Interim, p.21
Interim, page 21
“That’s exactly what I’m saying because I never received any note from her. I had no idea you wanted to be my friend. I would have gladly been your friend and changed the course of your life’s history!”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
Jeremy exhaled slowly. He brought his finger to his scar and traced it absently as he thought.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was mean.”
“Why would Casey lie about something like that?”
“I guess she didn’t want you to be friends with me.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know, Regan. Look at her. She’s a popular girl now. Maybe she was already making plans back in seventh grade to become one.”
“That’s hard to believe. Those kids were awful to her,” Regan said.
“Easiest way to stop being harassed is to become one of them,” Jeremy explained.
Regan furrowed her brows, then shook her head slowly. “No, I don’t think so. It’s not easy to become one of them. You have to sacrifice a lot.”
“Well, apparently she was willing to do that.”
“But what’s that got to do with me?”
“She wanted to take you along for the ride. I suppose she thought I’d get in the way.”
Regan thought a moment. “You realize you just absolved me of everything, right?”
“Huh?”
“You said she wanted to take me along.” Regan threw up her hands. “I was forced! Not responsible!” she cried, trying for a joke.
Jeremy snorted. “Oh, you’re plenty responsible for the poor choices you’ve made.”
Regan bristled even as she conceded his point with a nod.
“Why didn’t you just come to me and ask? God, this all makes sense now! The dirty looks you gave me in middle school until high school when you completely ignored my existence.”
“I was embarrassed! I was rejected!”
“You threw yourself between me and a bunch of assholes to keep them from hitting me! How do you go from that to being too scared or humiliated to talk to me? The Regan I remember would have gotten all up in my face and been like, ‘You little jerkface! What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you wanna be my friend, huh? I’m amazing! I’m Regan Walters!’”
They stared at each other. And then Regan burst out laughing. Jeremy followed suit.
“People’s impressions of me are the worst!” she wheezed.
“Oh, I’m not the only one?”
“Not lately,” she said, thinking back to Hannah’s “Hello world! Hello losers!” impersonation.
“I’ll work on it,” Jeremy said, watching her carefully.
The revelation of her note back in middle school coupled with her recent breakup was almost too much for him. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling so much, having trained most of the emotions out of his heart with target practice. The fortuitous entangling of his life with Regan’s changed the way his mind worked, the way his heart operated. He was feeling, and feeling too much. He knew she was dangerous the moment he discovered she’d read his journal. She had all the power to destroy his plan. But now he was discovering a new danger to her—the power she wielded over him to feel. To desire love and acceptance and happiness.
“You’re right,” he heard her say. “I should have confronted you about it. I should have made you be my friend.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“That’s right,” she said, encouraged. “I should’ve just made you.” She laughed softly.
“You wouldn’t have had to,” he admitted. “Like I said, I would have been your friend.”
“But not because I felt sorry for you, right? Or because you thought you owed me?”
“For sticking up for me? I’ll always owe you for that.”
She blushed. Hard. A racking wave that started at her scalp and moved like rolling thunder down her body to her toenails.
“You don’t owe me for anything. I turned into an asshole.”
Jeremy shook his head. “You hung out with them. You made some questionable choices. But I never thought you turned mean.”
Regan scratched her cheek. “You think Casey did?”
“Do you?”
She nodded reluctantly.
“So why do you care that she doesn’t want to talk to you right now? Why hang out with a mean person?”
“She’s my best friend, Jeremy! Those feelings don’t just disappear like that.” She snapped her finger. “Plus, I can’t stop remembering Casey the way she used to be.”
“When she was a loser?”
“Ugh. I really hate that word,” Regan replied.
“But she was. And so was I. So were you,” he pointed out.
“Being an outcast is not the same thing as being a loser,” Regan argued. “Losers don’t care about anything—don’t try to better their lives. Don’t call us that. We weren’t losers. We were different.”
“All right. I see your point,” Jeremy said.
Silence.
Regan fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.
“I’m sorry your friends did that to you this morning,” Jeremy whispered. “It was cruel.”
“I think it mostly took the wind out of my sails because I just wanted to brag about my awesome breakup moment, and I never got the chance,” Regan replied, chuckling.
It was a front. He knew. He knew deep down her heart was shredded, and he hoped his kind words would act as the thread to piece it together again.
“Jeremy?”
“Hmm?”
“I . . . I realized something today after I got home from school.”
He waited.
“I—” She lowered her voice. “—I threatened to kill you. I would never do that. You have to know I would never do that.”
“I know.”
“So it made me realize that I finally get it.”
“Get what?”
“Your journal,” Regan whispered. “Your tattoo. I get it. I get you.”
You don’t get me at all, he thought sadly.
“No more back and forth,” Regan said. “I believe you. All the way.”
And then Jeremy’s heart ripped into a million pieces. His friend—his girl, in another, better world—entrusted to him her confidence in his goodness. A goodness he didn’t possess. And he would break her heart all over again when she finally discovered it.
He turned his face.
