Definitely Daphne

by Tami Charles

  My stomach hurts because I know I’m about to tell a huge lie.

  “It’s not me.” I can’t breathe. My nerves are piling up in my stomach, and any second I’m going to let them all out.

  “Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?” Then Rachael storms out of the bathroom.

  36

  No More Hiding

  I can’t even think about showing my face in the cafeteria. By now, I’m sure Rachael has told every single one of her friends. And I can’t bear the thought of them staring and pointing and whispering. So I do what I’ve now become an expert at: I hide.

  One place I know Rachael wouldn’t be caught dead in is the library. Mrs. Ransome, our school librarian, makes this a place where we can really escape. Signs are posted all around: McManus scholars are building our future! There are plenty of tables with chairs in the middle of the library and comfortable sofas lining the wall of windows. And to top it off, light classical music plays softly in the background.

  Thankfully, the library is almost empty — just two students seated at separate tables and Mrs. Ransome, who greets me with a welcoming smile. I take a seat on the oversized comfy couch in front of the window with the big pine tree. I pull out my MacBook from my knapsack, open up an old video folder, and randomly select one.

  I don’t notice when John walks in, but I feel his touch when he taps me on the shoulder. “Nice video. Where’s it from?” he asks.

  It’s a clip of Mae and me doing voiceovers, re-enacting a scene from Star Wars using action figures. An oldie but goodie.

  “I made it myself,” I say.

  John slides into the seat next to me to take a closer look. I breathe in and catch a whiff of his scent.

  Woodsy.

  “That’s amazing. Your impersonations are spot on. How d’you do that?”

  “I can speak in many accents,” I say, and then I stop talking because thoughts of Daphne and my perfectly cheeky British accent come up.

  “You should make a YouTube channel!” he says.

  I take in a large breath. I should tell him the truth before Rachael does. Right now. Stop hiding. Get it over with.

  Instead I say, “I’m sorry for not being a better friend.” I want to tell him what happened in the bathroom with Rachael, but for some reason I don’t.

  John scans my face, as though he’s waiting for me to say more. “I know you are. You don’t need to hole yourself up in the library or the paper closet every day.”

  “How’d you know?” I ask.

  “Navdeep caught you going in there last week, when he was looking for a place to hide.”

  We burst out laughing. And finally it feels like I have some sense of normal again. But there’s that tug in my stomach returning. I’ve got to say something before Rachael opens her big mouth and starts spreading my secret.

  And just when I’m ready to say something, in walk Clairna and Nav.

  “We were waiting for you in the cafeteria,” Nav says, taking a seat on the carpet.

  “Yeah, what happened?” Clairna asks, sitting beside him. “I told you we were cool again. What’d you do? Get nervous?”

  I shrug.

  Here’s my chance to get it all out in front of my friends. But what if they react like Rachael did? Or worse? Then I really will spend the rest of the school year hiding in the paper supply closet.

  “Friends again?” John holds out his fist for a bump.

  “You got it.” I bump fists with him.

  It’s then that I hear Mae’s and Dad’s voices echo in my head. Their subtle reminders that things will get better and that they know I’ll figure it all out. That’s when I come up with a brilliant idea. “How about we have a pizza party tomorrow? My house?” I ask.

  Nav’s eyes brighten. “Pizza is my favorite food group.”

  Clairna and John chime in, adding in their favorite toppings. Pepperoni. Mushrooms. Nav adds pineapples. I’m not so sure about that last one.

  Just then, Mr. Davis rushes into the library with a box full of posters with snowflakes and other wintry pictures.

  “Ah, thank goodness I found you, Annabelle, Clairna! Nicholas Rocco is out sick,” Mr. Davis says, before he trips on a section of elevated carpet.

  Some of the papers and markers spill out of the box and onto the floor. We all rush to help him pick them up. Mr. Davis breathes a sigh of relief and sits on the couch next to us.

  “Am I in trouble or something?” I ask.

