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.

Chapter Four

“I have confidence they'll put me to the test. But I'll make them see I have confidence in me.” – ‘The Sound of Music’

I had always hated surprises. To me, surprises were secret birthday parties where I would walk into a house and have the shit scared out of me. Surprises were finding out I had to get my tonsils out the day before Thanksgiving. Surprises were my parents getting divorced. Surprises were losing my cell phone.

And right then my surprise was some stranger, calling me on my cell phone, sounding sly and mischievous. Somehow, I could tell he hadn’t called to ask when he could return my phone.

Nevertheless… “Who is this?” I had to ask.

“I am no one of consequence,” came the airy reply. Narrowing my eyes, I attempted to discern whose voice it was. It was low and raspy, and if I could touch it, it would feel like sandpaper, most likely a result of too many cigarettes. Could it be…?

“Dane, is that you?” I asked irritably. “Because if it is, it sure as hell isn’t funny.”

The person laughed deeply, and I frowned, knowing that laugh. It was carefree, genuine, and boyish, and clearly didn’t match the voice it came with. “No,” he said once his lingering chuckles stopped. “I’m not Austin.”

I was neither an idiot nor was I gullible—I didn’t believe him. But as my evidence on the subject was virtually nonexistent, all I did was purse my lips and say, “Hmmmm.”

Lia appeared in front of me just then, eyes suspicious and probing. I shook my head at her, mouthing, “Hold on.” I took my leave of her temporarily, stepping outside her house onto the porch. Perching myself on the bench swing, I could hear the Mystery Man chortle once again.

“I know you don’t believe me,” he said, “but that’s all right. You’ll come around soon enough.”

His smug tone annoyed me and I could feel my temper flame up. “Are you going to give me my phone back?”

“Blunt, aren’t you?”

“Evasive, aren’t you?” I mimicked, feeling provoked and vicious.

“All right, all right.” An odd image of a nameless figure, holding his hands up in mock surrender, flitted through my mind. “You’re a feisty one, Regan Sutherland.”

I knew that he knew who I was, but having him say my full name aloud prompted a myriad of questions to pop into my brain… and out of my mouth.

“How did you know this was my phone?” I asked.

“It wasn’t hard,” he said, amiably enough. “I found your phone—which was turned on, by the way—and went into the ‘name card’ file, where it conveniently listed your name, your address, and e-mail.”

“And why is it my phone still has battery?”

Another short, amused chuckle. “Darling,” he said, just a tad mocking, “everyone has the same phone as you, it seems, myself included. I used my charger to charge yours.”

I had to smile at that. My phone was pretty generic. The only aspect of it that was original was a sticker of an Irish flag on the back.

“Who is this?’ I demanded, determined not to be deterred.

“You don’t need to know,” he said simply.

I tried again. “Are you in my grade?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you even go to my school?”

“What do you think?”

“Have we talked before now?”

“Perhaps.”

To say I was frustrated was an understatement. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Yes, actually, I do.”

At the unexpected response, my mouth betrayed me and let loose a laugh. “You’re crazy.”

“Right back at ya, darlin’.”

I heart a distinct beeping. Looking at the phone, I saw that it was in desperate need of a recharge. “As much as I would love to continue this conversation,” I drawled, feeling my confidence full force, “I’m afraid I have to go. Phone’s running low on battery.”

He chuckled. “All right,” he said easily, “but don’t think you’ve heard the last of me.”

“I’m counting on it,” I replied, only half-serious. Hanging up the phone, I remained silent for a moment, going through the conversation in my head.

Then strangely enough, I smiled.

0 0 0

A few minutes later, I turned to go back inside, only to find Lia on the couch, calmly watching the movie.

I slid onto the couch, simultaneously handing the phone to her. It was after a few silent minutes that her gaze redirected itself to me. “Well?” She said, and her tone was wary, though her eyes were anxious.

“He won’t give me my phone back,” I rattled off. “I have no clue who it is. And when I asked, he predictably wouldn’t tell me.”

She took all of this in, pursing her lips together. Lia, serious and rational, always took her time in making her decisions, a trait I wished I had. Belle and I were the more impulsive members of the group.

“Be careful,” she told me. “This guy clearly is smart and he could be after something.” Her statement, though slightly paranoid, was reasonable and had truth to it.

I nodded. “I will be,” I said. “But honestly, he’s a high school kid. How much damage can he do?”

Lia didn’t say anything and we settled in on the couch, watching the rest of the movie, although I mourned at the slight tension there was in the room.

