Interim (23 page)

“When she was a loser?”

“Ugh. I really hate that word,” Regan replied.

“But she was. And so was I. So were you,” he pointed out.

“Being an outcast is not the same thing as being a loser,” Regan argued. “Losers don’t care about anything—don’t try to better their lives. Don’t call us that. We weren’t losers. We were different.”

“All right. I see your point,” Jeremy said.

Silence.

Regan fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

“I’m sorry your friends did that to you this morning,” Jeremy whispered. “It was cruel.”

“I think it mostly took the wind out of my sails because I just wanted to brag about my awesome breakup moment, and I never got the chance,” Regan replied, chuckling.

It was a front. He knew. He knew deep down her heart was shredded, and he hoped his kind words would act as the thread to piece it together again.

“Jeremy?”

“Hmm?”

“I . . . I realized something today after I got home from school.”

He waited.

“I—” She lowered her voice. “—I threatened to kill you. I would never do that. You have to know I would never do that.”

“I know.”

“So it made me realize that I finally get it.”

“Get what?”

“Your journal,” Regan whispered. “Your tattoo. I get it. I get you.”

You don’t get me at all
, he thought sadly.

“No more back and forth,” Regan said. “I believe you. All the way.”

And then Jeremy’s heart ripped into a million pieces. His friend—his girl, in another, better world—entrusted to him her confidence in his goodness. A goodness he didn’t possess. And he would break her heart all over again when she finally discovered it.

He turned his face.

“I . . . I got suspended,” Regan said. “I’ve never been suspended in my life. That mess is on my permanent record.”

“You shouldn’t have gotten suspended,” Jeremy mumbled.

“Oh, yes I should have. It was fair.” Regan groaned. “But I wish I weren’t suspended from my next two matches.”

“It didn’t even hurt,” Jeremy said.

“Huh?”

“Your punches. They didn’t even hurt. If they didn’t hurt, they shouldn’t count.”

Regan laughed. “Well, where were you when my sentence was being handed down? Could have kept me from getting grounded, too!”

Jeremy chuckled. “You’ve had the worst day ever.”

“Tell me about it.”

Just then, Caroline popped into the living room.

“I know how to fix that,” she offered.

Jeremy and Regan turned in her direction.

“How?” Jeremy asked.

“Let’s show Jeremy our dance,” Caroline suggested.

Regan’s eyes went wide with embarrassment. “Um, no.”

“What dance?” Jeremy asked.

“The answer to that is no,” Regan replied. He laughed.

“I wanna see your dance,” he insisted.

Caroline flashed him a toothy grin then addressed her sister. “Please, Regan! It’ll make you feel better!”

“It will
not
make me feel better. It’ll make me feel mortified,” she explained.

“Oh, Regan. You love to dance with me. Come on!” Caroline yanked on her sister’s hand until Regan stood up grudgingly.

“Oh my God,” she muttered, watching Caroline turn on the TV.

“Jeremy, have you seen
High School Musical
?” Caroline asked.

He shook his head. What the hell was
High School Musical
?

Caroline’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”

“Really,” he replied. “Am I missing out?”

Caroline considered his question. “I don’t know anyone who hasn’t seen it. It’s the best movie ever. Well, movies. There are three of them.”

“Three, huh?” he asked.

“Yes. And Regan and I have almost learned all the dances.”

“Please stop talking, Caroline,” Regan said. She turned to Jeremy. “It’s just a silly thing we do. These movies are, like, ancient, but Caroline loves them.”

“You love them, too!” Caroline cried.

“Yes. When I was seven,” Regan countered.

“You love them still!” Caroline insisted.

Regan sighed. “Yes, Caroline. I love them. Now can I go crawl off somewhere and die?”

Jeremy didn’t understand what the big deal was, but he wasn’t letting Regan go anywhere. Not until she danced for him.

“You gonna show me?” he asked the girls.

“Oh, yes yes!” Caroline squealed.

Regan rubbed her forehead. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”

Caroline frowned at her. She instantly felt guilty because she knew it was only that her sister was trying to make her feel better. Well, that, and Caroline wanted to show off in front of Jeremy. She grunted and moved into position next to her sister.

“All right. Press
PLAY
,” she said, then glanced at Jeremy. “You better eat it up because you will never see this again, got it?”

