The Bright Effect

by Autumn Doughton

  “That’s his bear,” I whisper back, feeling the corners of my mouth crook. “Don’t ask me how he came up with it.”

  “Got it.” She takes the bowl and paper towel from me. “So, you go find the bear and I’ll carry the soup.”

  “Kay.” Then louder, I call out. “I’m coming, bud. You know Red Dead Fred can’t hide from me.”

  I don’t have to look back to know that Amelia is watching me go.

  Game on.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Amelia

  “Too much, too much!” I moan, staring at myself in the mirror.

  Daphne pops her head into the bathroom. She is struggling with one of her earrings. “What is it—ooooh!”

  “I was going for the smokey eye look,” I tell her, frantically rubbing at my face. “But I may have gotten a little overzealous with the eyeliner.”

  It’s an understatement. Right now there’s so much black stuff rimmed around my eyes that I could pass for a raccoon.

  “This is no biggie,” Daphne says, setting down her necklace next to the sink. She reaches for a washcloth and pumps a dollop of face wash onto it.

  “No biggie? If Nancy was home, she would tell me I look like the Bride of Frankenstein!”

  “Then lucky for you that they’re at a charity dinner,” she says as she slaps my hands away from my face and gently dabs at my eyes. “And for the record, you do not look like the Bride of Frankenstein. You’re way more mermaid than zombie. I love that dress.”

  “It’s your dress.”

  She gives me a cheeky smirk. “See? I just knew someone with impeccable taste picked it out.”

  I laugh. “So can you really fix me up in time?”

  “Of course I can.” She dries my face with the other end of the washcloth and then looks through our makeup bin, selecting a tube of foundation, a light powder, and a shimmery dark grey eyeshadow. Turning back to me, she says, “Let me work a little magic and, trust me, your man won’t know what hit him when you walk down those stairs.”

  At the mention of Sebastian, the butterflies trapped in my stomach burst into a frenzied flight. “You don’t think I’m overdoing it? We’re only going as friends and I’m afraid that this—” I indicate the silky turquoise dress I’m wearing and my hair, “—is sending the wrong message.”

  “What are you going on about? Are you worried that he’s going to show up here in those old jeans he wears or those God-awful sneakers?”

  I love those sneakers. “No, I’m sure he’ll dress up a little. At least… I guess he will. We didn’t talk about it.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be passable and you, sister dear, look mighty fab-u-lous. Your hair is exquisite and I’m convinced poems will be written about it.”

  Earlier, she wove my hair into six uneven braids and looped them at the crown of my head in an intricate knot that she finished off with tiny black pearl bobby pins.

  “I’m not saying that I don’t love it. I’m just worried that it’s too… too…”

  “Gorgeous?”

  “I guess.” I fiddle with the loose strands around my face and frown. “I don’t want Sebastian to think that I’m trying to come on to him.”

  “But aren’t you?” she asks as she dusts my nose with powder.

  “No.”

  “And why is that, Amelia? You’re single and he’s single… You’re attractive and he’s attractive… For the life of me, I can’t see what the problem is.”

  “There isn’t a problem.” I close my eyelids so that she can apply the eyeshadow. “I just don’t think he likes me like that.”

  “That’s crap.”

  “It’s not,” I maintain. “I’ve already told you that the night we drove to Murrels Inlet, he said all this stuff and made it perfectly clear to me that there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell of things between us heading in that direction. He said that his life is too complicated.”

  Of course, the other day when Carter was sick, I could have sworn that he was about to kiss me. Even now, I can almost feel how his big body felt pressed ever so slightly against mine and the way his warm breath misted over my lips and eyelids. Just the memory of it makes me get all shivery and anxious.

  I’ve got it so bad.

  Assessing me, Daphne picks up a tube of mascara and unscrews the cap. She plunges the wand back and forth a few times to make sure the brush is evenly coated. “People change their minds. And do you want to know what I figure?”

  I laugh nervously. “I’m not sure I do.”

