“No!” The word shoved its way past Daphne’s lips. No way could this Sheila person love him as much as they did. She was probably just a stand-in because he missed them so much. Maybe she was superpoor and he felt sorry for her, so he had let her move in. That was the sort of thing he would do.
Yes, that had to be it. He was trying to help someone out. And it was probably nice having someone—anyone—around, considering he was so far away from the people he really loved. She shouldn’t even be mad at this Sheila person, since he would end up breaking her heart anyway, once he realized the mistake he was making.
Then again, this Sheila could be tricking him, too—using him for his house and money. Well, maybe not money, since he didn’t have much. And his house was a one-bedroom apartment. But still … what if she was trying to keep him all to herself? Perhaps she’d been trying to turn him against his family and convince him that he didn’t need them anymore. Maybe that was the real reason he wouldn’t come save Daphne.
Gradually a hazy image of this Sheila person came into her head—an older and less stylish version of Lynette—and a jittery panic spread through her. She considered heading back out to the living room to tell Gabby but decided against it. She was still mad at her, too. Besides, it wouldn’t change anything. Gabby already hated Dad. In fact, it would probably make her more annoying. She was always so down on guys, saying they couldn’t be trusted. Accusing Daphne of bingeing on fairy tales. Telling her there was no such thing as love …
Could she be right? After all, how could love just come and go like that? How could Dad say he loved them and then let some stranger into his house? Into his life?
All of a sudden, a loud noise split the air, startling her. The phone on Gabby’s bed had started beeping the disconnected signal. Obviously the thing still had some life in it. Daphne snatched it up and silenced it, then shuffled over to the dresser to replace it in its base.
Her cut-glass keepsake box sat nearby, glinting in the waning light that squeezed around the drapes. She lifted the lid and peered down at its contents: her old charm bracelet with the broken clasp, ticket stubs from the ice-skating show her dad had taken her to see, and the penny Luke had found during their walk to Quick’s Pharmacy. Daphne picked up the coin and closed her hand tightly around it, trying to draw some power from it, to relive that magical moment when he’d given it to her. After a while, a fizzy heat stole over her and her mouth curled into a smile.
No. Gabby couldn’t be right. Love was real. It was strong. Maybe Dad and Mom had misplaced theirs, and maybe Daddy was playing pretend love with someone else right now, but she still had the real thing with Luke. He was sweet and romantic and loyal. And he was hers—or he would be soon.
All she had to do was go to that party on Saturday.
“Thanks for picking me up,” Daphne said. She settled back against the passenger seat of Sheri’s Outback and exhaled loudly—apparently she’d been holding her breath without realizing it. Her hands shook slightly as she fastened her seat belt, her pulse still twanging in her ears. She was not cut out for a life of crime.
Sneaking out had not been easy. Mule and Gabby had been parked on the couch for the longest time, and Daphne couldn’t make it to the laundry room without passing them. She’d toyed with the idea of going out the bedroom window, but it would have been loud. Plus, the new paint on the frame and sill had glommed together, sealing it shut. She knew the window in the utility room wasn’t stuck, since she’d opened it to let out the smell of burnt spaghetti sauce the day before. But she hadn’t anticipated her dictator sister’s having her best friend stay late. Could Gabby have suspected her plan? Had she done it on purpose?
Eventually Mule and Gabby had gone into Mom’s bedroom to find something—a book or a movie—bickering about some sci-fi factoid the whole way. Daphne hadn’t wasted a second. She’d grabbed her purse, taken one last glance back to make sure the pillows under her blankets made a convincing human form, and tiptoed all the way to the laundry room. Once she’d climbed outside and made it safely to the street corner, she called Sheri to pick her up.
“You look really good,” Sheri said, giving Daphne’s swingy-dress-and-boots combo an up-and-down appraisal. She always gave compliments as if she were complaining, with a wrinkled brow and an irritated tone. But Daphne didn’t mind. It seemed more honest, in a way. She wasn’t just saying things to be polite.
