Ch5

NOVA

I've never been this scared in my entire life. The fear I feel at this moment is crushing and I fear I might not be able to survive this. Because what the fuck?

The recording is not supposed to be on someone else's phone. I used my phone to take it. My fucking phone. It's safe there. Not on Noah's phone.

The audio finally does cut off, leaving silence. I look up at Noah's face. It's totally drained off all colour. My relaxed, protective brother who was just joking about scaring off Henry Walker is gone.

"Where did you get that?" I repeat. My hands are shaking so badly I need somewhere to tuck them into.

Noah slowly lowers his phone. He looks at me, his eyes searching mine, trying to piece together a puzzle that he already knows the layout of.

This is what I'm afraid of. My brother might be the funniest person in the room, the loudest of the group, but when it comes down to this? To his best friend and almost brother... I'm sure as hell he doesn't play about Enzo.

"It was sent to the entire Wolves group chat," Noah replies.

I heave a little sigh. He's replying to me. That's a start. That's a fucking good start.

"From an anonymous burner account on the school forum. But Nova... think about this. Listen to the acoustics. Listen to the background noise." He steps closer. "That's our living room. And this... this conversation happened last night."

"Noah, I—"

"Enzo was at our house last night. We were talking." Noah presses, his voice rising. "The only other person down there was you. Did you record this?"

"No! No, Noah, I swear! Why would I record you both? Why would I do that?"

"Because you think you're a journalist? Because you're always looking for a story! But this is Enzo, Nova! If you didn't record it, who did? Did someone bug our house? Did someone look through the window?"

"I don't know!"

Fuck this.

Lying to Noah feels like swallowing glass. We don't do this. We don't keep secrets like this. But if I admit it was me, I don't even know what'll happen next. "Maybe... maybe his phone was hacked? Maybe he accidentally called someone? I swear to you, Noah, I didn't blast this to the school!"

That part, at least, is the absolute truth. I didn't blast it. But as the words leave my mouth, that's also when I recall.

“Actually, hold this.”

“What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“Going to see my brother.”

“And... why the hell are you leaving your phone?”

My stomach bottoms out. The air leaves my lungs entirely.

Ava?

No, no, no. She would not. She would never.

But then... she had my backpack. She had my phone. She knew my passcode because she’s my best friend and we’ve used each other's phones a thousand times. She was the one urgently telling me to post it just five minutes ago.

“Posting it could actually help her,” Ava’s voice echoes in my head. “Enzo can’t just quietly make the whole thing disappear.”

"Nova? You're white as a sheet," Noah says. He reaches out to grab my shoulder. "Hey. Look at me."

"I have to go," I choke out, backing away from his touch.

"Nova, wait..."

"I have to go, Noah! I'll... I'll explain later, I just need to check something!"

I turn on my heel and sprint.

I don't care that students are staring at me as I fly down the hallway. I don't care that the warning bell for first period is ringing. My vision is tunneled on the double doors of the media room.

I throw the doors open so hard they slam against the drywall.

The media room is in chaos. As it should be. Everyone is huddled around laptops and phones, whispering. But I don't look at any of them. My eyes lock onto the back corner.

Ava is sitting there, and my eyes fall on my backpack that's on the floor next to her. She’s holding her own phone as she bites her thumbnail.

I walk straight toward her. "Tell me you didn't," I breathe, stopping right in front of her desk.

Ava looks up. The guilt written all over her face is the only confirmation I need.

"Nova, let's go outside," she whispers.

"Did. You. Post. It."

"Nova, please..."

"Give me my phone." I snatch my backpack off the floor, zip it open, and yank my phone out. I unlock it. There, sitting right in my recently deleted files on my voice memos, is the recording. And a quick check of my shared files shows it was sent to an encrypted email address twenty minutes ago.

"You stole it from my phone. This is stealing!" I say. "You sat there, looked me in the eye, took my bag, and betrayed me."

"I didn't betray you! I saved you from making a horrible mistake!" Ava stands up, matching my volume. The entire media room goes dead silent. Nobody is even pretending to look at their screens anymore.

"Saved me?!" I yell, stepping right into her space. "You ruined my life! You ruined Enzo's life! How could you? I hadn't decided what to do with the recording yet!"

"Enzo ruined his own life the second he decided a girl's body and her future were less important than his stupid hockey career!" Ava fires back. "You were going to sit on it, Nova! Because you're blinded by this pathetic crush you've had on him for years! You were going to let him protect his draft ranking while some terrified girl deals with a crisis all by herself!"

"It wasn't your call to make!" I scream, tears finally spilling over my eyelashes, hot and angry down my cheeks. "It was my recording! It was my house! You completely violated my trust, Ava! I trusted you with my phone, I trusted you with my thoughts, and you stabbed me in the back for what?"

"For justice!" Ava yells back, stepping even closer, her chest heaving. "Because unlike you, I actually care about the victim here! You're so busy protecting the golden boy archetype that you forgot what real journalism is. You're a coward, Nova!"

Coward.

"We are done," I whisper. "Do you hear me? We are completely done. Don't look at me, don't talk to me, don't ever cross my path again."

"Nova, wait..."

I don't wait. I turn around and walk out of the media room, ignoring the shocked stares of my peers, ignoring Mr. Lawson who is standing by his office door with a stunned expression.

I don't want first place anymore. I don't want to do that shit anymore. Just put, journalism can go fuck itself.

Because... as of now, it's ruined my life.