“Come on.” Brynna could hear sand shifting, bodies moving. She knew that was when she rolled onto her knees and eyed Erica hard. “You said dare, you have to do it, you big baby. It’s not my rule. It’s the world’s rule.”
The soft cackle of her friends’ agreement.
Erica’s silence.
“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll totally do it with you since you’re such a massive wimp.”
“Bryn, for a best friend, you’re a super huge ass. But if I have to do it, your big assiness is coming in with me.”
“’Kay, but you both should really take your clothes off. They could be a water hazard.” Jay’s warning was equal parts drunken and lascivious.
“Okay, so, there’s no way I could, like, do something else?” Erica again.
“Come on, wimp. You’re doing it.”
She knew she didn’t want to hear anymore, but she couldn’t get her arm to move. She was paralyzed in the makeshift park, the phone pressed against her ear.
Erica’s groan. “Fine. But I’m shaving off your eyebrows when you fall asleep.”
There was a silent pause, and Brynna remembered her and Erica running down the beach. Her toes itched as if the sand were still there. Her palm twitched, remembering the way she pulled Erica along.
We were laughing, Brynna reminded herself. We were both laughing.
There was more static on the phone as if someone was fumbling or moving with it. The sound of the ocean was more clear now, the rhythmic whoosh of waves pounding shore.
“Time to step out of your comfort zone, E!”
“May you get eaten by a great white, Brynnie.”
Brynna was there again, standing on the dock, the sliver of yellow moonlight washing over her and Erica as though it were dawn. She felt Erica grab her hand this time.
“If I go down, you’re going down with me.”
Brynna dropped the phone and slammed a hand over her mouth as the crash of the water flooded the earpiece.
They jumped.
Tears filled her eyes and the line went dead.
“Ms. Chase?”
Brynna whirled and threw her arms up instinctively. She was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering, and although her mind was registering someone standing in front of her, that was where recognition stopped.
“Brynna?”
She felt a soft touch on her forearm and stepped back.
“Just breathe.”
“Mr. Fallbrook.”
Brynna’s English teacher was standing in front of her, his head cocked, his normally shining blue eyes clouded. “I’m sorry if I scared you—are you okay?”
Mr. Fallbrook looked barely old enough to be a teacher and had the high school girls following him around Hawthorne High in a panting, giggling line. His hand was still on Brynna’s arm, soft, barely touching her, but her heart was still thudding so hard it hurt, and she wanted to tell him everything. He was an adult; he could make everything all right.
“Um…” Immediately she heard the echo of Erica’s voice on the phone, the definitive tone of her own as she ordered her friend to jump. “It was just—I just…” She stared down at the phone dumbly then used the back of her hand to swipe at her tears. “Nothing. Thanks.”
His hand dropped from her arm, but his concerned expression didn’t break. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“Shouldn’t you?”
A small smile touched Mr. Fallbrook’s lips. “I’m a teacher and I have a free period. You’re a student and you have…?” He raised his eyebrows.
“P.E.”
“Look, if there’s something wrong, you can talk to me, but you’re going to have to go back to class eventually. If you’re not feeling well, I can write you a pass to the nurse’s office.”
Brynna grabbed her phone from the grass. She shoved it into her back pocket and sniffed, trying her best to settle herself into some semblance of a non-hysterical mess. “That’s okay. I’m fine, really.” She shouldered her bag and started to walk, making a straight line for the school building. “Thanks,” she called over her shoulder. Mr. Fallbrook stood, watching her go.
She was met at the double glass doors by Evan. He was framed perfectly on the other side of the glass, arms crossed in front of his chest, a sharp, scrutinizing look marring his features.
“What was that all about?” he asked as he stepped through the door. His brown eyes grazed over Brynna and immediately brightened. “Oh my god. You’ve been having an affair. You’re pregnant with his love child.”
Brynna was taken aback and found herself laughing. “No.”
Evan frowned, running a hand through his rumpled brown hair. “Nothing good ever happens around here.”
“What are you doing out of class?”
He shrugged. “Same thing you are. Ditching.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Come on.”
Brynna wanted to stop him. She wanted to find a dark corner, dig the phone out of her pocket, and listen to the call message again and again, as if every second, every staccato note of the conversation, wasn’t already etched in her head. But Evan linked her arm and dragged her toward the student lot.