Nothing else eventful happened that weekend and Monday afternoon found me in the library, sitting across a silent Dane Austin. I was struggling to do my calculus homework, as usual, and had settled into the routine of biting on the end of my pencil for a few minutes, squint at the problem, stop, pause. Look up at the clock, notice it hadn’t moved, and look down again, biting the end of my pencil. Rinse, lather, and repeat.

Sometime after the tenth time doing this, my gaze caught Dane’s. He was grinning amusedly, psychology homework abandoned. Normally this would have just vaguely annoyed me. After five sessions with the kid, I was used to how entertained he was by me. But it had been a long Monday. Long swim practice, long practices, long day. And with having to lie to my mother about my cell phone and all that other crap, I was not in the mood.

Although, I suppose I’m never “in the mood” anymore. And I don’t mean sexually, you pervs.

“What is it?” I snapped. “What is so goddamn amusing about me? Everyday when we study together you’re grinning away at me like I’m some goddamn circus monkey! And I’m sick of it! So tell me, Dane, tell me, what about me entertains you so much?”

His James Dean demeanor faltered for a moment, and I saw the surprise, but quickly the façade returned and his grin was back. I wanted to scream. At my ice bitch glare, his smug smirk vanished and in his eyes was an odd, mild expression, one so different than the intense look he always was sporting.

“You’re a paradox,” he told me simply. Now it was my turn to be surprised. I hadn’t really expected anyway. “I can’t quite figure you out. At first it’s so easy to stereotype you: little miss perfect, teacher’s pet, do gooder. And granted, I know that I shouldn’t stereotype, but hell, I know people stereotype me and it’s human nature for me to do the same. But just when I think I have you pegged, every day you keep surprising me. I keep glimpsing a new personality facet from you and I don’t know. It’s just… interesting.”

It was the longest string of words I had ever heard of him, in all my years of knowing him from the sixth grade until then. My eyes widened and I never thought he had noticed so much about me.

“How long have you been… erm… observing me?” I wanted to know. “Please don’t tell me since the sixth grade. Because that’s just plain creepy.” And I clasped my hands over my mouth. God, how insensitive was I?

I didn’t have to worry though because Dane started to chuckle. “Nah, I’m not that weird. Just since this year. Before tutoring. And I guess I’ve been doing it to everyone else around me. You’re just the most amusing.”

“Why the sudden interest in human behavior?” I asked dryly.

His gaze tipped downward and my eyes followed to the psychology book on the table. “Oh,” I said. “Right. So psychology’s a good class, huh?”

“Most worthwhile course in this shit hole,” Dane said bluntly. “Calculus and physics,” he scoffed, looking at my homework with scorn. “What the hell will that help us with? Reading and understanding people—that’s really something worth knowing. If people only understood each other more, than there would be so much less misery in this goddamned world.” His honestly, though coarse and not that articulate, was refreshing and honest and I felt special at hearing his rant. Clearly he didn’t open up to people often and it was cool being privy to this rare side of Dane Austin. It was like carrying a secret with you.

“So you want to be a psychologist? Peace activist? Motivational speaker?”

He grinned at me teasingly for once, and though he had a nice smile, it was a little unnerving to see a genuinely happy Dane Austin. “What an insult,” he said. “You think I’m going to be a shrink, a hippie, or a reverend? Thanks a lot, Sutherland.”

“Better a shrink than a pot head, a hippie than drug dealer, and a reverend than a jailbird,” I said, smirking, hoping he wouldn’t take offense.

And though his grin turned wry, his gaze was appreciative. “True,” he said. “Goddamn Sutherland, you’re right. Damn you. You’re always right,” his voice was mocking. “I bet you’ll be one of those people on Jeopardy, or find the cure for cancer, or even a high school teacher.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered at the face value of the words, or be insulted at the mocking tone beneath him. So I did what any civilized, mature person would do; I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Oh shut up,” I said, feeling strangely happier than I did before.

Dane smirked again, and I knew he was amused. Again.

0 0 0

The first swim meet of the year was that Friday and I was so pumped. The rest of the older girls and myself were ready to beat the other team and take home the first win of our senior year. In preparation of the meet, I stretched out with my teammates on the warm patio outside of the pool and once I was finished I bounced on my toes, hopping from foot to foot. We did cheers as we stretched and the anticipation built up inside. Today was a day of victory, I could smell it (or was it just the chlorine fumes?) It was harder, however, to get the lower classmen as excited as us upperclassmen. They were too nervous.

“Grace, you’ll be fine,” I told her for the umpteenth time as the smaller girl bit her lip and rubbed her hands together anxiously. “Honestly. You’re one of the best freshmen here. You’ll totally rock the 200 IM.” Besides the 500 freestyle swim, the 200 IM, in my opinion, was the hardest race. It involved doing a 50 of all four strokes; back, fly, breast, and freestyle. I would have liked to do the 200 IM but my breast stoke was horrible.

