Chapter 11: Ronan

5K 408 571
                                    

"Where do you need me to take you?" asks Talia.

"Lourdes Park," Andy says. She fidgets with the hem of her Rolling Stones t-shirt, tugging at a loose thread until it tears free. I've never seen someone so uncomfortable sitting shotgun. It makes me feel a little better about being crammed in the backseat with Finn and Becca. "It's a weird request but, uh... We need to talk to Dolores de Leon."

Talia lets out a surprised laugh. "What do you want with that old bat? She's practically senile. Also, no shoes on the dashboard. This is my dad's car."

Reluctantly, Andy swings her legs off the dash. "How do you know Dolores?"

"She orders pizza from Sorrento's every Friday night. No tomato sauce, just cheese and black olives. Only a crazy person would eat their pizza like that."

"Only a crazy person would order pizza from Sorrento's," I mutter. I've tried being nicer to Finn's friends— I swear— but it's a million degrees in Talia's rust bucket of a Buick, and politeness is the last thing on my mind. "No offense, though."

Talia shoots me a dirty look in the rearview mirror. "What's he doing here?"

"We're all here to help Finn," Becca reassures her. "I'm sorry if you and Ronan got off on the wrong foot, but we're on the same side here."

Talia raises her eyebrows. "And who, may I ask, are you?"

"My name is Becca Fisher. I'm Finn's friend from summer camp."

"The summer camp for troubled teens?"

"Yes."

"Huh. What'd you do to get booted to Alaska?"

Becca flushes a violent shade of pink. Not wanting a repeat of last year's Sharing Circle, I interject loudly, "Aren't you curious about what I did? It's a good story, I promise."

"Not really. Knowing you, it was probably tax evasion." Talia speeds through a yellow light, waving her hand at a passing car who had the audacity to honk. "Bastard! It was still my turn to go! Anyway, I don't care about your tragic backstory, Ronan. I want to hear about what your friend did."

"We're not friends," Becca says. (As if I didn't just rescue her ungrateful ass from Talia's impromptu interrogation.) "We only met last summer."

"What are you then, exes?"

I cup a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. Meanwhile, Becca's expression darkens ominously. "No. We're not exes."

Talia shrugs, cutting off a red Dodge with frightening precision. "Okay. So how'd you get to be friends with Finn?"

"He broke my nose," I say. "And Becca almost drowned him in the lake."

"I did not!"

"Details, details. Would you rather me explain why you left him behind?'

"Ronan, don't you dare--"

There's a flicker of movement to my left. It's Finn, rolling the window down. Weird. He barely moved all morning and then complained that it was too bright in the motel room. Maybe he's finally breaking out of his... whatever this is. I'm not sure what to call it. Mental disturbance? Psychotic break? Finn sticks his hand out the window, waving it up and down like he's trying to catch the wind. His red hair tangles messily around his face.

Absentmindedly, Becca reaches out and tucks a stray curl behind his ear. "Don't listen to him, Talia," she says, her voice softening. "Ronan didn't get enough attention as a child, so he has a flair for the dramatic."

"That's not fair..." I trail off, realizing that she's not exactly wrong. "It's too early in the morning for psychoanalyzing."

"It's almost three. Are you okay?"

Kids These DaysWhere stories live. Discover now