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“Not special at all.” She changed her mind and leaned in to take a cookie. “I just heard my number called and thought I’d better show up.”
He grinned. “No way you’re here for Nicky.”
Was that an insult? She frowned. “No. I brought Chris home.”
“Shouldn’t that be the other way around?” He pulled a fourth cookie from the pack.
She shook her head and opened her mouth to explain, but his eyes narrowed, his gaze turning more appraising. “Wait. I know you from somewhere.”
Probably, if he was on the soccer team. Drew McKay was the team captain, and thanks to Drew and his friends, she’d been the subject of locker room speculation since school started a few weeks ago.
She took another cookie. “Great detective work, Sherlock. We go to the same school.”
He made a dismissive gesture. “That’s not it. What’s your name?”
Of course he wouldn’t know. She got a quick flash of how this would go.
Becca, she’d say. Becca Chandler.
His sharp eyes would darken in recognition, and that smile would turn into a smirk, and she’d spend three minutes listening to idle commentary about her supposed talents.
Maybe not three minutes. She’d gotten better at walking away.
“Becca,” she said. Then, knowing boys rarely gave up a chance to talk about themselves, she quickly added, “You play soccer?”
He nodded and took another swig of Gatorade. “Well, technically, Nick does. You’re not allowed to play on more than two varsity teams per year.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You pretend to be your brother? And no one has a problem with that?”
“Who would have a problem with it?”
The principal. The school board. The team. She stared at him. “Do people know you do it?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Who could prove it?”
“Me.” Nick came through the doorway, wearing dry jeans and a black tee shirt. He pulled out the chair beside his twin and slid into it.
“You don’t care.” Gabriel didn’t glance at him, just slid the cookies over. Nick pulled out three.
She wanted to ask how Chris was, but she didn’t know him that well and asking felt awkward. She fidgeted with the wet sleeve of her sweatshirt.
Nick was watching her. “Chris is pretty banged up.” He paused. “Thanks for bringing him home.”
Gabriel turned. “What happened to Chris?”
Nick nodded her way. “Ask her.”
Becca pushed wet hair behind her ear. “I only caught the tail end of it. Some guys were beating the crap out of him.”
Gabriel’s anger flared like a flame on a match. That easy smile vanished and he came halfway out of his chair. “Some guys were beating the crap out of Chris? Who? Where?”
His vehemence took her by surprise, and it took her a second to get it together. Becca was glad to have an answer to give him. “Ah ... behind the gym. Seth Ramsey was one of them. The other one doesn’t go to our school, but Chris said he used to. I think his name was Tyler.”
“Tyler.” Gabriel cracked his knuckles, then rolled his shoulders. “I swear to god, Michael should have killed that stupid prick when he had the chance—”
“Easy.” Nick grabbed his brother’s arm. “Chris was awake?”
“Yeah.” They were both looking at her a little too intently, and she remembered why she’d first considered that they might be the aggressors in the parking lot. She wanted to push her chair back a few feet. “Well, he was unconscious when I chased the guys off, but I gave him some water—”
