“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.”
“Who’s Reagan?” I hear someone behind me whisper.
Andrew quickly stands up, stiffening and squaring his shoulders. “She’s the dumb bitch who started it.” Andrew apparently is very stupid.
Marco growls behind me. “Watch your mouth, or next time I’ll make sure your jaw won’t be able to utter another syllable for the next six months.”
Andrew says nothing else and after a brief stare-down, he flinches first. “Let’s go, Riley. The bi—the girl�
��s not worth it.”
Two teachers notice the cluster of students and begin to head our way. Seeing this, the threesome vanishes into the school, but the rest of the crowd hasn’t moved. They’re all staring at me. And Marco. And his arm that’s around me. Heat floods my face and I know I’m blushing. I hate being the center of attention, and now I have practically the whole school staring at me. I quickly push away from Marco and head toward my locker, praying that this incident is overshadowed by Mr. Everett’s death, and I can once again go back to being a fly on the wall.
Marco, however, has no intention of letting me forget. He quickly catches up to me and pulls my hand, dragging me to a stop just before I reach the door to enter the building.
“Reagan, wait.”
I shouldn’t wait. I should turn and go. It’s the smart play. My head knows this. But I don’t. I can’t. He’ll only bring me trouble, but I still don’t take a step to leave.
“Reagan, about yesterday—” His words stop, frozen on the tip of his tongue as he stares at me.
I can’t look away and feel myself lean closer. He does the same. Things around me fade away, blurred into an abstract painting, and the only thing in focus is Marco. His hand is still in mine from when he pulled me to a stop, and I can feel his pulse race. Or is it mine?
The sounds of the other students and the cars still dropping kids off are now nothing but a low hum. Instead, all I hear is my breath as I finally exhale—never even noticing that I was holding it. I lick my dry lips, and Marco’s pupils widen slightly as he shifts his focus to them and his grip becomes stronger.
I don’t know how long we stand like this, but it feels like forever. I want to memorize all the flecks in his eyes. I want to reach out and brush my finger against the one deep dimple in his right cheek. I want to—
He drops his hand from mine and looks away, shaking his head slightly. If I hadn’t been staring so hard, I wouldn’t have even noticed how cold his eyes abruptly turned. It’s chilling.
“That was really stupid, Reagan. You’re going to get yourself beaten up, and I might not be there next time to get you out of it. I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
I blink. A sneer replaces the soft smile on his face, and I have no idea what the hell just happened. Again. His mood swings are starting to give me whiplash.
“Excuse me?”
His hands are clenched into fists and he takes several steps backward. “I mean honestly, what did you expect to happen? Why would you even taunt her like that? There were three of them and one of you. Like I said, stupid.”
Okay, now I’m pissed. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“No, but you sure needed it.”
“Like hell I did! Especially not from you.” I point my finger in his face. “Why did you even bother if you’re going to be such a jerk about it? I am perfectly able to take care of myself.”
“Pfft! If I hadn’t have come along, you’d have a black eye, fat lip, and a suspension on your record right now. You think—”
A car honks its horn, startling both of us.
“Hey! Junior!”
I know that voice. It causes a shiver to run down my spine, and my hands begin to shake.
Marco looks up, and for a brief second I see fear, but it is quickly masked and his eyes are cold again. “What are you doing here, Uncle Nicky?”
“Never mind that, get in. We’ve got places to be.”
“School just started,” I stupidly blurt out. I want to kick myself for even drawing Nicky’s attention.
Nicky moves his sunglasses to his forehead as his eyes rove over my body from head to toe. “Who’s your little girlfriend here?”
I want to take a shower from the way he’s is eyeing me. I take a step toward Marco, putting him between me and the car, but Marco turns away, not giving me a second glance as he ducks in the passenger’s seat. “Who? Her? Just some girl I ran into. She’s no one.”
I’m taken aback at his words. Did he say...?
Nicky gives me a second look and I tighten my jacket around me, feeling gross. “I don’t know, she’s got potential.”
Marco turns and stares at me for a moment. I hope to see … I don’t know what I hope, but what I find is anger. “Nah. It wouldn’t be worth the effort. Let’s go.”
Marco turns to the radio, blasting Daft Punk as he and Nicky take off.
I stand frozen there a moment, replaying Marco’s words. “She’s not worth the effort.” I repeat them in my head, trying to make sense of them, but every time I do another piece of my heart breaks away.
“Not worth the effort.”
They were the same words Andrew said. I expected them from a jerk like Andrew, but not Marco. I don’t know why, maybe because we both shared this secret or something, but I thought Marco was different. I know I should be relieved that this is how Marco really feels about me, happy even. My heart shouldn’t feel this sting. It’s better this way.
Maybe if I say it enough, I might begin to believe it.
