TMI

by Patty Blount

  Chapter 23

  Meg

  Meg hurried out of the house before her tears drowned her. She hadn’t touched the last step off the porch before Chase called her.

  “Megan, wait!”

  Meg huddled deeper into her hoodie and kept walking, frustration adding a strut to her stride. Why, why did Bailey say that?

  “Leave me alone, Chase.”

  “No! What the hell happened back there?”

  Meg pressed her lips together and Chase cursed.

  “Okay, I get that you and Bailey have secrets, but what she said hit you hard. I can see it. Tell me why.”

  Meg whipped around. “I can’t. Don’t you get that?”

  But of course, he didn’t.

  “Well, explain it to me then!” He grabbed her by the arms, held her in place to glare at her with glittering eyes.

  The breath stuck in her chest while Meg stared up at him. The Want, oh, God, it was back. It whispered in her ear that one kiss hadn’t killed her, so why not take another? The last time he’d been this close to her, she wondered when he’d gotten so tall…so strong. His hands on her pulled her closer, his grip tightening almost painfully. His eyes lowered to her mouth and darkened as he pulled her even closer. Meg didn’t want to stop him.

  But she would.

  She had to.

  She took a step back. Stopped looking into his charmed eyes. That was the key—never look him in the eyes. Chase-charmed. She might have laughed if her heart didn’t hurt so much.

  “Stop it, Megan!” Chase raked his hands through his hair and then closed the gap between them to get in her face. “Just stop. You want me. I know you do. So why the hell aren’t you with me?”

  She stepped around him, strode to the opposite side of the street. “It’s not that simple, Chase.”

  “Oh, it’s exactly that simple.” He sprinted and caught her by the elbow, spun her around to grab her shoulders. “Just tell me why. Why am I not good enough for you?” He shouted, gave her a little shake. “Do you want Simon’s millions?” His face changed into something else—something mean and foul. “Or maybe you want Ryder. You like Bailey’s guy, don’t you? All that concern and worry, that was just a show, right? You want him so you can talk art.”

  Shock dropped her jaw. Anger reddened her vision. But it was pure fury that brought her hands up to shove him.

  They stood on the street glaring at each other. He tugged down his hoodie and drew himself up to his full height. He raised wounded green eyes to hers and shook his head.

  “Here.” He tossed a brochure at her. She fumbled and it fell to the ground. “I saw this at the museum and grabbed it for you because I thought—” Abruptly, he snapped his teeth together. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter what I thought. I’m done, Megan.” He shook his head again. “I’m…I’ve given you time and space and…and—all the patience I could squeeze out, but shit! It’s not enough. It’s never enough.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You said you’re scared, but you won’t tell me why. You tell me you’re worried about Bailey, but you won’t tell me why. For God’s sake, I see you stabbing a picture of your own father, but you still won’t tell me why. I’m sick of it, Meg. Don’t you understand? Don’t you get it yet? I love you!”

  A car went by. The beam from its headlights caught Chase straight on. “Fuck,” he muttered and turned away.

  Too stunned to say anything, Meg watched him take two steps before he spun back to shout in her face.

  “Maybe you don’t feel the same way, but I know you feel something. I know it! Call me when you can face it without freaking out.” He turned and stalked away. This time, he did not look back.

  Meg let him go.

  It was what she wanted. She told herself that over and over, but watching him walk away cut a hole through her as big as the one her father had left. She bent to pick up the brochure he’d thrown at her.

  The Cooper Union.

  She ran down the street and up the path to her dark and empty house and then went up the stairs to her dark and empty room. She flung herself on her bed, the brochure gripped tightly in her hand, and let the tears drown her.

  I love you, he’d said.

  I love you. That was never supposed to happen.

