Never Gonna Tell (13 page)

“Who’s Reagan?” I hear someone behind me whisper.

Andrew quickly stands up, stiffening and squaring his shoulders. “She’s the dumb bitch who started it.” Andrew apparently is very stupid.

Marco growls behind me. “Watch your mouth, or next time I’ll make sure your jaw won’t be able to utter another syllable for the next six months.”

Andrew says nothing else and after a brief stare-down, he flinches first. “Let’s go, Riley. The bi—the girl’s not worth it.”

Two teachers notice the cluster of students and begin to head our way. Seeing this, the threesome vanishes into the school, but the rest of the crowd hasn’t moved. They’re all staring at me. And Marco. And his arm that’s around me. Heat floods my face and I know I’m blushing. I hate being the center of attention, and now I have practically the whole school staring at me. I quickly push away from Marco and head toward my locker, praying that this incident is overshadowed by Mr. Everett’s death, and I can once again go back to being a fly on the wall.

Marco, however, has no intention of letting me forget. He quickly catches up to me and pulls my hand, dragging me to a stop just before I reach the door to enter the building.

“Reagan, wait.”

I shouldn’t wait. I should turn and go. It’s the smart play. My head knows this. But I don’t. I can’t. He’ll only bring me trouble, but I still don’t take a step to leave.

“Reagan, about yesterday—” His words stop, frozen on the tip of his tongue as he stares at me.

I can’t look away and feel myself lean closer. He does the same. Things around me fade away, blurred into an abstract painting, and the only thing in focus is Marco. His hand is still in mine from when he pulled me to a stop, and I can feel his pulse race. Or is it mine?

The sounds of the other students and the cars still dropping kids off are now nothing but a low hum. Instead, all I hear is my breath as I finally exhale—never even noticing that I was holding it. I lick my dry lips, and Marco’s pupils widen slightly as he shifts his focus to them and his grip becomes stronger.

I don’t know how long we stand like this, but it feels like forever. I want to memorize all the flecks in his eyes. I want to reach out and brush my finger against the one deep dimple in his right cheek. I want to—

He drops his hand from mine and looks away, shaking his head slightly. If I hadn’t been staring so hard, I wouldn’t have even noticed how cold his eyes abruptly turned. It’s chilling.

“That was really stupid, Reagan. You’re going to get yourself beaten up, and I might not be there next time to get you out of it. I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

I blink. A sneer replaces the soft smile on his face, and I have no idea what the hell just happened. Again. His mood swings are starting to give me whiplash.

“Excuse me?”

His hands are clenched into fists and he takes several steps backward. “I mean honestly, what did you expect to happen? Why would you even taunt her like that? There were three of them and one of you. Like I said, stupid.”

Okay, now I’m pissed. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“No, but you sure needed it.”

“Like hell I did! Especially not from you.” I point my finger in his face. “Why did you even bother if you’re going to be such a jerk about it? I am perfectly able to take care of myself.”

“Pfft! If I hadn’t have come along, you’d have a black eye, fat lip, and a suspension on your record right now. You think—”

A car honks its horn, startling both of us.

“Hey! Junior!”

I know that voice. It causes a shiver to run down my spine, and my hands begin to shake.

Marco looks up, and for a brief second I see fear, but it is quickly masked and his eyes are cold again. “What are you doing here, Uncle Nicky?”

“Never mind that, get in. We’ve got places to be.”

“School just started,” I stupidly blurt out. I want to kick myself for even drawing Nicky’s attention.

Nicky moves his sunglasses to his forehead as his eyes rove over my body from head to toe. “Who’s your little girlfriend here?”

I want to take a shower from the way he’s is eyeing me. I take a step toward Marco, putting him between me and the car, but Marco turns away, not giving me a second glance as he ducks in the passenger’s seat. “Who? Her? Just some girl I ran into. She’s no one.”

I’m taken aback at his words.
Did he say...?

Nicky gives me a second look and I tighten my jacket around me, feeling gross. “I don’t know, she’s got potential.”

Marco turns and stares at me for a moment. I hope to see … I don’t know what I hope, but what I find is anger. “Nah. It wouldn’t be worth the effort. Let’s go.”

Marco turns to the radio, blasting Daft Punk as he and Nicky take off.

I stand frozen there a moment, replaying Marco’s words. “She’s not worth the effort.” I repeat them in my head, trying to make sense of them, but every time I do another piece of my heart breaks away.

“Not worth the effort.”

They were the same words Andrew said. I expected them from a jerk like Andrew, but not Marco. I don’t know why, maybe because we both shared this secret or something, but I thought Marco was different. I know I should be relieved that this is how Marco really feels about me, happy even. My heart shouldn’t feel this sting. It’s better this way.

Maybe if I say it enough, I might begin to believe it.

THE ENTIRE MORNING is a blur. After Marco leaves and I am able to think clearly again, my mind is able to see the entire chessboard and not just one aggravatingly obnoxious yet irresistibly yummy piece.

I should have seen it sooner. It was so blaringly obvious. Hunter’s dad. It was Hunter’s dad who was killed. HE owed money to the Calottas. Hunter was throwing games to help his dad. I don’t know if it was an order for the Calottas so they could bet against them, or if Hunter and his dad did it on their own to raise money, but I was now all but certain that was what happened. My Moby Dick and the murder I witnessed are connected.

When I first investigated Hunter and his family for motives, no blaringly obvious signs came up. His dad was a ninth grade science teacher and his mom had passed away almost two years ago after a long battle with breast cancer. They weren’t behind on their mortgage, had never filed for bankruptcy, and while they had a lot of medical bills from his mom’s treatments, my investigation had uncovered a small life insurance policy from when they were first married that I assumed covered most of those. I had even once overheard Hunter telling friends that he’d never been to Vegas because his dad thought gambling was a terrible waste of money. For the life of me, I can’t imagine why he owed money to the Calottas.

