Sass & Serendipity

by Ziegler, Jennifer

  “Look, I know I haven’t been the best … um … tenant you’ve ever had,” she added. “I’m sorry for that. I’ve already apologized in the letter, and I hope you’ve forgiven me. I also hope you’ll let us stay here. I just think we should … stay out of each other’s way. Keep things professional.”

  Again she stopped for breath—which she suddenly seemed to need a lot of. Still Prentiss didn’t move. He hadn’t even flinched. His lips were set in a squiggled line that could convey dismay or amusement, she couldn’t tell.

  Gabby pulled her eyes away. Staring at his mouth reminded her of the kiss.

  “Okay then. I just thought you should know,” she said, feeling as though her speech needed a closing statement.

  When he still didn’t say anything, she spun around and headed toward the Jetta, careful to step over the small rivulet of water that was now coursing down the driveway.

  “Wait,” he said.

  Like a brainless automaton, she stopped and turned back.

  “You still don’t trust me, do you?” he asked. He stepped forward, closing the gap between them so that they were back to a body heat–sensing distance.

  Gabby stared down at her navy blue Chuck Taylors. What could she say? He was right; she didn’t trust him. But she didn’t want to make things worse by admitting it.

  Besides, it was more than that. She also didn’t trust herself. Her own feelings went completely haywire when it came to Prentiss. She liked him, yet she didn’t like him. She felt drawn to him—but she wasn’t sure if she was attracted to him or to some half-buried memory of Sonny. She thought he liked her, maybe even hoped that he did, but she also couldn’t buy it. Someone like him would never fall for her. The kiss had just been an anomaly—either a takedown ploy on his part or a glitch in his behavior brought on by stress and rage. The same way mugging victims sometimes laugh as they stare down the barrel of a loaded gun.

  And even on the off chance that he did like her and she liked him, that could very well be the worst possible situation. Because such feelings never lasted. They just hung around long enough to create chaos.

  The water was now pooling in a small hole along the side of the driveway, taking on a sickly, chalky color from the crushed gravel.

  “You can’t stop blaming me for the crash,” he said, answering his own question since she’d gone mute. He shook his head. “I don’t get it. Are you always so hard on people? I mean, it’s not like you knew Sonny. Did you?”

  She hadn’t meant to react. She just … did. Her body, for some reason, flinched in response. Her head jerked up and her torso shuddered. Gabby wrapped her arms around herself to stop the sudden flow of emotion. But just like the water racing down the lane, it kept on surging. The ache of loss. The confusion. The anger and unanswered questions.

  “Did you?” Prentiss repeated. His softened tone revealed he’d noticed her spontaneous reflex.

  Gabby’s hands flew to the sides of her head. She didn’t want these thoughts. She didn’t want to be here, with him, talking about this. “No,” she said to herself and the universe, but also to Prentiss. Because it was true. She hadn’t known Sonny—not really. She had no right to mourn him. No right to miss him or punish anyone for his death. “No,” she said again.

  She had to get out of there. At some point she’d lost control of the conversation. It was more proof that she couldn’t rely on her own wits when it came to Prentiss.

  “Just remember what I said earlier,” she said, backing toward her car, not caring if her shoes sank into the murky water. “We should try to avoid each other. It’s just better that way. Simpler.”

  Her hand hit the Jetta, sweeping over the familiar hail dents on the trunk. She quickly spun around and climbed inside, trying to ignore Prentiss’s sunglassed stare.

  Thank god the car restarted. It shuddered and coughed and finally snarled to life. Gabby backed out of the space, careful not to mow down Prentiss. Meanwhile, he kept on watching her through his shades, thumbs hooked in his front pockets, as if he were posing for some gardening calendar. As if he had nothing else to do but marvel at her stupidity. It annoyed her to no end.

  Gabby rolled down the window. “And one more thing,” she yelled as she drove past. “Quit wasting water!”

  Daphne skipped down the road, her ponytail swinging, sneakers pounding out an iambic rhythm on the sidewalk. All her sweat from cheerleading practice cooled in the breeze.

