Ruthie pulled back and reached for the lamp, which illuminated her shocked face, fresh tears coursing down her freckled cheeks.

"No, Ruthie, don't cry," Gordon begged, smiling. "You know how much I love you." He reached for her. "You know how much I love you," he repeated when she scooted just out of his reach.

Ruthie shook her head. "You basically just called me a mean, self-centered bitch," she said, drawing her knees up, trying to make herself small. She wiped her eyes on her legs and leaned back against the wall. "I'd like you to go now, please."

But Gordon was shaking his head, smiling as he did so. He grabbed a pillow from the huge pile and put it behind his head, getting comfortable, even going so far as to cross his legs, exposing his bony ankles in his orange Garfield socks.

"No," he said calmly. "I'm not leaving until we talk, because you're so totally fucked up right now, Ruthie."

She opened her mouth, but he kept talking before she could say anything. "First of all, you're not mean," he continued. "Self-centered, yes, but we're all a little self-centered, you know? We're teenagers, we're supposed to be, it's our age. It's related to being conceited, though not exactly the same. But you're not mean, you've never been that, and I'd never say you were."

Ruthie was staring at her lifelong friend, too surprised even to cry anymore. The smells and sounds of food cooking drifted up from downstairs.

"What in the world are you talking about?" she finally managed.

"Look," Gordon said. "You've been through so much this past year. The messy break up with Brett, then the whole, first love passionate affair with Elliott, then the drama with Amelia, then Brett attacking you and Elliott, then there's the play, then you have me telling you I'm in love with you, then your stalker follows you across the country, then the boy you're in love with flies off to another continent, and all of this is on top of the huge pressure of pretending to your dads that you are exactly what they want you to be, and you always will be." Gordon turned to face Ruthie on the bed, and reached for her hands. "You know?"

Wow. Ruthie had never thought about it, but it had really been one hell of a year.

Gordo shrugged. "So it makes sense that you'd turn to someone familiar for comfort, I think. But I can't do that. And like I said, you're not mean, and you'd regret using me, which would mean our friendship would be over, and I'd hate for that to happen, I really, really would."

His voice had thickened on his last words, his grip on her hands getting tight.

Ruthie looked into his kind and beautiful eyes.

This was Gordon, her lovely, wonderful friend, the boy who had taught her to roller blade and blow a bubble with bubble gum, who had been endlessly patient with her always.

"Oh, Gordon, I'm so so sorry," Ruthie mumbled, crumpling into his arms and dissolving into tears for what felt like the millionth time in their lives together. "I am so thoughtless to you, and you always treat me like I'm a princess, and I'm sorry."

"Please, I treat you like you're a fucking queen," Gordon answered with a little laugh. "I worship the ground you walk on and we both know it." He rubbed her back. "And you treat me like you're my queen, too."

"That's not true, is it?" Ruthie lifted her head from his chest. "Oh god, Gordon, say it ain't so!"

"Shh, it's okay," he responded with a laugh. "You're a very benevolent ruler."

They sat on the bed in companionable silence.

"When's that stupid boyfriend of yours coming back, anyway?" Gordon finally asked.

Ruthie gave a glum shrug. "I don't know, he didn't say. Thanks for assuming he's coming back, though."

"He'd never fuck up Les Mis," Gordon responded. "He's a pro."

"That's what I'm hoping." Ruthie patted Gordon's knee. "Come on, let's go get some of that fantastic smelling dinner, Gordo."

💐🎭💐🎭💐🎭💐🎭💐

"I've had an email from Mr. Banks," Ms. Piper told the drama class the next day. Everyone, predictably, looked at Ruthie, who was able to keep her face looking calm and neutral with effort. "It was short, but he did say that he'll be back for the performances, and he apologized for causing so much turmoil and bother with the show.

"So, the show will go on as planned, and we will continue with our run-throughs this week without Elliott, okay? Questions?" Ms. Piper looked around. Again, everyone looked at Ruthie, and she wanted to sink through the floor.

By the end of the day, the whole school knew that she herself hadn't heard from him since he'd left, and that she had no idea what was up with them. Her friends were very kind, but she had to endure the rude and snarky remarks from everyone else with a stoic smile.

"I guess even English boys know how to 'use you and lose you,' huh, Grimaldi?"

"Grimaldi has finally become the victim of the good old 'fuck and duck,' just like the rest of us, I guess, ha ha!"

"Even pretty girls can get dumped, Ruthie, how does it feel?"

By the time weekend before the show rolled around, she felt like she'd been cut thousands of times with a tiny knife. Each cut wasn't so awful, but taken as a whole, she was feeling nicked and bruised and bloody all over.

"I can't believe I ever thought those guys were my friends," she said to Pepsi, Gordon and Linda at her house after school.

"They're such losers," Pepsi offered.

"They're so happy to see you suffer, the level of schadenfreude is unbelievable," Gordon said, shaking his head.

"The level of what?" Pepsi asked, mystified.

"Never mind, it's not important," Linda answered, patting her head.

"Dude, how am I going to learn if no one ever explains?" Pepsi complained. They were in Ruthie's room, hanging out, eating, drinking, and ostensibly doing homework.

