The Last Song by Nicholas Sparks Page A

done?”
    “What?”
    “I’m serious. I always ask people that question. I find it interesting.”
    “All right,” Ronnie countered. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
    “That’s easy. When I was little, I had this neighbor—Mrs. Banderson. She wasn’t the nicest lady, but she wasn’t a witch, either. I mean, it’s not like she locked her doors on Halloween or anything. But she was really into her garden, you know? And her lawn. I mean, if we ever walked across it on our way to the school bus, she’d come storming out, screaming that we were ruining the grass. Anyway, one spring, she planted all these flowers in her garden. Hundreds of them. It was gorgeous. Well, there was this kid across the street named Billy, and he didn’t like Mrs. Banderson much, either, because one time he’d hit a baseball and it went into her backyard, and she wouldn’t give it back. So one day, we were poking around his garden shed, and we came across this big sprayer filled with Roundup. The weed killer? Well, he and I snuck out after dark one night and sprayed all those new flowers, don’t ask me why. I guess at the time we thought it would be kind of funny. No big deal. Just buy some new ones, right? You couldn’t tell right away, of course. It takes a few days before it starts working. And Mrs. Banderson was out there every day, watering and pulling weeds before she noticed that all her new flowers had started to wilt. At first, Billy and I laughed about it, but then I started to notice she’d be out there before school trying to figure out what was wrong, and she’d still be out there when I came back from school. And by the end of the week, all of them were dead.”
    “That’s terrible!” Ronnie cried, giggling despite herself.
    “I know. And I still feel bad about it. It’s one of those things that I wish I could undo.”
    “Did you ever tell her? Or offer to replace the flowers?”
    “My parents would have killed me. But I never, ever walked across her lawn again.”
    “Wow.”
    “Like I said, it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. Now it’s your turn.”
    Ronnie thought about it. “I didn’t talk to my dad for three years.”
    “I already know that. And it’s not that bad. Like I said, I try not to talk to my dad, either. And my mom has no idea where I am most of the time.”
    Ronnie glanced away. Above the jukebox was a picture of Bill Haley & His Comets.
    “I used to shoplift,” she said, subdued. “A lot. Nothing big. Just more for the thrill of doing it.”
    “Used to?”
    “Not anymore. I got caught. Actually, I got caught twice, but the second time it was an accident. It went to court, but the charges were continued for a year. Basically, it means that if I don’t get in trouble again, the charges will be dismissed.”
    Blaze lowered her burger. “That’s it? That’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
    “I never killed someone’s flowers, if that’s what you mean. Or vandalized anything.”
    “You’ve never stuck your brother’s head in the toilet? Or crashed the car? Or shaved the cat or something?”
    Ronnie gave a small smile. “No.”
    “You’re probably the most boring teenager in the world.”
    Ronnie giggled again before taking a sip of her soda. “Can I ask you a question?”
    “Go ahead.”
    “Why didn’t you go home last night?”
    Blaze took a pinch of the salt she’d piled up and sprinkled it over her fries. “I didn’t want to.”
    “What about your mom? Doesn’t she get mad?”
    “Probably,” Blaze said.
    Off to the side, the door to the diner swung open and Ronnie turned to see Marcus, Teddy, and Lance heading toward their booth. Marcus wore a T-shirt emblazoned with a skull, and a chain was attached to the belt loop of his jeans.
    Blaze scooted over, but strangely, Teddy took a seat beside her while Marcus squeezed in next to Ronnie. As Lance pulled up a chair from an adjoining table and flipped it around before sitting, Marcus reached