I had my story. My Moby Dick had breached out of the water and I’d caught the sucker. Only I have to toss it back. The story could earn me a scholarship to my top college, and I can’t tell a soul. I want to weep at the irony of it all.

I can’t worry about that now. I need to focus on not becoming the next victim and figure out how in the world to get myself out of the mess I’ve made. I keep trying to think of a solution, but my mind continually wanders to the scene from this morning. Good grief, it’s pathetic that I allow myself to devote this much time to thinking about him. I have so many more important things to focus on: Charlie coming home, not flunking calculus, not getting whacked and ending up at the bottom of the river. Marco should be the last thing on my mind. I should want no part of him.

But I do. I want all the parts. Every rippled and smooth part. Every. Single. One.

No! For the love of God, what is wrong with me? I cannot continue to let my hormones run away with me. I go back to listening to the physics lecture Mr. O’Brian is giving. Something about force and mass. I look down at my notes, but it’s nothing besides doodle scrolls down the outer margins.

“Not worth the effort.”

“She’s no one.”

Marco’s words echo in my head on repeat. I’ve had two boyfriends since my dad allowed me to start dating when I was fourteen. Both of them dumped me. Darren Powell broke up with me after three-and-a-half weeks of dating in the ninth grade. We’d gone to homecoming and an after party in the woods. When I refused to give him a blowjob, he got in his truck and left me at the party alone, and then told everyone in school I did anyway and that I was terrible at it.

The following summer, just before I moved to Hope Mills, I dated Wade Griffin. I met Wade at a church youth group my mom made me go to so I wasn’t “just sitting in the house like a lump all summer.” He was the pastor’s son, and I did end up having sex with him. Apparently, so did Crystal Masters, Brittney Cole, and a handful of other girls while we were going out. When I voiced my displeasure (by throwing a can of Coke at his head), he called me a “crazy bitch” and left me in a Dairy Queen parking lot. I had to call Charlie for a ride home, trying to convince him the whole way to my house not to turn around and beat the shit out of Wade.

He did anyway and was suspended for three days.

Neither of those hurt as much as Marco’s words—and we aren’t even dating.

At lunch, I head straight for my cave, craving the seclusion. I sit eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich missing my best friend. Missing both of my friends. Ninety percent of the time, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with the cattiness and drama of other girls my age. But today, when I’m so completely messed up inside that I don’t even know which way is up anymore, I wish I had someone to confide in and talk through the mess that is now my life.

I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts—all six of them. One is my dentist. Another is for our local Chinese takeout. I seriously need a life.

I pause seeing Kally’s name and send her a quick text. She said she’d have her phone, but I have no idea how often she’ll be checking it.

My phone rings a few minutes later, a Beatles song Kally programmed after we first met.

“Oh Reagan! I miss your face so much. There has been so much going on, I can’t wait to tell you everything. First, I saw this a-maz-ing medium who told me that I’m going to run a charity one day. Which I already knew but not that it would be one to help foster kids get placed in homes. I mean, he was THAT specific. Isn’t that amazeballs? Charlie is going to flip. Hey! Maybe he can help me with it. That would be perfect for him, right? Anyway, then my parents got all weepy one night after they’d had a little cannabis about how I’m growing up too fast, and they promised to let me go to Disney! The big mouse! Can you believe it? They’ve hated that conglomerate for years, complaining about how they suck the hard-earned savings out of families who could use that money and blah, blah. Well, the next morning, they tried to take it back but I wouldn’t let them, saying they promised and now I get to go to Disney for a day! I am so excited I could just burst.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been rambling. What’s been happening with you? Anything exciting at school?”

I can’t help but shake my head. Even if she didn’t mean to, talking to Kally took my mind off my own drama. But I can’t tell her. I can’t ruin her happy day. I mean, Mickey! “Not much. I just wanted to call and tell you I missed you.”

“Aww, I miss you, too! And wait ‘til you see what I got for you. You’re going to flip. Oh! I’ve gotta run. My dad’s honking the horn. See you soon!! Big kisses to you and Charlie!”

“Bye, Kally.”

I place my phone back on the desk. I didn’t have the heart to tell her about what Charlie’s going through. Or me. I can’t be the Debbie Downer who ruins her vacation.
At least she’s safe in Florida
, I reason as I pull out my English homework, hoping to take my mind off everything, when something explodes next to me.

I duck, my hands flying to my head as I let out a cry. I slide off the office chair and under the desk, pulling my knees up as I cower in the corner. It’s the Carlottas. It has to be. They’re here for me, I know it.

Listening again, I hear a slow hiss. Poking my head out of my hiding spot, I see my twenty-ounce bottle of Diet Mountain Dew. It fell off the ledge and into a metal bucket, which knocked into a pipe. Probably what made the big noise.

I’m going crazy. I can’t live like this. In fear, all the time. I’ll end up in a loony bin!

I text Charlie.
Need to talk. Can’t wait for tonight. Things are seriously effed up.

My phone immediately buzzes. Charlie starts before I can even mutter out hello. “Who do I need to kill, and where does he live?”

I smile. This is why I love him. I throw the crust of my sandwich away and wipe my mouth. “How do you know it’s a he?”

“Oh please, you’ve been acting weird for days, you’re vague about where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing, and last but not least—I know you. I also knew that you would tell me when you were ready. But I take it since it’s the middle of the day and you can’t wait twelve more hours, I know that things with this new beau are not going as planned. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say it’s Marco, isn’t it?”

I try, quite unsuccessfully, to keep my voice from quivering. “It’s not exactly like that. Well, really, it’s not like that at all. God, Charlie, the whole thing is so screwed up and complicated that I don’t know where to begin.”