Ransom

by Rachel Schurig

  She chugs the shot and puts the glass back on the table. “Do you ever feel like you just can’t communicate with someone?”

  I frown. “I don’t know. Like who?”

  She waves her hands around. “Just, like, anyone. Ever since… well, since I started college, I guess, I feel like there’s this wall in my head. Like there are all of these thoughts swirling around in there, things I want to say. But when I try, it gets all jumbled. All confused. Until pretty soon I don’t even know what I wanted to say in the first place.” She shakes her head. “It’s frustrating.”

  I reach for the bottle. “I know exactly what you mean.” I pour my shot but don’t drink it, twirling the glass between my fingers for a minute. “Is that why you didn’t call?” My voice is quiet, maybe too quiet for her to hear, but I’m nervous about bringing up such an upsetting subject.

  “Yeah. Partly, anyhow. I didn’t know what to say.”

  I suddenly feel scared that I’ll somehow lose her again. I reach over and take her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “You can tell me anything, Daisy. You know that, right?”

  She nods.

  “I mean it.” I bend a little closer, my eyes on her lips. “Even if it’s just to say that you don’t know what to say, you can still call me.”

  “I know,” she whispers.

  “Can I tell you something?”

  She swallows heavily and nods.

  “I really want to kiss you.”

  “You do?” Her voice comes out all high pitched and squeaky, and I’m pretty sure it’s the cutest thing ever.

  “I do.”

  She takes a huge breath and blows it out. “Then I think you should.”

  My stomach drops again, and I can hear a rushing in my ears. I lean forward, watching her wide eyes the entire time. Just before my lips touch hers, her eyelashes flutter downward.

  “Hey, Daisy!” Paige yells.

  Daisy jumps back so fast she practically knocks over the tequila bottle.

  “Come dance with us!” Paige has appeared at our table, grinning and disheveled. She appears to have no idea of what she’s just interrupted.

  Daisy presses a hand to her heart, apparently just as affected by the interruption as I am. “No, Paige,” she says in a shaky voice. “Thanks, but I’m fine up here.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Paige places a hand on the table as if to steady herself. “I’m actually a little woozy myself.”

  “Are you okay?” Daisy asks.

  “Yeah.” Paige sinks into the booth across from us. “I think I just need to slow down. I didn’t eat much tonight.”

  Daisy looks at me, clearly worried, then slides around the booth so that she’s sitting next to her friend.

  I raise a hand to get the waitress’s attention. “You should eat,” I tell Paige. “I’ll order some food.”

  Daisy shoots me a grateful look, and I try to take solace in that. So I didn’t get to kiss her. At least she thinks I’m a good guy for taking care of her friend.

  The waitress comes over, and I order plates of fries for everyone plus a few Cokes. As she heads off to put in our order, I glance back at Daisy. She’s rubbing Paige’s back, still looking concerned. My gaze drops to her lips, and I curse silently.

  Her thinking I’m a good guy is great and everything, but I’m fooling myself if I think it’s anything close to being as good as kissing her would have been.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Daltrey

  We drive into New York City at night. I’m happy for the timing, since Daisy has never been here before. It’s exactly the way I would have chosen for her to see the city for the first time, all lit up before us as we travel across the Queensboro Bridge.

  “Wow,” she whispers, her face pressed against the glass. “This is pretty incredible.”

  “Right? Just wait until you get outside. It’s unreal, the way it just stretches up and around you, no end in sight.”

  “Pretty far cry from Jonesboro, huh?”

  I snort. “You could say that.”

  Because we’ll be here for such a long stretch and driving and parking in the city is such a hassle, we leave the bus at a lot in Queens, opting to use a few vans for transport around New York. Sitting in the van with Daisy feels a lot like it did back in the old days when we rented a van to get to our gigs. This one, luckily, doesn’t act as though it’s about to break down any minute. And the seats are covered in leather, instead of ripped, stained upholstery.

