"Rip-off? Me? How you figure?"
"Because we all saw you before Becca got here, and we all see you now. Your hair, your jewelry, your shoes...and didn't you pick up smoking sometime last year? And what was it you smoked? That's right. Camel Lights. Same as Becca."
The fire in his eyes intimidated me. He was fighting for Becca, and she wasn't even here. I wanted everyone to be wrong when they said how much he loved her. But maybe he really did.
"Yeah, I heard you beat the living shit out of Johnny over the summer. I saw the scar he's got on his cheekbone now. Doesn't scare me-what are you gonna do, hit me?"
I looked around for Isaac. He was talking on his phone in the corner. Crawley wouldn't have let this conversation carry on.
"I'm not going to hit you. You just need to stop."
"Oh," she said, laughing, "right, you wouldn't hit a girl. Maybe you'd just kill me."
There was a collective response in the classroom. Gasps, whoas and whispers.
"Don't fucking talk to me." Max's eyes were hard, and the veins in his hand were pumping "If you didn't kill her, and she is still out there, I wouldn't be surprised if she's keepings tabs on what you're doing with this one." Susan pointed lazily at me.
I laughed. This was just too much. "And that wouldn't make Becca the psycho?"
Max looked at me, and for a second I thought he might yell at me. But then he took my brushes and his and threw them into his locker.
"Is all your other stuff packed up?" he asked me.
"Yes." I would have said it even if it hadn't been.
He took my hand and pulled me from the room. It was quieter in the halls, even though I knew classes were about to let out and fill them up again.
Max pulled me into an empty classroom and shut the door. The gray light from outside put an eerie filter on the room.
"I'm sorry." Max sat down on one of the desks.
"Sorry...why are you sorry?"
"Because that's not okay. How Susan was acting...it's messed up. I hate when people talk to you like that. I don't like when they talk to you about her at all."
"It's okay."
"No. It's not." He stood and came toward me. "You're not her. You're you."
I couldn't summon any words. He was so close to me now that I could feel his warmth. I could barely feel the cold of the chalkboard I leaned on.
He put a hand on my hip, and another on my waist. His eyes were boring into mine. They still held the same fire they had when he was talking to Susan about Becca. His hands tightened on me, and I wondered for a moment if maybe that fire wasn't about Becca at all. Maybe it was for me.
Before I could talk myself out of it, his lips were on mine. My mind went blank. My body went numb. I faded into him, letting my bag fall to the floor. I didn't care if someone walked in. I didn't care if anyone saw.
If Becca was alive or Becca was dead, I would have kissed him in front of her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
"STOP ACTING LIKE YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK to me." Becca was sitting on the step in front of the boathouse, smoking a cigarette when Johnny walked up. She'd slipped him a note and told him to meet her here.
Johnny sighed and looked at her. "You know I do."
"Then why have you barely talked to me since Halloween?"
"You know why."
"Yes, but you shouldn't be so stupid. You should talk to me again." She stood and moved a little closer to him. "I've missed you."
I need him to say it back, she thought. Please say you've missed me, too....
He looked at her for a moment before saying it. "I have, too. I've missed you, too."
He looked her in the eyes, and she thought she'd fall apart. She had worked so hard to stay away from him, and to wait for him to come to her. But the whole time she had, she knew she was doing the right thing. Johnny didn't seem to have any trouble not talking to her. And that was exactly why she couldn't give in first.
But now she couldn't help it. Not after what she'd just found out.
"Good," she said. "I have some good news."
"What?"
"Didn't you say you were going to have to stay at Manderley over the Thanksgiving break? Your parents are doing something, right?"
"Yeah, jeez, how did you remember that?"
She shrugged. "Well, I'm staying, too. And Max is going home."
Becca watched his eyes for a response. He looked back at her, and let out a deep breath. "That's...not good."
She raised an eyebrow. "No?"
There was the flicker of a smile on his face. "Becca, we can't..."
"Look, I don't want to hear it. Just...if you want to...then meet me here at nine on the Friday he leaves."
She tried to look cool and collected, and then walked away without looking back.
The Friday finally came. She said goodbye to Max. And she sat, tapping her foot for the last hour before she was supposed to meet Johnny. What if he didn't show? She tried to think of other things, but she couldn't. Finally it was ten minutes to nine. She was out the door.
This was no time to arrive fashionably late, much as she might want to.
