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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—”
“You are not fat!”
“Well, that’s what Miss Harkins said. I don’t have the right ‘body type,’ and my attitude needs work, and since I’m not willing to be kind, maybe I should look into other sports.”
“What did you say?”
Quinn sniffed and shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. “That the school must have a double standard on body types since they let a woman with an ass like hers coach dance team.”
Becca couldn’t help it—she laughed. But Quinn cracked a smile, too.
Becca sobered quickly. “I’m really sorry, Quinn.”
“Me too.”
“Not just about the dance thing.”
Quinn nodded. “I know.”
Becca bit at her lip. Quinn loved dance—and it loved her back. Becca’s mom had once made a comment that she was glad Quinn had a physical outlet for all the anger she carried around, especially one that channeled it into something expressive.
“Stop looking at me like that,” said Quinn.
“Sorry,” said Becca. “Where were you going, anyway?”
Quinn made a face. “To watch soccer practice. I promised Rafe I would.”
“He plays?”
“He gets splinters in his ass. The only reason he’s on varsity is because he’s a senior. Why were you going this way?”
Becca felt heat crawl up her cheeks. “To see Chris.”
“Didn’t you just say Hunter spent the night?”
Becca shrugged and looked off toward the fields again. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t like that. At all.”
Quinn was silent for a long moment. “So ... you going to tell me about it or what?”
Their friendship teetered on those words. Becca could feel it. If she shrugged Quinn off now, their friendship might not recover.
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll tell you while we walk.”
She told Quinn everything that had happened since they’d left school yesterday afternoon—everything except the Guide’s involvement. It was surprisingly easy to stick to the mundane. She remembered Chris telling her how easy it was to cover up what they were.
“So Chris hit him?” said Quinn, when they were getting close to the bleachers. “Jesus, I love when guys fight.”
“Yeah, it was great,” Becca returned flatly. “I should have made popcorn.”