  “Quite the opposite!” he says. “I need your help. Actually, I can use all the help I can get right now. I tell you, a teacher’s work is never done. Last month, it was the play; this month, it’s setting up for the Student-Parent Winter Ball. Add in the mounds of history papers I have to grade and the fact that I have two little people at home still in diapers, and I can’t tell my right foot from my left foot these days. I digress.”

  Mr. Davis comes up for air and then continues. “You two did such an amazing job last month building the set for the play, not to mention the double duty of acting in it, Annabelle. I was hoping you could do me a huge favor and help with decorations for the winter ball next week. I’m heading the planning committee.”

  Clairna springs to her knees, excited about the request. “I’ll help!”

  Then everyone looks at me, waiting for an answer. I’m hesitant because I have no plans of going to the ball. But then I realize that I wouldn’t have to actually go, I could just help set it up.

  So I say, “Of course I’ll help you, Mr. Davis.” I turn to my friends. “I guess tomorrow will be a pizza and decorating party?”

  Mr. Davis lets out a huge sigh of relief and then hands the box of decorations to me.

  “See you guys at six o’clock,” I say.

  “You got it,” John says. “See you then.”

  Tomorrow, I will hang out with my real friends. No squiggly eyebrows, name-brand jeans, or cherry bomb lip gloss needed.

  37

  I Got Some ’Splainin’ to Do

  Thank goodness for the weekend. It gives me time to take my mind off of Rachael’s drama and set up for my pizza-slash-winter-ball-decorating party with John, Clairna, and Nav. Dad goes easy on me this time. No complaints about boys. He helps me clean the house and decide what pizzas he’ll make for my friends: pepperoni for John and me, mushroom for Clairna since she’s a vegetarian, and Nav can eat that whole pineapple pizza by himself. Yuck!

  The doorbell rings at six o’clock sharp.

  “Cool house!” Clairna says as soon as everyone walks in.

  “Thanks!” I blush. That reminds me to make sure I shut the door to the basement. I make a mental note to do that in a few minutes.

  For the next hour and a half, we settle down at our decorating station in the dining room. We work on all of the decorations from Mr. Davis’s box, starting with the snowflakes. There are hundreds of these. We cut them out and use glue to add silver glitter. Next up are the snowmen, which need different patterns and colors for the scarves.

  When we’re halfway done, Dad heads to the kitchen and fires up the oven to start making the pizzas.

  “Dude, your dad is actually making the pizza?” Nav asks.

  The delicious smells start to drift from the kitchen to the dining room.

  “Oh yeah, no ordering here. Dad does just about everything homemade,” I say.

  “You should’ve been here last time with me and Rachael when we worked on our group history project,” John says. “He was making Spanish and German food.”

  My spirit drops when I hear him say Rachael’s name, knowing that, come Monday, I will need a plan to deal with her and shut her up once and for all.

  Clairna hands me a pair of scissors to cut out the snowmen we’ve already decorated. “Speaking of Rachael, I’ve got some scoop!”

  Here it comes. I just know it.


  “What’s that?” John asks.

  “The royal queen of McManus is upset that the king of eighth grade didn’t ask her out to the winter ball.”

  “Who? Ahmad Patel?” Nav says. “I’m cool with him. We’re in the same karate class, and trust me, he has no interest in her.”

  “Pizzas are almost done!” Dad yells from the kitchen.

  “Smells delicious, Mr. Louis!” John calls out.

  “So… who are you going to the winter ball with?” Clairna looks straight at me.

  And then, it’s like the whole world pauses. The holiday music stops playing from the speakers. Nav and John stop cutting snowmen. Dad stops cooking in the kitchen. I can feel him listening.

  “Um, I’m not going.”

  John’s jaw nearly falls onto the dining table. “What do you mean, not going?”

  “Oh come on, Annabelle. You have to go!” Nav says, “Clairna and I are going together… as friends.”

  Clairna smiles shyly.

  Dad walks in, as if on cue, wiping his saucy hands on his apron.

