Never Gonna Tell (12 page)

Feigning a yawn, I head into the kitchen and open the fridge, removing the gallon of milk and grabbing a glass from the cupboard. “Just thirsty. Go back to bed. I’m sure you must be exhausted after working all day.”

“You have no idea. I have a feeling the next several weeks are going to be just as long, if not longer.” She pauses, pulling me into an embrace. “I thought I took us away from all of this. I thought we were done with having to worry about you at school and all that craziness. I guess this goes to show nowhere is immune.”

“Mom?” I manage to breathe out, though she’s holding me tighter and tighter. “What are you talking about?”

She stiffens slightly and releases me. “Nothing, honey. I shouldn’t have said anything at all. I’m just tired and let my mouth get away from me. Forget I said anything.” She turns and pours some milk in a glass, spilling some down the side, where it puddles on the counter. It’s clear that she’s rattled, and I don’t need three guesses to figure out why.

“Here you go. You go on up to bed, and I’ll clean this up. Sleep well.” She kisses me on the forehead and grabs a sponge from the sink before sopping up the spill.

I grab my phone as I climb the stairs. I almost press Kally’s number, not wanting to be alone. Tonight of all nights I’d love a sleepover, but I know that’s not possible. Instead I type out a quick text that simply reads, “Up?” I need to talk to Charlie. My mind is spinning out of control with worries and possibilities. Just when I think I know what to do, I get thrown another loop. I know talking to him will both calm me down and provide me a great sounding board. He always knows just what to say and always gives the best advice.

I don’t have to wait long to get a reply. My phone starts to play “I Kissed a Girl” by Katy Perry, Charlie’s ringtone. He set it one night while we were watching a movie. He said that if he were straight, I’d be the only girl he’d ever consider kissing. I told him he was gross, and then spent the next ten minutes giggling hysterically as he tried to plant one on me.

“I found five hundred dollars stuffed in one of my cousin’s sneakers. I’m pretty sure he made it selling weed, so screw him. I bought a bus ticket, and I’m leaving in the morning. I gave my family a shot, but I need to come home.”

I exhale and close my eyes as relief floods through me, but I’m aching for him. “I’m sorry, Char. I really wanted it to be different this time for you.”

“Oh, it was. Mom is miraculously still sober, but she’s already invited her new boyfriend—whom she met a week ago—to move in, and let’s just say we don’t get along. But this time around I’m not taking crap from anyone about my life or whoever I choose to love.”

I smile. “Good for you.”

“You should have seen the look on my mom’s face when I told her that I thought her boyfriend was hot. Of course it’s not true, he’s a disgusting pig, but the look on her face was priceless.”

I flop down my stomach, feet dangling in the air. “That’s hysterical!”

Charlie sighs. “I miss you.”

“You can’t even imagine how much I miss you too. You are going to be such a sight for sore eyes.”

“Any word from Kally? I could so use some of her optimism right now.”

I shake my head, knowing full well he can’t see it. “She texted me a picture of her doing yoga at sunrise on the beach. Something about Florida having the ultimate hot yoga or something.”

He chuckles. “Only Kally would be doing hot yoga instead of sunbathing while on vacation in Florida.”

I snort out a laugh, but don’t reply. Instead, I nervously begin picking lint off of my blanket as the silence between us grows heavy.

“So you ready to tell me what’s wrong?” Charlie asks. He knows me too well.

I squirm, pulling at a thread on my pajama pants trying to figure out where to even begin. “Yes. No. UGH! I don’t even know where to start. I should wait until you get here.”

“Will you at least give me an idea about what’s going on? Boys? Drugs? You’re pregnant? Give me something to work with here. No judging, you know that.”

I roll over to my back and stare at the ceiling. “I think I’m in a lot of trouble. Big-time trouble.”

Charlie doesn’t respond right away. I may be snarky, but I don’t get into real trouble much, so I know he’s surprised by my statement. He exhales a slow, deep breath. “Start at the beginning.”

