by James Ramos
“This isn’t going to be weird, is it?” he asked, looking dead ahead, fiddling nervously with his hands.
A little late for that, isn’t it? I thought.
“Why would it be weird?” I asked as I shifted my board back and forth underneath my foot. Other than because of the fact that you’re dating a girl that I had been sort-of-but-not-really courting, a fact which you were well aware of. Or that not only did you keep it a secret, but—
“I mean, she said the two of you weren’t ever an item,” Liam stammered.
“That’s true,” I agreed blankly. “We weren’t.”
I wanted to be angry. I tried to be. At both of them. Her for doing . . . whatever it was she’d done, and him for going along with it. But I couldn’t be.
Gabby, struggling to maintain her balance on her mint condition board, skated toward our bench and ground to a messy stop just shy of Liam’s shoes. She hopped off and leapt into his lap, where she curled into a giggling ball. “How’d I do, babe?” she cooed.
“Perfect,” Liam said into her ear. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers. I averted my eyes while they started a slobbery game of tonsil tango, but even when I couldn’t see the gory details, I could hear it all perfectly fine. It sounded like someone was taking a plunger to a sink. I felt like doubling over and hurling.
When they were finished Gabby sat up and looked dead at me. “Hey, Elliott,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “What brings you here?”
“Skating,” I said simply.
“Me, too,” she said. “Well, that and my boyfriend, here. He’s been showing me the ropes. Isn’t he adorable?”
Adorable was not the word on my mind at the moment, but I stood up and said, “Sure, whatever,” hopped on my board and pushed off before I actually did throw up.
Gabby and Liam. Dating. I never would have seen that coming. Maybe Jake was right. She could really like him and they could end up making each other really happy. I hoped that ended up happening because somebody around here needed to be happy and it sure didn’t look like that somebody would be me.
I skated lazily around the course, punctuating my trail with the occasional manual or an ollie or two. I was too lost in thought to do anything more.
Jake rushed over to join me, worry written all over his face.
“You handled that well,” he said.
“What’d you expect me to do, beat him up?”
“Well . . .”
I didn’t want to beat him up. I found myself suddenly thinking of Romeo, of all things. He’d thought Rosaline was the only one for him, right up until the moment he saw Juliet, at which point he forgot Rosaline completely. That was exactly how I felt about Gabby. I just couldn’t feel bad about her being with Liam, because I had found someone better. I just didn’t know who that was. Or, did I?
Dar—no. I refused to even think of her that way. She was a puzzle, a mystery, a problem. That was the only appeal she held for me. She was arrogant, pretentious, and selfish. She was rude, conceited, and irritating. And . . . she was annoyingly good-looking. Sure, we sort of got along, when she felt like being nice. Sure, I sort of liked being around her. And sure, she sometimes seemed to like being around me, too. But—
Be honest with yourself.
“Ugh,” I said aloud.
“What?” asked Jake.
“Nothing, just . . . no.” I groaned and angrily popped my board into the air. Darcy would just love that, knowing I thought she was cute. That would make her smug little day. Smug, smug, smug. Darcy and her smugness. Gabby and her duplicity. Girls, it seemed, were the root of my problems lately.
I threw myself into the air. I knew I’d blown the ollie before I came down. I landed badly, and the nose of my board shot up and cracked my shin like a whip. I bit back the urge to swear and tried it again. This time I landed on my ankle. For some reason, I couldn’t land the trick. Over and over again I fell flat on my butt. And it wasn’t like I was doing anything fancy. I couldn’t even nail a simple kickflip. Same thing every time. Pop, crash, scrape.
Crash and burn.
Each time I gritted my teeth and climbed right back onto my board. I wasn’t putting any thought into it, I just kept throwing myself into the air, and I kept landing on my butt.
Crash and burn. My freaking life story right now.
“Dude,” came Lucas’s voice. I looked up to see both him and Kyle skating toward me, with Jake not far behind. “You alright?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I wondered aloud, scraping my sorry self from off the ground yet again.
“Sorry about my brother,” said Kyle for the thousandth time. “Douche move, all the way.”
I looked over my shoulder to see that they were making out again. “It’s fine, really. Not his fault.” I kicked onward, and they trailed me, Kyle and Lucas on either side of me, Jake bringing up the caboose.
“You know something, guys? I think I’ve figured out my problem: girls.”
Kyle frowned. “I’m not following.”
“More specifically, pretty girls,” I explained. “Even more specifically, getting caught up in the pursuit of said pretty girls. So, really, not girls at all.”
I’d known that, and yet I’d failed to heed my own knowledge. I was no better off than Liam or Kyle or Lucas, chasing girls and nothing else, like some Neanderthal. I had deceived myself into thinking I was different, like I was better than they were because I wasn’t doing the same thing, when in reality I was, only I was doing it covertly, like a coward, under the pretense that I was just trying to figure them out or I just saw them as friends. Well, no more. From here on out, I was—
“Why is Darcy here?” asked Lucas. He skidded to a halt, and I followed suit. There was no way she would be here. She hated skating.
But, there she was, watching us. Her face was blank, but she appeared to be looking right at me. There was no sign of Liam or Gabby. They must have run off the second she’d shown up. I wondered if I should’ve done the same.
