Daphne tilted her head against the seat and closed her eyes. Gabby suddenly noticed how awful she looked. It hadn’t just been the street light; her complexion really was pale and waxy. And it was weird how quiet she was. Silent treatment or not, she’d usually pitch a screechy fit over Gabby’s tattling to Mom about her transgressions. Come to think of it, she’d sounded really out of it on the phone, too.
“Oh, my god!” Gabby exclaimed as a sudden realization came over her. “You’re drunk, aren’t you? Damn it, Daff! How can you do this to me? Mom’s really going to freak now.”
By now they were pulling down the long drive of the Applewhite property. Gabby threw the gearshift in park, switched off the lights and engine, and spun around in her seat to better direct her anger at its source. Meanwhile Daphne remained slouched and unmoving, barely aware of her surroundings.
“God, it’s like you don’t think—ever!” Gabby shouted, making tiny flailing motions with her hands. “Do you even know how stupid that was? Do you realize all the awful things that could have happened to you?”
Daphne stirred suddenly. Her chest heaved as if she were rearing up for a hearty scream. Then she pushed open the passenger door and started vomiting on the crushed granite drive below.
“Lovely. Just lovely,” Gabby said as the stench of puke hit her nostrils. She grabbed a fistful of hair on top of Daphne’s head and held on tight. Of course this would happen. It was the poetic cap to an epically bad night.
After a while the retching stopped. For a moment Daphne remained doubled over, panting heavily. Then, like a zombie crawling out of the ground, she jerked and lurched until she was standing outside the car.
“You’re going to have to clean that up!” Gabby called out. “I’m not doing it!”
But Daphne was already staggering off toward the house, her cowboy boots making a sickening scraping noise against the gravel.
Gabby let out a moan and fell forward against the steering wheel. “God, I hate my life.”
Daphne opened her eyes. She couldn’t tell from the light in her room whether it was day or night. Through the tiny gap in the curtains she could see putty-colored clouds and a sprinkling of drops on the window. She shuddered with cold and ran her hand up her bare arm. Looking down, she saw that she was lying on top of her covers, still wearing the floral-patterned dress from the night before.
All at once it came back to her. The party. The cruel, distorted faces of her classmates laughing at her. Luke …
Her gut felt crumpled and her heart seemed to be writhing in agony instead of simply beating. It had really happened. It hadn’t been a bad dream. And now everything was just … over.
A sob rose, straining inside her, building in intensity until it burst from her throat with a high-pitched wail. Daphne rolled over onto her stomach, pulling her arms and legs underneath her. Then, with only her back exposed to the world, she cried into the muffled darkness of her mattress. She cried until her throat felt raw and her head throbbed. She cried until her pillowcase felt warm and slick.
Eventually her thoughts took on a hazy, garbled quality, and she spiraled off into another fitful sleep.
Gabby sat at the dining room table swirling a stale tortilla chip in the kumquat salsa. Remnants of conversation from the night before kept popping in and out of her mind without her even trying to think about them. It was like that time Mule had dragged her to see some guitarist in Austin and a sharp tone had echoed in her ears the whole day after. This time, though, images appeared with the sounds. Mule looking so disappointed after she’d been rude to Prentiss … Prentiss’s dopey grin … Daphne all doubled over in the driveway …
She glanced at the yellow kitty-cat clock on the wall. It was a quarter to noon and Daphne still wasn’t up. Figured. The girl almost certainly had a hangover. Her body was probably so poisoned and depleted of nutrients that she couldn’t face sunlight or food.
Good. She deserved to have the world’s worst headache after what she’d pulled. If this was what it was like being a mom, Gabby figured she should have her uterus removed.
“Oh, no. Mom.” Gabby suddenly realized she was supposed to call her that morning and report in. What the hell was she going to say? Oh, hey, Mom. Daphne snuck out to a kegger and got drunk, and Mule has suddenly started making fruity salsa and hinting that we should be more than friends. What’s up with you?
