Interim(28)

“There’s not that much difference between thirteen and fourteen,” she said, unconvinced.

“There is for me,” he insisted. He looked straight at her face.

“Okay, Brandon. I sort of believe you,” she replied, picking up her hacky sack and gym bag. She slung the bag over her shoulder, signaling the end of their conversation.

But he wasn’t ready to end it, and she sensed that. He gave her a really good once-over, taking in her fourteen-year-old hair, lips, breasts, legs. Cleats. He smiled.

“Wanna know what I was laughing about?”

“Please share,” she said.

“I was looking at your cleats,” he said, pointing to her feet.

“Oh, whoops,” she replied, looking down.

She plopped on the ground and switched out her shoes.

“Thanks. These are brand new. If Mom saw me walking in with them on, she’d have a fit.”

He nodded. “So anyway, I was looking at your cleats, and I thought, wow, I’m a cleat chaser.” He paused, waiting for her reaction to his not-so-subtle proclamation of love. Or lust. Perhaps lust right now.

“Girls are cleat chasers,” Regan said, distracted, lacing her shoe.

Brandon sighed. “I know. That’s what made it funny. That I thought to myself, hey, I’m a guy, but I’m a cleat chaser.”

“Who are you chasing after?” she asked, looking up.

He shook his head. “God, Regan! You’re so oblivious! You! I’m chasing you!”

She froze, flushed with flattery.

“Like role reversal over here. You’re the athlete, and I’m going after you. See why that’s funny?”

She hopped up. “You’re so sexist.”

“I’m not. I swear. But come on. Can’t you see the humor in it?”

She considered him. “I guess.”

“Well, is that all you’re gonna say? I just confessed to liking you.”

“But why? You never showed interest before,” she said.

“Because before, I was an idiot.”

She smirked.

“Don’t say it,” he warned playfully.

They stood avoiding each other’s eyes, waiting for the other to speak.

“You were a really cruel kid,” she said softly.

“I know. But I’m not that guy anymore, Regan. I swear. How about this: Let me show you that I’m not that guy,” he offered.

“How?”

“Hang out with me.”

“Hang out with you?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Umm . . .”

He waited.

“Well, I guess so,” she said finally.

He lit up. “You won’t regret it. I swear . . .”

“Regan!” the secretary shouted.

She jerked her face up, and in an instant, the memory faded. “Huh? Wha—?”

“You’ve been standing there staring at me for ten minutes! What do you need?” Pam demanded.

Regan clutched the red notebook against her chest. She was all ready to turn it in, report what she’d learned from those dark pages, but then her mind yanked her back to the summer before ninth grade.

Brandon. He said all the right things. He halfway convinced her he’d changed. He showed her all during that school year until she fully believed him. She was unaware of the abuse he doled out in secret. She had no idea what he did or said when she wasn’t around him. He tricked her. He promised he was a good person, but he wasn’t. At least, there wasn’t much goodness there.

So what about Jeremy? She realized she could have read him all wrong. Yeah, she knew what those pages said, but her righteous side almost justified it. And anyway, she’d gotten it wrong before. What made her think she wasn’t wrong this time?

“I’m not good at reading people,” she said. “I think.”

Pam raised her eyebrow. “Okay. Well, are you able to read my facial expression right now?”

Regan stared blandly. “You want me out of here because you have a lot of work to do?”

“See? You’re not as bad as you think,” Pam said.

Regan hesitated, pulling the notebook away from her chest and looking down at it.

“So, Regan, tell me what you need so that I can get back to these phones.”

“Umm . . .”

A parent walked in, and Pam greeted her. Regan stood to the side, weighing her heavy options. Neither seemed fair. Neither seemed right. It was the first time she saw the world in hues of gray. Before, everything was black and white. Right and wrong. Easy.