"So, you and Hartley weren't dry humping on the floor of your room?" is what Liv asked over dinner that night.

The first time I'd asserted that 'this isn't want it looks like', I'd been met with a chorus of 'oh totally', and 'yeah, sure'. After Jace and Daria had left, the former wearing a triumphant grin and the latter a pleased smile, the relentless teasing had begun.

"You were definitely about to make out," said Austin. He turned to my parents, "They were definitely about to make out."

"I don't really want to hear what my daughter is getting up to, actually." Dad punctured a slice of tomato with his fork. "Especially with Jace Hartley, who I, uh, very much don't like. What a rotten boy!"

My parents did not understand my vehement refusal to jump off the I-Hate-Jace train. He was extremely polite to adults—and like, everyone but me—and was therefore beloved by all. It probably helped that Dad used to play football for the Saints, and Jace was hoping to do the same. He wasn't quite as good as Kaelin's boyfriend, Julian, but he was certainly in the mix to be drafted next year. Mum just loved him because he had been liberal with his compliments since he was a child.

When a four-year-old says, "Thank you for having me, Eliza, is there anything I can do to help out?" at a kindergarten birthday party (my parents had refused to let me invite every kid except for one, so, unfortunately, Jace had come), it makes an impression.

He had been kissing ass since kindergarten.

Still, despite his appreciation of Jace Hartley and secret belief that he was the best, I appreciated that Dad pretended to be all aboard my train of hatred in solidarity. Good parents support their children's interests.

Mum did not share the same sentiment. "I want to know everything," she said. "Please date Jace, honey. He's such a lovely boy."

"If lovely is the new word for evil, you're not wrong."

Dad laughed. "Yeah, Eliza. He's evil." Then his brows furrowed in concern. "I am a little worried, though. Did the fall hurt your leg?

"No," I said grumpily. "I wish. Then I could sue him."

"You're so lovely," Mum said. "I'm so blessed to have such a kind and generous daughter."

"Ha. Ha."

After Jace and I had been found on the floor together—fighting, as I had explained countless times—the posse of delighted assholes in the doorway had bombarded us with questions. Kaelin kept mouthing angry spark and punctuated her point, just in case I didn't pick up on it, with exaggerated firework hand motions.

She'd also posted the picture of us to her Instagram story with a poll, asking "Do Jace and Lena want to bang?". Unfortunately, she'd only provided the options of yes, and yes in red, so I couldn't gauge the public response. I had, however, received a hoarde of messages from my classmates.

Cady: Told you. Please tell me you let him do unspeakable things to you and PLEASE tell me it was good.

Jessica from English class: Hatred was really unresolved sexual tension? I can see it

Jonah: pls get ur chef to make me a snack 4 tmr. don't feel like making my own.

Chance: ????

Alex: ??!?!

Jonah: also pls come wake me up & force me out of bed 4 schl. mum says she will make me get up at 6 if i am late again. i will be late if u do not help bc my alarm makes me hate life. and if I wake at 6 i will probably die. allergic to morning sun.

At least Jonah was consistent.

When Jace had opened his phone and seen Kaelin's picture, he'd laughed and blushed, which was adorably embarrassing for him. He had been incredibly flustered, which I loved, and left the house soon after with Daria and a promise to come back sometime next week to work some more on our project.

I had to think of another prank. To get back at him.

Although, when I really thought about, Jace hadn't done anything to me since my accident. I'd trashed his room, but he still hadn't retaliated. Either he'd gone soft, and was now lame and pathetic, and I could claim victory over him, or he was using the time to gather his forces and lie in wait, just hoping I would allow my guard to slip.

He must be thinking of something big.

I was going to have to be on edge, waiting, prepared for anything.

"Just confirming," said Dad. "Lena is now into Jace?"

"Yes," said Liv and Austin in unison, while I protested with a definitive "No."

Dad grinned. "I'm sure you two will be a great couple."

"Do you want a fugitive for a daughter?" I asked. "Because I would kill him. And then escape from prison."

"Having a fugitive daughter would give me street cred, so yes," said Mum. "Pass the salad?"

The table was laden with a gorgeous gourmet meal. Our chef, Natia, was the most incredible woman in the world and my unchallenged favourite person. Jonah's as well, since she didn't mind making an extra lunch when Jonah couldn't be bothered, which was every day. 90% of the conversation I'd had with Jonah while I was bedridden was a complaint that he could no longer leech off me and use Natia's services.

Mum hired her when I was four and her business had suddenly taken off, leaving us with far more money than we needed but far less than my ambitious mother would settle for. She is the head and creative director of four businesses now.