  “I’ll tell you anyway. I think you already like him. A lot. And I think you’re just fooling yourself by pretending this isn’t a real date,” she says, daubing my lips with a reddish gloss. “Think about it: Sebastian Holbrook is going to our school’s Homecoming. For you.”

  “But…”

  “Relax a touch,” she commands.

  “I can’t. It’s scary.”

  “Well, you know what I think about that,” she says. “If something scares you then it’s probably worth doing, and that goes double for boys. And why are you so nervous anyway? It’s not like you haven’t spent time with him. I swear, lately that’s all you’ve been doing. If I weren’t so self-assured that you love me best, I’d be green with jealousy.”

  “Sebastian isn’t the only reason I’m on edge. What if something goes wrong tonight—you know, with the dance and everything?”

  “Amelia, you know this thing is going to go off without a hitch. There’s no other option with you in charge.” She smiles confidently and picks up the large powder brush. “And when yours truly takes the stage to accept the crown for Homecoming Queen, not one streamer or paper lantern will be out of place.”

  “Are you mocking me?”

  “No, I’m mocking me. I know that Homecoming court is cheesy but I’m still excited about it.”

  “You should be. You’re going to win.”

  “Eh, if I don’t…” She shrugs as she applies a swipe of ivory powder across my forehead and down the bridge of my nose. “We’ll still have fun tonight. Did I tell you that I think Spencer has something big planned for me after the dance?”

  “What is it?”

  She pulls in a breath and releases it slowly. “I can’t be sure but he mentioned taking me down to his daddy’s boat and I think he might tell me that he loves me.”

  I meet her eyes in the mirror. “What will you say?”

  “That I love him back.”

  “Do you?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I want to be in love. Isn’t that enough for tonight?”

  “I guess,” I say and swallow down my doubts about Spencer McGovern. I might not like him, but it’s obvious that Daphne does. She might even love the guy.

  “And I think we might…” her voice trails off.

  “You might what?”

  She waggles her eyebrows and understanding dawns. So the V card is in play?

  Truthfully, I have no idea what to think. For all of our lives, as different as we are, Daphne and I have always done the big things in tandem. Our first steps were within hours of each other. Dad took the training wheels off our bikes at the exact same time. The summer after we turned seven, I was waiting on the ladder for my turn when my sister went off the diving board into the deep end of the pool. We had our first kisses only three days apart.

  And yet now she’s telling me that she’s batting for a home run while I’m still in the dugout munching on a box of Cracker Jacks.

  The telltale sound of an engine rumbling up the long drive makes both of our eyes go wide.

  Daphne drops the makeup brush with a squeal and rushes over to the small bathroom window. “It’s Sebastian!”

  “No, no, no! He can’t see me like this.”

  “Shhhh… calm down.” Daphne chuckles to herself. “Geesh, when did you think I’d be the one telling you to calm down?”

  “But I’m not ready!”

  “I will go downstairs and let your date in and I’ll even entertain him unt
il you finish. One more coat of mascara and some bronzer should do it. Oh, and shoes. Don’t forget your shoes.”

  “Thank you. Did I mention that you’re the best sister in the world and you look beautiful?”

  She smooths down her shiny brown waves and does a playful curtsy. Then she grabs her necklace off the counter. “See you in a minute. And just remember—you’ve got this completely covered.”

  The chime of the doorbell echoes throughout the house. My heartbeat skips wildly and I can almost hear the blood rushing through the veins in my body. Relax, Amelia.

  Daphne’s footsteps pound on the stairs. “I’m coming!”

  Inhale, exhale. I blow out a gush of air and force myself to take in another deep calming breath as I finish my makeup exactly like Daphne told me.

  Now I can make out voices. Daphne loudly compliments Sebastian on “how well he cleans up,” and I get the feeling that she’s hoping I’m listening, which only makes me that much more nervous to see him.

  Inhale, exhale.

  Trying to keep my heartrate under control, I walk into my room and slip on the pretty silver heels resting on the foot of my bed. Then I turn to the long mirror on the back of my door for one last look.

