“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re lying,” Blaze said. “I heard your stomach growling, but whatever. It’s your loss. But thanks for this.”
“No big deal.”
Blaze smiled. “So what happened last night? Are you like… famous or something?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because of the cop and the way he singled you out. There had to be a reason.”
Ronnie made a face. “I think my dad told him to go find me. He even knew where I lived.”
“Sucks being you.”
When Ronnie laughed, Blaze reached for the saltshaker. After tipping it over, she began sprinkling salt onto the table while using a finger to mold it into a pile.
“What did you think of Marcus?” she asked.
“I didn’t really talk to him. Why?”
Blaze seemed to choose her words carefully. “Marcus never liked me,” she said. “Growing up, I mean. I can’t say that I liked him very much, either. He was always kind of… mean, you know? But then, I don’t know, a couple of years ago, things changed. And when I really needed someone, he was there for me.”
Ronnie watched the salt pile grow. “And?”
“I just wanted you to know.”
“Fine,” she said. “Whatever.”
“You too.”
“What are you talking about?”
Blaze scraped some of the black polish from her fingernails. “I used to compete in gymnastics, and for maybe four or five years, it was the biggest thing in my life. I ended up quitting because of my coach. He was a real hard-ass, always telling you what you did wrong, never complimenting you on what you did right. Anyway, I was doing a new dismount off the beam one day, and he marched forward screaming at me about the proper way to plant and how I have to freeze and everything I’d heard him scream about a million times before. I was tired of hearing it, you know? So I said, ‘Whatever,’ and he grabbed my arm so hard that he left bruises. Anyway, he says to me, ‘Do you know what you’re saying when you say, “Whatever”? It’s just a code word for the f-word, followed by “you.” And at your age, you never, ever say that to anyone.’” Blaze leaned back. “So now, when someone says it to me, I just say, ‘You too.’”
Right then, the waitress arrived with their food, and she placed it in front of them with an efficient flourish. When she was gone, Ronnie reached for her soda.
“Thanks for the heartwarming story.”
“Whatever.”
Ronnie laughed again, liking her sense of humor.
Blaze leaned across the table. “So what’s worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“What?”
“I’m serious. I always ask people that question. I find it interesting.”
“All right,” Ronnie countered. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“That’s easy. When I was little, I had this neighbor—Mrs. Banderson. She wasn’t the nicest lady, but she wasn’t a witch, either. I mean, it’s not like she locked her doors on Halloween or anything. But she was really into her garden, you know? And her lawn. I mean, if we ever walked across it on our way to the school bus, she’d come storming out, screaming that we were ruining the grass. Anyway, one spring, she planted all these flowers in her garden. Hundreds of them. It was gorgeous. Well, there was this kid across the street named Billy, and he didn’t like Mrs. Banderson much, either, because one time he’d hit a baseball and it went into her backyard, and she wouldn’t give it back. So one day, we were poking around his garden shed, and we came across this big sprayer filled with Roundup. The weed killer? Well, he and I snuck out after dark one night and sprayed all those new flowers, don’t ask me why. I guess at the time we thought it would be kind of funny. No big deal. Just buy some new ones, right? You couldn’t tell right away, of course. It takes a few days before it starts working. And Mrs. Banderson was out there every day, watering and pulling weeds before she noticed that all her new flowers had started to wilt. At first, Billy and I laughed about it, but then I started to notice she’d be out there before school trying to figure out what was wrong, and she’d still be out there when I came back from school. And by the end of the week, all of them were dead.”
“That’s terrible!” Ronnie cried, giggling despite herself.
“I know. And I still feel bad about it. It’s one of those things that I wish I could undo.”
“Did you ever tell her? Or offer to replace the flowers?”
“My parents would have killed me. But I never, ever walked across her lawn again.”