“Thanks. So do you.”
Daphne hoped her flattery sounded sincere, even though she really thought Sheri had overdone the makeup and that her low-cut blouse only accentuated her lack of cleavage. But perhaps some guys thought rib cages were sexy.
By the time Sheri was parking along Deerfield Road, Daphne had become, if anything, even more jumpy. The party was already going strong. People were standing in knots all over the front lawn, and dozens of heads and torsos were visible through the windows. A low rumble of voices merged with the thumping bass of a sound system, punctuated every so often by laughter or a high-pitched shriek.
“All right then,” Sheri said. “Don’t expect me to stick with you all night.” She stepped out of the car and strode toward the house, Daphne following close behind.
Daphne wondered if Sheri felt as nervous as she did. Probably not. Sheri always acted as if her presence was not only expected, but strongly desired. Meanwhile, Daphne, because of her superstrict mother, had only managed to attend three high school parties—the ones like this, at least, with lots of alcohol and no adult supervision. Each time, she’d felt overwhelmed by the crowds, the noise, the general chaos. And Jarrett Ellerbee getting drunk and streaking around outdoors. It was a wonder he kept up the habit—especially since it didn’t help him get girls—but he seemed to think that it was his forsworn duty and that he would seriously disappoint people if he stopped.
This night, though, she was on a mission. She had to find Luke. She would surprise him with her presence and tell him that she had come after all, just to see him. She’d drop little hints to let him know exactly how much he meant to her. Then he wouldn’t be scared anymore and they would finally start their love story. Or at least plan a prom date.
So now that she’d arrived at her intended destination, it really didn’t matter if Sheri blew her off.
They pushed their way through the clot of people hovering around the door.
“Hey, lookee here.” Todd Carothers stood near the entrance. He held a big Longhorns cup full of foamy beer and was teetering to the left as if gravity were cranked up stronger on that end of the room. Even his features seemed to have slid sideways. “Welcome, ladies,” he said with a leering, lopsided grin. “Can I get y’all a drink?”
Daphne shook her head, but Sheri lifted her nonexistent chest and said, “Hell yeah. I could definitely use a cold one.”
As Todd steered Sheri off toward the back patio, Daphne scanned the living room for Luke but didn’t see him anywhere. She took a few more steps through the foyer and ran into Walt Lively. He, too, was at a slant, looking like an abandoned broom, with his left shoulder pressed against the wall.
“Hey,” she said. “Is Luke here?”
“Oh, I know he’s somewhere,” he said, with a smirk. Now Daphne could tell that his inclined position wasn’t so much from drinking as it was a premeditated pose, designed to make him seem ultracool. “Been here awhile, in fact. Is he … expecting you?”
“Yeah,” she said, sounding a little offended. “I mean … sort of. I tried to get here earlier, but …” She wasn’t sure how to explain, so instead, she let the sentence just hang open, lamely.
Walt continued to grin smugly at her. After a few beats he stared down into his plastic cup, as if suddenly bored with her. “I think I saw him headed toward the kitchen a minute ago,” he said.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, and headed toward the bright yellow lights beyond the dining room.
Her heart rate had sped up again, thrashing in double time to the indie rock song coming through the speakers. She squeezed th
rough a group of senior guys and entered the kitchen area. The crush of people was intimidating. There seemed to be three times as many warm, tipsy bodies in here as in the front room. Apparently the party had been going strong for a while; so many people were already acting drunk. Maybe Luke was drunk. Or maybe he’d already left. She really hoped she wasn’t too late.
Then again, Jarrett Ellerbee still had his clothes on. That was a good sign.
A familiar laugh reached her ears, high and wheezy like a seagull’s call. Tracy’s laugh. She pointed herself in the direction of the sound and eventually spotted Tracy sitting on the countertop, holding an enormous Sonic Drive-In tumbler of beer. Daphne pushed through another mass of upperclassmen and found herself near the sink area, where Tracy’s head hung above those of a half dozen others, including Luke, who stood nearby with his back against the counter.
