“I don’t know.”
“Oh, for God’s sake . . .”
Every now and then she caught him talking to himself. She didn’t think it particularly odd. She talked to herself, too, especially in the midst of problem-solving. Perhaps that’s what he was doing, but his unintentional words still bothered her the tiniest bit because she wasn’t invited to share in them. Okay, truth. She was dying to get inside his brain—to run around maniacally, gather all his thoughts like a crazed collector and trap them in jars she’d line up on her dresser.
“Oh, my God, I’m a freaking psycho,” she muttered.
“Huh?”
“What?” she replied quickly.
Jeremy grinned.
“Okay, fine. So we both talk to ourselves out loud. It’s freaking weird, and that makes sense because, I mean—” She snorted. “—look at us.”
He threw his head back and laughed. He’d only laughed a handful of times at school. The sound didn’t belong in the hallway and was cut short when Regan fell to the ground. A trip. A snicker.
“Soooo mature, Ethan,” she spat, grabbing Jeremy’s hand and pulling herself up. “What are you, like, ten?”
Jeremy released her and headed toward her tormentor.
“Don’t you dare,” Regan cried, grabbing his shoulders from behind.
He froze, fists balled, staring at the back of Ethan’s head. Ethan turned around.
“That’s right, Jer. Don’t you dare,” he said, and chuckled. “And it rhymed, too!”
“You’re an idiot,” Jeremy spat.
“And you’re a loser,” Ethan shot back.
Regan felt Jeremy’s shoulder muscles flex under her palms.
“Not worth it,” she said softly.
“He’s a fucking douche,” Jeremy grumbled under his breath.
“I know. You know. At least half the school knows. So don’t waste your time on him.”
Jeremy turned around. His brows were stitched together in a deep V—anger, confusion, and defiance knitted in one undeniable picture of resolve. Regan understood.
“It’s not worth it,” she repeated in a low whisper. “Leave it alone.”
“He won’t do that to you again.”
“Yes, he will. Many times. And if I wanna take care of it with another punch to his nose, then I’ll do it. You stay out of it,” she warned.
“Another punch to his nose?” Jeremy asked.
She smiled coyly. “Oh, I never told you that story?” She linked her arm with his once more and pulled him gently down the hall. She rested her head against his shoulder. “Well, a long time ago, I was a hero . . .”
***
He caught up with her at the end of the school day.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked, falling in step beside her.
She shifted her bag to the other shoulder and picked up her pace. “Around.”
“Around where? Where do you go at lunch?”
“Different places,” she replied.
Her noncommittal responses aggravated him.
“Yeah, I figured. I was asking for specifics,” he said.
She stopped abruptly. “Why? What do you care?”
“Uh, I’m your friend,” he replied.
She snorted.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
Before, he’d never pose the question. He’d accept her response for what it was. He wouldn’t try to understand. But his heart was changing—growing in love—and he discovered he cared. He cared for Hannah. He cared that she’d been absent for two weeks, and he wanted to know why.
“It’s not like you care or anything,” she said dismissively.
“Yeah, I do,” Jeremy replied.
She shuffled her feet. “You . . . you got your thing going on. I respect that. And I’m happy for you. I am. But I don’t care to be a third wheel in your freak show.” She glanced at him with a half grin.
“I don’t get it. You and I have been a freak show for years. What difference does it make if we bring in a third person?”
“Three’s a crowd.”
“But I thought you and Regan were friends,” he pointed out.
Another noncommittal grunt.
“You’re not friends?”
Pause.
“We tolerate each other,” Hannah said finally.
Another, slightly longer pause.
“Did something happen between you two?” Jeremy asked.
“So not discussing it,” Hannah replied, and pressed forward toward the student parking lot. Jeremy tagged along.
“What happened between you two?” he persisted.
“None of your business. And it’s freaking embarrassing, anyway. And I’ve no idea how you can’t know. The entire fucking school knows.”
“Who talks to me, Hannah, besides you?” he cried. “I never know anything!”
“Just as well.”
“Stop,” he said, pulling gently on her arm.
Only then did he notice the slight change in her eyes. They were decorated with a bit of eyeshadow and mascara. He stared at them—so bright. So pretty. He momentarily forgot his next statement.
“Yeah, I wore some make-up today,” she said. “Big fucking deal. I’m a girl, and girls wear make-up.”
“I like it,” he whispered. “I never knew your eyes were that blue.”
She squirmed uncomfortably. “Don’t say cheesy shit like that, Jer. It doesn’t suit you.”
He nodded and continued to stare.
“Stop looking at me!” Hannah snapped.
He shook his head. “Hannah, what happened between you and Regan?”
His deepest fear was that it involved bullying. He couldn’t imagine Regan would ever mistreat someone, but if Hannah was unwilling to address it—as victims of bullying are wont to do—then he’d have to face an ugly truth about his dream girl.
He held his breath. Hannah eyed him strangely.
“Your perfect girlfriend didn’t do anything wrong, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said.
He exhaled long and loud. Hannah rolled her eyes and then had a change of heart.
“Well, she ran her mouth to Casey, which started the downward spiral, but I don’t think she did it with the intention of fueling gossip. I don’t think she knew how evil her best friend was. Which, by the way, is a really disgusting trait of hers—to be so na?ve.”