The trek down to the boathouse was a tense one. She tried to sing the lyrics to a song in her head, to keep her mind off her fears, but it did nothing.
Down the steps. Across the sand. Open the door. Pull on the light. No one there.
Her stomach fell, and she walked to the couch. She couldn't believe it. No one had ever rejected her. Ever. This was why she'd chosen Max. Because he could just hook up with her and act enough like a couple. He didn't have to put his arm around her or kiss her in front of everyone. She just had to tell all the girls that he was in love with her and pretend that there was something behind the scenes besides sex. She could look beloved, and have the guy everyone wanted, because he was so passive that he didn't care who he had. She was hot enough. She knew that was all it was.
But Johnny could resist her, where she could not resist him. And that was killing her.
The door swung open. Her heart leaped. It was Johnny. She wanted to smile from ear to ear, but she couldn't. That wasn't like her.
He closed the door behind him and turned off the light. She couldn't see him, but she could feel the cast of moonlight on her. He walked right to her and kissed her. They fell backward onto the couch, and he pulled off his shirt before pulling off hers.
"I thought you weren't going to come," she whispered.
"I couldn't stay away."
"I don't understand why you can't just say you're sorry."
"Okay, I'm sorry."
"Like you mean it."
Johnny laughed and glared at her. "I'm so sorry. I'll never call you by your full name again."
"Good."
Becca and Johnny were lying in his bed. His roommate had gone home for Thanksgiving, and Becca had snuck in an hour ago. There was hardly anyone on the hall.
She flipped over and propped herself up on her elbows. "Tell me something, Johnny."
"Tell you what?"
"Something. Anything. Tell me something no one knows."
He raised his eyebrows. "I don't really have any secrets."
She gave him a look.
"Fine," he said, thinking. "I've always wanted to join the Marines."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. I've got two cousins in the Marines and they love it. I mean, it's a good thing to do, and it's gotta be such a thrill."
"No...you can't do that. You'll die!"
"Hopefully not. Max always talks about it, too."
"Don't talk about Max."
They were silent for a few seconds. They both knew that what they were doing was wrong. But for this one weekend, they were playing pretend.
"Why don't you just become a doctor or something? Save lives but don't risk your own."
"I don't know. It's just something I've always thought about doing. If I were to do it, it would be the most independent choice I'll have ever made. My parents want me to do the typical follow-in-your-dad's-footsteps thing, and I don't."
"I don't accept." She draped herself over his stomach. "You'll have to just become a rich doctor and I'll stay at home with my Pomeranians. I'll leave the house, sure, but only to go to happy hour."
He laughed. "Not Pomeranians. German shepherds. Labs. Something else. None of those yappy little cotton balls."
"We'll just have to see." She smiled, and then looked very seriously at him. "Like, what if something happened to me? What if I died tragically or was kidnapped or something?"
"What about it?"
"Well, I mean would you cry? Would you weep uncontrollably and go insane with missing me?"
"Yes, I'd probably never take a happy breath again."
"Good."
"What about you?"
"Don't be stupid, Johnny." She gave him a devilish smile. "Now kiss me."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
A FEW WEEKS PASSED. MAX AND I MET ALMOST every night. No one had seen us. No one knew but us. We hadn't said aloud that we were keeping it to ourselves, but that's what we were doing. We never spoke about Becca. But we were the only ones.
The rumor had circled around to my ears that Becca was pregnant. That she was off being pregnant and waiting to give birth. Everyone seemed to assume that if she was doing this, she was giving up the baby for adoption.
"Do you really believe that's where she is?" I asked Blake, as we sat in the dining hall one evening, when someone had already brought it up again. For once, there was decent food-Wisconsin Cheddar Beer Soup. I was on my third bowl.
She took a sip from her Sprite and shrugged. "I don't know. Dana seems to know more than she lets on. That's all I know."
"Maybe that's what she knows." My chest hardened as I envisioned her coming back and presenting a child to Max.
"Well...let's see. If it is that...then she would have to have gotten pregnant like...April or May. And then she'd be having the baby in like...January or February. Right?" She counted off the months on her fingers.
"So you think that's something she'd do? Just not contact anyone here?"
"I would have thought she'd talk to someone. But I don't know. She was hard to figure out. And who knows, maybe she has contacted someone but told them not to tell anyone. They'd probably listen to her."