Daphne’s left butt cheek was starting to go numb. She shifted her body as much as her narrow surroundings would allow and glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. Where was he? She would definitely end up being late for Ms. Manbeck’s class, but this was the only place and time where she knew she’d run into him. She leaned forward slightly and scanned the nearby throng.
There was Walt Lively, the boy-king of the sophomore class, swaggering down the hallway as if he’d just inherited the place. There was Lee Bradley, who’d given her her first kiss at an eighth-grade dance—and then lied to everyone that she’d let him put his hands down her skirt. There was Todd Carothers, so pale and blond, as if he’d been faded along with his tight jeans. She’d always thought he was sweet until she heard him laughing about the time he ran over a stray dog with his pickup.
How could she have liked those guys? How could she have gotten it so wrong? Meeting Luke was like … waking up from a long sleep. All her life she’d been plodding along, thinking she was content, and then … wham! Suddenly her world was filled with color and music and all possibilities of magic. Like stepping out of Kansas and into Oz.
And there he was.
The second Daphne spied Luke’s tidy haircut coming down the corridor, a tiny ember flared in her chest and spread through her limbs. By the time he approached her alcove, she felt cooked medium-rare.
“Luke!” she said, stepping forward to merge into the rush of students.
His upper body snapped sideways as if startled. But as soon as he spied her, his shoulders relaxed and his mouth boinged into a smile. “Oh, hey,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much. I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight and have dinner with us?”
“Dinner?” For some reason he looked confused.
“Yeah. Say, around six-thirty or so?”
“Really? What about your parents? Is it okay with them?”
“Well, my dad …” She paused. “They’re both out of town. But I’ll cook us up something. Then we can take a walk and I can show you around our new place. It’s really pretty.” And then you’ll realize how I feel about you, and see that there’s no reason to be afraid, she added silently.
Eventually his features flattened into an easy grin. “Um … sure. Okay,” he said.
“Great!”
They reached his classroom and stopped. “So …,” Luke said, glancing around at the thinning traffic. “Should I, you know, bring anything?”
“Nope. Just you! I’ll text you the directions on how to get there.”
“Okay. See ya, Daffodil.” The bell rang as he backed into his room.
Daphne waited until he disappeared before turning around. Then she bounced up the stairs, breezed down the hall, and glided into her classroom.
“How very nice of you to join us, Miss Rivera” was Ms. Manbeck’s drone of a greeting. “That makes three tardies. You owe me a detention.”
“Okay,” Daphne said, fluttering into her seat. She was vaguely aware of the other students’ snickers and stares—and Ms. Manbeck’s twitchy look of disapproval. But it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was Luke, and that in eight hours’ time he would be at her front door. And then everything would be perfect.
Gabby knew something was wrong the second she stepped through the front door of their rental home and a noxious odor hit her nostrils. This wasn’t the new-paint or new-carpet fumes, which had (finally) subsided to a slight reek. Instead, this was the eye-watering stink of a recent mishap.
“Daff?” she called out.
No answer.
She sniffed her way through the house and finally tracked the smell to the kitchen trash can. Buried under the strata of old napkins, a plastic grocery sack, and several pages of that day’s newspaper lay a blackened and slightly misshapen saucepan. She pulled it out and ran her fingers over the sullied surface. It was still warm.
“What the …?”
Gabby gritted her teeth, her cheeks burning hotter than the pan’s molten exterior. The saucepan had been a Christmas present to her mom—part of a six-piece cookware set Gabby had found at Target. Although it had been on sale, it hadn’t been cheap. In fact, Gabby could calculate the precise number of hours she’d had to work and a very close approximation of annoying customers and Pinkwater grumblings she’d had to endure to purchase it.
“That little …!” There were no words bad enough. No names left to call Daphne. The day had sucked already once Prentiss made Gabby feel stupid with his “pretty” compliment—or put-down, actually. It had sucked even worse when she messed up a whole section on her physics test and scored only an 88—possibly because of Prentiss’s mind trip. Then the suckiness had reached new heights when Ms. Coogan, her former history teacher, didn’t have that letter of recommendation ready, like she’d said she would.
