Casey stood out in the freezing temperatures, face nearly glued to Regan’s window, trails of tears practically frozen to her pale face.
“What in God’s name . . .” Mrs. Walters threw up the sash. “Casey Holbrook, what the hell are you doing out here?! You’ll freeze to death. Get in here. Now!”
Casey paused.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Mrs. Walters muttered, yanking on Casey’s coat and pulling her in head first. She dropped to the floor like a block of ice. Hell, she was a block of ice—blue hands, blue face. Regan even thought her hair had turned blue.
Mrs. Walters tore the quilt off Regan’s bed and wrapped Casey. She hugged her close.
“Honey, why?” she asked.
“I . . . I w-wanted to t-talk to R-Regan,” she stuttered, teeth chattering so hard that Regan was afraid she’d wear them down to stubs in a matter of seconds.
“Baby, there’s a front door,” Mrs. Walters said.
“It’s late,” Casey replied.
“I don’t care if it’s three in the morning! You don’t stand outside in the middle of winter for God knows how long!” She waited.
“Thirty minutes, maybe?” Casey offered.
“Oh my God!” Mrs. Walters cried. “Regan, go put on some hot water.”
“Mom, we don’t live at the North Pole,” Regan said. “It’s not the biggest deal ever.”
Mrs. Walters narrowed her eyes and leveled her voice: “Go put the water on.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Regan mumbled, and headed for the kitchen.
Casey’s presence after months of separation was definitely perplexing. Regan wasn’t totally ignorant to her friend’s life, though. She still watched her at school, just like she promised herself she’d do, observing the animal antics of the high school jungle caste system. She noticed dissention brewing within the top tier. The big cats were becoming restless—little fights for dominance springing up here and there. Casey didn’t look restless. She looked lonely and maybe a little afraid. So it wasn’t the high life she thought it’d be, Regan thought, embracing the feeling of vindication, even as she felt mildly sorry for her ex-friend. It wasn’t time to pounce, though. It wasn’t time to pull her from the ledge. Casey had to want it, too, or Regan risked losing her forever to that catty world.
She greeted her mom and Casey as they entered the kitchen. Casey sat down at the island, and Mrs. Walters disappeared out the door after Regan nodded. Her mother knew everything—spent countless evenings holding Regan on the couch while she cried her frustrations and hurt over losing her friend. The severance of fierce friendships was a difficult thing for any teenage girl to deal with, no matter her tough, resilient nature. Mrs. Walters knew that Casey hurt, too—that she was searching for something, getting lost further inside the maze of complicated adolescence. The adults should be the goddamn guides, she thought angrily, before remembering that most adults were just as lost. In a different maze, yes, but lost just the same.
“You’re not gonna lose any of your extremities, are you?” Regan asked finally, sliding a steaming cup of tea toward Casey.
Casey shook her head.
“What the hell were you doing out there? You know how weird that was?”
“I was mustering the courage,” Casey replied, taking a tentative sip.
“I’m not scary,” Regan said.
“No, but I was scared,” Casey said quietly.
“Why? I’m me.”
“You know why.” Casey stared into her mug. “I was wrong.”
“Okay, then. You were wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things, too,” Regan said.
“Stop being pleasant about this. I completely dropped you as a friend, which is, like, the worst thing a person could do to someone they care about!”
Fresh tears sprang up in Casey’s eyes, and she watched them plop one by one into her tea.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Regan replied.
“I want you to call me names and scream at me to get the hell out of your house!” Casey cried.
“But I don’t want you to leave,” Regan said.
Casey cried in earnest now, pushing the mug away and watching as the brew sloshed back and forth, spilling over the sides and wetting the granite. She buried her face in her arms and sobbed.
“I’m an awful friend! I shouldn’t have listened to him! I should have stuck by you! I should have been better! I should have stayed myself! I should have tried harder! I should have forgiven my parents! I should have never cared what people thought of me! I should have been nice, like I used to be nice.” She lifted her tear-stained face to Regan’s. “Do you remember? Do you remember when I was nice? And I really was. I was a nice person, Regan! What’s happened to me?”
The fear permeated her words. She looked wildly about the kitchen, like she was searching for her goodness that hid away in cabinets or inside the stove.
Regan grew frightened. “It’s okay.”
Casey shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s not okay,” she said frantically. “Who am I? What’s happened to me? How could he do that to me? Over and over and over and over . . .”
“Casey, stop,” Regan ordered, grabbing her friend’s hand. “Breathe.”
“He cheated on me all the time! You were right! He was a bad guy. He used me. I gave him my virginity! The guy who made fun of me all the time. My glasses. My nose. My stringy hair!!”
Regan squeezed her hand.
Casey’s eyes went wide, like revelation finally slapped her hard across the face.
“I deserved it,” she breathed. “All of it.”
“Don’t say that.”
Casey yanked her hand back. “No no, it’s true! I deserved to be treated like that. I am wicked. I wished for all sorts of horrible things to happen to my parents when they divorced.” Her mouth curled into a maniacal smile. “But the joke’s on me, see? The horrible things happened to me!”
“STOP IT!” Regan roared.
Casey flinched and jerked, knocking over the cup of tea. They sat in silence as Regan swiped the counter with paper towels then moved to the stove to reheat the water.
“How do I make it right?” Casey asked.
“I really don’t know,” Regan replied.
“Should I make a list of everyone I’ve hurt and apologize to them?”
“If you think that’s right,” Regan said.