The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 41: Finn

"So now you're in the mood to make fun of Becca. I was wondering when you were going to bring her up again. What, are you going to go off about Indiana next? My dad? My nickname? You're predictable, Ronan. And you're running out of good insults."

"You're calling me predictable? Have you ever seen yourself around Fisher? Same damn reaction, every time. And, get this— everyone knows. You like Becca, she doesn't like you back. Common knowledge. Hell, I'd be surprised if the Director hasn't figured it out by now."

"Fuck you, Ronan. If you keep talking, I'll— I'll—"

"What? You'll stutter at me? Real threatening."

"I'm not having this discussion with you," I say, my voice trembling slightly. "I'm not going to sink to your level."

"Don't sound so morally superior. I know what you and Becca did to Clancy. I know everything about your precious crush."

"How is that related to any of this?"

"Oh, it's not. You two are just a pair of wackos in a pod, right? She sees things that haven't happened yet and you play along. Do you know what that noise we heard last night was? It was a bird. Hitting the window. I found it when I was leaving for breakfast— right where I was about to put my foot, actually. You're both freaks of fucking nature."

"Don't talk to me about things you don't understand," I say. All of this is beginning to remind me of something that Matt Mernan once said— You can't push someone like that and not expect them to snap. "You don't know anything about me, Ronan."

Ronan raises his eyebrow and cock his head, putting on his worst expression, the one I always claim is going to land him in a jail cell somewhere, and say viciously, "Oh, I think I understand a few things about you, Fish. I know the whole reason you got sent to this camp is because you were lame enough to get arrested by your dad, and all for— what were they again? Frogs." He spits the word out like it's nothing, like it's worse than nothing. And it hurts. It hurts more than anything he's ever said to me before. "The way you talk about those frogs, you'd think they were your fucking children. Frogs! As if you could be any more pathetic."

"Ronan—" I begin threateningly.

"You got in trouble for trying to save frogs. So fucking pathetic— I bet they're all dead now, anyway, not that anybody actually gives a shit—"

Snap.

Ronan hasn't even finished his sentence when my fist swings towards his face. It's a lopsided, lazy blow— one that he could easily dodge if he felt like it, but for some reason, he doesn't. My brain goes blank and I don't stop like I probably should— Becca's voice rings out through my head, hissing the words, do you believe in magic? Then my hand connects with his nose, crunching bones and cartilage— there's a sharp burst of pain, and suddenly he's falling— toppling backward over the rim of the canoe and into the black water of the lake.

There's a loud crash as Ronan flips over the side of the canoe. Water splashes across my shirt as he hits the lake, and I catch one last glimpse of a streak of red— his bloody nose— before he slips beneath the surface and just... vanishes. His descent is impossibly fast. One moment my fist is connecting with his face, and the next, he's nothing but ripples spreading silently across the glossy black water.

Holy shit. I just punched Ronan in the face.

My heart pounds as I wait for him to resurface— but three seconds later, he still hasn't broken the surface, and the ripples from his impact have vanished. That's when I start to panic. Frantically, I scramble to the edge of the canoe, straining for a flash of black hair— until the boat lurches sickeningly, and I have to jolt backward to keep it from tipping. "Ronan!" I shout. The black water remains smooth and untroubled. "Ronan!"