“Me too!”
“Yeah. I guess they really don’t write stuff like that anymore.”
“I know!”
“Actually I got a copy of some BBC production of it for Mom last Christmas. I couldn’t believe it was on the clearance rack.”
“No way!”
Daphne suddenly became conscious of her bouncing feet and blaring two-word replies. She must seem like the literature cheerleader.
“I mean … Figures, you know?” she said, steadying herself. “People today, they’re all about car chases and aliens and stuff.”
Luke cocked his head and scrunched up his eyes, until the barest blue-green twinkle was visible. “You know … my mom would really like you. Maybe you should come over and watch our Jane Eyre sometime.”
Daphne couldn’t speak. He wanted to watch Jane Eyre with her … with his mother! How sweet! How old-fashioned! How … meaningful.
It was Fate. It had to be. The moment she’d been expecting ever since she had learned about True Love. She’d been attracted to Luke before this conversation, but now she was certain he was the One. The signs were just too obvious to ignore: He’d saved her life. He loved Jane Eyre. He was perfect.
“Well,” he said, shouldering his backpack. “I hope we run into each other again soon.”
Daphne laughed and bounced the toe of her sneaker on the floor.
“Only not so hard next time, okay?”
“I promise,” she said.
They stood there, grinning at each other. Neither of them seemed able to walk away.
“So … bye,” he said, turning toward the stairs.
“Bye,” she echoed.
She watched as he slowly sank out of sight. Then she leaned against a row of lockers and shut her eyes. The swoopy feeling returned, same as before. Only now she understood it for what it truly was. It wasn’t the fallout from a collision, it was an honest-to-goodness run-in with destiny.
How could Daphne go to class after this? Forget the relationship between points and angles—this was a real-life relationship, not just numbers on a page. This was a day she would tell her kids about until she was gray and arthritic and wearing support hose on her unusually shapely-for-her-age legs.
The Day I Tripped Your Father and We Fell in Love.
“I’m in love!” Daphne sang out as she twirled into the bedroom she shared with Gabby, her arms raised like those of a ballerina in perfect fifth position.
“Again?” Gabby didn’t even bother to glance up from her desk. Daphne noted the buzzy sarcasm in her older sister’s voice—not that it was all that different from her usual tone. Gabby had no music to her. No spark. No glow. It was as if she went out of her way to be dull.
“But this is it! I mean it. This is for real!” Daphne went on. “He’s so perfect.” She lay back on her daisy-patterned bedspread and gazed at the nothingness above her. Soon the memory of a face superimposed itself on the dingy spray-acoustic ceiling.
Floppy brown hair … Blue-green eyes with incredibly long, dark lashes … That cute little groove in the center of his chin …
Luke Pascal. Luke. She even loved the name. It reminded her of such encouraging words as “like” and “luck.” Or even “lick.” She stared at the imaginary image and mouthed the name, exaggerating the feel of her tongue against her teeth when she made the “L.” A tingling sensation surged through her, just like the time she plugged in the old waffle iron with the frayed cord—only better.
It was love at first sight. It had to be.
She loved the way Luke kept his head down and only looked up with his eyes, making his forehead crease like a puppy’s. She loved how he laughed without making any noise—just a big smile and shaky shoulders. She loved how he wore khakis instead of jeans.
And she loved the way he had saved her life, like a prince in a fairy tale.…
Gabby suddenly spun around in the creaky antique chair. Luke’s adorable image disappeared, and Daphne found herself gazing at her sister’s scowling face.
“Do you mind?” Gabby snapped. “I’m trying to study for a test.”
Daphne frowned. “What? I’m not doing anything.”
“You are. You keep sighing.”
“I am not sighing.”
“You are so! You’re sighing and making little humming sounds. It’s annoying.”
“Come on.” Daphne sat up and crossed her legs, bouncing her knees to make the mattress shimmy. “Don’t you want to hear about it?”
“About some guy? No freaking way.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s stupid. You fall in love every week.” Gabby whirled back around and glared down at her homework. Calculus, Daphne guessed, judging by all the numbers and lines.