THE ENTIRE MORNING is a blur. After Marco leaves and I am able to think clearly again, my mind is able to see the entire chessboard and not just one aggravatingly obnoxious yet irresistibly yummy piece.
I should have seen it sooner. It was so blaringly obvious. Hunter’s dad. It was Hunter’s dad who was killed. HE owed money to the Calottas. Hunter was throwing games to help his dad. I don’t know if it was an order for the Calottas so they could bet against them, or if Hunter and his dad did it on their own to raise money, but I was now all but certain that was what happened. My Moby Dick and the murder I witnessed are connected.
When I first investigated Hunter and his family for motives, no blaringly obvious signs came up. His dad was a ninth grade science teacher and his mom had passed away almost two years ago after a long battle with breast cancer. They weren’t behind on their mortgage, had never filed for bankruptcy, and while they had a lot of medical bills from his mom’s treatments, my investigation had uncovered a small life insurance policy from when they were first married that I assumed covered most of those. I had even once overheard Hunter telling friends that he’d never been to Vegas because his dad thought gambling was a terrible waste of money. For the life of me, I can’t imagine why he owed money to the Calottas.
I had my story. My Moby Dick had breached out of the water and I’d caught the sucker. Only I have to toss it back. The story could earn me a scholarship to my top college, and I can’t tell a soul. I want to weep at the irony of it all.
I can’t worry about that now. I need to focus on not becoming the next victim and figure out how in the world to get myself out of the mess I’ve made. I keep trying to think of a solution, but my mind continually wanders to the scene from this morning. Good grief, it’s pathetic that I allow myself to devote this much time to thinking about him. I have so many more important things to focus on: Charlie coming home, not flunking calculus, not getting whacked and ending up at the bottom of the river. Marco should be the last thing on my mind. I should want no part of him.
But I do. I want all the parts. Every rippled and smooth part. Every. Single. One.
No! For the love of God, what is wrong with me? I cannot continue to let my hormones run away with me. I go back to listening to the physics lecture Mr. O’Brian is giving. Something about force and mass. I look down at my notes, but it’s nothing besides doodle scrolls down the outer margins.
“Not worth the effort.”
“She’s no one.”
Marco’s words echo in my head on repeat. I’ve had two boyfriends since my dad allowed me to start dating when I was fourteen. Both of them dumped me. Darren Powell broke up with me after three-and-a-half weeks of dating in the ninth grade. We’d gone to homecoming and an after party in the woods. When I refused to give him a blowjob, he got in his truck and left me at the party alone, and then told everyone in school I did anyway and that I was terrible at it.
The following summer, just before I moved to Hope Mills, I dated Wad
e Griffin. I met Wade at a church youth group my mom made me go to so I wasn’t “just sitting in the house like a lump all summer.” He was the pastor’s son, and I did end up having sex with him. Apparently, so did Crystal Masters, Brittney Cole, and a handful of other girls while we were going out. When I voiced my displeasure (by throwing a can of Coke at his head), he called me a “crazy bitch” and left me in a Dairy Queen parking lot. I had to call Charlie for a ride home, trying to convince him the whole way to my house not to turn around and beat the shit out of Wade.
He did anyway and was suspended for three days.
Neither of those hurt as much as Marco’s words—and we aren’t even dating.
At lunch, I head straight for my cave, craving the seclusion. I sit eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich missing my best friend. Missing both of my friends. Ninety percent of the time, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with the cattiness and drama of other girls my age. But today, when I’m so completely messed up inside that I don’t even know which way is up anymore, I wish I had someone to confide in and talk through the mess that is now my life.
I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts—all six of them. One is my dentist. Another is for our local Chinese takeout. I seriously need a life.
I pause seeing Kally’s name and send her a quick text. She said she’d have her phone, but I have no idea how often she’ll be checking it.
My phone rings a few minutes later, a Beatles song Kally programmed after we first met.
“Oh Reagan! I miss your face so much. There has been so much going on, I can’t wait to tell you everything. First, I saw this a-maz-ing medium who told me that I’m going to run a charity one day. Which I already knew but not that it would be one to help foster kids get placed in homes. I mean, he was THAT specific. Isn’t that amazeballs? Charlie is going to flip. Hey! Maybe he can help me with it. That would be perfect for him, right? Anyway, then my parents got all weepy one night after they’d had a little cannabis about how I’m growing up too fast, and they promised to let me go to Disney! The big mouse! Can you believe it? They’ve hated that conglomerate for years, complaining about how they suck the hard-earned savings out of families who could use that money and blah, blah. Well, the next morning, they tried to take it back but I wouldn’t let them, saying they promised and now I get to go to Disney for a day! I am so excited I could just burst.
Never Gonna Tell Page 9
