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This sucked. Becca couldn’t figure out who to apologize to and who to fight with, and the mental debate was exhausting. She had Chris’s History notes in her bag, a flimsy excuse to drive over there after school. She got the distinct impression that her welcome at the Merrick house might have worn well past thin. Could she call him? And say what?
Gabriel played sports. Hadn’t Chris said something about watching practices after school so he had a ride home? The last place she wanted to go was the soccer field, but maybe the players would be engrossed in drills and scrimmages or whatever, and she could just talk to Chris.
Quinn appeared beside her when she turned the corner behind the gym.
Becca jumped a mile. “Quinn! You scared the crap out of me.”
“I called your name, like, three times.”
Becca turned her head to look at Quinn. Her friend looked tired, her eyes shadowed and dark. She wore a long-sleeved crop top that showed her abs, with aged denim capris that sat at her hips. Quinn had dropped some weight somewhere along the line, but Becca couldn’t decide if that was a good thing. With that weathered look on her face, Quinn seemed ... worn.
“You all right?” Becca said.
“You care?”
Wow. Becca felt the end of her rope coming up quick. “Yeah, Quinn. I care. So either tell what’s going on with you or don’t, because I’ve got—”
“Forget it.” Quinn turned away.
“Stop.” Becca caught her arm.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Becca decided she might as well start with Quinn. “I’m sorry. It’s been a crappy week. I totaled the car last night, and then Hunter spent the night, and with my dad in town ...”
Her voice trailed off, and Becca realized she was waiting for Quinn to interrupt her with an exclamation of surprise, or a gasp, or something more than just standing there staring.
“I heard you were in that accident,” Quinn finally said.
“And you sound so concerned.”
Quinn looked her up and down. “You’re not hurt. You didn’t even call me. Rafe’s dad works at the hospital. I heard about it from him.”
Becca let go of her arm. “I’m sorry.” She paused. “Really, Quinn. I’m sorry.” Then she realized what Quinn had said. “You were with Rafe last night? Are you guys getting serious?” She felt like Quinn had checked out of her life for a month.
“Yeah. Why, did you call dibs on all the guys in school or something?”
Becca jerked back. Her throat felt tight. “What does that mean?”
“What do you think it means?” Quinn’s voice was fierce, her breathing quick. “You’re supposed to be my best friend and I don’t even know which guy you’re dating! You’re always with someone else, you don’t talk to me anymore, you don’t want me around—nobody wants me around—”
And suddenly Quinn was crying.
Becca lost a second to complete shock. Then her bag dropped to the ground and she threw her arms around her friend.
Quinn didn’t fight her off—which was another shock in itself. Becca had never seen her friend cry. Not when her mom hit her, not when her dog died. Not when Rick Jakubowski took Quinn’s virginity in ninth grade and then refused to acknowledge she existed.
Becca held her, murmuring stupid things that made no sense—not that it mattered, as hard as Quinn was sobbing against her shoulder.
Quinn swiped her eyes. “God. I must be PMS-ing. Let’s pretend this didn’t happen.”
Becca hesitated. “You want to tell me what did happen?”
“They threw me off the dance team.”
“Just now? But you’re an incredible dancer! How could they—”
“They don’t care about that, Bex.” Quinn wiped her eyes again. “I’m too mouthy, and too fat, and too—”