  A couple of strands of brown hair are falling into my eyes and I try to sweep them to the side, but they fall right back. But overall, I suppose I don’t look too terrible.

  The dress hugs me tighter than anything I’ve ever worn before. It’s long and sleek with barely-there sleeves that fall off my shoulders. I run my fingers over the soft turquoise fabric and twist around so that I can see what I look like from the back. Daphne and Audra are always telling me to play up my butt and I’m hoping this is what they meant.

  The doorbell rings again. Great, that has to be Spencer. It’s probably unfair after everything Daphne’s told me, but I’d been hoping to avoid a run-in at the house. My sister might just love the guy, but when it comes to Spencer McGovern, less is definitely more in my book.

  “Come on in, honeydew!” Daphne yells.

  Honeydew? Ugh, gag me.

  The front door opens and slams closed. I take one more breath as I grab my purse from the knob of my closet door and double-check that I’ve got lip gloss and money. But before I can even turn around, a savage commotion assaults my ears. My insides rattle as I abandon my things on the bed and run toward the noise. “Is everything…?”

  In an instant, I take in the chaotic scene unraveling below me in the foyer. The antique umbrella holder that belonged to my grandmother is overturned and Nancy’s favorite lamp is smashed. Tiny ceramic bits lay scattered between the front door and the landing.

  “Daphne?”

  She is cowering against the door that opens into Daddy’s office, covering her face with her hands to protect herself from Spencer and Sebastian, who are currently in an armlock.

  “You asshole,” Spencer growls out as he tries to head butt Sebastian. Sebastian ducks and they both skid into the wall, knocking down a black and white portrait of my grandfather. No, not Pops!

  I grip the railing with sweaty fingers and scream, “Stop it! Stop!”

  Sebastian jerks my way and Spencer uses the distraction to get a jab in. Sebastian grunts in pain but manages to wrench himself free and seize hold of Spencer’s clenched fist. In one powerful and swift move, he hooks Spencer’s arm behind his back and knocks him to the floor.

  “Stay down!” he yells in Spencer’s ear.

  “What is going on?” I gape, horrified.

  Sebastian is breathing hard. He positions his knee dead-center on Spencer’s spine and wipes at his hair and I see a trail of blood from his temple to his chin. “This piece of shit tried to attack Daphne.”

  I can’t even process this. “What?”

  “I did no such thing. You are out of control,” Spencer spits out nastily, continuing to struggle. “Why don’t you tell Amelia how you had your filthy hands inside her sister’s dress!”

  “Shut your mouth!” Sebastian orders and presses his knee down harder. “Have you lost your mind? I was helping her with her necklace.”

  Bewildered, I look at Daphne, who is still slumped forward gently rocking herself. The strap of her dress—the dress she’s been worshiping for weeks—is torn and hanging loose from one shoulder.

  Could Spencer have done that?

  I look back to where he’s panting on the floor. His handsome face is red and twisted with rage.

  Yes, he absolutely could have.

  “Get out,” I say just above a whisper.

  “Thank you,” Spencer grunts, kicking his feet out in frustration. “You heard her, monkey boy. Now, if you’ll get the fuck off me and go back to the projects where you belong.”

  “I meant you, Spencer.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” he asks me as Sebastian pulls him to his feet.

  “No…” My voice is trembly. “I think you should go.”

  “This is wrong,” he snaps at me and then twists his head around. “Daphne, you know how I feel about you. Baby, straighten out your sister and tell her to call off her guard dog.”

  In reply, Sebastian shoves him harder toward the door.

  “Not necessary,” Spencer sneers resentfully. Then he lifts his wide shoulders and brushes off the front of his suit jacket. “I can see myself out. But do not think for one minute that my father will not be hearing of this.”

  “Wait!” Daphne shouts, acting quickly and all but lunging at Spencer. “H-he didn’t mean anything by it. Please!”

  I look at her hard. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s a mistake, Amelia,” she cries, clumsily grabbing hold of Spencer’s hands and dragging her body toward his. “Really! You have to believe me.”