“Oh, I’ve got it.” He smiled brightly.

Caroline started the movie, and the melody to “We’re All in This Together” filled every inch of the living space.

Jeremy sat transfixed, watching the sisters pump their arms and twirl around in sync, belting an unfamiliar tune he was desperate to learn. It may have been a little cheesy, but the sentiment was right. The longer they danced, the more he yearned to be part of their “togetherness”—to have a definitive place in their lives. Yes, both of them. Regan had long since captured his heart. Now her little sister held it, too, and he swallowed hard, forcing down the longing for a sibling of his own.

He didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to walk through the door to his lonely apartment. He wanted to sit forever in that club chair, watching the girls, wishing their mother would invite him to stay for dinner.

The song ended, and Caroline high-fived her big sister.

She huffed and puffed. “What’d you think?”

Jeremy cleared his throat. “I—” He looked at Regan, and then his look turned into a gaze. He knew his mouth was hanging open. He knew he was making her uncomfortable, the way she shifted nervously from foot to foot. He couldn’t help it. She compelled him to stare. Hard.

“Well?” Caroline urged.

“I thought it was awesome,” he whispered.

Caroline squealed. Regan blushed and shook her head.

“We’re so dorky,” she said.

“Speak for yourself,” Caroline replied. “Jeremy? Do you wanna watch the whole movie? I can start it over.”

“Jeremy doesn’t want to watch—”

“Yes,” he said, cutting her off.

“Are you for real?” Regan asked.

“Mmhmm.”

“Uh . . . don’t you have to work today?”

“Nope.”

“Uh . . . don’t you have homework?”

“It can wait.”

“Uh . . . don’t you—”

“You trying to get rid of me?” he asked lightly.

“No no! It’s just, you don’t have to watch this because my sister asked you to.”

“I know. I want to.”

He could see her wheels turning—working overtime to try and figure out what the hell he was doing. She moved to the couch deliberately, chewing her bottom lip as she thought and thought.

The movie began, and Caroline lay her head in Regan’s lap. Regan absently played with her sister’s hair, every now and then stealing looks in Jeremy’s direction. He hid the grin as best he could. But he couldn’t suppress the smile when she invited him to stay for dinner.

~

It’s hard when you make a plan to kill people—work tirelessly to get all the details sorted out—spend hours of your life seething and churning and cultivating the much-deserved hatred—convince yourself of your duty to fellow sufferers—and then have a good day.

A really good day.

~

He stood in the middle of a circle of trees. They were evenly spaced like numbers on a dial—all twelve accounted for. No natural occurrence, he decided. Someone planted them like that, coercing a bit of order in an otherwise chaotic forest. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but he stood in the center of the trees anyway, pondering his next move.

The rifle lay thick and heavy in his hands, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to lift it, position it securely against his shoulder, and absorb the shock of its discharge. Not today, anyway. He couldn’t focus. He looked at the targets sway right then left, back and forth—taunting him. Playing a game—a game without frontiers.
Try your best
, they teased.
We’ll evade you
. He thought he wanted them to, and then he could drop the gun, wash his hands of the imaginary blood, and head for her house where he would gladly hide. Forever.

He shook his head then looked up. Clouds everywhere. Milky blue stretched as far as he could see. Winter was coming. He thought nature would skip fall altogether.

Who needs it?
he thought, itching for the snow. Itching for release on the slopes where he could clear his brain, gain better perspective of his current situation and his future plans.

Regan. Every time he thought of her, something moved in his mind—a cog lifted and slid onto the right bolt. A wheel finally rotated in the correct direction. Wires repaired themselves. Like his mind was healing itself. Or perhaps it was Regan who acted as doctor. He imagined her fingers tinkering with his brain, carefully lifting the fragile nerves like she was playing a game of Pick-up Sticks, discarding the damaged cells and replacing them with new ones—ones to fire strong, healthy electrical pulses. To help him think more clearly. To show him love.

He shook his head again, but he could not rid his mind of the image of her dancing. It was silly and innocent and all the things he thought his life should have been—all the things any kid’s life should be. He envied what he knew she experienced as a young girl: laughter, play, love of family, friendship, hope. He envied her now—the girl who found herself again. The girl confident in who she was.

