The Bookworm Next Door: The Expanded and Revised Edition

by Alicia J. Chumney

  David stood there speechless. Not that it would matter since Peter went to tackle his dirty clothes and didn’t really care about his brother’s reaction. It took a moment before David remembered the well-worn book he had stashed under a cushion in the living room.

  While going to retrieve it he ran into his mother. "That Aimee is a nice girl. She's not Delilah, but she's still a nice girl."

  "Nice my ass," David muttered once he was away from his mother. “She’s planning something and I wish I knew what.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Delilah reclined against the pillows on her bed; restless reflections had fluttered around her brain ever since they returned from the Carver's house. Thoughts that had been tumbling around her mind before she had even left the treehouse if she was being honest with herself. Which she wasn’t.

  It was obvious that Aimee was attempting to reattach herself to David's hip. But why did he have to kiss her – instead of his clinger - that afternoon? What was with his weird mutterings before he was even aware that she could hear him? How can you not be friends with the very girl that was incapable of being subtle about groping him underneath the dinner table?

  "Okay, maybe she wasn't groping him, but her hands definitely weren't being kept to herself," she thought aloud.

  Secretly that didn’t make things any better. She had already stashed that afternoon’s kiss in her mental memory box. It was something she would claim that she didn’t want to think about or even remember - even if she had already brought the memory back out of the box where she had tried to hide it every five minutes since she’d returned home. She didn’t know what to even think. That was what was keeping her awake.

  To make matters worse she couldn’t remember where she had left her worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. It barely mattered that she had memorized the story years ago. She also had the BBC miniseries version committed to memory nearly word for word, look for look, outfit by outfit. As a purist for the novel, although not as much with other books, she could point out what was wrong with every adaptation that had been turned into film. This particular book was her lifeline, much like her sensible sister, Charlotte, favored Sense and Sensibility and her wilder, more irrational sister, Samantha, favored Northanger Abbey.

  That was her mother's legacy to the girls: Samantha Elizabeth, Charlotte Francine, and Delilah Jane. They all had names from her favorite novel, her youngest daughter's favorite novel; a fact Delilah never thought too deeply about. The love of Jane Austen novels spread like wildfire throughout those girls lives even when the woman formerly known as Mrs. Davis was no longer around.

  For somebody who loved these novels and the stories they shared, Veronica Davis did the worst thing that she possibly could do. It was the very thing she disliked most about Mansfield Park: she pulled a Mariah; only in real life there was no distant cottage in the country where she could be hidden away with a spinster aunt as a companion for punishment.

  Despite her obvious contempt for her absentee parent, Delilah clutched at that novel like a lifeline. It was a way to hold on to the last shred of her mother that she could touch, even if she wouldn’t admit that to herself. The loss of this particular novel was devastating. It wasn’t the complete story but the book itself. The book that had been held in her mother’s hands as she read it aloud to three little girls who barely understood the story until gradually the content and context started making sense to them as each year passed and they grew wiser.

  Before she retreated to her bed Delilah had searched nearly everywhere - except for the school and the public library - she had been throughout the day. She searched her book bag, her purse, the kitchen, the laundry room, the bathroom, her room, the living room. Room after room was thoroughly searched while her father hid in his computer room from the insanity of his youngest daughter's hunt. It was the one room where any of the Austen books would never be found.

  Her alternating thoughts plagued her into a restless zombie-like state. It was barely nine o’clock and she was sprayed across her bed trying to push away thoughts of David by trying to figure out where her book was.

  Sitting up suddenly and then collapsing backwards, she groaned, "The tree house. I left it in the tree house."

  Normally this would be an easy solution to her book problem, but this revelation led her back to those very thoughts that she refused to entertain. She had the sudden urge to just go to bed and not worry about the book until the morning when ghosts of that afternoon would be less likely to plague her.

  Only the book wouldn’t be found in the tree house in the morning because it was currently in David's bedroom. It was in his hands as he carefully turned worn page after worn page. He found himself, surprisingly, interested in the very book that he once had teased Delilah about as a 'silly romance' and 'a girly classic' on a weekly basis ever since she was thirteen. He found himself entertained by a novel he had sworn he would never read.

  He found it difficult to understand her fascination with Mr. Darcy. The man was an arrogant and snobby aristocrat that dismissed Elizabeth Bennet because she was "tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt" him. He laid insult upon injury and appeared to look at everybody 'below' his social status as inferior.

  Suddenly, realizing what he was doing, David tossed the book to the floor in desperation. It was midnight and he knew that it would be a long day since he would be running on less than six hours of sleep. Lack of sleep tended to make him quite disagreeable. Extremely disagreeable. Beyond enormously disagreeable.

  He had managed to make it to volume two and suspected that he would have to return Delilah's copy of the book without admitting that he had read any of it or seen her highlighted passages. He wondered how he would go about returning the very book he had sworn he would never read.

  During breakfast while disregarding Peter's taunts, David once again dove headfirst into the pages of the book. He was ignoring the fact that in less than two hours he was going to have to return the book back to its owner. That was if she would even let him close enough for him to return it.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The next day showed no significant difference that something was going on. Life went on uneventfully, if nobody counted David’s failed attempts at returning the paperback to Delilah. He found it harder than expected to walk up to her and hand it over; every time he even looked in Delilah’s direction Aimee would appear as if summoned by magic.