  It hadn’t been a great day. In fact, parts of it had really sucked. Tracy and Sheri had yakked about her all through fourth period. Todd Carothers had pointed at her in the annex corridor and laughed. And while the other cheerleaders hadn’t wasted too much time slamming her during workouts, they also hadn’t included her in their gossip sessions about Lynette—who’d been absent, unsurprisingly.

  Daphne had only seen Luke once, in the hall after science class, but thankfully he hadn’t spotted her … or at least he acted as if he hadn’t. Her knees had almost buckled at the sight of him, and slightly lesser amounts of the familiar pain and confusion had shot though her like an earthquake aftershock. But somehow she had remained upright. She wasn’t sure if this newfound strength had been implanted inside her—by Gabby or Mule or a week of fitful hibernation—or if the whole, awful ordeal had uncovered forgotten reserves deep within her.

  Whatever. It didn’t matter. She was proud of herself for making it through the day without running away, throwing up, or weeping uncontrollably. And for approaching her teachers to see about make-up work. All in all, she felt triumphant, and she wanted to celebrate her victory in some way. How, she wasn’t sure. But she knew who with.

  Mule’s house was looming into view. A blue, turn-of-the-century bungalow on a cul-de-sac near downtown, it had been a great source of pride when his dad had been healthy. Mr. Randolph had always been out on the roof replacing shingles or trimming the hedges that bordered the yard. Now the place looked kind of neglected and sad. The yard was mowed, but not carefully edged, as it always used to be. A piece of plywood had been nailed up over a missing windowpane, and the paint job had been streaked by grimy rainwater seeping from the overstuffed gutters. Gabby said that Mule always did what he could, but he was too swamped with watching his dad and trying to make the grades for a scholarship.

  A familiar figure was sitting on the porch swing, flipping through a textbook the size of a small suitcase.

  “Mule!” she shouted, and broke into a run.

  Mule got to his feet and squinted through the sunshine toward her.

  “Daphne? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she said, coming to a halt on the top step. “Why?”

  “Just … you never come here. I thought …” He shook his head. “Never mind. What’s up? How’d it go today?”

  “It went great! That’s why I’m here. I wanted to thank you for your help.”

  “Thank me? I didn’t do anything.”

  “You did! If it wasn’t for you, I would have spent the whole day at home crying into a bowl of ice cream. You were so awesome.”

  Mule made a face and then smiled down at his shoes. Bands of red spread over his neck and across his nose and cheeks, making him look like a curly-haired peppermint stick.

  “I faced down those creeps, just like you told me to,” she said. “I can’t believe I got through it.”

  “Of course you did. I knew you could,” he said.

  “And guess what else? Ms. Manbeck gave one of her surprise quizzes today … and I passed with an eighty-three!” She pressed her hands together and hopped up and down on the toes of her tennis shoes.

  “Really?” A wide, open-mouthed smile lifted his features. “That’s so great!”

  Daphne threw her arms around him in a tight hug. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

  She hadn’t meant to hug him; it had just happened. Even Mule seemed surprised. He stiffened at first and then relaxed into it, wrapping his long arms around her back. It was nice, actually. His left pectoral
made the perfect pillow, and she could feel him resting his chin on her head. Good old Mule.

  Eventually they pulled apart. He grinned awkwardly and tamed the strands of hair his whiskers had pulled loose from her ponytail.

  “I’m happy for you,” he said, nodding. “Glad to hear things are set back to right.”

  Daphne laughed. “Yeah, now all I need is for Luke to move to Siberia and for Shelly’s Boutique to take back that stupid prom dress I’ll never use. Then everything will be perfect.”

  “I could take you to prom.”

  Daphne’s eyes popped wide. She cocked her head, unsure whether she had actually heard right. “What?” she asked.

  “I mean … if you don’t want to waste the dress and all … I could take you.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Sure, why not? It’d help show everyone that you aren’t giving in. Besides, it’d be fun. I mean”—he bit his lip, looking unsure—“don’t you think so?”

  Trickles of warmth were shooting all over her. It was so sweet! Once again Mule was coming to her rescue. She’d get to dance under the streamers and be seen in her princess gown. Why couldn’t more guys be like him? Why couldn’t Luke?

