The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 36: Becca

It's very dark outside. It's also pouring.

I lean against the cabin wall, trying to get under the cover of the jutting roof, but the rain finds me anyways, slicking my curls against my cheeks and trailing its cold, damp fingers down my spine. Ronan stands quietly beside me, the rain dripping from the shingles and landing on his shoulder, leaving dark, circular stains on his grey sweatshirt. He's close. If it wasn't raining so hard, I would probably be able to hear his breathing.

I know what you're wondering— did I know that the bottle was going to land on Ronan? The answer is of course I fucking knew. I never would have played that stupid game if I didn't think I'd get the chance to make Finn upset. The vision hit me when Jasper uttered the words, you don't even know him, just like I predicted he would during my conversation with Giselle. At that moment, I knew exactly who the bottle would land on, and what would happen afterward.

Sometimes, it pays to be a psychic.

"I'm not actually going to kiss you," Ronan says, calmly, like he tells people this every day. Maybe he does— I wouldn't be surprised. He's the kind of boy my Abuela would call a rompecorazones. A heart-breaker.

He tilts his head back, letting it rest against the mossy wall of the cabin, and continues, "You're really not my type."

"I didn't think so." It doesn't take a psychic to know who Ronan's type really is— not that I'd ever judge him for it, or use it against him. I could care less about who he decides to kiss on a rainy summer night. "You like the strong, silent ones, right?"

Ronan smiles knowingly at me. I can't tell if he's playing along with the joke or if he's totally oblivious, because all of his smiles are knowing, even when he doesn't know jackshit. "Yeah, I'm a big fan of Sigourney Weaver in Aliens."

"That movie scared the shit out of me when I saw it in theaters."

"I can't imagine anything scaring the shit out of you."

"And why's that?"

"I think you know why."

"Humor me."

"Word travels fast around here. You must've heard some of the rumors by now."

"What rumors?"

"The ones about why you got sent to camp, obviously."

I gaze at him impassively, relaxing all the muscles in my face so my expression goes totally blank. "They're wrong," I say. "All of them."

"So, you have heard them."

"Don't need to hear them to know they're wrong," I tell him. "Sometimes, the truth is harder to imagine than the lie."

His grin broadens. "Really? Because I'm pretty sure I heard Levi telling people that you used to be an assassin for the Mexican mafia."

"There's no such thing as a Mexican mafia," I say, scoffing at the ridiculousness of the idea. "Also, I don't even live in Mexico. I'm from Arizona. And trust me, I wasn't very chummy with the gangs there. They hated me almost as much as I hated them."

"You're quite the woman of mystery, Becca Fisher."

I shrug. "Not really. I just don't like bragging about the stuff that sent me here. Not all of us got to joyride a Cadillac, you know."

"I know," says Ronan. "Just like I know that you only did this to piss off Finn."

"And you didn't?"

He nods at me, smiling. "I guess we're both here for the same reason, then."

"Maybe we're more alike than you think."