“I . . . I got suspended,” Regan said. “I’ve never been suspended in my life. That mess is on my permanent record.”
“You shouldn’t have gotten suspended,” Jeremy mumbled.
“Oh, yes I should have. It was fair.” Regan groaned. “But I wish I weren’t suspended from my next two matches.”
“It didn’t even hurt,” Jeremy said.
“Huh?”
“Your punches. They didn’t even hurt. If they didn’t hurt, they shouldn’t count.”
Regan laughed. “Well, where were you when my sentence was being handed down? Could have kept me from getting grounded, too!”
Jeremy chuckled. “You’ve had the worst day ever.”
“Tell me about it.”
Just then, Caroline popped into the living room.
“I know how to fix that,” she offered.
Jeremy and Regan turned in her direction.
“How?” Jeremy asked.
“Let’s show Jeremy our dance,” Caroline suggested.
Regan’s eyes went wide with embarrassment. “Um, no.”
“What dance?” Jeremy asked.
“The answer to that is no,” Regan replied. He laughed.
“I wanna see your dance,” he insisted.
Caroline flashed him a toothy grin then addressed her sister. “Please, Regan! It’ll make you feel better!”
“It will not make me feel better. It’ll make me feel mortified,” she explained.
“Oh, Regan. You love to dance with me. Come on!” Caroline yanked on her sister’s hand until Regan stood up grudgingly.
“Oh my God,” she muttered, watching Caroline turn on the TV.
“Jeremy, have you seen High School Musical?” Caroline asked.
He shook his head. What the hell was High School Musical?
Caroline’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”
“Really,” he replied. “Am I missing out?”
Caroline considered his question. “I don’t know anyone who hasn’t seen it. It’s the best movie ever. Well, movies. There are three of them.”
“Three, huh?” he asked.
“Yes. And Regan and I have almost learned all the dances.”
“Please stop talking, Caroline,” Regan said. She turned to Jeremy. “It’s just a silly thing we do. These movies are, like, ancient, but Caroline loves them.”
“You love them, too!” Caroline cried.
“Yes. When I was seven,” Regan countered.
“You love them still!” Caroline insisted.
Regan sighed. “Yes, Caroline. I love them. Now can I go crawl off somewhere and die?”
Jeremy didn’t understand what the big deal was, but he wasn’t letting Regan go anywhere. Not until she danced for him.
“You gonna show me?” he asked the girls.
“Oh, yes yes!” Caroline squealed.
Regan rubbed her forehead. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”
Caroline frowned at her. She instantly felt guilty because she knew it was only that her sister was trying to make her feel better. Well, that, and Caroline wanted to show off in front of Jeremy. She grunted and moved into position next to her sister.
“All right. Press PLAY,” she said, then glanced at Jeremy. “You better eat it up because you will never see this again, got it?”
“Oh, I’ve got it.” He smiled brightly.
Caroline started the movie, and the melody to “We’re All in This Together” filled every inch of the living space.
Jeremy sat transfixed, watching the sisters pump their arms and twirl around in sync, belting an unfamiliar tune he was desperate to learn. It may have been a little cheesy, but the sentiment was right. The longer they danced, the more he yearned to be part of their “togetherness”—to have a definitive place in their lives. Yes, both of them. Regan had long since captured his heart. Now her little sister held it, too, and he swallowed hard, forcing down the longing for a sibling of his own.
He didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to walk through the door to his lonely apartment. He wanted to sit forever in that club chair, watching the girls, wishing their mother would invite him to stay for dinner.
The song ended, and Caroline high-fived her big sister.
She huffed and puffed. “What’d you think?”
Jeremy cleared his throat. “I—” He looked at Regan, and then his look turned into a gaze. He knew his mouth was hanging open. He knew he was making her uncomfortable, the way she shifted nervously from foot to foot. He couldn’t help it. She compelled him to stare. Hard.
“Well?” Caroline urged.
“I thought it was awesome,” he whispered.
Caroline squealed. Regan blushed and shook her head.
“We’re so dorky,” she said.
“Speak for yourself,” Caroline replied. “Jeremy? Do you wanna watch the whole movie? I can start it over.”
“Jeremy doesn’t want to watch—”
“Yes,” he said, cutting her off.
“Are you for real?” Regan asked.
“Mmhmm.”
“Uh . . . don’t you have to work today?”
“Nope.”
“Uh . . . don’t you have homework?”
“It can wait.”
“Uh . . . don’t you—”
“You trying to get rid of me?” he asked lightly.
“No no! It’s just, you don’t have to watch this because my sister asked you to.”
“I know. I want to.”
He could see her wheels turning—working overtime to try and figure out what the hell he was doing. She moved to the couch deliberately, chewing her bottom lip as she thought and thought.
The movie began, and Caroline lay her head in Regan’s lap. Regan absently played with her sister’s hair, every now and then stealing looks in Jeremy’s direction. He hid the grin as best he could. But he couldn’t suppress the smile when she invited him to stay for dinner.