Not knowing whether or not it would be rude to pretend I hadn’t seen her, I decided to be civil, and jogged to where she waited with her arms crossed. “Hello,” I said uncertainly when I’d reached her.
She gave me a not-so-quick once over. “How are you?” Her voice was refreshing.
“Why do you care?” I asked, just to get on her nerves.
She bit her lip. “You literally just fell in the exact same way a dozen times. I’m surprised you’re coherent.”
I laughed. “Sorry to disappoint.”
I pulled my beanie off and walked away. She fell into step beside me. “You know, I still don’t get why you skate. You know what’s going to happen. You’re going to fall, again and again. And yet you get up and go right back. Do you think it’s brave or something?”
I stopped and turned to face her. “No. I think it’s fun. I mean, it’s not like I’m trying to get an endorsement like some of these other guys. I guess, I just do it for the clarity.”
She frowned. “Clarity?”
I didn’t know why I felt compelled to answer her questions, but I did it anyway, as always. “Every story is at its most basic a protagonist overcoming obstacles to achieve a goal. In real life, goals change, obstacles are insurmountable, and you don’t always know who the good guys or the bad guys are. With skating, the goal and the obstacles are always the same. Nail the trick. Get from point A to point B. That’s it. It’s simple.”
She cocked her head to one side and gave me a thoughtful expression. “I never thought about it like that.”
I laughed. “I probably think about it too much.”
She smiled. “Well . . .” She reached into her purse and withdrew an unopened Gatorade. “Here, are you thirsty?”
I eyed the blue bottle warily. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Are you sure? You really should stay hydrated. You need to replenish your electro
lytes before you go into shock and die.”
“Do you always keep a random Gatorade in your purse?”
She looked away like she was embarrassed. “No, I . . . thought you might need it.”
I thought you might need it. Had I heard right? Sometimes Darcy could be civil. Sometimes she could approach being nice. But looking out for my well-being? That was new territory for her. Surely there was a catch, something I was missing. Maybe this was all an elaborate prank.
“Is this some more of that niceness you’re working on?” I asked her.
“A sprinkling of it, yes.”
I hesitated, but she held the Gatorade out to me and refused to move it. Darcy didn’t strike me as the type to pull a prank. Nor did she seem the type to take no for an answer.
Was it poisoned?
I sighed and took the bottle from her. “If you insist . . .”
“I do.”
I opened the bottle and she watched me drain half of it.
“It is brave, by the way,” she muttered. “At least, I think so . . .”
I was positive I had heard wrong this time. Being considerate and complimenting? She was definitely charging into a new frontier now. I didn’t know what to say to that.
She cleared her throat. “So, my cousin is in town and we’re having a bonfire tonight at Bridget’s. You should come.”
I was sure this was a prank now. “You actually want me to come to your house?”
She brushed aside a few strands of hair and looked up at me. “I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t.”
I pulled my beanie back over my head. “I’ll think about it.”
Darcy’s face soured. “Must you be so fickle?”
I smiled. “Maybe.”
“Well, you can come or you can not come. I don’t care. I was only trying to be friendly.” Her voice was lacking its usual severity.
“Friends usually have something in common.”
Darcy started to say something, but she only turned her nose up, turned on her heel and marched away. I watched after her, grinning to myself. Her attitude was less annoying now and more . . . amusing. And as for her invite, I had decided to accept the moment she’d asked. I wanted to meet this cousin of hers. Maybe they could shed some light on Darcy’s mysteries—like her strange behavior just now, being nice to me. I still wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel about it.
Be honest with yourself.
I felt an odd sense of anticipation. I couldn’t explain the effect she had on me, but I liked it either way. That, at least, was the truth.
Chapter 25
The sun had already set when I arrived at the Manor with only the smallest inkling of what to expect. My apprehension was replaced by a strange excitement when Darcy answered the door. “You made it,” she said with a quick smile. “Good. Come in. Everyone’s out back already.”
I followed her out to the patio. The backyard was much larger than I had expected. We were standing on a sprawling, multi-level deck that wrapped around the entire back of the house. To the left there was a bean-shaped pool. A few steps beneath that was a hot tub. An outdoor sectional sat to our right, along with a wrought iron bistro set. The others were lounging in reclining lawn chairs around a fire pit in the center of the yard. There was a small cooler and a table off to one side stacked with bags of marshmallows, boxes of graham crackers, chocolate bars, and skewers.
I counted seven people total, though I only caught flickers of the faces in the glowing orange fire light. I recognized most of them. It was, I realized with a resigned sigh, a gathering of all my least favorite people. Calvin, of course, was here, along with his sidekick Luis, tossing a football back and forth. Christian was next to Andrew, who was dutifully roasting marshmallows while casting envious glances at Calvin’s game of catch. Bridget was sitting next to the only person here I didn’t recognize, a girl holding a ukulele in her lap. As I followed Darcy onto the lawn, I felt all their eyes on me. For a moment there was a lull as everyone watched the newcomer.
“Elliott’s here!” shouted Bridget, and I saw her hand waving.
