Interim(51)

I continued to nod.

Dad smirked. “You wanna try again?”

Now that I understood. I nodded enthusiastically and took hold of the gun once more.

~





He knew he had a problem. He lay in bed that night fantasizing about his next encounter with Regan. Tomorrow! It would happen tomorrow in that greasy space downstairs: an English paper, a beautiful girl, and . . . joy.

“Joy,” he said aloud, staring into the blackness of his ceiling.

He didn’t think he’d ever uttered the word, let alone experienced it. Perfect and complete happiness. The word felt strange in his mouth as he said it again—like he was learning it for the first time—sounding out a foreign feeling on his tongue. Swallowing it whole and hoping it filled his heart to the brim. He thought he’d glow—streams of light shooting out of his fingertips and toes, eyes and ears. He imagined that’s how joy felt inside one’s body—bright heat. Impossible-to-contain heat. A sort of radiant ecstasy. Possibly manic.

And that’s where the problem lay.

He shouldn’t be thinking about a girl or a happy feeling. He should be plotting his next move. He should be practicing at the gun range. He should be cultivating the feelings of hatred and revenge—the ones he feared were receding into that landfill place of the heart. The place that collects all the memories and emotions that don’t matter anymore.

“Get a grip,” he growled, fisting his sheets.

But his brain disobeyed, and with every forced image of Brandon, came Regan shoving her way in front of him. Blocking his view. Making Brandon unimportant. Making retribution unimportant. The anger ebbed slowly, further and further away until he succumbed to his temporary fate.

Only for tonight, he told himself.

He closed his eyes and dipped into the dream. Regan tossed him the soccer ball.

“I don’t know how to play.” He wasn’t sure if he said it aloud or in his sleep.

“I’ll show you,” she replied.

“You’ll annihilate me.”

She grinned. “Most likely, but isn’t that what you want?”

***

I should tell an adult.

Regan stole down the school hallway to the office. Familiar mission. Brand new fear. He lied to her! He made her believe he wrote a bunch of crazy shit in a red notebook to help him manage his pain. Lies. His back betrayed him. His back told the truth: Strategic words to match an equally strategic plan. She thought back to that plan and all its fine-tuned details listed one by one. Careful. Calculated. Incontrovertible proof of his true nature. She ignored it because she wanted to. She wanted to believe his innocence instead.

Her eyes darted all around, praying for his absence. If she saw his face, she might back down. Not out of fear. Out of love, and that’s what frightened her the most—that she loved a monster.

“You promised a quick review before our quiz today,” Regan heard behind her. She turned around.

Casey stood with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“I’ve been here for half an hour looking for you.” Not an accusation. There was a wobble to her voice instead, and Regan noticed the slight quivering of her bottom lip.

“I’m sorry,” Regan offered.

“I . . . I waited for Ethan yesterday for an hour. He was supposed to pick me up,” Casey went on. “He forgot.”

“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!”