“You think so?” She said. “Because I don’t want to mess up in front of everyone; my friends, my family, my teammates…”

“You won’t,” I said confidently. “Positive thinking. It really helps.”

“Thanks, Regan,” she looked at me, and though I could still see the traces of tenseness, I saw the gears in her head working, trying to conjure optimistic mantras. “You always seem so confident.”

I smiled at the compliment. “It’s not easy,” I told her honestly, hoping I didn’t sound as cheesy as I felt, “and I still feel awkward a lot. But having a confident demeanor causes people to respect you more.”

She thought about that for a moment and was about to reply when my coach called us over. The meet was about to begin.

I ended up doing well; I was put into three races and although I was exhausted by the end of my third one, I still felt great. My last race was my longest; the 500 yard swim, which was 20 laps. Most people fear that event because of how long it is but I enjoy it; endurance, not speed is the key and I loved just concentrating on how the water felt and how effortlessly my hands seemed to glide through it. Reach, pull. Reach, pull. Reach, pull. My concentration paid off; I ended up coming in second place.

Grace was very good for someone who wasn’t as experienced and ended up coming in a very close fourth for her race. She was disappointed but I knew that once her arm muscles bulked up a bit and she had some more experience under her belt, she would be fine, and I told her so.

“I came in dead last on my first race,” I announced almost proudly. “The first meets are always a good place to start making goals. Now that you know where you measure up in comparison to others, you can see what you need to improve on.”

“True,” Grace conceded glumly, then brightened. “At least we won!” And boy did we win. It seems that our enthusiasm carried out in to the pool and we had a 60 point advantage over the other team. Ouch.

Twenty minutes later, after a nice shower and a quick change, Grace and I emerged from the locker rooms. As usual, my mom wasn’t there, but I had seen my brother earlier before he had to dash to work, a part-time job at the local sporting goods store. Lia and Belle were supposed to come watch as well. Scanning the crowd, I saw Belle, wearing a bright pink hoodie and a wide smile. Lia stood next to her but she was harder to spot; she tended to shy away from bright colors and instead wore a deep blue jacket. They were talking to someone, but I couldn’t see who…

“Charlie!” Grace exclaimed, the loudest I ever heard her. She ran off and I followed her as she effortlessly weaved through the crowds of swimmers, parents, and coaches talking or waiting for rides home.

“Hey, you did good out there!” He said, looking completely approachable with his nice jeans and letterman’s jacket. Grinning at me, Charlie said, “You too. Man, I don’t know how you can swim that long.”

I shrugged, unconsciously fluffing my hair. “Ahh, you get used to it. For the record, I don’t know how you guys can stand to practice in all that gear.”

He laughed good-naturedly and Grace was able to ask, “Charlie, what are you doing here anyway? I thought you guys had practice today!”

“We got out early,” he told her. “We have a game tomorrow—that odd Saturday afternoon one? So Coach didn’t want to wear us out. I’m glad he did—I don’t know if I’ll be able to see another meet of yours again, so I had to take advantage.” It was so sweet to watch him with his sister—I had never seen a guy so openly affectionate with his sibling.

“Anyway,” he said, turning his attention back to the three of us, “I was just telling Belle and Lia about a party I’m having after the game tomorrow. Nothing too wild, but I don’t think anyone’s had a back to school party yet, so I might as well. You guys are coming, right?”

I’m not too big of a party person, but I figured I might as well accept. I owed Charlie—he saved my butt the week before.

Before I could though, someone else spoke for me. “Sure,” chirped Belle, undeclared spokeswoman for our trio. “We’d love to come,” she turned to us. “Right guys?”

“I’m in,” I said, almost immediately.

Lia regarded Belle warily for a moment before saying reluctantly, “Why not?”

My unusual excitement for the party carried over until the three of us were in Belle’s car. She turned to us with a mischievous grin and said, “So guys? Looking forward to the make-over’s I’m giving you two tomorrow?”

Lia and I exchanged a look: What had we gotten ourselves into?

0 0 0

Notes: So the end is a little cliché, but I’m hoping the party scene won’t be too stereotypical. It will be as Charlie said; not that wild. So unfortunately, no drunken scenes. Darn it. Oh well, maybe later.

Sorry for such a long wait. Life, as we all know, got in the way. School, projects, exams, etc. My inspiration also waned for a while, but it’s slowly coming back. I can make no promises as to when the next chapter will be, but I’ll be a review whore and say the more encouragement I get, the harder I’ll try to crank out another chapter.

Speaking of, you guys are so great! Your support and feedback means so much to me. Thanks!

Until next time!

Originally posted: 5/1/07