Who was he? What was his purpose? He knew it once. Once, a long time ago, he decided to be a hero. He decided to avenge himself and all the other kids who were helpless against abuse. Once, a long time ago, he learned the difference between justice and mercy. He learned when justice was required. He learned when mercy was allowed. Once, a long time ago, he faced himself in the mirror and saw a stranger—a better boy than he could ever be. A boy with a mission. A boy with convictions. And he reached out to take hold of that boy, through the looking-glass, falling into a wonderland where righteousness ruled supreme and evil was destroyed with the
pop pop!
of a gun. The world made sense to him. Then.

He watched a single snowflake flutter from the sky, swirling and swaying in front of his eyes before disappearing to the ground. It was late October, too early for snow, and he thought he’d imagined it. But another descended from the heavens, dancing in front of his eyes before resting on the tip of his nose. He touched his face. Nothing. The miniscule dot of moisture wasn’t there.

“It’s not snowing,” he said aloud, as more flakes fell.

He placed his rifle gently on the ground and pulled his jacket tighter. He looked up once more and watched the precipitation ballet—the most beautiful dance he’d ever witnessed. Even better than Regan’s. Why? Because this dance was an invitation. He thought of the snowboard that lay tucked away under his bed, waiting patiently to emerge.

“Soon,” he whispered, and RSVPed to the invite inside his heart.

***

Eight odd inches fell—a tiny, freakish pre-winter storm—hardly enough to delay school, much less cancel it. He stood at his locker waiting for Regan. He wondered how she’d act today, fresh off of her school suspension. Her life was still suspended, though. No friends. No one to talk to. No normalcy to her schedule. Like starting at a brand new school—alone and likely desperate for a friend. She carried her soccer bag. Practice, with no permission to play. That had to suck hard.

She turned in his direction and smiled. He jumped.

Fucking idiot
, he thought, instantly irritated that his body responded so spastically.

“So I guess it’s safe to talk to you now that I’m one of you,” she said flippantly, approaching him.

He scowled.

“Oh, lighten up,” she laughed, and then rolled her eyes. “Caroline wants to know when you’re coming over again.”

He snorted. “What?”

“I know, right? She’s got it in her head to teach you the ‘We’re All in This Together’ dance.”

He burst out laughing.

“I know, I know. I told her boys don’t do those dances unless they’re Zac Efron or Corbin Bleu.”

“Huh?”

Regan waved her hand. “Doesn’t matter. Anyway, she wants you to come over, and my mom wants you to come over, too.”

“Wha—?”

“She thinks if she keeps feeding you, you won’t have a change of heart about suing us,” Regan said.

“Um . . .”

She winked at him. “I’m kidding. She wants you to come over for dinner because you’re a new friend of mine. And one who happens to have piercings on his face. And a tattoo, though she doesn’t know about that.”

“She wants to make sure I’m not dangerous,” Jeremy said. He puffed up slightly at the implied compliment.
She thinks I’m dangerous—that I look badass. That’s kind of fucking awesome.

“I told her there’s nothing dangerous about you,” he heard Regan say, and immediately deflated. “But whatever. She’s my mom. She said you need this, whatever that means.”

Jeremy remembered his lie—“My parents died”—and realized Mrs. Walters felt sorry for him. He should feel guilty for the fabrication, but the idea that Regan’s
mother
insisted he spend time with them was enough to erase any qualm. He would gladly have dinner with them again if it meant more time with Regan.

“What did she mean by that?” Regan asked, looking up at him.

He shrugged.

“I hate when people do that,” she muttered. “So not an answer.”

She glimpsed Casey at her locker, and her face fell.

“You okay?” Jeremy asked, following her gaze.

“I will be. As soon as I get some answers,” Regan replied.

Her words held a measure of intimidation, and Jeremy was glad he wasn’t the person on the other end of them.

“We eat at seven,” she said, and headed toward her ex-best friend.

Casey tensed but didn’t look Regan’s way.

“This is gonna be totally uncomfortable for the rest of the year,” Regan said coolly. “Side-by-side lockers and all.”

No reply.

“Maybe you oughta ask for a locker change,” Regan continued.

“I’m fine,” Casey said softly.

“Then maybe I should,” Regan replied. She pointed in Jeremy’s direction. “Right over there. With those people.”

