks? How did she hide that? Hartley and I talk to each other every few days! Except for when she was grounded last spring.

For four weeks ...

An unsettled feeling washes over me as the pieces fall into place. I've been so preoccupied with my own problems I've completely overlooked Hartley's, even though they were right in front of my face.

Penny places her hand on my knee. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you, but Hartley begged us not to." She hiccups back a sob. "She swore Sully to secrecy, too. He thought you should know. He tried to convince her, but she was adamant."

For the first time since we arrived at the hospital, my gaze flicks to Sully. His eyes dart away, one knee jiggling uncontrollably. I'd managed to avoid eye contact with him the entire ride to the hospital, even with Bastian at the wheel. He's sitting across from us next to Melanie with his shoulders hunched over his knees, and there's a look on his face I've never seen before.

"Her weight gain was slow but steady during the hospitalization," Jolie explains, "and the doctors told us she could go into remission if she continued outpatient therapy—which she has. But she's still underweight. A few weeks ago, they mentioned readmitting her again. She doesn't want to. She says she can handle it on her own." She smiles sadly.

"It's because of me, isn't it?" I ask. "It's because I'm here that she won't go."

Penny squeezes my knee. "You know how stubborn Hartley can be. She'd put up a fight whether you were here or not."

I feel guilty anyway.

"Penny." A female doctor with long, dark waves strides over to where we're sitting. The name Dr. Sofia Ruiz is embroidered in a black, cursive font above her left breast. It's Melanie's mom.

Penny stands. "I'm so glad you're working tonight. How is she?"

The doctor's hands sink into the deep pockets of her white lab coat. "She's a very sick girl," she says, her voice soft but firm. "But she's lucky she got here when she did."

"How bad is it?" Jolie asks, also rising.

"Her organs are shutting down."

Penny's face contorts, her eyes glassy. "Please tell me that's not as awful as it sounds."

I brace myself for the answer.

"It's not good," Dr. Ruiz continues, "but it doesn't mean it can't get better. Right now, her body has turned on itself. It's digesting its own muscle in order to survive, but I think we've caught it before the damage is irreparable."

"Oh, thank God," Jolie exclaims, wrapping her arm around Penny.

Dr. Ruiz draws in a breath. "We're going to admit her until she's stable, but then you'll need to discuss intensive, inpatient therapy. There are some great programs out there, but many are out of state. As advanced as her illness is, I think you should consider which program is best for her needs."

Penny wipes tears from her face. "We will. I can't thank you enough for taking care of her. Can we see her?"

"Of course. But she's asking to speak with someone named Gwen first, if that's okay. Is she here?" she asks, her brown eyes scanning the waiting room.

I stand from the chair, my legs wobbling beneath me. "I'm Gwen."

The doctor smiles. "I can take you to see her."

I throw a glance at Penny. "Is it okay if I go first?"

She gives her blessing and I follow the doctor through the room, making sure my eyes veer away from Sully.

"Tell her I love her, okay?" Penny calls out before I disappear through the door.

Several makeshift rooms line the halls of the patient area, each one separated by a sliding, navy blue curtain. The smell of disinfectant hangs heavy in the too-cool air, the odor making my stomach churn restlessly.

Dr. Ruiz pauses. "She's right in here."

My hand searches for the part in the curtain. I gingerly pull it aside and step into the small space. A beeping monitor is perched high above the head of the hospital bed, a heart rhythm flashing in a series of green lines across a black screen. There's an I.V. pole with two plump bags hanging from the top, one clear and the other filled with a deep, yellow fluid. They're dripping into wires secured to Hartley's arm.

My chest constricts as I finally peer down at my friend. She's almost childlike lying underneath the white knit bedspread, a paper-thin gown hanging loosely around exposed collarbones. I'm used to seeing her dressed in layers, with the exception of that night at Melanie's pool.

I don't know where to start. "Your mom says she loves you."

Her eyes meet mine. They blink slowly, dark shadows circling underneath. "You know, don't you?"

I nod, my throat swelling with sadness. She pats the edge of her bed and I sit.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she murmurs.

I shift until I'm facing her. "Why didn't you?"

"It's not exactly something I'm proud of."

My heart stalls in my chest. "Do your other friends know?"

She looks away.

They do.

"I don't understand," I begin. "Why do you want to be so thin? You were perfect just the way you were. You've always been perfect."

"I'm not perfect." Hartley turns back, her tone sharp. "And it's not about being thin, Gwen. At least, that's what my therapist says. It's about being in control." She's biting her lip. I want to reach out and hug her but I'm too afraid. "She says I never forgave myself for my father's death."

"But why would you have to forgive yourself? The accident wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was." She pauses, and for a moment, I'm not sure if she'll continue. "We were arguing when it happened. And I was the one who started it."

I scowl. "That doesn't make it your fault, Hart. It was still an accident."

"An accident that wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been acting like a brat." Her lower lip begins to quiver. "I wish I could take it back. I wish I would have just shut the hell up. But I didn't. I kept going. I pushed and pushed until he fought back."

I'm trying to understand. "I still don't get why you're doing this to yourself. Don't you know how sick you are?"

Hartley tucks a curl behind her ear. "Gwen, things have been different since my dad died. Something's missing. Something's missing inside of me. And I can't get it back. I've tried to make excuses but it's like—it's hard to explain." She takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's like dancing without music."

I'm quiet as her words sink in. There's a nip in the air from the vent on the ceiling. It's blowing cool air onto my head. I wrap my arms around myself.

"In the beginning, not eating started out as a punishment," she explains. "I'd skip dessert because I'd convince myself I didn't deserve it. Then, I wouldn't finish all of my dinner even if I were still hungry for more. And eventually, I'd go entire days without eating at all. That's when I started to run, because starving myself wasn't enough anymore." Her eyes darken and she looks down. "It made me feel strong. Powerful..."