  The sound of a car door slamming startled them. Daphne glanced up to see her sister coming up the sidewalk toward them.

  “What are you doing here?” Gabby asked her. “I thought you were at cheer practice.”

  “It’s over,” she replied. “I came by to say thanks and … guess what?” Her feet started bouncing all over again. “I get to go to prom after all! Mule’s going to take me!”

  Gabby’s mouth fell open and her brow lost its trademark furrow. She looked so stunned, Daphne almost started giggling.

  “Can you believe it?” Daphne said.

  “Ah … no.” Gabby glanced over at Mule, who gave her a thin smile. “I can’t.”

  “What a wild day,” Daphne went on. “I thought it would be the worst one ever, and it’s ended up being one of the best.” She slung her right arm around Mule in a sideways hug.

  “So … I guess this means you say yes?” Mule asked.

  Daphne laughed. “Yes. The answer is yes.”

  “You know what?” Gabby lightly thumped the side of her head. “I totally forgot my calc stuff. What an idiot. Could be at home. Or work. Maybe school …” She backed down the steps to the sidewalk. “I’ll go look for it, but it’ll probably take a while. Luckily homework isn’t that bad today.”

  Mule peered at her strangely, as if studying her face for signs of rational thought. Could he tell she was lying? Probably. He knew her too well. Plus, her book bag was clearly sagging with the backbreaking weight of her calculus textbook. Meanwhile Daphne kept on grinning, her pretty, baby-deer eyes glistening with fresh daydream material. She hadn’t looked this happy in days. And yet all Gabby wanted to do was shake her till she stopped smiling.

  “So I’ll just go,” Gabby called out as she turned toward the car. “You guys carry on!”

  For the second time in fifteen minutes she prayed to an almighty being for her car to start. Thankfully, her wish was granted. The Jetta roared to life immediately, its entire frame shuddering as if it, too, wanted to get away from that place as soon as possible.

  She had to steer into the driveway in order to go the other direction. The polite thing to do would be to give one final wave, but she didn’t. She couldn’t bear to see Mule’s baffled expression. Or Daphne bouncing on her toes as if the floor had suddenly become burning hot. Or the lack of physical space between the two of them.

  As soon as she accelerated out of sight, she let herself think about what had just happened.

  This was too weird. Daphne and … Mule? But he was Gabby’s. Sure, they weren’t a couple. It was totally platonic and chummy and even boring at times. But they were still exclusive. They’d never said so out loud, but it was understood. Other people weren’t allowed. Especially siblings! And especially now.

  She hadn’t driven over there just to do homework. She’d also needed Mule—the faithfulness and simplicity of him. She’d wanted to tell him about confronting Prentiss, hoping to make Mule feel less threatened, hoping that a good vent session on Prentiss’s water wasting would make things feel normal between them again. It even occurred to her on the drive over that maybe she and Mule actually could do something special for prom night—a yay!-we’ve-almost-made-it-through-high-school sort of thing. Only now …

  Damn it, Daphne! Gabby was surprised to feel tears running down her cheeks. All the numbness and confusion were slowly hardening into anger. The more Gabby thought about it, the more unjust it seemed. Daphne always got everything. Looks, popularity, the freedom to screw up over and over again. Now she got Mule, too? The one guy on earth Gabby trusted? The only person who could help her feel sane again?

  Gabby found herself puttering down Main Street, unsure where she should go. She didn’t want to head home and risk seeing Prentiss, and she really didn’t want to go back to Mule’s. She’d give anything for Pinkwater to call her on her cell and beg her to work a shift at the theater, but that would only happen if she were having a particularly good day.

  So instead, she just … drove. Past Quick’s Pharmacy and the boutiques of downtown, their display windows all done up in a prom theme. Past Hawthorne’s Barbecue and Duke’s Burgers and Thunder Alley, the sites of so many awkward dates with Dad. Past Chandler Creek, which flowed southeast, toward Make-Out Ridge, the site of her dreamy afternoon with Sonny. Every place brimmed over with memories, most of them bad or sad. Every site seemed to be thumbing its nose at her and going “nyah nyah nyah.” There was no safe zone, no sanctuary.