  I love you. She’d done everything possible to ensure her life had no room for love. She never wanted the mess. The pain. And yet—

  Yet, her life was a painful mess. She’d stayed away, stayed uninvolved. But he loved her anyway, and damn if that didn’t change everything. She folded up and sobbed, pounded a fist into the pillow. How had she so thoroughly screwed up everything? She grabbed the pillow, curled around it, and cried for what might have been. Her hand brushed the paper she kept under it—Chase’s sketch.

  Pain speared her, and she had her phone out, seconds away from calling him and begging his forgiveness when sanity managed to claw its way to the top of her tortured mind. It buzzed once—a text from Mom. She didn’t bother to read it.

  This was what she’d wanted. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Chase. Never that. But she’d decided on her future and that included career goals and never having to answer to anyone or be responsible for anyone but herself. She would never be a burden on him as she’d been to her mother…and to her father before he’d checked out.

  And Bailey knew all that. Knew it and still made her question why.

  Chapter 24

  Bailey

  Bailey pouted in her room. She was so angry at Meg and her mom and even Ryder, and then she was sad for being angry and angry for being sad, and she didn’t know what she felt anymore, and that just mad her madder. She typed a terse message and clicked Send.

  Bailey: Hey, what’s up?

  She waited, not patiently, for Ryder to text back.

  Ryder: I got into it with my aunt. It was like she was just waiting for me to screw up so she could attack. I can’t stand living here.

  Bailey nibbled a fingernail.

  Bailey: Can I call you so we can talk? You’re upset, and texting makes it hard to comfort you.

  There was no delay for his next message.

  Ryder: No! If she hears me on the phone, she’ll take it away. UR already comforting me.

  She sighed, wished she could be there with him, that they could go someplace together to be alone and thanked God Meg couldn’t hear that thought because she’d never hear the end of it.

  Bailey: What about Facebook? Can we chat? That’s easier than texting.

  She powered up her computer, opened an Internet browser window, and logged in. Ryder was already online, waiting.

  Ryder West

  • Hey.

  Bailey Grant

  • Seriously, how bad is it?

  Ryder West

  • It sucks, Bailey. Nothing I do is ever good enough. I work extra shifts just to get out of here.

  Bailey Grant

  • Where do you work? Maybe I can visit you there.

  Ryder West

  • The big warehouse store on Route 25. But I’d rather u didn’t visit me. Some lady just got mugged in the parking lot. I’d worry about u.

  Bailey’s heart flipped over at that. Meg’s wouldn’t. Meg’s heart would have rolled its beady little eyes and said “Yeah, right.”

  Bailey Grant

  • You’re very sweet. But I still want to see you. I need to see you.

  Ryder West

  • I know, Bailey. I need u too. I’m working on it. I swear. I have to work all weekend. But on Sunday, I’m done at 3. I’ll meet u. Pick the place.

  He needed her. Bailey swooned. Oh, God, he needed her. She quickly thought of a neutral meeting area because even though Meg was being way too prissy about this, even Chase had told her to be careful and she’d promised she would.

  Bailey Grant

  • What about the food
court at the mall?

  Ryder West

  • Great. Be there at 3:30.

  Before Bailey could type her next message, Ryder pinged again.

  Ryder West

  • O_O Were u supposed to hang out with Meg tonight?

  Bailey Grant

  • We had a fight. Why?

  Ryder West

  • She’s texting me again. She’s really pissed off.

  Meg was texting Ryder? Bailey’s eyes narrowed to slits.

  Bailey Grant

  • I thought it was just the one time.

  Ryder West

  • No, she keeps sending me art and stuff. Like I care.

  Was that so?

  Bailey Grant

  • I’ll call her right now and stop her.

  Ryder did not reply. Bailey picked up her phone, but she didn’t want to leave Ryder hanging.

  Bailey Grant

  • Ryder, you still there? Please don’t worry about Meg.

  Ryder West

  • Hang on. She’s ranting.

  Bailey groaned. Of course Meg would be ranting.