  “I don’t…” I rasp, my voice catching in the back of my throat. Everything is moving too fast and I can’t seem to catch up. “You’re sure?”

  Her nod is as frantic as her expression.

  “See?” Spencer gives me a scornful look as he runs a hand through his curling dirty blond hair to smooth it down.

  I ignore him and move toward my sister. Uncertainty is knotting up my stomach and sending mixed signals to my brain. “But,” I say to her, “look at your dress.”

  She awkwardly tugs the loose strap onto her shoulder and tries to keep it in place by tucking it into the fabric under her armpit. “The dress will be fine. I’ll be fine. It was just an accident.”

  “An accident?” Sebastian asks tightly. “I saw him and it looked like he pushed you into that wall.”

  “No one wants your opinion, Holbrook,” Spencer says smugly. “By the way, are you even housebroken? Shouldn’t you be sniffing ass on the other side of town with the rest of the hicks?”

  Sebastian balls his fists. “You push your luck, McGovern.”

  “Do I?” he scowls, but he backs away.

  Like I’m in a dream, I watch Daphne shake out her hair and wipe at the skin beneath her eyes where her mascara has dripped. Spencer bends to pick up the pieces of the broken lamp and straighten the umbrella holder. He scoops up her necklace from where it landed by the curving legs of the hall table then slips it over her head and fumbles with the latch. If I wasn’t so focused on my sister right now, I might miss the way she flinches when his hands move on her neck, but I am watching and I see it plain as day.

  My breathing gets heavier as I start thinking back over the past month or so, to that party at Byron Scott’s house and how Daphne and Spencer had that fight and how later she’d told me that she hurt her arm falling into a doorway. Was that even true? Is anything true?

  “Your arm.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  Daphne’s eyes dart cagily from Spencer to me. “What?”

  “Has Spencer hurt you like this before?”

  She rears back like I’m the one who pushed her. “God, Amelia! It was an accident. I already told you—this was nothing but a huge misunderstanding.”

  “How can you say that?” I a
sk, overwhelmed by the throbbing sense of danger. “You’re confused. I think I should call Nancy and Daddy.”

  “Amelia, stop!” she bellows, squeezing her eyes shut and punching her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to hear that I’m confused when I’m not. And if you call our parents, just know that I will never ever speak to you again.”

  My throat is burning—dry and hot—and I wonder then if I’m about to cry. “Daphne, please,” I gasp, unsure of what to do or how to do it. “Just give me a minute to think about things.”

  “She can’t give you a minute because we’re going to be late,” Spencer says, wrapping his arm around my sister’s waist and pulling her into his side.

  I blink at Daphne, stunned, and draw in a sharp breath. “You still want to go to Homecoming?”

  Her mouth twists to the side. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  Why wouldn’t we?

  Spencer sees the expression on my face and says, “Amelia, you need to stop being so pissy. Despite what your juvenile delinquent here wants you to think, I did not and would not hurt your sister.”

  “He’s right,” Daphne agrees, pasting on a bogusly bright smile. Her eyes go to the mirror above the hall table and she carefully spreads her shiny, chestnut hair to one side, covering up the broken dress strap. “This is a really big night for you and for me. Let’s try to forget about all this messiness and go have fun.”

  Have fun? Is she kidding?

  “Daphne, please?”

  “Don’t, Amelia,” she warns, waving me off as Spencer tugs her toward the door. “I’ll see you there, okay? Everything is going to be great. You wait and see.”

  With my brain and body frozen somewhere between disbelief and defeat, I watch them leave and climb into Spencer’s cherry red BMW.

  Inhale, exhale.

  Dusk creeps in through the thin, arching windows that crown the front door, making fiery orange bands across the thick Persian rug. In the quiet, I dimly hear the rumble of the ice maker coming from the kitchen and the sound of the hall clock clicking away the seconds.

  Finally, Sebastian’s deep voice breaks through the stillness. “Are you okay?”

  I come close to telling him that I’m fine because that’s my programmed response when someone asks me how I’m doing. But then I think better of it. The truth is that I’m not fine. Not by a long shot.