“I didn’t make you change sides,” Casey said.

“Change sides? I don’t even know what that means,” Regan spat.

“You’re looking for an argument, and I’m not gonna give it to you,” Casey replied.

“I can’t believe you turned your back on me,” Regan said, unfazed. “We’ve been friends since kindergarten, and then you all of a sudden up and diss me hard because my ex-boyfriend told you to? Since when do you let anyone order you around? I mean, besides Ethan.”

“Watch it,” Casey warned.

Regan shook her head. “Whatever. I don’t even care about that. I care that my best friend in the entire universe dropped my ass like I matter for nothing!” She paused. “And why did you never give that note to Jeremy?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me,” Regan said. “The note. The note! The note I wrote to him in middle school asking him to be my friend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Casey said, closing her locker door.

Regan whipped her hand out and grabbed Casey’s arm.

“Let. Go,” Casey warned. “Or I’ll get you suspended all over again.”

Regan threw up her hands. Did she want to sacrifice the rest of her soccer season
and
a potential scholarship?

“What’s happened to you?” she whispered. “You’re just evil now. An evil person.”

“I’m not evil. I just grew up.” Casey turned on her heel.

“Why didn’t you give him that note?” Regan screamed.

Casey ignored her and headed down the hall. Regan sprinted toward her, shoving herself between Casey and the classroom door.

“Move, Regan.”

“Why did you do that to me? Why did you lie about him? What was so awful about me wanting to be his friend?”

“Look at him! Why would you want to? I did you a freaking favor, bitch! Do you have any idea where you’d be right now had I not intervened? Soccer star? Pffsst!! Unlikely! You’d be a nobody!”

Regan’s hands trembled at her sides.
Don’t you dare strike her. Everything’s over if you strike her.

“You wanna talk about perspective? You’re fucking the guy who threw black paint all over you,” Regan said.

Casey’s breathing came faster. She clenched her jaw and her books against her chest.

“You stole a friend from me. You stole years from me because of one lie,” Regan said.

“Take some responsibility, Regan. You could have been his friend at any time.”

“You told me he didn’t want that!”

“Yeah, well, you could have made him,” Casey said carelessly. “If you really tried. You were always good at getting the things you wanted.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that maybe I never wanted to be on the outside,” Casey said. “That I belonged here, right here, all along. That maybe you held me back.”

“You always wanted to be a fucking bitch? Is that what you’re telling me?”

Casey ignored her. “I was never in the right group until now. And I think that’s because I let you dictate my life, shove me into the space you wanted me to fit in. You didn’t ask me what I wanted. You never asked me what I wanted. It was all about you. All the time. Because you were loud and persistent and obnoxious. And I was your opposite, quieter, lesser half.”

Regan stood shell-shocked.

“So yeah, I lied about the stupid note. I made a decision for myself that day. I decided you were going to live the life I wanted to live since I’d spent so many years living yours. Seemed only fair.”

Silence.

“But I guess it wasn’t good enough for you. And that’s fine. It doesn’t have to be. But I’m not leaving just because you did. So, now, please get out of my way.”

The bell rang.

“Move, Regan.”

She stepped aside, still dazed. Still processing Casey’s words. Her brain moved sluggishly, working hard to register the reason for her best friend’s betrayal.

I dictated her life?
she thought.
I did? I thought she was happy
.

“You going inside?” she heard above her and looked up. Jeremy smiled down at her.

She shook her head.

“You wanna ditch?” he offered.

She nodded, afraid if she opened her mouth she’d sob long and loud. She would need the release at some point, but now was not the time. Now was the time to take a deep breath. And shift.

***

That evening, Regan lay on her bed staring down at a piece of blank notebook paper. She needed to write out a list, to try and make sense of Casey’s earlier words. To discover if she was, in fact, a selfish friend.

She drew a line down the center of the page and labeled two categories:
Things I Did Right
and
Things I Did Wrong
. She paused, chewing on the end of her pen as she thought. A negative was the first to pop up in her brain.

Casey wanted to invite Catherine into our club, and I said no because she was friends with Brandon.

Regan scowled. “I still don’t like that girl.” She exhaled and added, “
Buuuuut
, Catherine was never mean to me. Or to Casey. And why was I the one who got to make the final decision? I wasn’t even President. Am I that bossy?”