  Ryder West

  • OMG, is it true that u puked on UR second-grade teacher? LOL

  Bailey froze. Her blood went cold, and she wasn’t sure but thought it was possible she’d passed out for a moment. She rubbed her eyes and read Ryder’s last message again. There was no mistake. Meg had told him something she’d promised, something she’d vowed she’d never talk about. With hands that shook, she typed her reply.

  Bailey Grant

  • I’ll take care of it. Meg’s just mad. I’ll see you tomorrow.

  Ryder West

  • No! Talk to me first. Is this true? That’s pretty funny.

  Her face flamed. How could she ever face Ryder after this? It’s not like she purposely walked up to her teacher and threw up on her. She’d had the flu! She hadn’t wanted to go to school, but Nicole made her go. And by the time she’d gotten there, she was shivery, achy, and her stomach was screaming. She’d tried, she’d really tried to be brave and strong, and when she couldn’t stand the rumble in her belly another minute, she went to the teacher, intending only to ask permission to see the nurse. Instead, her last meal had come up the second she’d opened her mouth. Everybody laughed and pointed and made eww noises, and she’d wished she was dead. Unfortunately, she’d recovered and had gone back to school a few days later.

  Annoyed and embarrassed all over again, Bailey grabbed her cell phone and tapped out a quick message to Meg.

  Bailey: WTF? I like this boy. I REALLY like him. Why would you tell him I threw up all over Miss Monroe? I’m sorry I keep forgetting our plans, but if you ruin this for me, I’ll never speak to you again.

  Bailey closed her phone with a snap and typed another message.

  Bailey Grant

  • You still there? I just told Meg to back off.

  Ryder West

  • Yeah, I’m here. But I don’t think she got ur message. OMG, did u really write a love poem to somebody in 7th grade? That’s really cute. Will u write me one too?

  Bailey stood up so fast that she jostled her desk and everything on it. With her hands clenched into fists and her chest heaving, she tried to form a plan, but each of her ideas involved tearing out Meg’s silky straight hair strand by strand. What was wrong with her? She’d told her how much she liked Ryder. She’d even told her she’d never speak to her again.

  A thought struck her with such clarity that Bailey stilled. All that pouting, all those times Meg pounced on Ryder’s broken promises, their arguments—of course! She should have seen it. Meg was jealous.

  But why? Why would she be jealous when she keeps warning her Ryder could be a serial pedophile? And Meg had backed off after she’d texted Ryder herself. Why? Oh, Bailey pressed both hands to her gaping mouth when the answer kicked her in the head. It was art. It had to be the art. Ryder knew a lot about art. Better, he even liked it. Meg said herself Chase thought The Scream guy was just a movie producer. Bailey never knew Scream had been anything but a movie either. But to Meg, it was like this huge deal.

  The more she considered the possibility, the more likely it became. Her chest hurt. It was hard to breathe. She rubbed the ache, but it didn’t help. All this time, she’d believed—really believed—that Meg was just worried about her safety. But that wasn’t true.

  Meg wanted Ryder.

  Meg was trying to steal Ryder from her. Bailey wrapped her arms around her middle and tried not to throw up. It explained everything. And now she thought by telling him her most embarrassing moments, she was just going to hide? So not happening.

  Bailey’s mouth twisted. Meg wanted to tell stories? Awesome! Bailey had a bunch to tell.

  “Ha!” Bailey laughed out loud and grabbed the mouse. She clicked the link to Ryder’s Facebook Wall and then changed her mind. On her own Wall, she posted something she was certain would make Meg curl up and die.

  Hey, Meg! Remember that time in first grade when you wet your pants and had to wear a pair of underwear Mrs. Nichols kept in her desk? Too bad they were boys’ underwear though. Do you still have them?

  Laughing quietly, she added a link to a potty-training website and sat back while her Wall filled with comments. The computer pinged.

  Ryder West

  • OMG, Bailey, did that really happen? Meg’s gonna be so pissed.

