Page 8 of The One Before

“Bridgette McCallister, née Rollins. Total skank. She slept with like half the basketball team my freshman year. She’s one of Celia’s old cheer buddies.”

Hearing Celia’s name is like a punch to the gut. For so long, she’s been this nonexistent being Coop and I avoid discussing. I forgot I’m in her world now, where people know more about her than I ever will. They likely know more about Coop, too.

We approach the field, which is surrounded by a black fence. The scoreboard reveals the second quarter is almost over and the Whisper Falls Wildcats are down seven points. I start walking to the bleachers, but Regina stops me.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“Aren’t we here to watch the game?” If she hadn’t noticed my dissatisfaction yet, she does now.

“We’re here to watch people,” she says, leaning against the fence and facing the crowd. I dodge a family with small children climbing the concrete steps and stand beside her. “You’ve had the pleasure of meeting Bridgette. Expect to see her at every local event. She’s full of hometown pride. Gah, the only thing worse than peaking in high school is peaking in eighth grade.”

“Isn’t that a little harsh?”

“You heard what she just said, right? She hasn’t gotten any kinder with age.” She returns her attention to the crowd, unbothered. “You see the woman in the purple sweater with the black bob and glasses?”

My eyes follow her outstretched finger. The woman she’s brought to my attention is standing, holding a poster that readsGo Cats. I nod.

“That’s Kim Fuller. She’s the elementary school principal. She’s always posting inflammatory statements on social media. All this alt-right stuff to get people riled up. Her husband is sleeping with the school librarian, and everyone in town knows it but her.”

She turns and nods toward a man standing near a huddle of cheerleaders. “That’s Gary. He owns a car dealership and has a rap sheet a mile long. People say he’s a little too friendly with the teenagers, if you catch my drift. That’s why his second wife left him.”

I shake my head, struggling to connect faces to this influx of information. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You need to know things about people when you live in Whisper, otherwise you won’t know who to trust.” She sips through her straw and nods somewhere else. “The skinny guy with the faded letterman jacket? He’s a known CI for the cops.”

I only half-listen as Regina talks. I absorb my surroundings, trying to determine where I fit in amongst all these people. I wonder where Coop fits, too, or at least, how he once did. In his youth, was he an athletic idol storming the field? Did Celia cheer him on from the purple and black platform to my right? By the time Regina has pointed out a former stripper, a pill dealer and a disgraced policeman, I’ve had enough.

“Look, I didn’t come here for this,” I say, crossing my arms.

“Why did you come here?” And I can tell she’s not asking about the game. She’s talking abouthere. Whisper.

“Because I love Coop. We’re building a life together. I have no interest in these strangers’ secrets.”

She crinkles her nose. “Aren’t you, like, a writer or something? You dig up people’s dirt for a living.”

“I am a real journalist. I was a…” My frustrations prevent me from finishing. My skin burns hot, and not just from the large field lamp hovering overhead. “You know what? I’m leaving.”

Regina leans further into the fence. “Where are you going? It’s not like we have Uber.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

I march past the band as they rip a tune. The stadium chatter lessens as I re-enter the parking lot. It dawns on me I really am out of options. I hear footsteps behind me picking up pace and then see Regina, popcorn bag still in hand.

“Come on, city girl. You can’t call it a night yet.” She jingles her keys. “Let’s go. I’ve got another place to show you.”

We barely speak as she drives away from town and the paved streets turn to dust. Before long, the headlights stretch over Whisper Lake. She parks the car in a grassy spot by the water.

“If it were summer, I’d have all sorts of spots to show you,” she says. “The lake is the only part of Whisper that doesn’t irk me.”

“What are we doing now?” I feel like her game isn’t yet finished.

She pulls out a bottle of bourbon and clear cups that look like they’ve been lifted from a motel nightstand. “The only thing there is to do in Whisper. Drink and stare at nothing and talk shit.”

She pours a gulp’s worth into my cup and hands it over. I pause before downing the shot.

“Atta girl,” she says, stepping out of the car. I join her. A gust of wind blows past us, cooling the heat underneath my skin. We’re surrounded by darkness, the chirping of crickets in the trees and the sound of soft ripples in the nearby water.

“If you’re so miserable living in Whisper Falls, why don’t you just leave?” I ask. Clearly, she isn’t happy here, and after a week of isolation interspersed with clumsy introductions, I can see why.

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