But Natia was definitely the best thing to come of her windfall. She liked to outdo herself, and refused to cook the same meal twice; except for Sundays, when she would reprise our favourites. To plan a brand new meal six times a week for thirteen years was admirable.

She deserved a raise.

I passed Mum the salad with batted eyelashes. "So, mother," I said sweetly. "Speaking of fugitives."

"What do you want?"

"I have been trapped and confined to this house for months now. Could I escape my prison and maybe go to Marc McGovern's party tonight?"

"No," said Dad, lightly. "Would you please give me the meat?"

"That's what she said," I responded. "And why not?"

"Because Marc McGovern does drugs and his parties are usually a death trap as is, and you're crippled, and also, I don't want to drive you home," Dad said.

"Daria will drive me home."

"Daria would never go to a party thrown by Marc McGovern, because she was blessed with common sense and class," Mum said.

My parents loved Daria even more than they loved Jace. Everyone loved Daria, so it wasn't all that surprising.

"Please?" I begged. "Liv will drive me."

Liv snorted. "No, I won't. Marc McGovern scares me, and that group is so dodgy. I don't even know why you want to go. None of your crowd will be there."

"I am a woman of the people. Everyone is my crowd."

"Jace?"

"He's not people."

"I'm so lucky to have you as a role model," said Austin. "Sometimes I cry myself to sleep, wondering if I will ever be as mature as you. An unattainable standard."

I ignored him and addressed Mum and Dad instead. "It's been months," I reiterated. "I promise I will not do drugs."

"I wasn't even worried about that," said Dad. "Now I am."

It wasn't like they were wrong, necessarily. I probably shouldn't be going to Marc McGovern's party. His crowd was definitely a little sketchy, and his parties were all booming music and close dancing and I would be knocked over a thousand times. But it was the kind of event Alex and I loved to crash. The music was good and the food was free and we had always been untouchable.

It was normalcy, a chance to prove myself, to establish that Lena Montez may have crashed a car she was not supposed to be driving, may have been away from school for months, but she was still the same girl.

The same girl who would walk into Marc McGovern's house and make his gathering a party. Besides, I remembered the sound of Jace's voice, telling me I wouldn't be able to go. It strengthened my resolve.

"Okay, Dad," I said. "Maybe next year."

Under the table, I was texting Alex: Marc McGovern's, 10 o'clock.

By 9, I was already dressed in a ridiculously tight outfit that was incongruous with the plaster that encased my leg, and the ensemble was completed with a modest trench coat. I did not resemble a catwalk model.

The dank dustiness of Marc's house would probably hide it. The lighting in there was drug-den-esque, so I doubted anyone would be able to see far enough through the haze of smoke and dim lighting to notice my cast. Honestly, it's ridiculous that my parents didn't want me to go.

Austin was on the bed behind me, looking apprehensive. "This is kind of dumb."

"You only think that because you're a nerd."

"Or because I have the tiniest bit of like, basic common sense," he said.

I sighed. "I'm so sick of being here. It's like I've been under house arrest for four months."

"You have been under house arrest for four months. If you go to creepy Marc's party, you'll probably be put under actual arrest. You might become a weird accessory to murder or a member of a cult. They're probably going to celebrate by sacrificing a cat to the devil, or something."

"Jace hates cats, though," I said absently. "Because he hates joy. If they want to sacrifice something in his honour, they should choose a naked mole rat or something. That's probably his spirit animal."

"Hilarious."

I smiled. "Thanks, I thought so."

Austin groaned. "Okay, whatever, I'll cover for you."

I knew he would cave. Austin wasn't particularly good at standing his ground. Heart of gold, my little brother. As soon as I gave him my sob story about the tribulations of missing out on life, feeling detached from the world, isolated in my own head, I knew I would crack him. Manipulative, maybe. But now I had someone to cover for me.

"If you're not back by midnight, though, I'm telling the parentals."

"You're giving me a curfew?" I complained.

"I'm letting you go, so I can give you whatever rules I want."

"Thanks, Dad."

He gave me a mock salute.

I looked down at my phone. I hadn't heard back from Alex yet. But I would, and we were going to have a blast.

"Ready?" Austin said.

"Beyond."

He slipped out of my room. He was going to distract Mum, Dad and Liv, who were all still at the kitchen table, talking about taxes or whatever adults liked to discuss. In the meantime, I was going out the back door, leaving the gate slightly ajar so that I could creep back in just before midnight. I knew I would be sleeping in the back house at the edge of the garden tonight, after sending a time-stamped Snapchat to Austin proving I had returned. Our house was big, but everyone would hear me trying to climb the stairs drunk and on crutches.

The first breath of crisp night air was a relief. I hadn't left the house after 3 o'clock in the afternoon in months.

I readjusted my crutches and set off into the night.

***