We go on a hike up Arlebridge Rock at the beginning of June. It’s typically something we do later on since it’s about an hour and a half away, but Mr. Harwood doesn’t trust the weather forecast.

Mr. Harwood and Dad separate me and Rory on the ride there. Mrs. Harwood’s driving, and apparently, doing a shit job of it since she and Mom keep complaining about where to turn and stuff. After the first hour, my parents and his have turned into backseat and frontseat screamers.

I’m listening to my music. I figured it’d be better if I wasn’t trying to add to the noise.

I keep going back to the pictures of Julia on my phone. They’re marked for deletion, but I keep moving them back and forth. If she is serious like she says she is, shouldn’t this be a lot easier to do?

I move them back into a normal folder. They don’t belong, and I know it.

I can see Rory eyeing me in his peripheral vision.

Great. Because I’m doing the same.

By the time we get to the parking lot under the mountain, the sky’s cloudy. But we knew this would happen.

“Okay, guys, lets start walking!” Dad announces.

Mom tries to stay at my side.

“Stop. I’m fine.”

She sighs and heads up with Mr. Harwood.

Leaving me behind with Rory.

And it’d be way better if his dad and my mom didn’t keep looking back every two minutes.

“I wanna call a truce,” I mutter. We’ve been walking for, like, 30 minutes and no one’s really said anything.

Rory shivers. “What makes you think I’m this fuckin’ stupid?”

“Because.”

He scoffs. “Sorry, Rivera, but fuck you.”

After Mom and Mr. Harwood look at us, I grab his arm and pull him to the side, out of sight of our parents. “I’m offering a fucking olive branch to you and you’re not taking it?”

He glares. “I’m not that dumb.”

“Didn’t you try to do the same thing, like, a month ago? What’s so different about now than when you did it?”

Rory looks away, then shrugs. “No matter what I do, I’m gonna get shit for it.”

“Jackson?” calls Mom.

“I’m not havin’ this,” I spit, stepping back and making a run for it.

“What’re you – ” He groans and runs after me.

Our parents' voices grow distant as I keep going, dodging trees and tripping over rocks. Rory’s following me. Because he knows if he’s left alone, he’ll get shit. And I’m not done talking to him yet.

It’s when Rory grabs me that I fall on my back. He’s out of breath and pissed off. “I’m going to fuckin’ maim you, Rivera.” He twists my arm with his hands and then lets go. “Well, you got me alone.” He shrugs. “What, you’re gonna…fuckin’, punch yourself and go back crying?”

That is a good idea.

“No. I’m calling a truce.”

“And I’m calling bullshit.”

“I don’t wanna do this anymore, Rory.”

He shivers again. “I don’t believe you.”

My arms flop at my sides. “What’d you want me to say?” I step closer to him, and he steps back. “I’ve been trying to call a truce with you for, like, seven years, dude.” I swallow. “I think you don’t want me to call a truce.”

Rory scoffs. He doesn’t look away. “That’s bullshit.”

“Give me one good fucking reason for lying about this.”

“For starters, this could all be some master plan to fuck with me more.”

I’m not smart enough to do that.

“I think a month of, of this little ‘blaming me’ shit isn’t enough for you. And you said it yourself – ‘I had this coming to me for years’.” He frowns. “So why stop now when you have my parents and your eating outta the palm of your fuckin’ hand?”

Because you deserve everything you have coming to you.

Because I’ve been reading your journal.

Because I see you when you’re getting screamed at.

But I can’t stand watching it.

Because despite being a lying asshole

no one deserves to have their own parents turn on them.

But I don’t say that.

Instead, when I open my mouth, I feel raindrops.