  “You and John should go to the winter ball together!” Clairna says it like it’s the brightest idea she’s ever had.

  I keep cutting, pretending that I didn’t hear her, and also that Dad is invisible. I’m expecting him to embarrass me any second. In three… two…

  “That’s a good idea, Clairna, especially since parents are invited as well.” Dad winks.

  Please don’t make this moment any weirder than it already is! I stop cutting and look at the floor. And then at John. And there’s that smile and that dimple again, sinking all the way to his shiny, brace-covered teeth.

  I let out a cough, little at first. But then another one follows and another and another. Clairna hands me a bottle of water. I take a large gulp and let it all sink in.

  “If you don’t want to go to the dance with me, that’s cool. I’m bringing my abuela anyway.” John shrugs.

  “No, no! I want to go,” I finally speak. “It’s just that I… I don’t know how to dance.”

  “That’s OK! Neither do I,” John says. “I might be the only Puerto Rican on Earth with no rhythm.”

  Dad starts giggling and points at me. “Make that two.”

  “Dad!” My cheeks flame up, but I’m laughing too.

  “I can show you guys how to dance salsa!” Dad presses a button on the remote, and the stereo switches to a song by Marc Anthony.

  He starts moving and twirling to Vivir Mi Vida as though he’s dancing with Mom, even though she’s not here. And then John, Clairna, and Nav join in the dancing.

  For the whole song, there they are — my friends and my dad — dancing and laughing as Marc Anthony sings about living your life, through good and bad times.

  When the song ends, Dad lowers the volume. “Looks like you guys are just about done with the decorations. Ready to eat?”

  We all scream, “Yeah!” and clear the table to make room for the pizzas.

  Dad sends me to the garage to grab more water bottles while he lays out his masterpieces: three homemade pizzas, a tray of fettuccine alfredo, garden salad, and fudge brownies.

  When I come in from the garage, I notice it’s just Dad and Nav in the dining room.

  “Where’d everyone go?” I ask.

  Nav points left. “Clairna is washing her hands in the bathroom.”

  “And I sent John to the…” Dad slows every single word, “half bathroom in the basement.”

  I dart out of the dining room, flames firing up in my ears.

  Dad loudly whispers, “SORRY!”

  My legs zip to the kitchen, hoping that I’ll catch John just in time. But the door to the basement is wide open, the lights on the stairs are in full glow, and John is already in my girl cave.

  I huff and puff as I get to my door and find him standing there, touching the rack of Daphne clothes, brushing his fingers across the couch, the sign, the art, every single part that screams I HAVE BEEN LYING!

  His back is still turned to me, but I can tell he feels my presence.

  “I think I owe you an explanation.”

  “Well, it’s about time.”

  38

  Life = Ruined!

  “My life is basically over!” I plop myself onto Dr. Varma’s couch. After everything that went down these past couple of days, Dad went ahead and called Dr. Varma for an emergency Sunday afternoon appointment.

  Outside, the sun is shining, the air is cold, and it smells like the holidays. But inside my therapist’s office, I’m not feeling so merry and bright.

  “Oh, Annabelle, I doubt your life is over. Your father told me you hit a bump in the road. Why don’t we start there?” She invites me to spill it all out, so I do.

  “John, Clairna, Nav, and I were asked to be on the decoration committee for the winter ball. So yesterday, I invited them over to work on the decorations and have pizza. John wandered off to the basement, where my girl cave is — aka, where all the Daphne magic happens. So I rushed to find him, hoping I’d catch him before it was too late. Well, I was too late. He stared into my eyes for what felt like years before finally the words spilled out of my mouth: I can explain. And you know what he said to me, Dr. Varma?”

  “Do tell!”

  “‘It’s about time.’”

  And cue the camera! The view zooms in close enough to count the number of freckles on my cheek and the amount of tears building up in each eye — four in the left, two in the right.

  Dr. Varma hands me a tissue. “So he knew all along? What gave it away?”