“Yay,” said Calvin sarcastically.
I was glad it was dark, so no one could see the discomfort that was more than likely obvious on my face.
There were two empty seats, both to the left of the girl with the ukulele. “This is my cousin Francine,” said Darcy with a nod to the girl. “Francine, this is Elliott.”
We shook hands. She wore a floral-print, button-up shirt, khaki short shorts and a fedora. A pair of Aviators dangled from her breast pocket, and she had on a pair of blue suede oxfords.
“Pleasure to finally meet you,” she said with an easy grin that made me relax a tiny bit. She gestured to the chair next to hers, and I sat down, wondering what she meant by finally. “True story: I was named after the country of France. Really, my parents were married there. But no, I never learned the language.” she waited, and when she realized I wasn’t going to laugh, she laughed for both of us. “Dumb joke, I know.”
“Very dumb,” said Darcy as she curled into the chair next to me. “She’s been trying to get somebody to laugh at that for years.”
I hadn’t realized how close these chairs were until Darcy sat next to me. A warmth coursed through me that had nothing to do with the fire.
Across from us, Christian frowned. “You’ve a lovely deck, Darcy,” he said more loudly than was necessary. “How often do you have the pool cleaned?”
“Once a week, I think,” she muttered in an uninterested tone as she reached for the bag of marshmallows.
“Andrew cleans ours twice weekly. He’s very thorough.”
Darcy raised a brow as she plucked out a jumbo sized marshmallow and offered me the bag.
“Thanks.” I took one of my own, and she handed me a skewer, with the pointy side aimed at my face. “Trying to stab me?” I asked with a laugh. “Do your worst; I’m not afraid of you.”
In the glow of the fire I saw a smile spread across her mouth. “I hope not.”
She held her marshmallow in the flames. Once it was on fire she took it out and held it toward me. I touched my marshmallow to hers, and the fire engulfed them both.
Beside me, Francine suddenly coughed loudly. Darcy frowned at her.
“How’s my cousin behaving?” she asked. “She was very nervous about moving here, you know.”
“Darcy nervous?” I glanced at her and grinned. “I can’t picture that. But if you really want to know about her behavior, you should brace yourself; it’s a horrible story.”
I waited to see if Darcy would try to stop me from going on, but she just blew on her now roasted marshmallow and smiled defiantly. “You don’t scare me, either.”
“You asked for it.” Turning to Francine, I began. “The first time I met Darcy was at a friend’s party. She was the perfect wallflower.”
Francine cracked up. “Wallflower? Darcy? I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true,” I told her, surprised that she could picture Darcy any other way. “If holding up that wall had been a sport, she would be a gold medalist.”
“I didn’t know anyone,” said Darcy.
“Yeah, and you can’t meet people at a party.”
Strangely, she smiled again. “I met you, didn’t I?”
“After a fashion.”
Christian stirred in his seat. “Andrew has a recital soon,” he blurted. “Bach’s Cello Suite Number One. Darcy, didn’t you say you were a fan of Bach?”
“I prefer Mozart, actually,” she said without missing a beat. “But if I remember correctly Calvin loves Bach. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to attend, isn’t that right?”
Calvin’s face soured. “I suppose . . .”
I covered my mouth before I could laugh out loud. Darcy caught the gesture and winked.
Francine coughed again, and Darcy gave her a look like she’d said something she wasn’t supposed to. “Hey, Darcy, did you g
ive Elliott a tour of the house yet?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you do that,” she said, and there was a conspiratorial tone to her voice. “I’m sure there are plenty of things to see . . . or do . . .”
It was my turn to frown. I glanced sidelong at Darcy, and I could swear she was blushing. Seeing the look on her face as the color blossomed on her cheeks made my head swim. She looked at me, and her eyes reflected the embers of the fire.
“Would you like a tour?” she asked.
“Sure.”
Honestly, I didn’t care about what the rest of the house looked like. But if it meant being with Darcy, away from Christian’s interference and Calvin’s death glare, then—
“I’ll come with you,” said Calvin, tossing the football aside and hopping to his feet.
“I’m sure I can find my way,” Darcy said testily. She shot him an icy look that made him sit back down.
“Follow me,” Darcy said to me, and I did.
“You never gave me a tour,” said Christian.
Darcy stopped and grimaced as he caught up with us, a satisfied smirk on his face as we all went back inside.
“This is the kitchen,” Darcy said with a halfhearted wave. It was the biggest kitchen I’d ever seen. It looked like something out of a cooking show, all gleaming stainless steel surfaces and glistening black granite countertops. Christian circled the center island, opened a few of the cabinets and even peeked inside the refrigerator.
“Magnificent,” he said appraisingly.
Darcy next took us to the sunken living room, where Christian plopped on one of the plush couches. “Louis Vuitton?” he asked, delicately stroking the armrest.
“Versace,” Darcy muttered.
“Brilliant.”
She showed us the den, which had four sections. The first section was lined with a long leather sectional, facing the biggest TV I had ever seen outside of a theater. Next to it was a shelf crammed with videogames, and there were three consoles strewn across the floor in front of it. “Mostly Calvin’s,” Darcy explained. “He basically lives down here.”