Again she glanced at the clock. She couldn’t put it off any longer. Making Mom wait would only cause more anguish.
Gabby reached for the phone and punched in the programmed number of her mom’s cell. The rings sounded distant, for some reason. And their peal seemed cheerful and trusting. Gabby wasn’t the one who had broken the rules, yet she couldn’t help feeling she was letting her mom down.
Soon she heard a click, followed by a barrage of noise. “Honey!” her mom sang out. “I was just about to call you, but we went to this incredible place for a late brunch and just got carried away.” Muffled voices sounded in the background, followed by her mom’s shrieking laughter.
Her mom seemed so … giddy—almost Daphne-like. It was unnerving.
“Sounds like someone has had a mimosa. Or three,” Gabby said.
“No, no,” her mom said. “Well … perhaps I did have a bit of Bailey’s in my coffee.” She giggled and the background voices soon joined in.
Mom was giggling? Now things were getting scary.
“I’m just having a great time,” her mom said. “The people here are very nice. And I’m learning a lot.”
Gabby smiled weakly. “Good.”
“So how are things going?” her mom asked. “Has the car been holding up for you?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Daphne? Has she been keeping up with school without me nagging her?”
“I think so.”
“Put her on. I want to speak with her.”
Gabby’s stomach tightened. “Um, Mom? You’re not going to believe this, but …” She stopped. How could she do this? Her mom sounded so relaxed, so happy. Telling her would only push her back into panic mode. And it wasn’t like she could do anything about it all the way in Atlanta.
“What? What’s going on?” her mom asked. “You’re cutting out.”
She could already hear the worry creeping back in to Mom’s tone. No. Forget it. Gabby would handle things herself.
“I said, you’re not going to believe this but”—Gabby glanced around, searching for something quick, something unbelievably believable, and her eyes rested on the discarded Golden Chick bag that Daphne had left on the counter a couple of days ago—“Daphne bicycled over to Golden Chick to pick us up some food.”
“She did? That’s thoughtful.”
“I know, right?”
“Hmm. Is she trying to apologize for something she did wrong?”
“No! Nothing like that.” Gabby laughed nervously. “But maybe she’s buttering me up for some big favor she’s going to ask.”
“Could be. Keep your guard up.”
“I will. Well … I should let you go. Bye, Mom. Keep on having fun.”
She laughed. “I hope I will. Take care, sweetie. Love you! Love to Daphne!”
Gabby shut off the phone. Damn Daphne! The girl better appreciate all Gabby had been doing for her. Fetching her in the middle of the night and now lying to Mom. Maybe it wasn’t sickness that was keeping her in their room, but fear—fear of what her older sister might do to her. Should do to her.
She stirred the chunky yellow salsa with the point of a fresh chip and then suddenly pushed it away. She wanted to like the stuff, but she didn’t. As much as she hated to see it go to waste, she’d most likely end up feeding it to the garbage disposal.
As she opened the door to the refrigerator to put it back, she immediately spied the squat, stained paper boxes filled with corn dogs. With a resigned sigh she pulled a dog out of the nearest container, set it on a plate, and warmed it in the microwave for several seconds. Then she added a squeeze of mustard
and took a bite.
“Oh, my god!” she exclaimed. It was so much better than she had expected. Better than she remembered. So what if it was bad for her? She deserved some delicious deep-fried contaminants after the weekend she’d had.
She could go wild, too.
“Quit pouting and get in the car,” Gabby said.
“I can’t.” Daphne hung back on the porch, shaking her head. The motion made her a little dizzy, and she steadied her skull with her right hand. This also smarted, since her face was swollen from crying off and on for the past thirty hours. The mirror that morning had shown how puffy and bulged-out her eyes were, making her seem more iguana than human. Yet another reason to stay home.
“You have to go to school.”
“But I don’t feel good.”
“Don’t give me that!” Gabby pounded her hand on the roof of the Jetta. “I let you sleep all day yesterday. I cleaned up your stink from the damn driveway. Don’t make me call Mom and tell her what you’ve done.”