“Aw, come on. Talking about stuff makes it all seem more real. Besides, it was so amazing what happened. Much more exciting than that boring homework.”
“This boring homework is going to help me pass a major exam tomorrow, which will help me get the Waterhouse Scholarship, which will let me go to UT and get away from you and this boring little town. Which reminds me …” Gabby glanced at the clock on the nearby dresser. “Mule is coming over later to help me study. Promise me you won’t bug us like you usually do.”
“I don’t bug you.”
“Maybe not on purpose—and I stress ‘maybe’—but you do. And my math grade has to come up five points if I ever want to win a full scholarship. So please, I’m begging you, don’t be so … you tonight.” Gabby gave her one last glower and stared back down at her lines and numbers.
Daphne stopped shaking the bed. Her posture bowed and the little electrical sparks quit rushing around inside her, until she felt like her plain old boring self. It was so unfair. Just because Gabby was older and smarter didn’t mean she had to treat Daphne like a toddler. And why did she have to put everyone in a sour mood just because she was always in one?
Daphne hopped off the bed and stared out the window, wondering in which direction she’d find Luke. “He’s so perfect—much better than any of the guys from here,” she went on, trying to get back that fizzy feeling. “You probably heard about him. He just started today. He’s only a grade behind you. Sheri said he’s a junior.”
Gabby glanced up long enough to make a face. “Him? Come on. He’s not even that great.”
“What are you talking about? He’s amazing.”
“This town is so small that any new guy, no matter how weird, seems amazing to all the boy-crazy girls. Get some perspective. He’s okay. But Prince Charming he’s not.”
“What do you know?” Daphne grumbled. She was mad that Gabby was determined to ruin her good mood, but she also felt pity for her sister. It was sad that she couldn’t share this thrill with Daphne. That she’d rather do math.
Daphne remembered when her sister used to be fun. Back when they’d shared the old canopy bed—the one that matched the desk they still had. They used to giggle and whisper and warm their cold feet on each other. Gabby would make up stories. Like the one about the baby that formed a rock band. And the one about the cat that became a spy.
Back then they used to talk about everything. Even boys. Gabby was going to marry Harry Potter and Daphne was going to marry Prince Phillip—the one from the Sleeping Beauty movie. Who cared that he was a cartoon? He was hot. They were all going to live in the same castle and have a ball every night. A literal one. With beautiful, glittery dresses and crowns on their heads. Gabby was going to talk to animals and ride around on a dragon. Daphne was going to learn to fly from the fairies and take swimming lessons from the mermaids.
Why did the stories stop? Why couldn’t they talk and laugh like that anymore?
Daphne flopped back on her bed. “Dad’s coming this weekend,” she said, just to change the subject. But as soon as she heard herself mention it, she realized she was being dumb.
Gabby blew out her breath so hard, it rustled the papers on the desk. “Yeah, great,” she said. “That’s all I need.”
> Daphne knew it was stupid of her to mention Dad. Just because Gabby was Mom’s favorite, she felt she had to take their mom’s side against him. But it still made Daphne mad to hear Gabby talk about him that way. It wasn’t his fault that his job as a construction foreman paid him so sporadically. Even if his payments were sometimes late, he never was. Daphne practically lived for their Dad weekends—in fact, she wished they could see him more.
Again Gabby swung about. “Do you mind?” she snapped.
Daphne frowned. She started to say she wasn’t doing anything, but before she could open her mouth, Gabby pointed to the index finger poked between Daphne’s lips.
“Please quit with the nail biting!”
Oh. That.
Daphne hadn’t realized she was doing it. It was a bad habit she’d started recently. Whenever she was thinking hard she would stick her fingernail between her teeth, bite down, and then yank it out again, making a popping sound. The result wasn’t so much that her nails got chewed off as that they got scraped down, little by little. She did it so much in biology class, apparently, that Mr. Hathaway had offered to buy her some gloves.