  Our hotel is in the middle of Midtown. Daisy is mostly quiet as we make our way through the city, craning her neck to check out the buildings, but every once in a while, she’ll turn to me, a huge smile on her face, to point out something.

  “Karen and Paige are probably going nuts,” she says. “They’re obsessed with Sex and the City.”

  “I think there’s a tour they can do if they want. I can have Levi look into it.”

  She laughs. “Poor Levi. Ever since we showed up, he’s had to play babysitter to college girls. Probably not his idea of a great time.”

  “Yeah, because twenty-year-old guys hate having to hang out with college sophomores.”

  “Does he have a girlfriend?” Daisy asks. “I don’t really remember him dating much after he broke up with that girl… what was her name? Kelly? Katie?”

  “Kaitlin. The horrible bitch beast broke his heart and ruined him for all women, ever.”

  “Poor Levi.” Her eyebrows go down, a sure sign she’s thinking of something. “I wonder if he might like Paige? I could see them together.”

  “So maybe it’s a good thing that I keep asking him to keep an eye on you guys.”

  She grins mischievously, scrunching up her nose . She looks so cute it takes everything in me to keep from kissing her. Instead, I turn back to the window on my side, watching as the Rockefeller Center goes by.

  I can’t stop thinking about kissing her. Ever since our almost-kiss back in Raleigh, it’s been eating me up that I missed my chance. We haven’t had many other moments alone since then, and the longer I wait, the more convinced I am that is needs to be special. But that doesn’t make it any easier to get the idea out of my mind.

  I’ve kissed Daisy exactly twice in my life. The first was when we were eight years old. We had just caught Cash making out with a girl behind the bleachers at the middle school during his track meet. We were fascinated. We’d seen kissing a lot on TV and movies and stuff, but neither of us had parents who were together, so we hadn’t seen much real life kissing.

  Wanting to know what it felt like, we decided we would try it. As she leaned toward me, I suddenly felt very scared, so I slammed my eyes shut. I remember being surprised by how warm her lips were, and how soft. She had pressed them against mine for a good ten seconds before she burst into giggles and ran away. I had laughed too—Daisy laughing always made me join in—before running after her. After that, we went back to playing freeze tag and never talked about it again.

  The second kiss was a bit more memorable. We were thirteen and had been invited to our first boy-girl party, which always seemed strange to me. With Daisy as my best friend, my entire life was boy-girl. I couldn’t figure out why it was such a big deal to everyone else, but the other kids were acting as if it was a major of rite of passage or something.

  We sat on couches in Joanie Hartfield’s basement, the girls on one side and the boys clumped together on the other. I kept catching Daisy’s attention and rolling my eyes. She would smile and hide her face, probably not wanting the other girls to know that she had an ally in the enemy camp.

  Eventually, Joanie got tired of the “mingling” phase and suggested we play Spin the Bottle. Kissing someone for no good reason seemed stupid to me, but everyone else got excited, so I didn’t complain. Daisy, though, was clearly uncomfortable. She sat next to me in the circle, fidgeting and playing with the cuffs of her sleeves and shoelaces. Every time a boy spun, I would hold my breath, not wanting the bottle neck to point to her. I told myself
it was because she was so nervous, but in reality, I just didn’t like the idea of her kissing another guy.

  After a half hour or so of awkward pecking, shrieks, and giggles, Joanie declared Spin the Bottle to be a baby game. “We should play Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

  Daisy’s face went beet red. I hated the idea of her having to go into the laundry room with some stupid kid from our class, knowing that she would be teased if she refused.

  We all wrote our names down on pieces of paper, and Joanie put the boys’ names in one bowl and the girls’ slips in another. She picked from the boy’s bowl and told the guy he had to pull a name from the girls’ bowl.

  “And you get two vetos,” she said, “in case you pull someone totally awful.” She giggled.

