The Last Song by Nicholas Sparks Page A

complimenting you on what you did right. Anyway, I was doing a new dismount off the beam one
     day, and he marched forward screaming at me about the proper way to plant and how I have to freeze and everything I’d heard
     him scream about a million times before. I was tired of hearing it, you know? So I said, ‘Whatever,’ and he grabbed my arm
     so hard that he left bruises. Anyway, he says to me, ‘Do you know what you’re saying when you say, “Whatever”? It’s just a
     code word for the f-word, followed by “you.” And at your age, you never, ever say that to anyone.’” Blaze leaned back. “So
     now, when someone says it to me, I just say, ‘You too.’”
    Right then, the waitress arrived with their food, and she placed it in front of them with an efficient flourish. When she
     was gone, Ronnie reached for her soda.
    “Thanks for the heartwarming story.”
    “Whatever.”
    Ronnie laughed again, liking her sense of humor.
    Blaze leaned across the table. “So what’s worst thing you’ve ever 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