And now this.
Things would never change. Daphne would forever be undoing Gabby’s hard work and Gabby would forever be swabbing up the messes.
How was it that they were related? It was as if they weren’t even the same species. Daphne was one of those spoiled, fluffy cats that snoozed in a windowsill all day, able to preen and daydream through life. Meanwhile, Gabby was a work animal—an ox or a hunting dog, or maybe one of those sad-looking carriage horses—pushing herself day and night out of sheer instinct and loyalty.
Even as she thought this, she sprayed the glass cooktop with grease cutter and wiped it over and over with a cloth until the surface squeaked clean.
It isn’t fair, the squeaks seemed to say. It isn’t fair.…
She’d just finished tossing the rag into the garbage pail when the door burst open and Daphne strode in wearing her school backpack and a huge smile. The tops of her cheeks were flushed a deep coral, and wisps of hair had fallen from her ponytail, lightly framing her face. She looked so pretty and cheerful, it made Gabby boil even more.
“What is this?” Gabby demanded, holding up the ruined saucepan.
Daphne’s face fell. “It was an accident. I was trying to make spaghetti and … it burned.”
“Are you stupid? Or are you so selfish that you have absolutely no regard for other people or their property? Not only did you totally ruin the pan, you also could have caused a fire by hiding it in the trash when it was still smoldering! I mean … do you even think? Mom’s gone—what?—two days and you almost burn down our new place?”
“I said it was an accident! God! Why can’t you just accept it and move on with your life?”
“Because who knows when you’ll strike next!” Gabby shouted, slamming the pan onto the countertop. “You could be keeping a rabid animal in the bathroom! Or maybe you left the window open and we got robbed!”
“Shut up. I’d never do that.” Daphne crossed her arms and looked insulted, but there was a guilty chime in her voice. Gabby made a mental note to check all the windows later. “Why do you always do this?”
Gabby frowned. “Do what?”
“Try to make me feel stupid.”
“Huh? I point out that you’ve totally destroyed this pan and I’m the one at fault?”
“You and Mom always just start freaking out. You never ask to hear my side of things. Besides, I took care of dinner. Don’t I get credit for that?”
“You actually made dinner?” Gabby glanced around the messy kitchen.
“Yeah.” Daphne unzipped her backpack and pulled out three bags with Golden Chick logos on them. “When the spaghetti sauce went bad I figured I’d buy us chicken baskets.”
Gabby shut her eyes in some vain hope that she could make it all disappear. When the spaghetti sauce went bad was how Daphne had put it. Not When I burned the spaghetti sauce and the expensive Christmas gift it was in. She’d removed herself entirely from the sentence and the action. As usual, she was taking no responsibility. In Daphne’s warped little mind, the sauce had spontaneously combusted and taken the pan down with it.
She opened her eyes again and there was Daphne, laying o
ut the table, all swingy ponytail and perky momentum. Gabby counted the place settings.
“Daff, don’t forget that Mom’s not here,” she said.
“I know. The extra place is for Luke. I invited him over.”
“What? Oh, no. No way.”
“Why not? I’m the one who made dinner. Well, okay … bought dinner. But still! Shouldn’t I have the right to ask over a friend?”
“No! For one thing, it’s a school night. And for another, I promised Mom.”
Daphne’s eyes narrowed. “You promised Mom what?”
“To watch over you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means no having boys over while she’s gone.”
“That’s not fair!” Daphne screeched. “You have Mule over all the time!”
“But he’s just Mule. Mom loves him. She’s known him and his family forever.”
“So? It’s not Luke’s fault that he’s new. That Mom hasn’t met him yet.”
“He can’t come over. I promised.” Gabby turned toward the kitchen counter to signal the end of the discussion and to clean up the final bit of greasy residue.
