by L.J. Shen
“You don’t want me with Followhill? Stay the fuck away from Gus.”
If I could hate you
Like you hate yourself
I wouldn’t be eaten alive
By guilt
Desire
And lust
I wake up with a blossoming hangover that presses against my eyelids like cold metal. Reaching for my face, I graze my hand over the necklace Penn gave me back. A grin spreads on my face before I remember Via slapping me. My admission to her. How Penn ran after her. My mouth goes dry.
She could tell Mel.
She could tell Penn.
She could tell the whole school.
Shitballs.
Melody, Dad, and Bailey are already downstairs. The scents of fresh cleaning products from the crew that came in last night to take care of the mess we left, bacon, eggs, and honey buns waft through the crack of my door. I feel for my phone on my nightstand and check it, frantic.
There are the usual group messages from my friends, then another message from Penn.
Meet me in Vaughn’s pool house at noon.
My heart paces back and forth, trying to decode this invitation, shaking its imaginary head. I try to calm it to a reasonable pulse. Penn probably wants to do what Vaughn did in my pool house at my party, and we can’t do that here with my parents around. He doesn’t sound mad. He sounds like good ole dry Penn.
I type back.
See you there. xoxo
During breakfast, Melody tries to convince me to go with Bailey and her to New York. I say no. When that turns unfruitful, she explains that Via will be joining them. I should’ve seen it coming from miles away, but my answer remains a big fat no. If anything, I’m glad to get some downtime with just Dad and Penn. Other than Bailey, they’re the only people I can stand.
At a quarter to noon, I sneak into Vaughn’s pool house on the Spencers’ estate. I’m not sure how Penn is planning to get in. I guess through Vaughn. I have all of the Spencers’ security codes. They have ours, too.
Once inside, I decide to defrost Penn’s tin man heart.
I strip down to my panties and bra—matching black lace items from Agent Provocateur that go well with the black velvet sofa I’m lying on—and mess with my phone as I wait.
Penn enters the pool house five minutes later, looking ragged and ruffled. There’s sweat on his brow, and he is wearing his sneakers, basketball shorts, and no shirt at all. It’s obvious he’s been running. From what or who, I don’t know. His torso is bronze, cut, and muscled to a fault. I would lick the sweat off his body drop by drop if he’d let me. His eyes, however, are rimmed with black circles. It looks like he hasn’t slept a wink.
“Whoa.” We exhale at the same time when we take each other in. But it’s his face that falls as soon as he sees me half-naked.
I sit upright, covering my bra with my arms. Penn saunters to my clothes in the corner of the room and kicks them toward me.
“Put some clothes on, Daria. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Daria? What happened to Skull Eyes? I actually grew attached to the stupid pet name. I frantically pull up my Daisy Dukes over my legs, getting dressed without eye contact. This isn’t a booty call. But I do agree that it’s freaking embarrassing.
“What the hell, Penn?”
“Nothing. I got what I wanted from you, and you got what you wanted from me. Time to cut the bullshit.” He delivers the news with no hint of emotion in his voice. My knee-jerk reaction is to tell him it’s a good idea. Great. That I wanted to break it off a long time ago. That he is trash. That his sister is a two-faced bitch. But that’s the old Daria. The one who pretends she doesn’t care about losing things.
The new Daria? She doesn’t want to lose him.
“Where is this coming from?” I slip into my shoes, covering myself up more and more, only to feel more naked.
He shrugs in my periphery. “I’m bored of you, and it ain’t worth the risk. Your parents are going to kick our asses if they find out. Besides, you have Prichard, and I have Adriana.” He scratches his barely existing struggle with the back of his hand. “Game over.”
“It’s not like that,” I say hurriedly. If I have to tell him what’s going on with Prichard, I will. I’m not proud of it, but pride is a very slippery slope where love is involved. Marx. Love. I don’t use the L word lightly. I don’t go around telling people I love pizza or chocolate or Riverdale. I like those things. Love, I save for the important stuff.
