Second Chances (10 page)

"What are you nervous about?"

"Being here with you."

Allison
shifted in her plastic chair and leaned forward. "Explain."

Stalling,
Reagan played with a small hole in the plastic tablecloth.  She continued to fiddle with the rip until Allison set her hand on top of hers, stopping the nervous movement.  Reagan’s gaze remained stuck on the tabletop.

"It's different seeing you in New York or in
Rhode Island.  I can handle that.  But being back here..." she trailed off. "I'm sorry,” she said shaking her head.  “I'm being ridiculous."

"You're not ridiculous. You're remembering all the horrible things I did to you in high school,"
Allison finished for her. "And you're remembering that I’m a bully who doesn't deserve another chance." She realized she hadn't removed her hand from its place on top of Reagan's, and that she'd started rubbing small circles with her thumb.  She immediately stopped and dropped her hand onto her lap.

"Yeah."

Allison had worried this might happen.  Being back in their hometown brought with it a flood of memories for her, too.  It was part of the reason she'd escaped to the East Coast in the first place and rarely returned.

"But you're wrong about the second chance thing,"
Reagan said. "Everyone deserves that."

Allison
shook her head. "You're too forgiving."

"Oh, I never said you were forgiven,"
Reagan said with a sly smile. "I'm still going to make you work for that."

"How about I start off by buying you lunch?"
Allison offered.

"Are
you
going to buy lunch or do I have to send your dad another Edible Arrangement?"

Allison
laughed and brushed the hair out of her eyes.  She felt better now that the conversation had taken a lighter tone. "If it'll get me closer to redemption, I'll actually pay. No Rodger Hoge credit card today."

"Well in that case,"
Reagan smiled, "I will accept."

                                                                                        +++++
Reagan pushed her fork around on her nearly empty plate. Vegan options were scarce in their small hometown, and she felt unsatisfied by the iceberg lettuce “salad” she’d ordered. Her palate had gotten spoiled after living in New York for over three years, but she couldn't deny that spending more time with Allison made the lackluster salad less offensive. "So it's weird being back here, right?"

Allison finished the final bite of her sandwich and vigorously nodded. "I don't know what it's like for you," she said when she finished chewing, "but I can't handle being at my parents' house. I've gotten too accustomed to living on my own, in my own space, with my own rules. Being back here makes me feel like a child."

Reagan hummed in agreement. "I know. Don't get me wrong, I love my dad, but -"

"Hold that thought," Allison cut in as she abruptly stood up. "I just stuck my hand in something sticky, and I'm quietly freaking out over here." She wiggled the fingers on her right hand and grimaced.

Reagan chuckled. "Ok. Do you want to sit inside instead? I could move our stuff to a new table."

"No, this is nice out here," Allison insisted. "I miss being by the lake. I just need to rinse my hand off, and I'll be right back." She spun on her heels and tromped across the wooden patio inside to the sandwich shop's single bathroom.

After washing the mysterious goo off her hands, Allison checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She pulled her lip-gloss out of the front pocket of her jeans and re-applied a coat.  She pursed her lips, but stopped when she realized she was primping as if getting ready for a date. 

After a rocky start, lunch had gone surprisingly well. She still worried that Reagan might bring up that unfortunate kiss though. She hoped Reagan could forget it happened and they could continue rebuilding their friendship. If Reagan insisted on talking about it, however, she knew she'd be forced to divorce herself from the situation. But she really wanted that second chance with Reagan.

She stared hard at her reflection. Large hazel eyes stared back at her beneath a curtain of blonde hair. She really needed to get it cut. Maybe she'd hunt down her old hair stylist and see if she could squeeze her in before the end of Spring Break. 

Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she left the bathroom. When she swung the bathroom door open, she nearly ran into someone standing just outside of restroom.
 She blindly mumbled an apology.

“Allison?  Allison Hoge?”

Long arms were suddenly surrounding her torso and squeezing her hard. Only when the hug ended and she could pry herself away did she recognize her hugging assailant.

"Carly?"

The lanky girl waved her arms around. "Beth! Vanessa!" she called out. "Look who's here!"

Two other women appeared at Carly's side and Allison soon found herself in the middle of a high school reunion sandwich.  She would have covered her ears to muffle the ear-piercing shrieks, but her arms were pinned to her sides.  She shut her eyes and waited for it to be over.

When the squealing died down, she tentatively opened her eyes.  Carly, Beth, and Vanessa, her three closest friends in high school stood in front of her, shoulder to shoulder, like an impenetrable wall.

“What are you doing back in tow
n?  It’s been, like, forever!” Carly exclaimed.

Allison nodded. “
I know. I haven’t been back that often,” she acknowledged with a small frown.  “I’ve just been too busy to make the trip.” She was guilty of not staying in touch, despite the promises scrawled on the inside cover of yearbooks. But giving up her high school friends had been just one casualty in the quest to re-invent herself.

Carly and Beth were fraternal twins. Rumor was they shared a brain, but that Beth got to use it more often.
 High school was unkind, even to the most popular kids. Their family had moved to town at the beginning of high school and lived in the house next door to Allison's family.  The three had become fast friends. Carly and Allison had been on the cheerleading squad together. Beth, more solemn and serious, wasn't the cheerleading type.  She'd been just as popular, however, with her girl-next-door good looks and warm demeanor.

“It must be like a high school reunion or something,” Beth spoke up.  “Did you guys see who’s here
, too?”

“No. Who?” Carly chirped curiously.

