“What gives with your cousin?” Regan asked before algebra started.
“What do you mean?” said Tig.
“Don’t play dumb,” Regan said. “You saw her sitting in our part of the gym this morning.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So what’s she trying to pull?”
Tig didn’t know how to respond. She thought back to Robbie’s “It’s. A. Trap!” comment before school. “You should probably ask Kyra that question, not me.”
“I have to hand it to you,” Regan said. “You’re pretty loyal.”
Tig looked at her, confused.
“Just saying, Kyra didn’t seem to have any qualms about throwing you under the bus.”
“Under what bus? What did she do?”
“It was all pretty tiresome, really. She came up to Haley and me this morning and said that if we still wanted to take down your band, she’d help us.”
“What?!” Tig could hardly believe it. Maybe, she thought, she shouldn’t believe it. After all, this information was coming from Regan.
“Yeah,” said Regan. “She was all, ‘Tig kicked me out of the band and poor, pitiful me’ and ‘Anything you want to know about the band, I can tell you.’”
“That little sneak!” Tig wished she hadn’t said it out loud. Perhaps this really was a trap and she was walking right into it.
“That’s pretty much what we all thought too,” Regan said.
“What did you say to her?”
“We told her thanks but no thanks,” said Regan.
“Why?” Exactly what was Regan’s angle here?
“Because,” said Regan, “just like I told Kyra, destroying your band is so last year. That’s all ancient history now.”
“Is it?” Tig asked. “How come?”
“It was all pretty stupid to begin with, don’t you think?” said Regan. “So childish. And besides, y’all were pretty good in that video—that fake ad thing.”
“The spot we did for the university’s student project,” Tig said.
“Yeah. It wasn’t half bad.”
“Thanks,” said Tig. The idea that this was a trap kept rattling around inside Tig’s head, but she couldn’t figure out how Regan’s refusal to help in Kyra’s revenge plot—or Regan’s complimenting the band’s video—could entrap anyone. Maybe Regan was just that good: maybe she’d gone from overt meanness last year to schemes so diabolical that Tig couldn’t even fathom them.
“What do you think Kyra will do now?” Tig asked.
“I don’t know,” Regan said. “But you’d think she’d have bigger fish to fry than your band, what with her parents getting a divorce and all.”
“Kyra told you about that?”
“Please. She didn’t have to. Everybody in town knows.”
Tig shook her head. “Kyra’s going to freak.”
“Well,” Regan said, “it’s really not that bad. Both of my parents have been married a few times. You just learn to roll with it.”
“It’s kind of a big deal to us,” Tig replied.
“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, my mom and all her friends think Kyra’s mom is nuts to leave her dad. They think your uncle’s great and also kind of a hottie.”
Tig didn’t know whether to be grossed out or feel a sense of family pride. “Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate that. I think. And also, I appreciate—you know—the fact that you’re not trying to kill my band anymore.”
“No problem. As far as I’m concerned, you and I are cool,” Regan said.
Tig nodded, then turned around in her seat and opened her algebra book.
She was so stunned that her aunt and uncle’s divorce was already news around the school that she could hardly think straight. In fact, she didn’t even realize she was staring at Will from the time he walked in the door until the time he sat down. Somehow, examining his high cheekbones and the symmetry of his eyebrows soothed her frazzled nerves. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“Is there something on my face?” Will said, rubbing his cheek.
“No,” Tig said, snapping out of her haze. “Sorry. I’ve just got the stares. Lost in thought. There’s nothing on your face.”
Except lots and lots of good-looking, Tig thought.