Summary: When Regan loses her cell phone, at first she’s annoyed. But that soon turns into frustration when no one will fess up to who took it. Who are her three main suspects? The Boy Next Door, the Jock, and the Bad Boy, of course.

Prologue

“Out of sight, out of mind.” - John Heywood

Nothing would have ever happened, if it hadn’t have been for my mother. I’m not blaming her for anything, I’m just stating a fact. My mother was the catalyst for this entire situation.

It cannot be ignored that it was she who forgot to pick me up that fateful Tuesday afternoon. It was after school, and I had emerged from the locker rooms, smelling like chlorine and shivering from the cold. Swim practice had just ended and because my car was in the shop, I was dependent on my mother. I suppose I could have gotten a ride home from one of my friends, but my mom wanted to have a “mother-daughter” dinner after practice, so the plan was that she would pick me up from school and we would go have a nice, bonding dinner somewhere.

My mother, well meaning and kind to a fault, did not have the greatest memory of all time. Which means… you guessed it. Me, sitting on the bench outside of school, freezing my butt off, waiting for my mother to arrive. Although it was late September, that day it had been raining, and my hair was still damp. Swim caps can only go so far in protecting one’s hair.

“Well, well, well,” a voice hummed into my ear. “If it isn’t Regan Sutherland.”

Knowing who it was, I rolled my eyes. “And if it isn’t Jeremy Carson.”

I turned my head to look at him. While the majority of the time I was annoyed with the specimen in front of me, I had to admit, he kept life interesting. Freshman year we both discovered the other's competitive streak and reveled in the challenge. Whether it was schools, sports, activities, or verbal challenges, we battled. If it was possible to win it, we would go for it. Hell, given the opportunity, we would make a big deal out of tic-tac-toe. We weren't friends, we weren't enemies, we were competitors. Rivals. And while we're being honest here, pretty damn petty.

Eh, but who really cares?

I turned around to look at Jeremy, who stood in his soccer uniform, clearly warm and sweaty. “Can I help you?” I wanted to know grumpily. Shivering, I scowled. Damn it was cold. Where was my mother?

He plastered a smirk on his face, chuckling a little. “You’re looking very elementary school, Sutherland,” he said, referring to me, sitting on the bench, alone. “Waiting for Mummy to pick you up?”

Throughout the years, civil conversation still managed to elude us. We were getting close to that point, however; insults and vicious remarks faded away to a familiar teasing that neither of us took seriously. At that point in time I was hoping that graduation would find us making comfortable small talk.

While his comments weren't hurtful, they were still pretty darn annoying. Especially with my mood. “Go away, asshole,” was my irritable reply. “Hit the showers. You stink.”

He rolled his hazel eyes. “At least I don’t reek of chlorine.”

“Chlorine, I think, is much more pleasant a scent than B.O. Honestly, Carson, don’t you have someplace better to be?” Ignoring his response for the moment, I took out my phone, checking it to see if my mother had called. And of course, she hadn’t. I had tried calling her earlier, but she wasn’t at home and her cell phone was off, of course. Where was she?

I put it on the bench beside me, just in case she did call. I didn’t want to miss that. As Jeremy and I continued to argue, we heard voices coming from the main doors. That didn’t deter us, of course, but out of the corner of my eye I spied the school’s resident Bad Boy, Dane Austin. Accompanying him was someone who looked like his lawyer, but judging from his tone of voice, was his father.

“… I can’t believe you, Dane! Cutting class, smoking cigarettes behind the gym? Who the hell do you think you are, James Dean? Rebel without a cause? Let me tell you, if anything, you’re a rebel without a clue. What are you going to do after high school, Dane? With those grades, you’d be lucky to get into community college. It’s time to wise up because that’s the last time I’m saving your lucky ass again!” Dane was silent, his face impassive, but I’m pretty sure he was listening. I could read people pretty well, and I knew his type.

After launching another verbal attack on Jeremy, I focused my ears again on Mr. Austin. He was talking again. “Now wait here on the bench while I get the car. Damn school parking lot is too small; had to park a couple blocks away and quite frankly Dane, I can’t look at you right now. I need to go cool off.” And with that, he strode off after making sure that Dane had settled himself on the bench next to mine.

Glancing over at us, he didn’t bother to hide the blatant amusement on his handsome face. I had to admit, he was pretty good looking, if you went for that sort of thing. His hair was shoulder length and black, sometimes pulled back, sometimes loose. Stubble adorned his face, and his dark eyes were intense. His teeth were white, which I found incredible, considering the number of times I had seen him smoking. Like his father said though, I too found him to be a rebel without a clue. Seriously. Did he want to waste his life away?

Focusing my attention once again on Jeremy, who had opened his mouth to say something else, a big hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Hey, Carson. What’s up?”

Charlie Nolan, captain and star of the football team, had graced us with his presence. I didn’t really know him, he wasn’t in any of my classes, but I certainly heard enough about him. In his defense, mostly good things, about the game or about how “awesome” a guy he was, but this guy was a definite serial dater and I had seen the trail of hearts he had left behind. Ouch.

Looking at him as he and Jeremy conversed, I could see why the girls liked him. He was pretty All-American looking. Stereotypical, blonde-hair, blue-eyed, with a charming smile and a pretty nice physique, if I do say so myself.

So there I was, on the bench, waiting for my mother, surrounded by Beamer High’s most well known guys. Any other girl would have killed to be in my shoes, and I suppose on a normal day, even I would have seen how extraordinary this scene was; the Boy Next Door, with the Jock, and the Bad Boy. But like I said earlier: I was cold, I was hungry, and my mother was late. Very late.

Finally, finally, she arrived, looking flustered and apologetic, as usual. Ignoring Carson and Nolan, who ignored me as well, and ignoring Austin, who had pulled out a pack of cigarettes by then and started huffing away, I climbed into my mother’s car. Looking into my rearview window, I saw Carson and Nolan doing their signature “parting handshake” and Mr. Austin’s car pull up. What I failed to see, however, was my little silver cell phone, still on the bench.

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Notes: Unlike my other story, which I recently deleted, I do have a semblance of an idea of where this story’s headed. I’m pretty excited, actually. My other story “Second Place” was definitely not my best work, and I’m ready for a new start, hence this story.

Another thing: I couldn’t think of anything else to call this story. I feel the title is lame and unoriginal, but I couldn’t think of anything good. If you guys have suggestions about what it should be called, feel free to tell me!!!

Anyway, please tell me what you guys think, about the title or otherwise. Thanks and until next time!

Originally Posted: 12/26/06 Last Edited: 2/20/07