But I am hopelessly, tragically in love with Penn Scully.
That’s why I can’t really hate his sister. Not entirely, anyway. She is an extension of him, and he has my heart.
“Let me explain.” I rush toward him, placing a hand on his damp chest. It squeezes on instinct, and he swats my touch away.
“No explanation necessary. Just wanted to give you the bottom line somewhere private, you know, because you’re so prone to crying like a little wuss.”
My mouth goes dry, and my breaths become shallow and fast. My heart is all over the place, elbowing its way out of its cage. It wants out, and it wants Penn. Me? I just want to make him understand Principal Prichard and I are not what he thinks. But this came out of nowhere, and at an odd time…
Via.
Via did this. Via killed this for me. Again. My blood is boiling in my veins. I know he is being mean and unfair to me, but in my desperation to explain myself, I don’t see that.
“But Penn, Principal Prichard and I—”
He cuts me off harshly.
“You deaf? I said I don’t care. It’s not about Prichard.”
“Then tell me what…”
“Because of Harper, okay?” he snaps, kicking the velvet sofa. “I’m never going to leave Addy. Much less for your spoiled ass. She’s coming with me to college. Grow some self-respect and give it a rest.”
He turns around and stalks out, slamming the door in his wake. I suck my lower lip into my mouth, trying not to cry and fulfill his rude prediction. Pacing the room, I grab the back of my neck and pull at it, raking my fingers over my neck until the skin breaks.
Penn has a daughter.
He said he and Addy are not what I thought they were to him, but he lied to get what he wanted from me.
He got into my house and pants and then my heart, feeding me whatever bullshit line he thought I wanted to hear.
The door opens, and I twist, expecting to see Penn on the other end. Praying that he came here to tell me it was all a stupid prank gone wrong.
It’s Vaughn.
When he sees my eyes brimming with tears, he looks away as if I’m not decent. Feelings make him wince.
“Did you know?” I whisper.
He waltzes deeper into the room, clad in black, a teenage Lucifer out for misery and blood.
“That he was going to break up with me,” I explain. “That he was playing me?”
“No and no. All I knew was that you needed some privacy. Something you weren’t very good at giving me last night.” He arches a meaningful eyebrow.
Bitter laughter clogs my throat.
“About that. Are you screwing around with my best flyer?”
“When time permits.”
“Are you falling for my best flyer?” Esme doesn’t deserve a guy like Vaughn.
“I’ll fall in love with a pet rock first.”
“Don’t diss pet rocks. They’ll never die on you.” I sniffle.
He pulls me into a hug. A rarity I know not to take for granted when it comes to Vaughn. I bury my face in his chest and let myself crumple, feeling my bones shaking inside my body.
“You’ll be all right, Followhill.”
For the first time in a long time, I don’t believe this.
There is nothing more poetically inspiring
Than loving the right person
At the wrong place
At the wrong time
After practice, I visit Adriana at Lenny’s. I don’t want to be anywhere near the Followhills. I
can’t look Daria in the face and dealing with my sister is out of the question. They both hover in the hallways like ghosts. Silent, pale, lifeless. Melody is on the verge of being committed. Speaking of Mel, she shoots me a text when Addy is serving me steak and green beans, clutching my bicep and telling me, “You work so hard. You’re so buff. If you ever need to unwind with someone…”
Melody: This house has rules, and I am tired of all the teenagers inside it breaking them. You are to be at home by seven every day for dinner. If you don’t have it in you to let me know you are late, you can always pack a bag and live with the Coles.
I flip the phone over. She is finally getting a backbone. Good for her. Not that I will ever reply to this shit, but still. Addy slips toward me, rubbing my arm.
“What’s going on, hon? You look like hell. Was the interview okay?”
All Saints High Saints and the Las Juntas Bulldogs both made it to the play-offs.
The entire town of Todos Santos is ecstatic. They interviewed Gus and me for the local news channels today. Both our coaches were there to make sure no fists were thrown.