  “Okay, Girls,” Aimee smiled her practiced smile, “here’s the plan.” Leaning into Kelly and Hannah, she outlined what each girl was supposed to do, when, and how. “If subtle doesn’t work then be direct. Say something like, ‘Aimee was over at his house on Tuesday,’ or, ‘It’s not physically possible to go from being flat-chested to a C cup over a summer.’ Watch who you talk to; avoid her friends at all cost.”

  “How could Delilah get a boob job when she’s not even eighteen yet?” Kelly asked, confused.

  “She didn’t,” Hannah answered her, blinking away her real thoughts.

  “Then why are we saying she did?”

  Aimee answered, “Because the bookworm cannot and will not become this year’s Homecoming Queen. She will not take David from me when I’ve worked so hard to get him back in the first place.”

  It wasn’t until Hannah was in her car with the radio turned up that she expressed her frustrated thoughts. “David doesn’t even like you, Aimee. Get over it.” Closing her eyes, she reached for her phone as she briefly wondered why she even put up with Aimee and Kelly. Looking at the picture of Brady, Kelly’s older brother, on her phone, she wondered if what she felt for him was even worth putting up with her toxic ‘friend’ and the ditzy side-kick for a minute longer.

  She knew that Brady had brushed off her concerns about Aimee’s influence on Kelly and how the two girls had managed to get rid of almost all of Brady’s ex-girlfriends - that is the ones Kelly didn’t get along with. He never got a front row seat to what Aimee was capable of plotting and executing.


  Phone ringing, “Hey, Babe, I was just thinking about you…”

  It became more obvious that something was happening on the third day of school when the rumors were running rampant. All of them were extremely unpleasant to David’s ears and were pleasurable to Aimee’s ears. It meant that her plan was starting to work; she wanted to paint Delilah in a negative light and make it seem as if Aimee and David were back together. It didn’t occur to Aimee that all she was doing was proving Delilah’s accusations from the first day of school.

  It slipped Aimee’s mind that by focusing her maliciousness on Delilah that she was also breaking her agreement with David. The thought did occur to David, even if he wasn’t certain what he was going to do about it yet.

  For the most part Delilah ignored the rumors with mixed emotions. She tried to avoid the gossip surrounding David, Aimee, and their 'newfound relationship', and focused on finding her missing book. It had to be somewhere in the school; she had looked everywhere else.

  She refused to listen to any of the rumors about herself. She was too focused on one thing to even care about what people were saying concerning her. She didn’t actually care either way about the rumors Aimee most likely had started.

  Locating the book was a surprisingly difficult task to complete. The book hadn’t been in the tree house Wednesday morning when she went in search of it. The only other option was that David had taken it, but it didn’t seem likely considering his previous aversion to Pride and Prejudice and reading. Would he take it?

  To make things worse, she was unable to look at him without thinking about him kissing her in the tree house. It made asking him if he knew where her book was even more difficult. Even more thanks to the rumors she was “ignoring”. She couldn’t have even made the attempt if she dared try; Aimee was always intercepting David before Delilah could attempt to take three steps in his direction.

  David, as much as he tried on Thursday, still found it impossible get within ten feet of Delilah to return her book. If Delilah wasn’t slipping into the crowds and losing him that way then Aimee would magically appear and attempt to distract him using her flirtatious wiles. That was how the majority of the student body carried on with the assumption that David and Aimee were dating. A few carefully placed speculations and well-crafted comments from Aimee and her friends helped cement the theories.

  As the rumors spread further throughout the student body the more problematic it was for David to even see Delilah. By the end of school on Thursday all it took was a glimpse of him to cause her to disappear in the opposite direction even when he was standing right in front of her next class.

  Or maybe it was because Aimee was standing behind him.

  Grace and Delilah's other friends weren’t any help. Every time he asked for assistance or directions or suggestions they would scoff and laugh as if it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. For them it probably was a grand joke. They still remembered how he had treated Delilah when they first entered high school and they rejected David’s pleas to give him any help on the off chance that he hurt their loyal friend again.

  “Jennifer, come on. I have to talk to Delilah,” David pleaded with her before lunch. “It’s important.”

  Slamming her locker, Jennifer stared him down, “I just bet it’s important.”

  After lunch he tried a different friend. "Wesley," David pleaded, the desperation he was feeling evident in his tone. "I have to find Delilah."

  "Why?" Wesley laughed. He actually laughed. "Do you need to have more than one girl following you around at a time?" If anybody was watching they would be surprised to see the boys not getting along; it was well-known that David and Wesley got along with everybody.

  The laughter continued and David bore it the best that he could even though he was tempted to punch Wesley in the mouth. A part of him knew that he deserved the jab. It had not just been Delilah that he had abandoned.