She stared at her sister. It was so unfair. Not only was Gabby smarter, she was prettier, too. Long wavy hair. Everything just the right size and evenly spaced out. A perfect face, even when it was scrunched up in frustration. If Daphne had turned out more like Gabby, all straight As and neat-freak genes, maybe things would be easier at home. Maybe she and Gabby wouldn’t fight so much. Maybe then her parents would still be together.
Mom had said it would get easier when she and Dad had announced the divorce two years ago. But it hadn’t. If anything it was tougher. Since Dad was gone and Gabby was basically perfect, Mom focused all her nagging on Daphne. And Gabby had promoted herself to second-in-command and started bossing her more than ever.
With everyone constantly on her back, Daphne was starting to understand why Dad had left. She seemed to remember that it had been different when she was little. There was more laughter, less talk about stuff like utility bills. But like Gabby, Mom at some point had just … stopped being fun. Daphne would have gone to her right now to tell her all about Luke’s saving her life if she didn’t know it would bring on a lecture about the importance of schoolwork.
“Everyone in this house is so boring,” Daphne grumbled. “All you guys care about is work.”
“Speaking of …” Gabby turned around again. Her eyes were superfocused and she leaned forward ever so slowly, like a lioness ready to pounce. “Please tell me,” she said, “that you went by and applied for that job today.”
Dang! Once again, her sister was spoiling any chance of a good mood. Daphne couldn’t decide which she was angrier about: the fact that she’d forgotten to go by the Lucky Wishbone and apply for that hostess job, or the fact that Gabby had already guessed that she’d forgotten and was laying a trap for her.
“No, I … didn’t have time,” Daphne lied.
Gabby tossed down her pencil. “Damn it, Daph! This is, what? The third time you forgot?”
“I told you. I got busy.”
“Right. So swooning over some random guy is more important than helping out your family?”
“No.”
“Well, which is it? You either forgot or you didn’t think it was important enough.”
“Shut up!” Daphne yelled, jumping up from the bed. God, she hated her sister! It was as if she enjoyed making Daphne look bad—making her feel bad. “You’re just jealous that I can get real boyfriends.”
“Boyfriends?” Gabby rolled her eyes. “Those genetically challenged hicks? I wouldn’t even want any of those lameasses to wash my car.”
“You don’t have a car! And they aren’t lame!” Daphne winced at how whiny she sounded. Okay, fine. Those guys she’d dated might have been lame, but Luke was different. Todd Carothers said Luke had actually lived in Belgium for a little while. He read Brontë. He’d saved her life! “What do you know, anyway?” she spat. “At least I have a social life. What do you have? A pet nerd?”
It was dumb to hold that over her sister, she knew. But it was the only thing she had. Daphne was the popular one. Gabby was both the smart one and the pretty one.
“Girls! What’s going on in here?”
Daphne glanced back and saw her mother looming in the doorway. Great. Now Mom would fuss at her. It would be two against one.
She wanted to keep holding on to her anger, but why did her mom have to look so bad? Her dyed red hair had inch-long brown roots, and her makeup was all stale and cakey-looking, smearing a little around the eyes. Her mom could be so pretty, yet lately she always looked as if she’d walked out of a hurricane. It made Daphne feel guilty.
She didn’t want to feel guilty. It wasn’t her fault things had been tough for her mom since Dad took off. Maybe if she’d been nicer to Dad he wouldn’t have left her. Maybe she should have fixed her hair and face more instead of worrying about the kitchen floor.
Gabby turned around in her chair and smiled sarcastically. “Didn’t you hear, Mom? Apparently Daffy doesn’t have to get a job because she’s in lo-ove. Again.”
“Shut up! At least I have a life! You always use work and school as an excuse not to have one. I’m the normal kid.”
“How normal are you going to feel when we’re living on the street? Or maybe you don’t even care. Maybe you want to walk the streets since all you care about is guys.”
“Gabriella!” Mom shouted. “That’s an awful thing to say!”
Daphne sensed an opportunity. She looked over at Gabby with a stricken expression and started heaving as if she were close to tears. “You’re so mean!” she cried.