“It went fine,” I say.
“What is it, then?”
I can’t tell her I broke up with Daria because that would give her ideas. I shake my head and stand. It’s time to face the Mel music anyway. I grab my varsity jacket and kiss the top of Adriana’s head. She holds on to the collar of my shirt and pulls me in, kissing my mouth. I groan and not with pleasure. She is erasing my last kiss with Daria.
Listen to yourself. You sound like a fucking maniac.
“Give me a chance,” Addy whispers against my frozen lips. “I can make it good for you. She doesn’t know you. I do. I know exactly what you need.”
“Did Via talk to you?” I ask conversationally. Addy nods.
“Don’t hate her, Penn. She just wants to see us happy. With Harper. Together.”
Later, Jaime and I arrive at the house at the same time. We meet at the front door. He is wearing a suit and a somber expression, but he tosses a stack of letters into my hands. Jaime has stepped up and, in recent weeks, began stopping by Rhett’s on his way back from work to unlock the mailbox with one of Bailey’s bobby pins and get my letters of interest.
I catch them in the air and start browsing through them, tucking my chin down so he can’t see my face. I haven’t slept well in a while.
Jaime walks over to me and slaps my back.
“Keep going,” he tells me.
Oklahoma. Texas. UCLA. Ohio State. I’m waiting for that drum in my chest that signals excitement. Those are the D1’s I’ve been waiting for all along. My eyes pause on Notre Dame’s symbol. My dream college. The one thing I worked for.
I feel nothing.
Jaime shakes my shoulder. “Hey. What’s with you?”
“Nothing,” I mumble, shoving the letters into my backpack. We’ll go through them tonight as we’ve done every night recently. It’s not like I can spend time with Daria anymore, and I’d rather get beaten to death with phone books by evangelistic widows than actually talk to my sister after the fuckery she pulled.
“Look at me,” Jaime orders. I look up, blinking at him. He is not his wife. He is full of confidence and self-assurance. I don’t screw with him.
“What’s wrong?” He frowns.
“Nothing,” I say again.
“Is this about Via?”
I shrug. As far as I can tell, he is silently tolerating my sister’s presence here. He is close enough with Daria to know how much it kills her to see my sister here.
“Is it about my daughter?”
“Which one?” I raise an eyebrow.
“The legal one, bastard.”
I smile. I don’t lie to him because I can’t. Because he deserves fucking better than that.
“We should get in. Your wife’s gonna be pissed.”
“My wife is already pissed. She has two girls she can’t control living under her roof, and she loves them both too much to give them tough love. Believe it or not, Penn, I’m on your side. That’s why I’m going to give you a valuable tip. Right here. Right now. Are you listening?”
I blink at him, waiting for it.
“Choose your sister.”
“Sir?”
“Choose her. Don’t choose Daria. You’ll end up giving her less than she deserves. And my daughter deserves everything. Not half of it. Not a quarter. And definitely not messy. Let her go. Unless, of course…” He pauses, cocking his head to examine my expression. I don’t breathe.
“Unless?”
“You love Daria. Then I do not allow you, under any fucking circumstances, to break both your hearts because Sylvia still holds a grudge.”
“Do you know what colleges Daria is looking into?” I swallow.
He throws his head back and laughs before shaking his head. I guess we’re all too transparent for our own good. Jaime yanks the door open and walks in.
“So screwed, Scully. So goddamn screwed.”
You kill me with your eyes
Burn me with your smile
Bury me with your indifference
I join Mom, Bailey, and Via in New York.
Mostly to put some distance between Penn and me. When I send Mel a text informing her it’s a go, she replies with a string of emojis, but this time refrains from begging me to go with her for coffee or invite me on a shopping spree.
She’s been getting chiller lately. But it’s too little, too late for me to appreciate her change in attitude.
I strategize my time at home as though my life depends on it. Because it does. My heart can’t take much more than it already has in recent weeks.
