Interim(63)

Regan shrugged. “It was easier to fit in than to be harassed. I chickened out.”

“And that’s the scariest part of it all—that you gave in to peer pressure.”

Pause.

“Maybe my period had something to do with it,” Regan said thoughtfully.

“Huh?”

“I don’t know. Girls get weird when they start their periods. They change. Maybe it’s that.”

“Uh, you wanna blame this shit on your period?” Hannah asked.

Regan snorted.

“Take a f*cking Midol and deal.”

Regan nodded.

And then silence descended like the ellipsis at the end of a convoluted sentence. No more anger. Confusion, yes, but this was not question mark silence. This was that definitive silence where everything had been said but nothing fixed. Nothing made better.

There was nothing to do but open the door for Hannah.

“What are you doing?” Hannah asked.

“Holding the door for you. What does it look like?”

Hannah walked through tentatively, watching Regan from the corner of her eye. Regan exited the bathroom and fell in step with her.

“It’s easier to blame everything on your period.”

“I do that when I have to,” Hannah replied, head swiveling side to side. She didn’t want to run into anyone who would give her trouble for talking to Regan.

“But I know I can’t blame my period for this,” Regan went on.

“Hell. No.”

“I want to be better.”

Hannah stopped short. Regan turned around and faced her.

“Then just do it. Be better.”

Regan tried for a smile. She didn’t want to fully commit if she didn’t receive one in return. The side of Hannah’s mouth quirked up. Perhaps that was as good as it got.

“You’re not really going to try to murder me with my extensions, are you?”

Full-on smile. “I know what you’re trying to do with that fake ass hair.”

“It’s real human hair.”

“It’s not growing out of your head, is it?” Hannah asked.

Regan shook her head.

“Okay then. Fake ass hair. Anyway, I know you’re trying to make a statement with it.”

“You do?”

“Ohhh yeah. Will the real Regan Walters please stand up?” The pitch of her voice changed to mimic a Valley girl. “Why, yes, I do believe I will . . . after three years of being a f*cking lame ass coward. Hello world! Hello losers! I’m back to stick up for you!”

“I so don’t sound like that.”

“Yeah, well, whatever.”

“And I don’t like the word ‘loser.’”

Hannah ignored her. “How poetic would it be if I murdered you with your “I’m changed!” hair pieces?”

Regan giggled. “Pretty poetic.”

“Uh huh. You just think about that tomorrow when you’re eating lunch with your douchebag boyfriend.”

It was at that exact moment that Hannah spotted Casey in the distance.

“Ugh.”

“What?” Regan asked, looking behind her.

“I’m outta here,” Hannah mumbled, and before Regan could reply, Hannah disappeared down the hallway.

Casey approached. “Did I just see that?”

“See what?”

“You talking to Hannah.”

“Yep.”

“I’m confused.”

“Why?”

“Because you were talking to Hannah.”

“Why confused? I told you I talked to her every once in a while.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t actually believe you.”

“Well, believe it.”

Brief pause.

“What’s going on?” Casey asked.

“Nothing.”

“Why are you being weird and talking to weird people?”

“I’m just being.”

“Yeah. That’s a little too Zen for me. Wanna try again?”

“Casey, chill.”

Slightly longer pause.

“I’m not going back there, Regan,” Casey said finally.

Regan ignored her and headed for the doors. She jerked to a stop when Casey grabbed her upper arm.

“Ouch!”

“I’m not going back there,” Casey said more urgently.