“Oh, really?” Daphne’s voice was an angry sizzle. “What if I have him over anyway?”
Gabby rounded on her. “Don’t make me call Mom on you! You think I’m freaking about the stupid pan, if you ruin Mom’s chances at getting this job she deserves, I will make your life hell!”
“God, I hate you! You love this, don’t you? You love it that Mom’s out of town so you can boss me around and ruin my life!” Daphne’s face was as red as the congealed spaghetti sauce. Her features were twisted with rage, but her eyes looked wide and helpless. She stared at Gabby for a few seconds, as if waiting for something. Then, with a little cry of defeat, she spun around and ran down the hall toward their bedroom.
Wrong again, Daff, Gabby thought as she scrubbed the last smear of burnt sauce off the stove. It’s my life that’s getting ruined.
Daphne slammed the door of their room and took a running dive for her bed, knocking the headboard into the wall as she landed. She grabbed a fistful of blanket in each hand and let loose with several angry screams into her pillow, followed by a series of sobs.
God, she hated her sister. She’d yelled it before in the heat of anger, but this time she truly meant it. She loathed Gabby, totally and irrevocably. She could even feel the hatred inside her, like a disease chewing away at her insides, a toxin simmering through her bloodstream.
It was clear to her now that Gabby didn’t want her to be happy. The girl was miserable, and she wanted everyone else to be, too. So she went around spreading her gloom the way Ruth Collett and her mom, in their floor-sweeping cotton dresses, knocked on doors every weekend spreading their religion.
Luke made Daphne happy, but Gabby couldn’t have that. No-o. And it wasn’t as if Daphne were asking for anything major. All she’d wanted was to have Luke over for supper to try to show him how much he meant to her so he wouldn’t be nervous about asking her out. Now everything was ruined!
It was another trial, just like their almost-move to Sagebrush, just like Lynette’s flirting and Luke’s cautiousness, only now it came in the form of her cruel and overly bossy sister. And there was nothing she could do but endure it. She needed to be the forlorn but strong heroine, like Jane Eyre. Steadfast. Ever hopeful. Beautiful and courageous in her suffering.
Her limbs heavy with despair, Daphne slowly pushed herself upright. Then she grabbed the phone off the nearby dresser and punched in Luke’s cell number.
“Hey. What’s up?” he answered.
“Um, hey.” She took a deep, shuddery breath and forced the words out. “I’m sorry, but … I’m afraid we can’t do supper after all. Some stuff came up and, well, it’s not going to work out.”
“Aw, no. I hope everything’s okay.”
No. Everything is horrible. “It’s fine. And I’ll have you over for dinner soon. Just … not today.”
“No worries. I’ll eat. I appreciate the invite.”
His voice was so melodic and sweet. Daphne once again fell back on her mattress, caught up in swirls of self-pity. After a few tortured heartbeats, she eventually regained control of her voice.
“I—I really need to go,” she squeaked. “I’ll see you.”
“Okay. Bye.”
After she clicked off the phone, she lay back on her bed and let the tears flow. She was tired of everyone treating her as if she were a silly toddler. She loved Luke—really, deeply loved him—and all anybody did was belittle her or make fun of her or nag at her to grow up. Even her own family! She wasn’t an orphan like Jane Eyre, but she might as well have been, for all the support she got.
Suddenly she felt a familiar yearning. She remembered the last time she’d felt this abandoned: the day her dad had loaded up the Honda and given her a long hug goodbye, a hug so tight it actually hurt a bit in the ribs, and the whole time she could hear tiny noises inside his throat, as if he was trying to prevent himself from crying. The day he’d left. The worst day of her life. Worse even than today.
Her dad didn’t live with her anymore, but he still understood her. He would sympathize.
Feeling reinvigorated, she seized the phone and selected his number. A few rings later she heard his voice say, “¿Hola?”
“Daddy?” she said, her voice raspy from crying.
“Hey, mijita! How are things going?”
“Terrible! I hate Gabby! She thinks just because Mom’s gone she gets to take over everything—including my life.”