In the mornings, I keep my nose buried in my phone. During dinner, I let Bailey and Via do most of the talking and cling to my conversations with Dad. Sometimes I hear Via in the hallway, begging Penn to open the door.
He never does.
When we get to the hotel in New York, Via and Bailey kick off their matching ballet flats and jump on one of the two queen-size beds. The room is relatively small for what we usually get, and I know it’s not because Melody was trying to save money.
“You’ll sleep with me, Lovebug. You don’t mind, do you?”
I pretend not to hear her. I have a feeling I’m about to add to my little black book this weekend. Principal Prichard will be delighted. Especially when I show up at his office, ready to atone for my sins.
I’m numb and only speak when I’m directly spoken to, which is not often. Mel takes us to an Italian joint for dinner. Bailey and I order pasta and a panini each, and Melody and Via share a salad.
“Remember how I used to eat the protein bars you got me every class, Mrs. Followhill?” Via pretends to wipe a stray tear. “I didn’t even know they had, like, a thousand calories in them.”
“You needed those bars.” Mel leans across the table, catching one of Via’s crocodile tears with her thumb.
I look away as if I’ve been slapped.
“What I needed was someone like you. I’m grateful you’re in my life,” Via murmurs. Now it’s Bailey’s turn to smile at her softly. I look down at my sparkling water. This, from the same bitch who called my mother unbearable when she was in my room. But I can’t call her out. Not when she knows about what I did to her four years ago.
“Girls.” Melody sucks in a breath. “I need to tell you why we’re really here.”
Mel explains that the New York Ballet wants to open a branch in Los Angeles, and they’re considering her for the co-founder role. There are tears hanging on her lower lashes as she delivers the news. My heart hurts because normally—a year ago—even though we weren’t super close, she would have told me about it before she confided in anyone else.
“You’ve got this, Mrs. Followhill.” Via fist-pumps the air.
“Please, call me Mel.”
“Mel.”
“I believe in you, Mom,” Bailey cheers.
Melody turns to me. I pick up my slice of panini and take a small bite
, looking around me. When all eyes are still on me, I say the only thing that pops in my head.
“Those energy bars were disgusting.”
At night, I toss and turn. Mel is trying to sleep next to me. Every time she reaches to rub my back and soothe me, I coil into myself. I keep wondering how we got here, and if there’s a way to go back to how we were the night I saw Penn at the snake pit. When Melody and I were civil. When we still communicated.
In the morning, Via wakes up with blisters on her feet the size of bricks.
“It’s all the walking.” She breaks into a heart-wrenching sob. “Daddy and Nana never took me anywhere in Mississippi. I guess I forgot what it feels like to walk any type of real distance.”
Make. It. Stop.
“We’ll go to Duane Reade.” Mel pacifies her, rubbing her back now. No objections here.
“We can buy you sneakers at the Nike store!” Bailey adds.
They fuss around her, assuring her that her mammoth pus balloons will be a thing of the past by nighttime.
“Just wait here,” Mel says, eyeing both of us carefully. “Bailey and I will be right back.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t send you to run my errands. I’m coming!” Via cries out dramatically.
Of course, she is. Spending a second with me would be the end of the world.
They dash out the door, and I notice Mel’s phone is still on the nightstand beside our bed. I initiate a conversation for the first time in months. It seems like a big deal to me because I’ve been so reluctant to talk to her. I’ve been avoiding it like the plague for what seems like months.
“Hey, Melody,” I holler at them as they run the length of the hallway toward the elevators, trying to catch one that’s sliding closed. “You—”
“Not now, Daria!” She shares a laugh with the girls, disappearing between the closing doors of the elevator.
Daria.
She is Melody, and I am Daria.
Mom and Lovebug are officially dead.
I turn around and exhale. I check my phone. No new messages. Penn forgot about me, and maybe it’s the way it should be. I handed him my icy heart only for him to thaw, heat, burn, and then stab. He doesn’t deserve me, and I don’t deserve to be saddled with the title homewrecker.