To his left was Lynette. She stood sideways, facing Luke, her body practically molded around him, her hips nestled close to his thighs, her breasts almost grazing his elbow, and her head cocked forward toward his neck. She appeared to be mumbling something.
Daphne felt a squirming sensation in her chest, as if her organs were all swarming upward to protect her heart.
Eventually Luke saw her. “Hey,” he said. He straightened up, breaking away from Lynette. Was he glad to see Daphne? She couldn’t tell. His smile was kind of glossy-looking in the weird amber light of the kitchen.
Lynette leaned back against the counter, facing Daphne. She seemed amused at the interruption, rather than disappointed. “Well, hey,” she said. “You actually came.”
Daphne wasn’t sure whether Lynette meant to that party in particular or to a party in general. “I came,” she repeated lamely. “Finally.” She was still too stunned to move. So she remained in place, grinning stupidly, trying to figure out how to get Luke away from Lynette—or put herself in Lynette’s place. She wanted to tell him that she was there to see him, but it was hard with so many people around.
Just then, the back door opened and Todd Carothers came in holding his Longhorns tumbler aloft. “Hey, Trace! This cup is leaking. Can I have another?”
“Quit dripping all over the floor!” Tracy leaned forward and opened a cupboard. “We’re out of glasses, but you can use this,” she said, handing him a baby bottle.
Todd blinked at it for a few seconds. Then he set it on the counter, unscrewed the top, poured in the beer from the tumbler, and replaced the cap. Glancing around to make sure everyone was watching, he brought the nipple to his lips and began slurping noisily.
The room erupted with laughter.
“Crap, Tracy. I didn’t realize this was bring your own bottle,” said Lynette.
Again people cracked up. Luke’s head tilted forward and he laughed that silent laugh of his. Lynette seemed to take this as some sort of cue and started cozying up to him again.
Daphne felt panicked.
“Hey, Luke?” she said, stepping forward. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
He stopped chuckling and met her gaze. “Uh … sure. I guess.”
Everyone around them exchanged knowing stares, a few even made high-pitched “whoo’s.” Daphne didn’t even have to look directly at Lynette to notice the smirk on her face.
Daphne looked up at Tracy. “Is there somewhere we can speak in private?”
Tracy peered at her for a moment. It was clear she found Daphne’s actions highly entertaining. “You can use my sister’s room, if you promise not to make a mess.”
“I promise. Where is it?”
“Upstairs. First door on the right.”
“Thanks.”
Daphne glanced over at Luke. He pushed off from the counter and loped up beside her. She couldn’t tell if he was hesitant or surprised. Then again, maybe he was just scared. Even she was too nervous to smile.
Somehow they made their way through the masses of partygoers and up the stairs. Daphne opened the door on the right and flicked on the light.
“Oh!” she exclaimed.
Inside was the room of her dreams—or the room she would have wanted when she was little. It was all done up in a colorful fairy-tale theme. The walls were a lavender ombré and tiny pixies with glowing wands had been painted at various spots, all of them flying through a swirling current of sparkling silver. There was also a fluffy white flokati rug, lace curtains, bedding with eyelet trim, and a beautiful sheer canopy draped high over the crib. Both the crib and dresser were made of white antiqued wood with curlicue legs.
It was the perfect romantic setting—except for the pungent aroma of dirty diapers.
Luke shut the door and walked over to where she stood beside the dresser. “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” he asked. A grin wriggled across his face and then he slipped his arms around her, pulled her close, and pressed his lips against hers.
Daphne felt a rush of sensations: joy, heat, astonishment, excitement—everything all at once, times ten. She was so overwhelmed it was hard to pay attention. Instead, she found herself focusing on the pink crystal drawer pulls of the dresser, and the frayed ends of a lavender ribbon used to tie back the curtains, and a smudge on the side of the diaper pail.…
Wait. She didn’t want to think about a gross smudge. She was with Luke. She was kissing him. He was kissing her!