Daphne felt a tiny swell of hope. “You haven’t told her?”
“No,” Gabby heaved a sigh. “I just don’t want to bother her with it yet. She’ll be so upset, and right now she needs to concentrate on her training.”
Daphne twirled the end of her ponytail and pondered this. Gabby was right. Her mom didn’t deserve to be pulled down into her mess. But school? Just thinking about it made the few sips of milk she’d had for breakfast turn lumpy and sour in her stomach.
Would throwing up in front of Gabby again make her change her mind? Probably not. It might make her madder, since she assumed Daphne had drunk herself sick at the party. And Daphne wasn’t about to tell her what had really happened. Saying it aloud would only destroy that last flimsy filament keeping her upright.
Maybe she could go to school and avoid anybody who was at the party. She could hide in the bathroom or volunteer to sort the equipment room for Coach Harding. She could even show up for one of Ms. Manbeck’s tutoring sessions.
“Well? Are you coming? Or do I have to call Mom on the cell right now?”
Daphne glanced down and was astonished to see her legs walking toward the Jetta. She felt like a ghost. Her body was doing what it had always done, and yet everything felt different, unreal. Eventually she climbed into the car and clicked the safety belt around her.
She settled against the seat as Gabby backed out of the driveway and headed down the road—all just as usual, and yet it felt weird. Even the passing scenery seemed unfamiliar. It was as if she’d somehow slipped into a stranger’s body.
Maybe she wasn’t really there. Maybe she was still in bed, asleep, having one of her bizarre dreams. It was a comforting thought.
“I have to be at work by five, so meet me at the car as soon as school lets out,” Gabby said. “Otherwise you’ll need to get a ride from one of your friends. Or just walk.”
“I’ll be there,” Daphne said emphatically. No way was she getting in Sheri’s Outback ever again.
By the time Gabby had pulled the Jetta into the student parking lot, Daphne’s hands were trembling and the numb, dreamlike feeling had left.
She really was here. This was her body. Her own sucky life.
“Well?” Gabby was already out of the car and was jerking her head impatiently toward the building. “Get a move on.”
Daphne rose unsteadily from her seat, shut the door, and pulled her backpack over her right shoulder. By the time she started walking after Gabby, her sister was several steps away. Up ahead, the school loomed menacingly. The brown bricks of its exterior reminded her of dark scales, and its big front windows glinted in the sunlight on either side of the entrance, making the facade look like two flashing eyes and a wide-open mouth.
And standing in front of the gaping maw were her former friends—the backstabbing party crowd.
Her throat squeezed shut and her legs started to quiver. “Please, Gabby. Don’t make me go through with this.” Only Gabby didn’t hear. Because Gabby didn’t care. But also because Gabby was now several yards ahead of her and Daphne’s voice had been a tiny croak.
You can do this, she told herself. Don’t even look at those people. Forget about them. Forget about Luke.
Luke … A fresh misting of tears veiled her vision. Would a time ever come when she could think of that name and not feel blasted away on the inside?
Daphne cleared her throat and blinked repeatedly until she’d bullied the moisture back into her ducts. Then she headed for the main entrance while focusing on the concrete walkway, still shiny from all the drizzle.
“Look,” she heard someone say.
From the corner of her eye she could see people clustering together; then came the steady drone of their murmurs.
“Daphne!”
She glanced up on instinct, too startled to stop herself, and saw Lynette staring straight at her.
“Oh, my god. You must feel like the biggest ditz ever,” Lynette said, her eyes flashing inside thick borders of eyeliner. “I can’t believe you said all that dorky stuff to Luke, right after he’d hooked up with me. And then he totally shot you down!”
A tremor shook Daphne. She felt an urge to buckle, to burrow into the earth or curl back up into her protective ball. A few of the others were laughing—some wickedly, others nervously. And the nearby murmurs had strengthened in volume and number. Daphne did not want to be here. She didn’t want to get swallowed up by the school and laughed at by all her classmates. She did not want to be reminded that the love of her life had messed around with Lynette Harkrider. Most of all, she didn’t want to see Luke.