  I slump against the back of the couch. “My Daphne wig he found in the bathroom weeks before that. The fact that he knew I could speak in different accents. He even mentioned that I looked like Daphne. And then once he saw the set of my show, it just confirmed everything he already suspected.”

  I flash back to yesterday, remembering the disappointment on his face and the sincerity of his voice.

  “I was really mad at first,” he said, “because deep down, I knew you lied. But then I talked to abuela about it, and she said that you probably had a good reason to not tell anyone. She said that when you were ready, you’d say something. It’s not like everything about you was fake. You’re still the cool girl from Germany who can’t play sports to save her life!”

  I gave John a good slap on the shoulder after that.

  “It’s just this one small part of you that you’re hiding,” John said. “You’ll figure out the right time to let everyone know.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat after all of that. Then John turned off the lights, shut the door to my girl cave, and walked upstairs to the dining room. We ate pizza, had a good time, and he didn’t say a word.

  Dr. Varma clears her throat, snapping me out of my memory. “Have you told your other friends?”

  “Not yet. I thought if I confessed then, it would ruin everything. Does that make me a bad friend?”

  “Not at all. But when do you think you’ll tell them?”

  “Tomorrow at school. Definitely tomorrow, before Rachael gets to them with her big mouth.”

  “And what about the vlogs? Your fashion video has over fifty thousand views now. Do you think you want to continue?” Dr. Varma asks.

  “At this point, I’d say mission accomplished. I’ve made some friends, who I’d prefer not losing before Mom leaves forever. Plus, I’m fresh out of school activities.”

  “Well if I heard correctly, didn’t you mention that you’re on the decorating committee for the winter ball? As in dance?” Dr. Varma starts up with that excitement in her voice, and I already know what she’s thinking.

  Here we go again!

  I, Annabelle Louis, do not like sports, can’t stand drama, am a complete fashion disaster, and I definitely do not dance!

  39

&n
bsp; Dancing Is Not for Me

  One YouTube channel. Three social experiments. And I have hated every! Single! One! But the numbers say otherwise: Sixty-two thousand views. Fifteen thousand subscribers.

  Now Dr. Varma is extra pumped for me to keep going!

  “I say you go to the winter ball, Annabelle!”

  I sigh. “I don’t dance, Dr. Varma.”

  “Oh, but dancing is such a useful skill to have! You’ll use it for the rest of your life—” Dr. Varma is interrupted by her buzzer, but she tells me to stay put and invites Dad in to tell him all about her idea for my next vlog.

  “So what I’m thinking,” she says, after going on and on to Dad and me about all the friends I’ll make and the confidence I’ll gain, “is that ‘Daphne Does Dancing’ would be a wonderful vlog to end on!” She claps her hands together in triumph.

  To which I respond, “I change my mind. I’m not going to the winter ball anymore.”

  “Oh, you have to go! Your crush would be crushed.” Dad laughs at himself, but I don’t find anything funny.

  “You mean the same guy you didn’t even want me hanging out with at first?”

  “Oh, I like the kid. Any guy who loves his abuela the way he does is fine by me.”

  “Listen, I’m not one for dancing either, Annabelle,” Dr. Varma says. “So how about you conquer your fear of dancing by attending a class? The community center does a free weekly social dancing class. You can even invite your friends.”

  I picture John, Clairna, Navdeep, and me in tutus twirling around the room and burst out laughing.

  “She’ll do it,” Dad announces.

  And just like that, I guess not only am I going to the winter ball, but I’m going to learn how to dance and share it with my YouTube followers. Hooray. Can’t you just hear the excitement in my voice?

  40

  Back at School

  Today’s mission? Find Clairna and Nav ASAP! I look for them as soon as I get to homeroom Monday morning, but they’re nowhere to be found. Not even John is around. Apparently, the band will be practicing in the gym all morning. The winter ball is coming up Friday, and there isn’t much time left to get all of the songs they’ll be performing memorized perfectly. But I have no idea where Nav is.