Page 7 of The Score

Chapter 4

Bear - 17 years old

Twelve years ago

It's dark in my second-floor room as I look out the window. I just turned off my TV after rewatching a couple of episodes of my favorite show, and I want to see if Pen's bedroom light is on.

It's not. The second floor of her house is dark, including her room across from mine. On the first floor, a light shines on the corner window near the front. That's where her living room is. White and blue flashes tell me her parents are watching TV themselves, waiting for Pen. It seems my friend is still out. She planned to be at school all afternoon, but I didn't expect her lab class to go so late into the evening.

Still, I gaze at her backyard by instinct. Coming home from the back is a shortcut, and maybe I'll catch her just as she arrives…

Except the swing she keeps in the back appears to be moving. It's not the subtle movement that comes from the wind. It's the kind of purposeful rocking that comes from Pen.

I rush to her.

As soon as I can take a good look, I know she's sad. Darkness sits heavy on the backyard, with only the streetlights and a half moon casting yellows and blues onto the space. The big tree from which the swing hangs draws random shapes on the ground, while keeping everything dim. The bushes around the fence appear like shadows, and the decorative stones edging the lawn are no more than suggestions.

Still, I know my way around the place. I come close.

Her long brown hair hangs down, curtaining her face. She's slouched on the swing, her legs pushing her back and forth in a way that looks despondent. It's like there's a big weight on her shoulders, and she's trying to dislodge it and have it fall off her back. Only that her movements are too weak to manage.

My heart constricts. Something happened, and I don't care what it is, I'll try to make it better.

I go and kneel in front of her. "Pen. What happened?"

The light around us shines on her dark hair in hints of violet. A similar color bathes her light brown skin, with purple reflection dots in her dark umber eyes.

She dries one tear, unaffected by my sudden presence. Fuck. She doesn't cry often, and seeing it rips my heart in two.

I put a hand around her face and dry another tear. "Who made you cry?"

Pen doesn't respond right away. She sniffles and steals a glance at me, before she shrugs.

"You're going to be so pissed," she mutters.

"Damn right I will be. Let me. No one gets to make you cry."

"Evan," she sighs. "You know how we were paired all of last year in Chemistry? And again this year?"

I nod, and pretend I'm not bothered by the fact her tears are for a guy.

Her eyes return to the lawn between us. "We were alone and I thought, maybe I should make a move. He's so popular and cute, and he's decent, and if I'm interested, shouldn't I tell him? I'm not going to wait just because I'm a girl and the world decided I shouldn't."

"You're interested… in Evan?"

I don't like this at all. Evan is the kind of guy to be charming in public but an asshole when he thinks people are not looking. He's said some horrible things in the locker room.

To imagine him with Pen I just…

"I thought I could be!" she exclaims. "And I'm the only person I know who's had zero experience. Ihatethat I have zero experience."

Pen and I don't often talk about these things. I didn't know she had no experience at all. If I'm honest, I've tried not to think about Pen with other people too much.

I'm sure that says something about me, but I'm not ready to go deeper than that into it.

She glances at me with an accusatory look. I've gone out with a few girls, dated one for a few months. It's given me some experience, that's for sure.

"There's nothing wrong with not having experience," I say.