“Ah, chiquita. I’m sure that’s not true.”
“It is! She gets to drive the car and sleep in Mom’s room and tell me what to do all the time. And she’s so mean. She won’t let me have any fun. She does things just to make me upset—on purpose!”
He let out a long sigh. “Do you want me to talk to her?”
“That won’t help. I want …” A lump of emotion rose in her throat, but she swallowed it. “I want you to come live with us. That’s the only way to make things better. To put her back in her place.”
There was a long pause. “I can’t do that, mija.”
“Maybe not for good, but for a little while? Just while Mom’s gone? Please, Daddy. I need someone on my side.”
“I know. I wish I could, but I can’t go back and forth from Barton to my work. And I can’t take time off right now.”
“Then can I come stay with you? Just for a few days next week? I can’t stand it here. If I have to get bossed by Gabby one more day, I’ll … I’ll go crazy!”
“Mija, I’m sorry you’re so sad. I wish you could come, but it’s not possible. You won’t make it to school on time, and school is important. Besides, there’s no room here anyway.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch! I don’t care!”
“The thing is …” He blew out his breath and a sharp crackling sound came over the receiver. “I was going to tell you soon, but … well, I might as well let you know now. There’s someone else living with me.”
“Huh? Who?”
“Her name is Sheila. She’s … my girlfriend.”
The world around Daphne seemed to wriggle and warp, even though she was lying completely still. Dad was … with someone else? That couldn’t be right. She’d always pictured him sitting at home, alone, eating food he’d microwaved and watching reruns on TV. She’d imagined he was often lonely and felt sorry for him.
But he wasn’t alone. He had a woman living with him. A woman who wasn’t Mom. A … lover?
The woman even had a name: Sheila. Daphne tried to picture her but could only see a shadowy female outline. She tried to envision her father with his arm around this Sheila person, but she couldn’t. It was too tough. Too weird. Too wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
Daphne shut her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she said. “How long have you two …?” She couldn’t finish. She wasn’t even sure what verb to use.
“For seven
months now.”
“Seven months? But … but you never said anything.”
“I know. I should have told you sooner. I just couldn’t. I didn’t want you girls to think I was leaving you.”
“You already left us!” She was surprised to find herself on her feet. Tears were once again dripping down her face, but they were hot, angry tears that sizzled against her cheeks. “How can you do this? Why are you doing this to us?”
“I’m not doing anything to you guys. This is about me. Me and her.”
“But it’s wrong! You aren’t supposed to be with her. You’re supposed to be with Mom. With us.”
“Mijita …”
“Stop it! Don’t mijita me! I’m not a baby! Why does everyone think I’m a baby?”
Daphne was vaguely aware of him saying something else, but she couldn’t make out the words. She was holding the phone out in front of her, squeezing it and shaking it, as if it were a snake she had to slay with her bare hands. She’d been counting on him to understand. She’d needed him to come to her rescue, but he wouldn’t. Because of something named Sheila.
With an angry grunt, Daphne drew back her arm and hurled the phone across the room. The white receiver ricocheted off the far wall and landed on Gabby’s bed. It looked dead lying there, facedown, like a shellfish that had curled inward in its final throes. A faint crack was visible along its backside.
Great. She’d killed it.
Some back compartment of her brain warned her of new doom: Gabby’s horrified shriek when she discovered the broken phone … her whiny blabbing to Mom … Mom’s weary sigh and demand for restitution. But it so didn’t matter. Not now.
Daphne dropped to the floor and slouched against the side of her bed. Everything seemed weird and unnatural, as if she’d tumbled into someone else’s nightmare.
Dad has a girlfriend? No. The very thought was heavy and slippery and difficult to grasp. It just couldn’t be right. If it was, it would change everything. It would mean he and Mom could never get back together. It would mean that some other girl meant more to him than Daphne did. And it would mean that he’d been lying to them for months. That his smiles were lies. His hugs lies. His declarations of love—all lies.
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