So she wouldn’t.
Just as the shudders started and the stinging wetness flooded into her eyes, Daphne spun around and ran down the sidewalk, past the parking lot, and down the road toward her neighborhood … her home … her dark room … her bed … and the safety of sleep.
Where the hell is she?
Gabby stood in front of the Jetta, scanning the vicinity for Daphne’s ponytailed head. School had let out fifteen minutes ago—plenty of time for Daphne to make it to the car. She’d tried Daphne’s cell phone, but it had gone straight to voice mail. She’d even circled the building in case Daphne couldn’t remember where they’d agreed to meet. But there’d been no sign of her.
She should just abandon Daphne’s butt at school. That might teach her to be more considerate.
Gabby marched over to the driver’s side and opened the door, ready to leave. Then she quickly shut it. Fine. One last chance. She walked to the front of the car, shielding her eyes from the sun as she again checked the surroundings.
A familiar figure strode past, tall and skinny, her bushy hairstyle almost as wide as her shoulders.
“Sheri!” Gabby called.
The hair stopped and swished around as the head it sat on searched for the voice.
“Over here,” Gabby said, waving to get her attention. “Are you taking Daphne home today?
“Ah, no. No, I’m not. Definitely not.” Sheri shook her hair, her expression a mixture of shock, amusement, and annoyance.
Gabby put her hands on her hips. “Then do you know where she is?”
“She isn’t here.”
“Where is she?”
She shrugged. “She left, like, a long time ago. She didn’t go to school.”
“What?”
But Sheri didn’t elaborate. Just gave an enigmatic little smirk and drifted toward the edge of the lot, where five different versions of the same twenty-first-century cowboy stood around someone’s pickup.
What the hell did she mean Daphne didn’t come to school? Gabby had brought her pouting the whole way. Was Sheri so high on hair-product fumes that she didn’t know what she was saying?
It didn’t matter anyway. Daffy could walk.
“Gabby! Gabby, wait!”
Mule was running across the courtyard, his frothy curls bounding along a half step behind his feet.
Great. Was everyone determined to get her fired today?
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He slowed to a stop right beside her. “Hold up,” he said, panting. “I just heard some stuff you ought to know.”
Gabby shook her head. “Sorry, I really don’t have time to chat. My stupid sister just stood me up and I’m going to be late for work.”
“But it’s about Daphne. And what happened at the party. I really think you need to hear this.”
Daphne lay curled on her bed like a pill bug. She couldn’t move or think. She couldn’t even cry anymore. Her eyes had gone dry, and the tightness in her throat had subsided.
She’d probably just run out of tears. Maybe that was why she felt empty inside. It was like she’d already squeezed every bit of emotion out of her and was left feeling limp and used up. A discarded dishrag.
The crying might have stopped, but not the constant ache. Deep and scorching, yet oddly hollow, as if something vital had been torn out of her. “Shot down” was the phrase Lynette had used. And that was exactly how it felt. As if something had ripped a big hole through her, causing her to plummet to the ground, flightless and wounded.
If only she could go back in time and stop herself from saying those things to Luke. If only she’d stayed home that night. If only Lynette were ugly and shy. If only Luke had never moved to Barton …
But she didn’t want to think about the “if onlies.”
For as long as she could remember, she’d used daydreams as a way to cope with sadness or boredom. Not anymore. Her fantasies were what had let her down this time. All those stories of love and hope, they were just lies. And she’d been stupid to buy into them. God, she was pathetic. A silly little kid, just like everyone thought.
She turned toward the window and the intense rays of the afternoon sun seared her irises, making her head ache even more. She so preferred the dreariness of yesterday’s rain. Sunshine was too cheerful, too warm. It made it harder to sleep and, therefore, forget.
As she turned back toward the center of the room, a new brightness hit her eyes. A stream of sunlight had angled onto her dresser, making something flash and sparkle. It seemed to be beckoning her.
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