Interim(76)

All eyes on Regan.

A boy wrote about shooting up the school in the springtime. He told me it was just a fantasy, and I believe him. I think. I mean, he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would do something like that. I think, anyway.

“Regan? Hello?”

I wanna date this boy! I wanna be his girlfriend! I want to be the killer’s girlfriend! What’s wrong with me?

“Bitch, hurry up. They’re about to call for the coin toss!”

“I . . . I hung out with a person this weekend I never thought I would. And it was the best time ever.”

“Do we get a name?” Tara asked.

“Not yet,” Regan replied. “But soon.”

Secrets shared. Pep talk over. Coin tossed.

Game on.

The girls moved into position, ready to defend against River Run’s possession, as they won the coin toss. The game was brutal just as everyone anticipated—flags thrown at both teams, multiple fouls, one stretcher, a near fistfight, and lots and lots of filthy language . . . behind the backs of the referees, of course.

Well into the second half, with no score by either team, Regan made a decision. She was scoring a goal. If it killed her, she would push down the field again—clocking close to seven miles by then—and slam the ball into the goal.

“I’m knocking her hands off,” she huffed aloud, dribbling the ball around her opponent.

“Whose hands?” the opponent asked, chasing after her.

“Your goalie’s.”

“Bitch, please.”

Regan passed to her left, confident Tara was there to receive the ball and pass it farther up the field to Ashley, hanging left of center. Just like synchronized swimming, the ball spun fluidly down the field from player to player.

Regan pumped her arms and picked up her pace, blasting through center field to her final defender. Number 10 glanced at her and then at the ball, shooting forward in front of Regan, trying to catch her in an offside call.

“I don’t think so!” Regan cried, shoving her body in front of the defender and catching the ball with the inside of her foot.

A moment to shine. Some fancy footwork to trick her opponent. Fans screaming their heads off. It was the set-up of set-ups.

“Feet, don’t fail me,” she breathed, pushing toward the goal.

A sudden swarm of defenders. Tara to her left. She passed the ball and sprinted ahead, close enough to smell the goalie.

Wide. Open.

Tara immediately passed back. Regan would have to catch the ball with her left foot—would have to shoot with her weaker, less accurate side. She had no choice. The ball hurled toward her, higher than she wanted. No time to think. She jumped. Her foot flew out in front of her, and she caught the ball on that sweet spot right above her toes, swacking it with the force of a rocket launcher. It catapulted in a dangerous downward motion—the kind of motion that tricks even the most seasoned goalies. The goalie misjudged the rate of fall, and the ball slipped just under her fingertips, slamming into the far right corner of the goal.

Regan fell hard on her side, cleat digging into her inner thigh. Instant blood. Instant elation. Rough hands all over her—her teammates grasping and clawing to yank her up—encouraging a victory run. She jumped on Tara, bouncing up and down in a sweaty, sticky hug. And then she charged down and around the field, arms outstretched, screaming over and over, “Hells yeah! Hells to the yay-uuuuuhhhhh!!”

Hers was the only goal scored that game. Five minutes remained, and River Run worked tirelessly for a tie-up. But it was a futile objective because Regan made the decision. And it wasn’t the only decision she’d make that fateful afternoon.

***

“Go wait in the car, Mom,” Regan said. She never talked to her mother like that. It wasn’t exactly disrespectful. Just decided. And her mother understood.

She marched with purpose toward Brandon, whose face sported a premature smile. She wasn’t going to linger to hear all of his stupid excuses. No way. This was going to be fast and easy.

His lips parted for the first words.

“Shut up,” Regan said. “Shut your mouth, and don’t open it ’til I’m done.”

His eyes went wide.

“There is nothing going on here—” She waved her hands all over the front of him. “—that I like anymore. Nothing.”

“Regan—”

She thrust her face under his nose. “I said shut up. Shut the f*ck up.”