“Not if they got in the way of something you really loved, you wouldn’t,” Regan replied.
“Hmmm. But you do all that running around,” Casey thought out loud. “Like, we’re talking tons of burned calories.”
Regan chuckled. “I know, right? I shouldn’t have anything going on up here.”
Casey crinkled her brows, and then her face lit up. “I read an article in Seventeen or somewhere that girls who have big boobs produce more progesterone than estrogen in their bodies.”
Regan blinked. “And what am I supposed to do with that?”
Casey shrugged. “I don’t know. Can you take something to even everything out?”
Regan laughed. “I don’t know. But thanks for letting me know my hormones are all out of wack.”
Casey chewed her lip in thought. “I don’t think that’s what the article was saying.”
Regan grunted.
“You’ll grow into them. It’ll be amazing. Just give yourself, like, five more years.”
Casey’s hopeful look triggered the button, and Regan couldn’t contain her reaction. She burst into a fit of giggles.
“Where are you getting five years?” she cackled. “So random.”
Casey giggled, too. “I don’t know. It sounded good.”
The girls laughed as they walked together to their lockers.
“I really am sorry,” Regan said finally, watching Casey empty her book bag.
“I know you are.”
“Forgive me?”
“Regan, I can’t stay mad at you if I tried,” Casey replied. “But you can’t be all wrapped up in your problems.” She paused with a grin, waiting for Regan’s reaction.
Regan smirked. “You always were the clever one.”
Casey laughed. “Come on, you know that was good.”
“I’m not denying it. Now stop making fun of me,” Regan said.
Casey draped her arm over Regan’s shoulder. “Oh, Regan, you know I love you and your big boobs. We’ll work it out. Somehow.”
They walked, arms wrapped around each other, to first period. She was almost in the clear, having avoided Jeremy all morning. She would go to the office during lunch. That’s what she decided. Plus, the morning hours would allow her time to think of the right words to say—maybe even fashion some in his defense. Though she knew his plan was wrong, she still felt sorry for him. She still understood on some level why he believed it was the right thing to do.
His face flashed into view, and the memory of his naked back along with it. There they were: The words. The motto. Something to live by. To live for. Let them be like chaff before the wind.
She cursed her ill luck. She was almost safely inside the classroom! But she couldn’t escape the words now. Or him. Their eyes met. Hers were the size of saucers. Dead giveaway. His eyes narrowed. He knew she flip-flopped.
You betrayed me, his eyes flashed.
But you betrayed me first! her eyes shot back.
The message was loud and clear. In an instant, he disappeared.
***
He knew she was a bright girl, but he gambled with his chances anyway. After all, how much thought would she really put into learning about his tattoo? Why the hell would she waste her time on it at all? He knew she’d go home that night and look it up. She told him she would. That’s why he didn’t bother to explain it to her at the garage. Now he wished he had. She learned too much. She figured things out she shouldn’t have. And that pushed him into limbo all over again. Either that girl had to trust him for good or he’d have to take care of her. He shuddered, thinking about how to “take care of her.”
He waited beside the abandoned property—the one he knew she’d pass on her walk home from soccer practice that afternoon. He leaned against the rusted chain-linked fence then pushed himself up. He dipped backwards on his heels again, letting the fence bow and cradle his body, wondering if it would hold him or give way completely under the strain. It didn’t. He pushed himself to a standing position once more, and then leaned back again until he found a suitable rocking rhythm.
Time passed slowly, and he watched the corner of the street for her arrival. He didn’t consider that she may have driven to school today. That would ruin everything. He had to talk to her before she told someone. This morning was a close call—too close—and he knew eventually she’d squawk. He wouldn’t entertain the idea that she already had.
She rounded the corner and froze when she saw him. He watched her back pedal a few steps before hesitating, looking side to side for something. Someone. He didn’t know, but he was instantly angry at her sudden fear of him.
“Why?” he called to her.
She shook her head.
“Why are you afraid of me?”
She said nothing.
“You weren’t afraid of me yesterday when you came to see me at work. Remember? You brought me cupcakes, for Christ’s sake.”
“I . . . I . . .”
“What have I done, Regan?”
He pushed himself off the fence a final time and walked in her direction. To his surprise, she walked toward him, too. They met at the corner of the abandoned lot, and he watched her swing her soccer bag in front of her chest, positioning it like armor. What the hell did she think he’d do to her? Punch her in the gut?
“I know you learned about my tattoo,” he said. He wanted to get straight to it.
“You’re damn right I did,” Regan replied.
“How long were you at it?”
She snorted. “Too long.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I learned a lot more than I wanted to.”
“You still think I’m a lunatic planning to shoot up the school, don’t you?”
“Partial verse, Jer. Okay? That’s a partial verse etched into your back.”
Damn. She really did do some studying.
“And don’t tell me the other half wouldn’t fit. I’m not an idiot,” Regan said.
Jeremy shook his head slowly.