~
It’s hard when you make a plan to kill people—work tirelessly to get all the details sorted out—spend hours of your life seething and churning and cultivating the much-deserved hatred—convince yourself of your duty to fellow sufferers—and then have a good day.
A really good day.
~
He stood in the middle of a circle of trees. They were evenly spaced like numbers on a dial—all twelve accounted for. No natural occurrence, he decided. Someone planted them like that, coercing a bit of order in an otherwise chaotic forest. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but he stood in the center of the trees anyway, pondering his next move.
The rifle lay thick and heavy in his hands, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to lift it, position it securely against his shoulder, and absorb the shock of its discharge. Not today, anyway. He couldn’t focus. He looked at the targets sway right then left, back and forth—taunting him. Playing a game—a game without frontiers. Try your best, they teased. We’ll evade you. He thought he wanted them to, and then he could drop the gun, wash his hands of the imaginary blood, and head for her house where he would gladly hide. Forever.
He shook his head then looked up. Clouds everywhere. Milky blue stretched as far as he could see. Winter was coming. He thought nature would skip fall altogether.
Who needs it? he thought, itching for the snow. Itching for release on the slopes where he could clear his brain, gain better perspective of his current situation and his future plans.
Regan. Every time he thought of her, something moved in his mind—a cog lifted and slid onto the right bolt. A wheel finally rotated in the correct direction. Wires repaired themselves. Like his mind was healing itself. Or perhaps it was Regan who acted as doctor. He imagined her fingers tinkering with his brain, carefully lifting the fragile nerves like she was playing a game of Pick-up Sticks, discarding the damaged cells and replacing them with new ones—ones to fire strong, healthy electrical pulses. To help him think more clearly. To show him love.
He shook his head again, but he could not rid his mind of the image of her dancing. It was silly and innocent and all the things he thought his life should have been—all the things any kid’s life should be. He envied what he knew she experienced as a young girl: laughter, play, love of family, friendship, hope. He envied her now—the girl who found herself again. The girl confident in who she was.
Who was he? What was his purpose? He knew it once. Once, a long time ago, he decided to be a hero. He decided to avenge himself and all the other kids who were helpless against abuse. Once, a long time ago, he learned the difference between justice and mercy. He learned when justice was required. He learned when mercy was allowed. Once, a long time ago, he faced himself in the mirror and saw a stranger—a better boy than he could ever be. A boy with a mission. A boy with convictions. And he reached out to take hold of that boy, through the looking-glass, falling into a wonderland where righteousness ruled supreme and evil was destroyed with the pop pop! of a gun. The world made sense to him. Then.
He watched a single snowflake flutter from the sky, swirling and swaying in front of his eyes before disappearing to the ground. It was late October, too early for snow, and he thought he’d imagined it. But another descended from the heavens, dancing in front of his eyes before resting on the tip of his nose. He touched his face. Nothing. The miniscule dot of moisture wasn’t there.
“It’s not snowing,” he said aloud, as more flakes fell.
He placed his rifle gently on the ground and pulled his jacket tighter. He looked up once more and watched the precipitation ballet—the most beautiful dance he’d ever witnessed. Even better than Regan’s. Why? Because this dance was an invitation. He thought of the snowboard that lay tucked away under his bed, waiting patiently to emerge.
“Soon,” he whispered, and RSVPed to the invite inside his heart.
***
Eight odd inches fell—a tiny, freakish pre-winter storm—hardly enough to delay school, much less cancel it. He stood at his locker waiting for Regan. He wondered how she’d act today, fresh off of her school suspension. Her life was still suspended, though. No friends. No one to talk to. No normalcy to her schedule. Like starting at a brand new school—alone and likely desperate for a friend. She carried her soccer bag. Practice, with no permission to play. That had to suck hard.
She turned in his direction and smiled. He jumped.
Fucking idiot, he thought, instantly irritated that his body responded so spastically.
“So I guess it’s safe to talk to you now that I’m one of you,” she said flippantly, approaching him.
He scowled.
“Oh, lighten up,” she laughed, and then rolled her eyes. “Caroline wants to know when you’re coming over again.”
He snorted. “What?”
“I know, right? She’s got it in her head to teach you the ‘We’re All in This Together’ dance.”
He burst out laughing.
“I know, I know. I told her boys don’t do those dances unless they’re Zac Efron or Corbin Bleu.”
“Huh?”
Regan waved her hand. “Doesn’t matter. Anyway, she wants you to come over, and my mom wants you to come over, too.”
“Wha—?”
“She thinks if she keeps feeding you, you won’t have a change of heart about suing us,” Regan said.
“Um . . .”
She winked at him. “I’m kidding. She wants you to come over for dinner because you’re a new friend of mine. And one who happens to have piercings on his face. And a tattoo, though she doesn’t know about that.”
“She wants to make sure I’m not dangerous,” Jeremy said. He puffed up slightly at the implied compliment. She thinks I’m dangerous—that I look badass. That’s kind of fucking awesome.
“I told her there’s nothing dangerous about you,” he heard Regan say, and immediately deflated. “But whatever. She’s my mom. She said you need this, whatever that means.”