My mouth opens, but no words come out. All of a sudden, all I can picture is Charlie at the other end of the barrel of that gun as Nicky Calotta fires. I can’t risk it. I can’t put Charlie in danger, even if he is hundreds of miles away.

I sigh. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I don’t want you to get into trouble with your family.”

Charlie huffs. “Reagan Margaret Wilcox, you are the absolute worst liar. You called me bawling your eyes out, so no, it’s not nothing.”

“It’s just…” I want to. I really want to tell him. But I know Charlie too well. He’ll be on the next bus here if I tell him what happened. “I can’t say...”

“I’m coming. Whatever it is you think you’re protecting me from, don’t bother. I’ll be there in twenty-four hours so you might as well—”

“Yet. But I will.” Charlie’s adamant declaration made up my mind. “I just need more time to figure things out. And over the phone is not the way to tell this story. I promise, as soon as you get here.”

“One day, Reagan. That’s what I’m giving you to get your shit together before I get down there and force it out of you. And you know very well that my skinny black ass will be all up in your grill until you do.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Just listening to the even cadence of his breath calms my jangled nerves. “So who got kicked of
Project Runway
this week?”

“Ugh. That show drives me crazy. I swear those experts wouldn’t know talent if it threw up on them. So there’s this amazing designer named…”

He goes on for ten minutes, explaining every conversation and piece of family drama before moving on to a guy he’s been chatting with on Grindr named Benny. He hasn’t met him yet, but he’s convinced it’s this guy on the soccer team at his old school who’s still in the closet. By the time we hang up, my head is lighter and my heart is fuller. Talking to Charlie works every time.

I turn out the light and snuggle under the warmth of my blankets. In the silence, my mom’s words drift into my head again and I try to shove them aside. I end up picturing Marco and the look in his eyes just before he left this morning. No matter what I do, someone’s going to get hurt.

MOM AND I are drinking coffee and eating a re-heated breakfast sandwich. I am scouring the paper for anything about the murder when Dad comes into the kitchen, straightening his tie in the mirror. They exchange “The Look” before my dad jingles his keys and plasters on a cheesy smile.

“How ‘bout I drive you today, kiddo? I’m showing a house in town anyway before I head into the office, and the school’s on my way. What do you say? Can you indulge your dear ol’ dad this morning? We can stop at Starbucks for one of those mochas you love so much.”

The paper didn’t yield any news, so I’d hoped to get to school early and stakeout the senior girls bathroom, AKA: Grand Central for gossip. If anyone knew anything about what happened the other day—especially if it
was
one of Hunter’s relatives—they’d be chatting about it while applying lip gloss and mascara. I can see Mom smiling behind her coffee cup and know she’s behind this, but I’m haven’t had enough coffee yet and it’s cold out, so I don’t mind the ride.

I grab a granola bar and shove it in my bag, already heading to the door. “Sure, but I need to hurry. I have a test third period, and I want to ask the teacher something before school.”

Dad tries to engage in small talk on the way, but I’m lost in my own thoughts and not really paying attention. As we pull up to the drop-off lane, there are several groups of students huddled and whispering. Their eyes are darting about, looking for something or someone. My curiosity is piqued, and I barely mumble out a “You, too” when my dad wishes me a good day as I exit the car.

With Kally still on vacation until Monday, I don’t have anyone to chat with. I settle for meandering through the crowd, picking up bits and pieces of several conversations. A lot of chatter seems to be about Hunter Everett, probably both because of how popular he is at school and confirming the fact that it was one of his relatives who died. In a small town like this it’s no surprise that news about the death spread so fast.

What I’m hoping for are more details. Who was Daniel Everett, and how did he end up on the wrong side of the Calottas? Spying a group of cheerleaders including the “it couple,” Andrew Anderson and Riley Bennett, standing near the cafeteria entrance, I head in their direction, knowing that’s where I’ll hit pay-dirt. I stop at the vending machine, pretending I’m debating what to buy.