  Daisy’s face fell. I thought it was the stupidest, most boring game. Three guys were picked before me, and each one went to the bowl, looked at the first girl’s name, laughed, and put it back before picking again. Without fail, every one of them went through two vetos, which I was sure was a symptom of them being embarrassed and uncomfortable with the whole thing. I crossed my fingers each time that none of them would choose Daisy.

  When it was my turn, I went to the bowl and peered inside. Some of the slips were open slightly, and I could make out Daisy’s handwriting easily. I pulled out a piece of paper and said, “Daisy.” I rolled my eyes as catcalls sounded.

  Safely in the laundry room with the lights off, I finally relaxed. I leaned against the washing machine. “That was close. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find your name.” In the darkness, I heard a sniffle. “Daisy?”

  “What?” Her voice was clogged up, as if she had a cold or something. Or maybe…

  “Are you crying?”

  Another sniff. “No.”

  “Yes, you are. I can tell. What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want to kiss any of those boys!”

  “That’s why I got your name, silly. So you wouldn’t have to.”

  “But none of them want to kiss me!”

  I was stumped. “Why do you care? You just said you didn’t want to kiss any of them.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want them to not want to kiss me!”

  I tried to wrap my mind around that. Girls were so weird sometimes. “How do you know that none of them want to kiss you?”

  “Because the only one who tried to get my name was you.”

  I sighed. “Maybe I want to kiss you.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, right. Thanks, Daltrey.”

  “I mean it! What if I want to kiss you?”

  “Yesterday, you thought it was hilarious to show me your funky booger, and today you want to kiss me? Okay. Whatever.”

  We both laughed, and I was happy to see that I’d calmed her down. I never liked it when Daisy was sad.

  I pressed the button on my watch to make the screen glow. “We’ve been in here for three minutes already. Four to go.”

  Daisy sniffled again.

  “Where are you?” I asked, extending my arms so I could feel around in the dark for her.

  “Over here. By the shelf.”

  I managed to find her without tripping over anything. I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I thought my funky booger made you not sad anymore.”

  She made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sob. “I know that Joanie’s gonna want to know what we did. She’ll tease me forever. No one kissed me in Spin the Bottle, and no one kissed me in the laundry room.”

  “We could tell her we kissed.”

  She ripped her hands from mine and let out another noise that sounded like a sob.

  “Daisy, don’t cry. Joanie is a stupid bitch. Everyone knows that.”

  “She likes you.”

  “Yeah, well, who doesn’t?” That earned me a smack. It was true, though. Since we started junior high, I’d been noticing that a lot of girls teased me a lot, a sure sign that they liked me, according to Cash. “Seriously, Daisy. You shouldn’t worry about Joanie. She’s the worst.” My eyes were adjusting to the dark a little, and I thought I saw her wiping her eyes.

  Daisy sighed. “I know. It just makes me sad that no one likes me, not even a little. No one wanted to kiss me, Daltrey. I could just tell.”

  I did it without thinking, without worrying about the consequences. All I knew was that I didn’t want her to be sad anymore, didn’t want her to think that she was somehow less than all the stupid girls out there. So I put my hands on her shoulders, leaned in, and kissed her.

  She gasped a little against my lips, making her mouth open slightly, and that made me gasp. Just like when we were eight, her lips were soft and warm. But she didn’t just press them against mine. I was really kissing her, and she kissed me back.

  I was suddenly desperate to know what it felt like to run my tongue against her lips, so I did it. She gasped again, and I think I moaned a little, which should have been totally embarrassing—it was Daisy, after all—but somehow it wasn’t. I just wanted to keep kissing her, keep making her gasp like that.

  So I pushed my tongue forward until it brushed against hers. I felt her hands on my shoulders, grasping my shirt tightly, and I moaned again. It was awesome. Why hadn’t we been doing it for years?