She straightens in bed before meeting my gaze. "But I knew it wasn't right. And every day I'd wake up and tell myself I was going to eat three meals, just like everyone else, and every day I'd fail. I just couldn't make myself do it."

My throat goes dry. I grasp at slivers of what she's said, still trying to make sense of things. I don't know what to say.

The air leaks from her lungs. "My life is a complete and utter shit-show. I'm sorry I'm so fucked up." Her eyes are pleading like she's waiting for me to tell her I'm not mad, that I understand why she's done the things she's done, and it makes me realize just how sick she actually is. How sick she's been for a very long time.

I grip her hand in mine. It's cold to the touch, and the bones crunch beneath her skin. "You're not fucked up. You're human."

She looks away but continues to hold onto me, her fingers wrapped tight around mine as if I'm anchoring her to the earth. "Yeah. A sorry excuse for one."

"Would you stop? You're talking about one of my favorite people in the whole world."

Hartley lets out a weary sigh and turns back. "Why are you so nice to me?"

The words tug at my heart. "Because I love you."

"Even after all of the secrets I've kept?"

I say nothing.

A tear leaks from the corner of her eye and dribbles off her chin onto her gown. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Sully, but I didn't want to freak you out. I know how you can get sometimes," she says, dragging a hand down the side of her face.

"It's okay," I tell her.

"No, it's not. I should have told you the truth about what happened last summer."

"You're telling me now."

"Too little too late, huh?" She huffs and shakes her head like she's disgusted with herself. "I meant what I said earlier. I really think you guys are good for each other. And I swear to God, we were only together that once. Afterward, we totally knew it was a mistake. But he was so sad, I didn't know what to do ..." Her voice drifts off. "Please don't blame Sully—it's all my fault. He wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you I was sick too, but I wouldn't let him." She lets out another breath. "It all seems so stupid now. I'm such an idiot."

I shake my head in protest. "You're not an idiot. Isn't that what you tell me? I get why you did it."

Something like relief flashes across her face. It's small, but I catch it. "You do?"

"Bastian explained it. He said sometimes after a tragedy, people seek a physical connection," I tell her. "When my dad moved out, Henry slept in my bed for weeks. I know it's not the same, but it sort of is. He just needed to be close to someone. He needed the comfort of knowing I was there."

The quiet that stretches between us is filled with beeps from the monitor above her bed.

"I'm really sorry," she finally says.

My voice is small when I ask her, "Are you going to be okay?" We stare at each other as I try to read her expression.

"Of course I'm going to be okay." She frowns. "I mean, they'll probably make me inpatient again—for who knows how long this time. And after that, I'll keep seeing my doctor." Hartley gives my hand a squeeze as though she's comforting me. "But don't you dare feel sorry for me. I'll be a pain in your ass again in no time. Girl scout honor," she says, holding up a two-finger salute.

I roll my eyes. "You were never a girl scout."

She readjusts in bed. "I know, but you were."

"Yeah, and that's how I know you just flashed the Cub Scout sign." I crack a smile, but she doesn't smile back. "You know, the world isn't as dark as it seems, Hart. You have a lot to look forward to. I hope you know that."

The corner of Hartley's mouth finally lifts into a smirk. "Look at you—the girl who swore her life was over because her parents separated—telling me there's light at the end of the tunnel." Her smirk grows into a grin. "You have changed so much this summer, you know that? Even my mom said so. You kids grow up so darn fast," she teases, shaking her head.

I give her a look. "Right? I'm expecting twins this April. I just hope they hold off until I'm finished filing my taxes."

Hartley laughs and the sound is like music to my ears. "You're such a dork!"

"Not as dorky as you." I give her leg a gentle pinch beneath the blanket.

Her expression softens. "Are we good?"

"We're good." And I mean it.

"What about Sully?" she asks, her eyes hopeful.

I take a breath and let it out slowly. "We're good, too. I'll talk to him tonight."

"Promise?" she asks.

"I promise."

Hartley's shoulders sink with relief. "Thank God. I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing I somehow hindered the course of true love." Her voice lowers and the smile falls from her face. "You swear you're okay?"

"Of course, I am. You're my best friend. You'll always be my best friend. Nothing will ever change that."

"You're my best friend, too." 

I give her a sad smile. "I wish I could fix this for you."

Hartley cocks her head, her eyes heavier than before. "You can't. But I love you for wanting to." She extends a finger. "Pinky hug?"

"Pinky hug," I say, wrapping mine around hers. Her skin is clammy. And when she leans forward for a real one, she collapses in my arms.

A sudden beeping penetrates my ears, growing faster and more insistent. I try to pull away but Hartley's a heavyweight in my grasp, her expression slack as her head rolls off to the side.

My eyes shoot to the screen above the bed, but it looks different than before. The lines aren't as smooth and neat as they were when I walked in. They're chaotic. Unpredictable.

"Hartley?"

She doesn't answer.

The room begins to spin as I fight to hold her upright. "Hartley!" I scream again.

"She's coding!" a voice calls from behind.

Before I can respond, I'm hoisted from the bed where several nurses take my place. They lay Hartley flat and tear open the snaps along her shoulders before pulling the gown away from her body. Large, round patches cling to the pale skin on her chest, nestled between several smaller ones that have wires attached.

I twist violently against the strong arms holding me back. "What's going on?"

No one answers.

"Please, tell me what's happening!"

"Someone get her out of here!" another voice shouts.

"I'm not leaving!" I yell back. "Please, don't do this—Hartley!"

I push against them, arms flailing, my body writhing in their grasp. But they drag me away anyway, ignoring my screams.