“I just can’t believe it. Poor Hunter. What’s he going to do now?” Riley has a tissue in her hands and is dabbing the corner of her dry eyes, pretending to cry before turning into Andrew’s arms.

Andrew happily embraces her, sliding his hands down her back and circling her waist. “I know. It’s like he’s … all alone now. I hope they don’t make him move in with his aunt and uncle in Chester. He’d have to change schools and we’d lose our quarterback.”

Holy crap! Was it Hunter’s dad who died? This puts a whole new spin on things that I can’t even begin to process right now. I sidle up a little closer to the foursome, hoping to hear more.

Andrew’s hands slowly inch up the fabric of Riley’s shirt until he makes contact with the bare skin of her back.

“Ugh! Andrew! Not now! We’re supposed to be mourning Mr. Everett, not copping a feel before homeroom.”

“Yeah, Andrew,” Tammy Wilson, Riley’s BFF, chimes in. “Have some respect. I mean, I had Mr. Everett for science the year his wife died. And now he’s dead too. I can’t believe someone killed him. Why would they do that? He was the nicest teacher. He always let me turn in my homework late and didn’t even call my parents that time he caught me cheating.”

I roll my eyes and let out a snort, catching the group’s attention.

“Are you eavesdropping?” Riley steps forward, crossing her arms as Tammy does the same right behind her. Their veil of grief is gone, and now they’re back to sharks at the top of the food chain, irritated that a guppy dared to invade their space. “Who the hell are you?”

“Me? Oh, no one you’d know. Carry on.” I put two quarters in the machine and press the button for some trail mix, ignoring the daggers the three of them are staring at me. Riley is not one to let anything go and thrives on making sure everyone knows that she’s Queen Bee, so I only hope that she’s not in the mood to create a scene.

I’m not that lucky.

“Do you really think you can eavesdrop on my conversation like you belong here? And then have the nerve to try to brush me off? I don’t think so, bitch.”

I have seen her do this too many times to too many girls who she thinks have “slighted” her. I know my best move is to apologize quickly and get out of her way, but I’ve never been one to back down to a bully. They don’t deserve the power and, nine times out of ten, their bark is worse than their bite.

“I’m not apologizing for standing near you. And I can’t help it if your shrill voice is so loud I overheard what you were saying.”

Riley takes two more steps closer to me, jaw set and eyes full of hatred. She’s not used to hearing no. Andrew is right behind her, ready to intercede if need be. “You need to go back to whatever trailer park you crawled out of and pray I never learn your name. Because if I ever even think I see your hideous face near me again, I will end you.”

A crowd begins to form a circle around us, anticipating a fight. And once again my mouth runs amuck before my brain can stop it. I have no interest in fighting her, but I can’t just back down. All the pent-up anxiety and tension of the last forty-eight hours spill over, and my temper flares.

“It’s a good thing you’re enjoying high school. It’ll make the disappointment of the rest of your life a little less sad.”

“What did you say to my girl?” Andrew is pissed, steam practically coming from his ears.

“Andrew, I got this,” she seethes. “You’re done, you ugly little mole. And by the time I’m through with you, even a plastic surgeon won’t be able to fix you.”

“Can you recommend one, then? Maybe the guy who did your boob job? It’s no secret that those are fake, ya know.”

Riley’s jaw drops for a half a second before she pulls back to take a swing. I begin to duck, but strong arms circle my waist, pulling me away from her.

Andrew quickly steps in front of Riley, and Tammy squeals and ducks behind the both of them. I turn my head to see who just interceded and am shocked to see Marco. Andrew squares his shoulders and takes another step toward me. Marco doesn’t even hesitate. His fist collides into Andrew’s jaw—hard. He pulls back and punches again, knocking Andrew to the ground. I have no doubt he’s seeing stars. My hands fly to my mouth in shock, and Riley is screaming. Marco pulls me behind him, keeping a hand at my waist.

“It’s over. Leave,” he orders the others. “And don’t let me find out you’ve threatened Reagan again.”