  "Look," David started, aware that his time was running out as he heard the now familiar click of Aimee's signature heels at the end of the hall. "I'm an ass. A huge ass. I don't want to be an ass. Yes, Aimee is following me around and has nearly attached herself to my hip, but she is not my girlfriend. I don't even like her. I like Delilah. I miss Delilah." David stopped talking as realization of exactly what he was rambling bloomed. "I miss Delilah. I have her book and I know she's looking for it. At least give it to her or give me her locker combination or something so she can have it back. I know exactly how much this book means to her."

  "Davy," Aimee's sickly sweetened voice reached him. "What are you doing over there?" The insult was thinly disguised, like most of her insults, and both boys knew what she was implying. Why was he talking to Wesley Pitts of all the people that he could, and should, be talking to? She’d never hidden her dislike of the Army Brat Transfer Student – and Kyle’s best friend. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

  Growling, "Does it matter what I'm doing while I’m talking to a friend?" David barely looked at her.

  Aimee just laughed, dismissing Wesley with a wave of her hand. "He's not your friend. You never hang around him and why would you?"

  "Maybe I should start." David's voice was short, dry, and serious. “He would be a lot better than having to deal with the childishness of you and your friends.”

  He was starting to constantly feel sick of the social veneer he felt forced to wear. He was tired of silently sitting around while nice people were insulted and put down because his “friends” thought that they were better than others. He hated himself for not speaking up sooner all because of a stupid bargain that Aimee couldn’t even uphold her end of.

  His tone caused both Aimee and Wesley to look at him oddly.

  Naturally, the nearest junior gossip had overheard the entire exchange between Aimee and David. She took off running to tell her friends that there was already trouble in paradise between the newest “It” couple. The conversation with Wesley had barely even filtered into her brain. Otherwise she would have heard the part about David and Aimee not being in a relationship despite the rumors stating otherwise. Later she would regret not sticking around for the entire exchange.

  "I don't know why you would want to waste your time with somebody like him,” Aimee pretended to pout as she reached for David’s arm.

  Pulling away from her, David clearly stated, "Because, unlike some people, Wesley doesn’t stab his friends in the back and he has better things to do than stand around talking about other people. He'd be a better friend than some of the idiots and assholes I currently call my friends." He was thinking about Aimee’s actions while letting his mouth run away from him.

  Seconds later, once Aimee's eyes had gone wide, David understood the depths of the social suicide he had just willingly committed. A member of the popular crowd didn’t, ever, seriously insult the popular crowd in public; it just wasn’t done. They might insult somebody jokingly, but never seriously.

  Watching Aimee disappear down the hallway, he suspected it was probably to spread around what he had just said. David suddenly wished that the very same girl he had wished would disappear and leave him alone hadn’t vanished so smoothly into the crowds. Sliding against the lockers to sit on the floor, he groaned right as the bell rang, letting both boys know that they were late for class.

  "You should get to class,” David mumbled from his spot on the floor.

  "I’m an Office Aide. They won't even notice that I haven’t checked in yet.” Pausing, Wesley looked at David, “Better yet, I'll be right back; I have to go get something."

  He left but returned three minutes later. In his hand was a slip of paper with a bunch of numbers on it. "If you give me any reason to regret this I will hunt you down and make your life hell, and I mean worse than it has just become. Don’t doubt that I can’t either; my father is retired military and I have been on far more bases than I care to remember. I know things."

  Staring at the paper with disbelief, all David could say was, "Thank you."

  "No
, thank you for just giving me the best free show of the year. I can't believe you just said that." Wesley joined him on the floor.

  After about a minute, David finally spoke, "After years of putting up a façade, I guess it's time to find out who I really am again. I hope Kyle won't be too mad. He's actually smart and I liked talking to him."

  He left, taking the locker combination, before Wesley could tell him that Kyle would agree completely with David’s assessment about some of their classmates. Instead David went in search for Delilah's locker. He was already late to class and a few more minutes wouldn’t matter.

  Placing the well-read book front and center in her locker, David thought about his newly acquired copy in his bedroom. Maybe he was well on his way to figuring out who he was after all. The old David never would have thought that he truly liked to read, especially the book he used to mock.

  Word quickly spread, at least around the popular circles, thanks to the people who had been listening to the argument between Aimee and David. Some of the people outside of those cliques, by the end of that day at least, still treated David with the same friendly distance that had already been established between them.

  This is stupid, David thought as he flirted along the edges of the crowds while not being admitted into any circle. Nobody knew how to treat him. It has only been a couple of hours and I'm already an outcast from the cliques that I helped create.

  He barely even dared to look for Delilah, slightly fearing the reaction that she would have when she saw him. Suddenly he was fully conscious of what he had done to her years ago by casting her aside publicly in a similar fashion that his so-called friends were doing to him now.

  That afternoon and evening were spent reading, much to his mother's amusement and concern. During dinner silence followed the pair while cutting through pork chops and drinking sweet tea. Mrs. Carver felt certain something had happened at school that day. She keenly lacked the skills her late husband had of making people talk without seeming to be dragging anything out of them. She desperately wanted to ask, but the strange expression on her son's face prevented her from saying a word. Not for the first time in the past twenty-something years she wished for a daughter; certainly communications would not be this strained with a girl.