"It means feeling happy about bad things happening to someone else." They all heard Elliott's voice from the doorway and turned to see him standing there, looking over at Ruthie.

"Whoa!" Pepsi was the first to speak, rising while holding her can of soda. "Was not expecting to see you here." She looked at Gordon and Linda. "Uh, guys?" She gestured toward the door with her head.

"Right." Gordon and Linda also quickly rose and gathered their things, vacating the room without saying another word. During all this, Ruthie and Elliott didn't say anything, and Ruthie wouldn't even look Elliott's way, a fact which was lost on no one.

Yikes.

After they left, Elliott closed the door, turning to face Ruthie after.

"I don't know why you bothered to do that," she finally said. "Or even why you bothered to come here. You should go, Elliott." She bit her lips together and crossed her arms, still unwilling to meet his eyes.

"Ruthie, please don't, please don't be like this," Elliott began, moving to sit next to her on the bed.

"No, don't, don't come sit by me and act like I'm being unreasonable," Ruthie said, struggling to keep her voice calm.

"I'm not, I swear, I know you're upset, and I understand why, I do. Please forgive me," Elliott begged.

But Ruthie was shaking her head.

"No! No, you can't just leave me like you did, waltz off to another fucking country, then come back whenever you feel like it and act like nothing happened!"

"I'm not! I didn't waltz off, you know I didn't!" Elliott kept his voice down with effort. "I went for a very important audition, I only stayed as long as I had to, I came straight back, and I came right to you! Look, I haven't even been home yet!"

Ruthie glared at him. "Do you know how humiliating it's been for me this week? The talk, the looks, the teasing? That you fucked me and left me?"

Elliott looked confused.

"But--but I didn't fuck you, did I? Surely you told them--"

"That was almost even worse!"

Elliott drew his brows together.

"What?"

Ruthie shook her head.

"Don't you dare get all English and 'what' me like that, Elliott Banks, don't you dare!"

Elliott narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth as if to say "what" again, but obviously thought the better of it and closed his mouth, merely looking confused.

"But I did not have sex with you and leave you, that's my point, I'd never, ever do such a thing!" His bewilderment was obvious, and the fact that he was right was irritating to Ruthie.

"You didn't even ask me to go with you!"

"What? How could I? How could you?" HIs bewilderment was growing. "You didn't even have your passport with you! And you're underage, you'd need your dads' permission to travel, right? So I did what I could and I came straight back to you, what could I have done differently? Please tell me!"

"You didn't even try to reach me while you were gone!" And now her tears were starting, like she'd known they would.

"My phone died, and I didn't have your number, and I didn't have international texting, and it seemed like the best thing was to just get back here as quickly as I could," he admitted.

He reached out and grasped her hand.

"Please, please, jellybean, don't be angry anymore, please," he implored.

Ruthie tried to pull her hand away, but he held on, and she finally gave up.

She shook her head, trying to hang on to her anger, but she was so happy to see him that she knew she was losing the battle. Then she saw something on his wrist.

"What's that?" The words were out of her mouth before she could help herself.

"Hm? Oh, you know, just something I did while I was away." Elliott grinned in spite of himself, and now he was the one trying to pull his hand out of her grasp as she hung on, turning her grip to get a better look.

"Oh my god, Elliott, did you get a fucking tattoo?"

Pale, opal eyes bored into his as she asked her question, and his non-reply was all she needed.

"Oh my god, you didn't!" Ruthie squinted, but it was pretty small, and he was moving too much for her to be able to make out the word.

"What does it say?" she finally asked.

Elliott bit his lips together and held his wrist up for her to see. There were three letters, with something colorful underneath, she could tell, now that he'd finally stopped moving.

"RBG," he said softly.

Ruthie was motionless as his words sank in.

"And the pink thing underneath? What's that?" she finally asked.

"A jellybean," he answered with a little smile. He lifted a curl away from her forehead.

"Oh," Ruthie said, her voice barely audible.

Elliott shrugged. "I'm a massive, massive fan of Supreme Court justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg, you know? I happen to think she's the most amazing person, and I admire her tremendously. Plus, I think she's totally hot."

Ruthie nodded her head.

"And the jellybean?" she asked with a straight face.

"Her favorite snack food, I believe," he answered without missing a beat.

And then Ruthie was hugging Elliott's thin frame with all her might, and nothing could've kept her from his arms.

Elliott let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, but he kept it under control. Barely.

"Jesus, jellybean, I just missed you, so fucking much, and that first night that I was there I was going crazy thinking how angry you must be, you know?" He was speaking into her hair as he held her. "And I wanted, I needed to do something, and I was wandering around London, and I passed a tattoo parlor, and thought, 'what the fuck?' It's something I can do, something permanent that will make me feel a bit closer to you, and maybe something I can show you that will make you see that I was thinking of you the whole time, the whole entire time we were apart, honest."

They continued to hold each other and stand in the middle of Ruthie's room.

Then, "And what about the part? Did you get it?" Her voice was muffled against his chest.

"Yeah, I did, rehearsals start the week after school let's out, with performances in August. Will you come?"

Ruthie gave him a squeeze. "Just try to keep me away."

"I love you, Jellybean."

"Love you back, Elliot."