It worked.
“Apologize to your sister right now!” her mom said, folding her arms across her chest.
Gabby’s smug look fell away. “What? Why? She’s the one who—”
“Now, Gabriella!”
“It’s not fair! She doesn’t have to work. She doesn’t have to get good grades. She gets to be a screwup just because she’s younger!”
“Say you’re sorry or you’re grounded!” Mom’s voice was getting shrill.
Daphne could see her sister mulling it over. Grounding wasn’t a good threat, since Gabby had to go to work. Plus, her mom would never send Mule away if he came around to visit. And it wasn’t as though Gabby had any other friends.
Just then her mom shut her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Please, Gabby. Do the right thing. I’m tired. I don’t need this right now.”
That did it.
Gabby let out the world’s longest sigh and turned toward Daphne. “I’m sorry,” her mouth said, even as her eyes lobbed hateful curse words her sister’s way.
Daphne made sure her back was to her mom before shooting Gabby a big, triumphant smile.
As soon as their mother walked away Gabby whispered, “Oh, grow up,” and bent back over her math homework.
Who cares what she thinks, Daphne thought as she sat back down on her bed, her chin raised victoriously. For years she had been hoping something big would happen to her. Something magical. Something amazing. Something that would save her from this sad little house with its sad little inhabitants. Now the something—the Someone—had finally arrived.
And nothing and no one was going to ruin it for her.
“Uh-oh,” Mule said as soon as Gabby opened the front door. “Another fight?”
Gabby absently touched her face. “Is it that obvious?”
“Let’s just say … I hope it isn’t me you’re mad at.” He carefully sidestepped past her into the living room.
“It’s just … you know. Family stuff.”
Mule nodded. “Dad or sis?”
She glanced around. Daphne was in their room and Mom was in the shower, but she still didn’t feel like discussing things with them nearby. “Come on,” she said, picking up her notebook. “Let’s go on the back deck.”
They stopped in the kitchen on the way, to grab some so
das from the fridge. Mule was a huge Dr Pepper nut, but their mom had started trying to save money lately by buying the store version: Mr. Brown. It wasn’t as bad as the name made it sound, but it wasn’t as good as the real thing, either. Still, Mule never complained. Once supplied, they headed out the back door onto what Mrs. Rivera referred to as “the deck” but was actually a sagging back porch crammed with metal patio furniture that used to be white but was now flecked with orange spots where it had rusted.
Mule unzipped his backpack and pulled out a notebook, his calculus textbook, two pencils, and a family-sized bag of Doritos. Then he sat back in his chair and stared right at Gabby. “So tell me what happened.”
Gabby tapped her own pencil against the side of the iron table. “Nothing. Just … stupid Daffy. She’s such a child! She refuses to be responsible. All she wants is for her life to be like some old-fashioned romance, like Gone with the Wind or Casablanca.”
“I kinda like Casablanca.”
“You would. You and your Nazi-fighting fetish. You probably still play with little green army men, don’t you?”
Mule didn’t reply. He just took a long drink from his can and stared out at the yard. Gabby’s words seemed to hang above them like storm clouds. She realized how snide she sounded. “Mule? Do you think I’m mean?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“No, I want you to tell me the truth.”
He shook his head. “Uh-uh. I ain’t going there.”
“Come on, just answer. And don’t say ‘ain’t.’ ”
Mule’s head picked up speed. “Forget it.”
“Then you do think I’m mean, don’t you? You just don’t want to say anything. Probably afraid I’ll do something mean.”
“Look …” Mule blew out his breath and scratched his floppy curls. “You’re not exactly the tender type. You’re not all sunshine and rainbows and kitties with ribbons around their necks. But so what? I mean, I like being around you. Obviously.”
Gabby knew Mule was being straight with her, but somehow she wasn’t comforted. She liked him. She tolerated his flaws better than almost anyone else’s—except maybe her mother’s. She genuinely considered him intelligent about most things. And she probably depended on his presence more than she would care to admit.
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