“Reagan Murphy.”

“Oh my God.” Vanessa nearly shrieked at the name. “Where? I
have
to see this.”

Unlike the twin sisters, Vanessa was less charming. If every high school had a token Mean Girl, she was it.
 Allison briefly entertained the thought that perhaps she and Vanessa had shared that title. It had made for an uneasy tension during school with each vying for the top of the pyramid, both figuratively and literally as cheerleaders. They'd been friends, but only because the alternative was much worse.

“She’s out on the patio,” Beth noted, nodding in that direction.

Vanessa peered out at the girl sitting by herself on the back patio area. “Good old Reagan Murphy, sitting with all her friends,” she chuckled.  “Hey, remember when you took her clothes from her gym locker and she had to wear sweaty gym stuff all day long? God, Allie.  You were the Queen of Mean,” she giggled approvingly.

“Do you have any plans for today?” Beth asked, turning to her high school friend.  “A lot of the old gang is home on break, so we’re having a bonfire at the beach.”

“Yeah, I heard Chad is back from college, too.  Maybe you guys could reconnect,” Vanessa laughed conspiratorially.

Allison felt three pairs of eyes on her, waiting.  She
hazarded a glance once more in the direction of Reagan, still sitting outside.  In her absence, she had pulled her oversized sunglasses back on and was gazing out at the harbor, unaware of the conversation happening inside at her expense.

“I’m free,” she heard her voice say.

“Great!” Vanessa chirped excitedly. “I want to catch up and hear all about the rich Brown men you’ve been tormenting.” She linked her arm with Allison’s and pulled her outside with Beth and Carly following behind.

Allison crawled into the back of Beth’s SUV, leaving her own vehicle behind in the parking lot.  She
figured she could pick it up in the morning or later that night.  As she buckled her seatbelt in the backseat, her stomach lurched.  She knew she had to do something about the girl she’d left behind.

She grabbed her cell phone out of her bag and quickly typed off a text message:
“My mom called while I was in the bathroom, and I needed to leave.  I’m so sorry.”

The reply was instantaneous:
“Is everything all right?”

Allison frowned.  Why did Reagan have to be so nice all the time when she was such a rotten person?

“Everything’s fine,”
her fingers replied.
“If I don’t see you again before you head back to school, have a nice break.”

Reagan’s polite response flashed on her screen:
“You, too.”

Allison sighed.  She’d suc
cessfully maneuvered out of an uncomfortable situation, but that didn’t make her feel any less guilty.  She started to type another text when her phone vibrated again with a third message:
“By the way, say hi to Carly, Beth, and Vanessa for me.”

Allison’s eyes went wide and she threw her phone
back into her purse so she didn’t have to look at it anymore.  She felt sick.  Nauseous. How could Reagan have caught her in the lie so easily?

While her old high school friends chattered excitedly in the background, Allison stared out the back window at the town she used to call home.   The familiar scenery blurred before her.

Way to go, Hoge,
she bitterly thought. 
So much for growing and maturing
.

+++++

Spring Break had ended and Allison was back at Brown.  She’d temporarily gone off the grid, not responding to emails, voice mails, or text messages in order to buckle down for that semester’s round of midterms.  Once she’d emerged from the tests and papers that kept her busy mid-semester and finally got back to technology, she was sure she’d be the recipient of at least a dozen messages from Reagan. She was terrified, however, to discover that Reagan hadn’t once tried to contact her – not even a single text message with the words “I hate you.” 

There was no other word that better represented her feelings about the situation –
terrified
.  Something must be wrong.  Reagan must have died.  There seemed no other logical explanation for her to have not reached out to at least pontificate why Allison Hoge was a horrible person who had not changed since high school. 

She couldn’t deny that her ego hurt just a little that Reagan hadn’t tried to contact her after the Michigan trip.  She knew it was a remnant of her high school persona, and she tried to mentally choke back those indignant feelings.  Being angry with Reagan for having a backbone wasn’t going to rectify the situation.

In the absence of any messages from Reagan, Allison decided to send one of her own:
“Are you going to pretend like I don’t exist?”

If Reagan wanted to cut her out of her life, she knew she deserved it.  She’d all but done the same to her, ditching like that at their hometown sandwich shop.  It might have even been crueler than if she’d stood her up altogether.

She chewed on her thumbnail, a nervous habit she couldn’t shake, and stared at her phone, willing it to
do something
. When it was clear Reagan wasn’t going to respond to her text, she called her phone number instead.  The phone rang until it went to her voicemail.  Reagan’s recorded, perky, professional voice told her she wasn’t around, but to leave a message and she’d be happy to respond as soon as possible.

Allison seriously doubted if left to her own devices that Reagan would call her back.  She called the number again and glanced at the time displayed on her cell phone.   It was late in the afternoon, but maybe Reagan was still in class. She hung up and immediately redialed the number.  The phone continued to ring and she contemplated leaving a voice mail. 

Across her bedroom, her laptop started to jangle.  She hopped up from her bed and crossed the room to the desk where she kept her computer.  Her Skype program, which she had only ever used with Reagan, opened and Reagan’s screen name appeared on the screen.  She sat down at her desk chair, tucked her long hair behind her ears, and hit the Accept button.

When Reagan’s scowling face filled her laptop screen, Allison didn’t give her the opportunity to start the conversation.
“I’m sorry, Reagan.”

“For calling my phone repeatedly and interrupting my homework time?”

“No. You know for what,” Allison frowned.