  Bailey crossed her arms and nodded at Ryder’s last message. Meg had gone too far this time, and Bailey wasn’t taking it anymore.

  Bailey Grant

  • Just fighting fire with fire.

  Ryder West

  • Look, don’t make a big deal out of this. Gotta go.

  What? No! Bailey waited for another message, but no more came. She even texted Ryder an apology from her phone, but he never replied. Bailey flung herself to her bed with a curse. Damn it! It wasn’t fair. Things had been going so well. Ryder was sweet and funny and really liked her, really understood her, and Meg had to go and ruin everything again.

  Chapter 25

  Meg

  By Monday, Bailey’s Facebook post had earned so many comments and Likes that Meg walked to school to escape facing the taunts on the bus. Huddled in her hoodie, she heard a car pull up beside her. She didn’t bother to look. She knew it would be Chase. He’d had his license for a year now. Meg had her learner’s permit but had never been behind the wheel. Her mother just didn’t have time to teach her.

  The car sped ahead with a sudden burst of acceleration, and Meg figured Chase was still mad.

  Good.

  As long as he was mad, he’d stay away. She adjusted her backpack and shoved her hands in her pockets. She would eventually have to face him. She knew this, didn’t like it, but accepted it. She also knew she’d have to tell him why she kept turning him down and spare none of the gory details.

  She owed him that much.

  If, at the end of the tale, he still wanted to be friends, well, she’d have to turn down that request too.

  It was too painful.

  Kissing Chase was a mistake. It forced her to face the truth that she was in love with Chase too.

  And that had to remain her little secret.

  She reached the school with only seconds to spare before the final bell. She didn’t bother with her locker, just headed to her first class, and slid behind her desk, aware of the hush that fell over the room when Bailey looked up, saw Meg, and quickly turned away.

  Math was not one of Bailey’s favorite subjects. Actually, Bailey had no favorite subjects. But Meg enjoyed it. She focused on the lesson, something involving polar coordinate equations, and soon lost herself in the work. She glanced next to her, saw Bailey struggling to understand the concepts, but did not swoop in with the answers today. Forgiveness, when she gave it, would be hard earned.

  The bell
rang and Meg scooped her work into her backpack, ready to flee before anyone could stop her. She’d just zipped her bag when a pair of Fruit of the Looms landed on it, accompanied by loud laughter. Her face blazed, but she did not make eye contact with anyone and instead fled, leaving the briefs behind.

  In homeroom, the entire class lauded her with all manner of undergarments—from tiny thongs to granny panties. Mr. Allen asked her if she was taking up a collection and the class howled. Meg tossed them all in the wastebasket on her way out of class when the bell rang. In each class, someone asked her if her pants were wet. In the hall, somebody shot her with a squirt gun. In the stairwells, in the cafeteria, in the locker room, someone laughed. By the end of the day, Meg was certain she was immune to further embarrassment until Chase approached her at the bus stop, his face twisted in an expression of confusion.

  “Hey,” he greeted her. “Um…Bailey handed me this and said I had to give it to you right away—that it was an emergency.” He handed her a paper bag. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Awesome.” She poked inside the bag, flung the scarlet red lace panties at Chase, and turned dark, hurt eyes to his. “You too? I can’t believe you’d do this!”

  Chase looked at the underwear in his hand and cursed. “No, Meg, I—”

  “Shut up, Chase.”

  She turned and went home on foot, slammed the door behind her, and sank to the floor against it. She hated crying, hated how weak it made her feel, how desperate. It took a long time, but she fought it, managed to come out on the top of the crushing urge to curl up and die. All it took was one thought.

  Her dad.

  Meg slowly rolled to her knees, pulled out her cell phone, and texted Ryder.

  Meg: I apologized. I even told you I’d back off. But that wasn’t good enough. You had to get rid of me. Well, congratulations—it worked. I don’t know what you told Bailey, but she’s really pissed off. When you hurt her—and we both know you will—I will come after you. Yeah, that’s a threat.