by Kitty Parker
But both of us were masters of the art of avoidance, and we could ignore or conceal any unruly thoughts. So as January faded into February with all the mildly nasty weather usual to that season, nothing changed about our friendship. If anything, we grew closer over that time. We bantered and fought and clashed with the same unyielding pride as we had before New Year's. Darien continued to try to woo the Matchmaker through his flirtatious notes, and she continued to delay him until I figured out what the hell he was really up to. Other than that, the Matchmaker's business was good, especially with Valentine's Day approaching (joy of joys). We juniors began to contemplate colleges, life got more hectic, and to top it all off, there was a small matter of an unresolved bet with Darien to deal with.
"Don't tell me you need the Matchmaker's help," I teased as I walked up to my locker only to find Darien studying the locker above it intently. Ooh, something good was sure to be in there.
"Of course not," he retorted quickly, taking a hasty step away from the locker. I chuckled and dropped my backpack onto the floor, opening my locker carefully so that my body blocked his sight of what was within. It was hard to see the basket from that far outside my locker, but I didn't manage to keep so many secrets so well by being careless. "I don't need anyone's help."
"Not from her, I'll give you that," I admitted wryly, careful not to move as I picked out the books I would need at home. I loved having free last period, no annoying crowds to push me around when I only wanted to get in and out as fast as possible. Which reminded me… "You really need to stop skipping French."
He rolled his eyes. That mantra was as old (almost) as my cigarette admonition. Not that that made it any less true, nor did the totally unfair fact that he could pass that class anyway. I mean, even I had to show up to class to pass it.
"Pourquoi?" he complained, a slight smirk playing on his face as he continued. He knew very well I didn't take French. Bastard. "Je le comprends deja tout."
I grabbed a gym bag and slammed my locker shut, standing with a toss of my hair. Was he in for a surprise. He had forgotten a major detail- I had gone to school (albeit unreliably) before he had met me.
"Mais tu peux toujours apprendre plus." I grinned at his shocked look. Ha, take that, trying to confuse me. Just because I took Latin now… in your face, Darien!
"It's not like French matters in the long run," he muttered, reverting to English when it became apparent that there was no reason for him to continue in French. Which was fortunate, because I had only taken a few years of French, and as I had only shown up half the time, this conversation was already exhausting my French knowledge.
"That depends," I replied, leaning comfortably against the Matchmaker's locker. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a figure lurking in the end of the hallway, eyes fixed on the locker. It looked feminine. Good, I needed more girls. Which was an unusually state of affairs, but it was certain to remedy itself soon. These things normally did. "On what you want to do with your life, I mean."
"Nothing I would want to go into would need French," he stated firmly. I raised my eyebrows skeptically as I began to walk down the hall with him strolling beside me. Behind me, I saw the girl slink over to locker 420. Good, I was right. She looked younger-maybe a freshman?- and I had a couple very nice freshman boys…
"You need it for business," I observed blandly, "To talk to foreign partners and stuff." Not to mention that French was a lovely language with a rich history behind it. Darien could be annoyingly pragmatic at times, when he wasn't being incongruously idealistic.
He stopped and glared at me for a split-second, almost sorrow in his face, but than his tone and expression became flippant and he kept moving. "Who said I wanted to go into business?" he asked with a voice that said it didn't matter and eyes that said it did.
"No one," I replied soothingly, smothering my eye roll. Boys and their egos. Or at least, Darien and his. They were definitely worse than girls. "I just assumed…"
"Well, you assumed correctly," he spat, but what was meant to be a cutting retort was full of all the lost dreams he could never quite kill. And I had a feeling he had tried pretty hard to destroy them, given how he had acted. "My father ahs it all planned out for me. I'm going to go to Princeton than Wharton, like everyone else I the McGavern family since time began."
I winced internally in sympathy. From what I had heard about Darien's father (mostly gleaned from conversations with Troy or Brock) he did not seem very paternal, and this only drove that in. At least Jack was letting Allan choose what he wanted to do, with no expectations of him taking over the business (although Jack would be thrilled if Allan did).
But I couldn't allow anyone to think I was human enough to sympathize, so externally I could only inquire, "And if it were up to you?"
He shrugged as if he had never thought about it. Knowing him, though, I bet he had a meticulous plan filed away with all of his other 'if only's. His next words confirmed my suspicion.
"I would go to some big college in a big city," he said with absolutely no emotion. I knew that voice- that was the voice I had used when I was at a crappy public school and there was a chance I had gotten in here. It had stopped me from hoping for the impossible. "And then to law school somewhere far, far away."
"A lawyer, eh?" I swung my eyes up and down him, studying him with mockingly intense concentration. I could see him doing that. With his background, penchant for arguing and bulldog's tenacity, he could make a good corporate lawyer. I could not, however, see him completely exiting the corporate world whatever he said.
"Hey, I'd be good at it!" he protested, taking my examination for skepticism. There was more in his voice than I think he knew. I was fairly flattered that he put that much weight on my approbation. I didn't think anyone had ever cared about my opinion that much, except for maybe Rhi.
"Of course you would," I grinned reassuringly up at him. That it was the truth was marginal. If he wanted it he should go for it regardless of what his family wanted. That was how I had always lived my life. His father should not be allowed to define his life.
"I-" we, or at least I, had turned onto a path less taken at the last intersection of hallways, the one towards the drama and arts room. It wasn't somewhere I went often. I already knew how to act well enough for my purposes, thank you very much. "Where are you going?" he pointed in the opposite direction. "Outside is that way."
