“Casey . . .”
“I feel unimportant to the people in my life who are supposed to feel like I’m important to them,” she cried softly.
It was so unlike Casey to show that kind of emotion. She didn’t cry often. All that stopped after her parents divorced.
“You are important to me,” Regan replied. “I just completely spaced about the review. We have time, though. Come on. Let’s go to a study room in the media center.”
“No.”
“But we have time,” Regan argued.
“No.”
Regan sighed and glimpsed the office doors. The image of large question marks appeared as if by magic, written in red, one on each door. She squeezed her eyes tightly then opened them again. The marks disappeared. The question remained: Are you sure?
Waffling. So unattractive. The sure sign of a weak individual. No absolutes. No moral code. No direction. Nothing to live by, to live for. She disgusted herself.
“What do you want me to do, Casey?” she snapped. Total accident.
“CARE ABOUT ME!”
Regan jumped. Several students stopped and stared. A knock-down drag-out fight wouldn’t be a bad way to spice up a dull Wednesday morning. They hung around just in case the argument escalated. After all, a girl fight? Who passes on that?
“I do care about you,” Regan whispered. She shot nasty looks at the frozen students, but they didn’t budge.
“You don’t act like it,” Casey replied. “Not lately. You act like I’m some afterthought.”
“You’ve never been an afterthought to me.”
“Really?”
“Honestly. I just forgot about studying. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“My grades are important to me!” Casey screamed.
“I know.”
“You don’t have to care about that, but you should care about wasting my time!”
“Casey, I didn’t mean to waste your time.”
“It’s so offensive and rude and unacceptable!”
“I realize that . . .”
“I would never waste your time! I would never disregard you!”
“Casey . . .”
“You’re a bullshit friend right now, Regan!”
Regan bristled. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I made a mistake,” Regan said slowly.
“No. We’re not just talking about one mistake here,” Casey replied. “You avoid my calls. You act like it’s a big fucking inconvenience to talk to me. We NEVER hang out anymore! Where have you been? Where do you go? You got some other best friend I don’t know about?”
“I don’t have any other best friend,” Regan said. One’s enough.
“Then where are you? What’s going on with you? Why do I feel like you don’t wanna be my friend anymore?” Casey demanded.
Regan swept the hallway with her eyes. “Can we talk about this privately?”
“I don’t care who hears.”
“I do. It’s none of their business,” Regan replied.
“You should have thought about that when you left me high and dry this morning. Maybe they need to know what to expect from you.”
“I don’t even know what that means. I don’t know these people.” Regan glanced at the eavesdroppers. “Go away! We’re not, like, gonna claw each other. Sorry to disappoint.”
A few grumbles, but the students broke up once they discovered there’d be no full-on cat fight.
Regan exhaled slowly and turned to Casey. “I love you. You’re my best friend. I know I’ve been spacey and weird lately, and I’m sorry. I’m not trying to avoid you. I’m just going through some stuff right now that I can’t talk about.”
Casey reared back, hurt. “We share everything,” she whispered.
“I know,” Regan replied. She wished she hadn’t added that last part.
Silence.
Regan glimpsed the office doors once more, trying to muster her earlier determination. She couldn’t.
“Once you start keeping things from me, everything changes,” Casey said.
Regan searched for a lie to appease her friend.
“I’m having some issues with my body. I’ve never talked to anyone about it.” The words shocked her because they were true.
“Huh?”
“I’m self-conscious about my boobs.”
“Are you serious right now?” Casey asked. “That’s why you’ve been acting all weird? That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?”
Regan never told a soul that she wrapped her breasts for soccer, and she really hated having to reveal it to Casey just to placate her. Why couldn’t she think of a lie? She was supposed to tell her friend a lie!
“I tape them down,” she whispered. “For soccer. I have to. They get in the way. I hate them. Always have. I’m self-conscious about them all the time. You think that’s stupid, don’t you? That I should be happy to have these things.”
Casey shook her head. “I don’t think it sounds stupid. I am a little confused, though. How does one tape down boobs?”
Regan sighed. “I wrap them really tightly with a body bandage. Like a compression bandage.”
“Oh my God,” Casey whispered. “Regan, that can’t be good for your boobs.”
“What do you mean?”
“Smashing them down like that.”
“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Regan huffed.
The entire conversation was absurd. She should be in the office right now talking to the principal! Why was Jeremy suddenly unimportant? Because she knew everyone was safe until April? That bought her time to have a ludicrous discussion with her friend about breasts? Get your priorities in order, Regan, for fuck’s sake.
“I don’t know,” Casey replied.
“I don’t talk about it with anyone because it’s embarrassing. It’s enough I have to hear it from my mom all the time: ‘Where’d you get those tatas, Regan?’”
Casey’s mouth dropped open.
“Yeah,” Regan said in answer to her friend’s unspoken question. “She seriously says tatas.”
“OMG.”
Regan nodded.
“It’s obviously upsetting to you, and I get it,” Casey began, “but I’d kill for your boobs, Regan.”