  A sudden blast of light sent Daisy jumping away from me, but not before everyone saw what we’d been doing. Cheers and squeals erupted. I stared at Daisy, eyes wide. Her hands were pressed to her red cheeks, and her eyes were as wide as mine. I could tell right away that she was embarrassed and scared to walk out there, so I did the only thing I could think of. I plastered a giant, arrogant grin on my face and took her hand, leading her back out to the party amidst the giggling and catcalling.

  “Is someone next, or are you all too chicken?” I asked, effectively taking the attention off of us.

  They went back to determining whose turn it was, and Daisy and I melted into the back of the crowd.

  “Why did you do that?” she whispered.

  “Because I wanted to,” I said.

  She looked at me, her eyes still wide, but with a hint of a smile. “You did?”

  I nodded. “Plus, now I can tell everyone what a good kisser you are. You won’t have to worry about anyone not wanting to kiss you ever again.”

  She was full-out grinning. “Thanks, Dalt.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I didn’t lie to her, not really; those were the reasons I kissed her. And she was really, really good at it. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell any of the stupid assholes in our class about it. The idea of any of them kissing her the way I just had made me feel something like rage deep in my chest. I didn’t want to think about why, so I ignored it.

  “Daltrey?”

  I shake my head to dispel the memory and look over at Daisy. Her eyes are on me, and the view through the glass behind her of Times Square is dazzling. “Sorry, Dais. What’d you say?”

  “I asked you if it was always that crowded out there. Are you okay?”

  I smile. “Yeah, just daydreaming. Yes, Times Square has been at least that crowded every time I’ve seen it.”

  “It’s crazy.” She turns her attention back outside. “How do people manage not to kill each other with all these cars and pedestrians just walking in the middle of the street? I don’t think I could drive here.”

  “Maybe you get used to it.”

  She turns back to me. “So what were you daydreaming about? I said your name twice before you looked up.”

  I look at her face, wondering what she’ll think about my reminiscing. What does she remember about that night? “I was actually thinking about Joanie Hartfield’s party, in seventh grade. You remember?”

  Her entire body goes rigid.

  I wonder if it’s because of the kiss or—shit. “She was one of the people that gave you a hard time, wasn’t she?”

  Daisy nods and drops her chin to her chest.

  “Sorry, Daisy, I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s fine.”


  She turns back to the window, and I can’t get over the difference in her, as though a hard shell has come up around her. Tentatively, I reach out to touch her shoulder, and she jerks away as if I’ve burned her.

  “I’m fine,” she says, her voice dull, almost robotic.

  “Daisy—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Her tone effectively cuts off any further communication.

  I feel a little stunned. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a strong, physical reaction from just the mention of a name. There’s a sick feeling in my stomach. What, exactly, did Joanie do to her?

  My phone starts buzzing, and I sigh, slipping it from the pocket of my jeans. The text is from Levi. Band meeting cancelled until tomorrow. Want to take a walk? Karen and Paige are dying to get out into the city.

  I look over at Daisy’s back, wondering how she’ll respond. From the way her shoulders are moving, she appears to be taking deep breaths.

  “Uh, Daisy? Levi just texted, and our meeting is cancelled tonight. We have a few free hours. Wanna take a walk with Levi and the girls?”

  There’s the slightest of pauses before she turns back to me. Her face is more relaxed, though still closed off. She gives me a small smile. “That sounds great.”

  We arrive at the hotel, our three vans lined up in the circular drive. Several bellboys rush over to unload our bags. I reach for Daisy’s duffel, but she elbows me out of the way to grab it herself.

  “Whatever, Miss Independent,” I say.

  She laughs, sounding slightly more like herself. I’m relieved. A bellboy has already picked up my bag, so I hand him a twenty and follow Daisy into the lobby.

  It’s starting to get easy to be jaded about this kind of stuff, but Daisy’s dropped jaw tells me I should take another look around me. The hotel is pretty spectacular, with marble and chandeliers and all that other stuff that rich people tend to like. We mill about, attracting quite a bit of attention, while Dan, our tour manager, and my father go to check us in.