  Stupid town! Thank god she had turned in her scholarship application that morning. Hopefully it would seal the deal on her escape. She couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there, away from her family and her so-called best friend. Away from Prentiss and Dad Saturdays and Sonny’s ghost.

  There wasn’t anything here for her in Barton. Not anymore. The whole town, it seemed, was done with her.

  Daphne frowned at the display case in Galvan’s Floral and Gifts. Apparently she had a lot to learn about flowers. She’d thought picking out a boutonniere would be easy, but it wasn’t. There were all different types of blooms, greeneries, ribbons, and colors to consider, as well as overall price.

  At least she knew which ones she didn’t want. Not the ugly tropical one that looked like it snared flying insects with its long, spotted petals. Not the puny single chrysanthemum that would probably disintegrate before the first dance. And not the superlarge, superexpensive one that dwarfed most of Mom’s houseplants.

  “Could I see number eight again?” she asked as sweetly as possible.

  “Of course,” said Nicholas, the clerk. By now his polite smile had fallen at the corners.

  He pulled out the well-worn sample and a laminated photo. This one was nice and simple. It had very little greenery, no ribbon, and a large rosebud the color of a ripe strawberry—not exactly her dress’s shade of pink, but close enough. Plus, it was in her price range.

  “I think I’ll take that one,” she said.

  Nicholas sighed through his nose, making his nostrils flare. “You think you will?”

  “I will take it,” Daphne said more decisively.

  He rang up her order, moving at the pace of a NASCAR pit crew member, and soon she found herself stepping out into the afternoon sunshine.

  Daphne paused beside the front window, feeling a tug of doubt. She was pretty sure Mule would like the simple rose boutonniere, but she really didn’t know his likes and dislikes that well. Maybe she should just ask him? If nothing else, she knew he was easy to talk to.

  Checking the time on her cell phone, she saw that it was earlier than she’d thought. She wished Gabby had come with her, but her sis had refused, saying she had too many weekend chores. Daphne had then offered to pick up some food while she was out running prom errands, but Gabby hadn’t seemed all that grateful. Of co
urse, she probably didn’t believe Daphne would actually remember. Lately her older sis had been extra cranky and standoffish.

  She’d show Gabby. Daphne shouldered her purse and headed toward the grocery store. Not only would she provide the meal, she’d cook it herself. That ought to prove she could be responsible.

  The Minimax was surprisingly packed. Daphne grabbed a basket and headed for the instant foods section. She might be more dependable lately, but she hadn’t magically learned to cook.

  She scanned the shelves, looking for something easy yet nutritious enough to stand up to Gabby’s standards.

  “Pardon me,” she said to someone standing in the middle of the aisle. Just as she started to veer around him, she paused and did a double take. It was Luke.

  “Hi,” he said.

  Daphne didn’t respond. She was caught off guard. For days she’d managed to avoid his gaze at school, and now here they were, face to face. A million conflicting thoughts and feelings jammed inside her, rendering her motionless. She suddenly understood why deer don’t run out of the path of an approaching semi.

  “You shopping?” he asked, then he shook his head and chuckled somewhat lamely. “Course you are. That was a stupid question.” He seemed nervous. That was weird.

  By now her emotional logjam was sorting itself out. Mainly the old familiar hurt had welled back up, like a puddle of water returning after a dry spell.

  “I guess you’re not speaking to me,” he said. “I don’t blame you. We were—I was—pretty awful, huh?”

  Daphne focused on a nearby box of Rice-A-Roni. Luke’s question seemed too obvious to answer. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure.

  “I just … Damn! I don’t know how to put this. I don’t even know how to act around you.…” He raked his hand through his hair and scowled down at the can of chili in his basket.

  Daphne was amazed to see such misery in his face. She found herself wondering what he must be going through, what it must have been like for him. “Look,” she said, gazing at him neutrally. “You don’t have to be freaked out around me. I got carried away at the party and said some pretty heavy stuff. I didn’t know that you …” She paused and took a breath. “Anyway, I promise I’m not a stalker or anything. I’m just getting dinner.”