Chapter Thirty-Nine

The next day both Regan and Tig were early to algebra class. “How much did she hear?” Regan asked.

“I think pretty much all of it.”

“Oh no. Tig, I’m so sorry.”

Tig wondered if Regan really was sorry—or if Robbie had been right and Regan had shown up at practice for the specific purpose of causing trouble. Tig chose not to think about what Robbie had said. It was more comfortable to think that Regan wasn’t out to get her. Why go borrowing drama when life seemed to offer plenty of it every time she turned around? “It’s no big,” Tig said. “Paris is cool. She’s not going to go run her mouth about it.”

“Whew,” Regan said. “She is cool.”

“It’s funny,” Tig said. “I didn’t even like Paris at first.”

“Why not?”

“I guess I was jealous. She’s so pretty and she looks sixteen.”

“Yeah, she does. But I guess if she’s nice, you can overlook it.”

“I think . . . Well, I don’t think. I know what the real issue was. I was jealous because she and Robbie are so tight. I was being totally immature.”

“But it’s all in the past now,” Regan said. “Now you’re friends. I think it’s awesome.”

“What? Being friends with Paris?”

“The fact that you disliked her so much at first . . . and now you’re friends.”

“I guess that is pretty neat,” said Tig.

“Kind of like with you and me,” said Regan. “You hated me last year.”

“What makes you think I like you now?” Tig said, but she smiled.

“Shut up!” said Regan. “You let me come to your house. We discussed fairy books! I told you my embarrassing fairy house story! That totally makes us friends now!”

“We’ll see,” Tig said, still smiling. “I don’t want to rush to judgment on this.”

“Maybe if you admit we’re friends, Robbie won’t hate me anymore either.”

“Robbie doesn’t hate you,” Tig said. Regan gave her a look. Tig said, “Okay, she totally does. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”

Regan laughed. “I’ll have to keep working on her, I guess. I can’t blame her for not liking me after the way I acted last year. Anyway, I totally love your band!”

“You do?”

“Yeah! Pandora’s Box rocks!”

“Thanks,” said Tig. “We didn’t always.”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” said Regan. “I saw the video last year. Over and over, actually.”

Tig pushed Regan’s shoulder. “Saw? You engineered the video last year.”

“True,” Regan said. “How did y’all go from that to this, anyway? That’s a big jump from the video of you crashing and burning to what I saw yesterday. Did it just take you a year to get good?”

“Not exactly. A lot of it is practice and dedication,” Tig said. “I think anyone who really has a passion for music and is willing to give it a real go and put in the work can learn pretty fast.”

“Really?” Regan said. “You think I could learn how to play an instrument?”

“I’m sure you could,” Tig said.

“Didn’t you say Pandora’s Box needed a rhythm guitarist? Isn’t that why you said y’all brought Paris on to begin with?” Regan asked. “Since she’s playing bass now, do you think I could try rhythm guitar?”

Everything seemed to stop for a moment. Tig became hyperaware of everything around her, like one of those scenes in the movies where the voice of the person speaking all of a sudden gets really loud and really slow, and their face comes into frame in an extreme close-up.

Tig felt as though the heavens had suddenly opened up and revealed a great truth to her.

“So that’s what all this was about?” Tig asked.

“What all what was about?”

“Robbie warned me you were up to something,” Tig said. “I actually almost believed you wanted to be my friend. But Robbie said you had an agenda. I just couldn’t figure out what it could possibly be. But here it is.”

“What agenda?” Regan said. “I just asked a simple question.”

“Asking to join our band is not just asking a simple question,” Tig said. “‘Can I borrow a pencil?’ is a simple question. ‘What time is it?’ is a simple question. ‘Can I join your band?’ is most definitely not a simple question! It’s a huge, life-changing question!”

“I didn’t know it was that big a deal to just ask,” Regan said. “Why are you getting so uptight?”

“I’m not uptight,” Tig said. “I’m just opening my eyes. I’ve got to hand it to you: you almost had me fooled. Well, the answer, Regan, is no. No, you may not join Pandora’s Box. You tried everything to destroy it last year, and when you couldn’t, when you saw that we were actually getting somewhere, you decided to worm your way in. What? You’re not popular enough already? You couldn’t stand for us to get some attention? You had to have that little bit of limelight too?”

“You’re being ridiculous and you’re really starting to tick me off,” Regan said.

“Oh? Is that so?” Tig said. “Is that supposed to scare me? Guess what. I’m not scared of you. You threw everything you had at me last year, and I survived. What’s more, Pandora’s Box survived. There’s nothing you can do to me now.”

Just then Will walked in and sat down.

Tig gulped. As usual, she’d gotten angry and shot her mouth off again without thinking. Of course there was something Regan could do to Tig: she could tell Will and Olivia about Tig’s crush. Sure, Tig could deny it, but would they believe her? And even if she did deny it and they bought it, once the suggestion was out there that Tig liked Will, she’d be under constant scrutiny, and they’d eventually see what she’d been trying so hard to hide. It was a bell she wouldn’t be able to un-ring.

Regan must have known what Tig was thinking. Regan looked from Tig to Will and back to Tig.

Tig had to think fast.

She could either admit that Regan had her where she wanted her, or she could go down defiantly.

She chose defiance.

“Go ahead,” Tig said. “Tell him. Tell Olivia. Tell the whole world if you want. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Regan looked again at Will, then back to Tig.

“I said go ahead,” said Tig. She tried to look tough. She crossed her arms in front of her so her hands wouldn’t shake.

“You want me to tell Will?” Regan said.

Will turned around. “Tell me what?”

“Will,” Regan said, “there’s something you should know about your buddy Tig.”

“Oh yeah?” Will said. “What’s that?”

“She really, really likes . . .,” Regan began.

There was a pause.

“Really, really likes what?” Will asked. Tig could feel her face reddening. Here it comes, she thought, bracing for impact.

“Tig really, really likes . . .,” Regan said. She looked once more at Tig. “She really likes books about fairies.”

Will scrunched his eyebrows. “Okay,” he said. “Thanks for sharing.” He turned back around and started unzipping his backpack.

Regan turned around too, putting her back to Tig.

What just happened? Tig wondered. What does this all mean?

Did it mean that Regan wasn’t going to rat her out?

No way, Tig thought. This is Regan Hoffman. She thought of all the things Regan had done to her in seventh grade. Regan was no lightweight. When she wanted to take someone down, she brought her A game.

Regan must’ve had a good reason for waiting. Perhaps she wanted to prolong Tig’s anxiety, to let her suffer with wondering when and how the secret would be revealed.

That was why Regan hadn’t told Will, Tig decided. Regan was planning something horrifically spectacular.