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the slight taste of beer on his mouth, and the feel of his hands as they slid down from her shoulder blades to the small of her back. This is the magic I’ve always dreamed about, she told herself. This is what a real True Love’s kiss feels like.
Obviously he could feel it, too. He sure didn’t seem scared anymore. Had he been expecting this? How could he if he’d had no idea she was coming? It had all happened so fast. Of course she’d wanted this—eventually. But she’d wanted to make her intentions clear first. To see the look in his eyes when he realized how she felt about him.
“Wait,” she said, but her voice was lost amid all the breathing and kissing. She pulled back and said it again, more clearly. “Wait!”
“I’m sorry.” Luke looked worried. “Did I hurt you?”
Daphne shook her head. “It’s fine. It’s … wonderful. It’s just … I have something I need to tell you.”
They had to confess their feelings first. This wasn’t just a party hook-up like everyone else thought it was. This was True Love. They should acknowledge that and make it official; then they could go back to kissing.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Daphne stared into Luke’s sea-green eyes and began. “Luke, I want you to know that … I get you. I see you. I understand you like no one else ever will.”
She paused, checking his reaction. But other than a slight widening of his stare, there was no change in his expression. So she pressed on, her words picking up volume and speed.
“We’re so much alike. We’re old-fashioned and romantic and … and … we like the same books.” She grimaced slightly. This was not the way she’d imagined it. It was time to get to the point. “What I’m trying to say is that … I knew the first time I saw you, when we ran into each other, that we were meant to be together. And now I’m even more sure. There’s no reason to be frightened. I … I love you, Luke. And I always will.”
Daphne blew out her breath and grinned. It felt good to say everything aloud—to free the thoughts that had been trapped inside her for so long.
She could tell he was moved. His eyes glistened and a light pink shade had spread over the tops of his cheeks. His mouth hung open, moving slightly, as if he was drinking in her words … or, more likely, as if he was getting ready to make an announcement of his own.
Which, of course, he would. Any second now.
“Well?” Daphne said, signaling that she was done.
She braced herself, waiting for his confession.
The man let out a whimper and backed up against the wall. Unfortunately, the mysterious shadow advanced faster, darkening the man’s face. At the last second the man crossed his
arms in front of him, desperately trying to shield himself, but to no avail. He let out a horrified shriek just as the music crescendoed, and the TV screen went black. The next shot showed the guy’s corpse facedown on the hardwood floor.
“He could have run,” Gabby remarked. “All those people—the bald dude, the blond lady, the old man with the eye patch—they could have been out the door before Shadow Thing even grazed their feet.”
Mule shook his head. “You can’t outrun evil.”
“Oh really? And you’re an expert?”
“Hey, I hang out with you, don’t I?”
Gabby raised an eyebrow at him.
“Sorry,” he said, lifting his hands in a surrender gesture. “Please don’t sic your minions on me.”
Gabby gritted her teeth. She already had Daffy calling her cruel and sadistic; she didn’t need to hear it from Mule, too.
Mule grabbed the plastic bowl he’d brought over, which held some sort of chunky gold substance in it, and started dipping in tortilla chips he’d pulled out of the kitchen. Meanwhile, on TV, the strange dark matter oozed down a sleeping street, stirring up fallen leaves and making stray cats puff up and hiss.
“You know,” Mule said, between crunches, “this kumquat salsa isn’t that bad.”
“Is that what that is?” Gabby asked, wrinkling her upper lip. “Kumquat salsa?”
“It was Dad’s idea. The past few days he’s really gotten into cooking shows. They showed this recipe and he got all excited and asked Mom to make it. Hey, did you know the kumquat comes from China? I always thought the word sounded Germanish. And not in a good way, either.”
“It also doesn’t sound very appetizing—or look it. I’m sorry, but salsa should not be yellow. It should be red. And spicy.”
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