Regan bristled. “What’s the big deal?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Regan. You stopped wearing that stuff three years ago, and all of a sudden you show up today looking like a picture right out of our middle school yearbook.”
Regan grunted.
“That’s not a reply,” Casey said. “If you threw me for a loop, I know you definitely threw Brandon.”
“You don’t see other girls dressing like that at school?” Regan asked, on edge.
“No one who matters.”
Regan’s mouth dropped open.
“Check the arrogance, Casey,” she suggested coolly.
“And you check your fishnets,” Casey shot back.
Silence. Regan rolled onto her back and pulled her knees up. She traced the tiny diamonds of her tights while she simmered. She determined the conversation wouldn’t turn into a fight over clothes because that’s just stupid. And much too typical for teenage girls.
“Lauren tried to talk to me,” Casey said finally, changing topics.
“And were you polite?”
“No.”
Regan sighed. “You’re the one with Ethan. Not her. Don’t you think it’s time to let it go?”
“She’s a sleazeball,” Casey huffed.
“Can girls be sleazeballs? I thought that was a guy label.”
“Fine. She’s a ho.”
“All right then.”
“I will never be her friend again.”
“I’m not saying you have to be her friend. I’m just saying you could be civil,” Regan explained.
“Why?”
Regan grew impatient. “Oh, I don’t know, Casey. Because we’re humans, and we’re trying to live in a society over here.”
“Society’s overrated,” Casey replied.
Regan drew in her breath. “Casey, you’re not a communist just because you contribute to society. Or consider it every now and then. Or try to be, you know, a good person to others.”
“That’s exactly what that shit means,” Casey countered.
“Oh, my God. What has ninth grade history done to you?”
“She tried to steal my boyfriend!!”
“True, but he wasn’t entirely innocent in the situation.”
No reply.
Shit. Shit shit shit. Why did she say that? Filter, Regan. For Christ’s sake! Put your filter on!
“Casey?” she asked tentatively.
“Hmm?”
“I’m sorry I said that.”
Pause.
“I know. And you’re right. Which just proves what an amazing person I really am—that I could forgive him the way I did.”
Regan rolled her eyes. The girl was deluded. And typical. So Casey could forgive her boyfriend for cheating on her but not her close friend who participated in the act? This was definitely a girl thing—a double standard of sorts—because secretly all girls hated each other. They could easily forgive boys’ transgressions, but each other’s? Oh, no. No no no. The grudges sealed themselves in cement hearts.
Regan considered her best friend. Casey was cute. She was a stellar student, driven to succeed. She said she was going to be a lawyer, and Regan knew she’d not only make it through law school but graduate top of her class. She had a slew of attractive qualities, yet she was majorly insecure. And willing to overlook her boyfriend’s infidelity just to keep him. Was this the price one paid to stay popular? Was Casey so afraid of going back to dork status that she was willing to compromise her standards? Did she even have any standards? Regan recalled a conversation they had three years ago where they both promised to never let a guy treat them like dirt. Ethan cheated and would have continued to cheat had he not gotten caught.
“Hello?”
Regan shook her head. “Sorry. Thinking.”
“About?”
“How amazing you are,” Regan replied.
“Damn right.”
Regan glimpsed a photo on her nightstand and smiled. “Hey, remember when we had our moms sew those matching outfits for us? Now that was amazing.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Casey groaned. “And get rid of that picture already!”
“Are you insane? I will never get rid of it,” she replied, fingering the worn frame, and then added softly, “We were the coolest.”
“No, we weren’t,” Casey countered. “And I’m so glad I’m not that girl anymore.”
Regan shrugged. “I don’t know. I liked her.”
Casey was quiet.
“Remember our club?” Regan asked.
The picture instantly transported her to seventh grade, and suddenly she craved the memories.
“Remember? You had to be a straight A student?”
“Oh, God.”
“You and Chelsea wanted to be president. You actually went to the office to fight it out over your GPAs. We didn’t even have GPAs in middle school.” Regan laughed. “I still don’t understand how you two—”
“I don’t wanna talk about this,” Casey said abruptly.
“Hmm, I wonder whatever happened to that girl.”
“I said I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Oh.”
Awkward silence.
“I . . . I think she moved to Wyoming or something,” Casey said finally.
“Oh.”
More awkward silence.
“So, do you and Brandon have big plans for your birthday?”
“Um, it’s not for, like, six weeks,” Regan said. She was loathe to move on to this topic and considered lying about needing to help with dinner to get off the phone.
“Yeah, and I would have been planning months ago. It’s your eighteenth birthday!” Casey squealed.
Regan listened as Casey rattled off party suggestions. She couldn’t care less, and was distracted thinking back to Ethan’s cheating episode. Brandon had an opinion on it.
“Dudes do stuff like that,” he said to her, then seeing her face fall, followed up with an exception. “Not that I ever would. I mean, I’m totally committed to you, Regan. You know that.”
She didn’t think Brandon had ever cheated. She would know. But she didn’t think he was committed to her. She thought he was committed to changing her. She recognized it last year. And it altered her perspective. It forced her to take notice of her gilded personality—the one she wore on her heart and face and in the words she spoke. It was pretty and shiny on the outside, but it lacked all substance underneath.