"Surely you haven't forgotten," I replied enigmatically. I did so love confusing him. He got so adorably angry- adorable in a little kid way of course.
"Forgotten what, Laycha?" he growled, taking one long stride so he blocked my path. I smiled disingenuously up at him. That tended to bewilder him, because he knew I was up to something even if I didn't look it.
"If it was so trivial you forgot, I don't know if I should tell you," I considered dramatically, tapping my chin with a finger thoughtfully. See what I meant about knowing how to act? I could practically see the steam coming off of him.
"Damn it Emma, tell me!" he exclaimed, only just quiet enough no to be audible from inside the classrooms that lined the hall. I scowled and crossed my arms. He really knew how to sweet-talk a girl, this boy.
"I'm not going to tell you anything if you ask like that," I admonished, trying not to smile at how much I sounded like my mom. Well, I guess there were worse people to sound like than her. I mean, I was probably going to have to turn into her eventually. Not that I was looking forward to it, but a lot of people said it was inevitable.
He let out a slow breath through his teeth, sounding like an angry cat, but he gradually subsided. I think his hair may have flattened a bit too.
"Tell me what you're talking about, please." He muttered the whole sentence, but the last word was hissed, as if he couldn't bear to humble himself so much.
I beamed magnanimously up at him.
"I'm going to the talent show auditions," I told him brightly as we reached the door of the drama room and I halted, "Or did you forget about our little wager?
I most certainly did not."
His eyes widened momentarily as he recalled the bet and the stakes, than narrowed cunningly. The snake look did not become him.
"No, I remember," he smirked. He was definitely sure of success. Which was great for him, because so was I. "You're going to confess your undying love for me in front of the whole school, wasn't it?" His eyes slid away from mine. I knew what memory those words had conjured up- it was the same for me. Hot lips and alcohol breath and warm bodies and- I quickly defused the silence, before either of our thoughts could go where we really didn't want them.
"I believe you should start searching through your groupies' wardrobes," I announced authoritatively, with a wicked glint in my face as I dropped my backpack on the floor and shouldered my gym bag. "Or else I might have to pick out your cloths myself, and you know you don't want that." Before he could retort, I was in the changing rooms and the door had shut on my laugh.
I changed quickly into clothes appropriate for my act, than, noticing I still had time before my audition, I opened my backpack. Glancing through the notes I had managed to secrete there, I found the one I was expecting. The usual personalized notepaper, with the same flowing, purposeful handwriting, the note was as familiar to me as my own I response, after all these months.
You're getting slow. Why won't you grant me my match?
I sighed and tossed it back into my backpack. For more reasons than you knew, Darien, so many more than even I understood.
* * *
Darien
* * *
After inadvertently escorting Emma to her auditions, I somehow ended up at the coffee shop. I didn't want to wait for her, that would just be weird and unnecessary, but I did not want to go home. My mother had informed me that she would be home for Troy. Which, of course, meant that she would arrange for Alfred to be there. Or, if, by some miracle, she actually did arrive at the house in time, I could not let her see me waiting around for her.
I slid into a table at the back corner of the room without ordering anything or otherwise drawing attention to myself. I didn't actually want anything; I just needed a place to wait for something to do. Maybe I should have waited for Emma, if only because than I would have a purpose to my loitering instead of waiting impatiently for no one, but I needed some space from her. After that reminder of the bet, and how I was stupid enough to conjure up the memories of New Year's, I figured some not Emma time was necessary to clear my head. Those recollections were not good- were not ones I wanted to dwell on. But this whole alone time thing was beginning to bore me.
Just as I thought that, right on cue, the door opened and Lex and Brock breezed in, followed by Candy and one of her friends. Not certain if I wanted them to see me- I was bored, yeah, but fluttering and giggles did not exactly interest me- I scooted my chair back into the corner. That became void, however, when Brock caught sight of me and waved.
I nodded back, unable to escape even if I wanted to, and after they had gotten their drinks my small table suddenly got crowded.
"How'd you get out so early?" Brock asked, taking the seat next to mine, ignoring the girl clamoring for that chair who then lunged across the table to get the seat on my other side. Wow. Obsessive much?
I shrugged casually, also disregarding the floozy. "Skipped French," I replied offhandedly. From Brock's other side, Lex chimed in,
"You should stop skipping class, man." I rolled my eyes. What was it, pick on Darien day? Or maybe just in that household, because their parents seemed to have infected them. I did not need my peers to parent me.
"You sound like your-" Lex cut off my complaint with a violent headshake. It had slipped my mind that most people didn't know who his stepsister was. It felt like I had known for forever, and that it should be common knowledge, but Emma still scared Lex enough for it to be impossible for him to remember. "You sound like Emma," I amended, though the statement had lost most of its punch in the change.
Brock flashed me a wide, conspiratorial smile. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked with as much slyness as he could muster. I scowled at him. I did not like him knowing I meant before I did. I would have responded sharply, but,
"Leave him alone, guys," Candy admonished as she came to the table, last of all the group. Noting the lack of chairs, she calmly seated herself on Lex's lap. For a second, completely astonished, his face was as red as Brock's hair. She either didn't notice or pretended not to. "It's not our business if he, like, wants to mess up his life."
"You're right," I drawled. So much for sensibility from that corner, or help. I should have known better than to expect her to disagree with Lex. "It isn't"
"But, like, where is she?" Candy continued as if I hadn't spoken. I rolled my eyes at her and gestured lazily, cuing her to clarify. That girl has antecedent issues. Candy pouted a little, but informed me with only a bit of irritation, "Emma, of course. The girl who you're, like, always with now!"
"I'm not always with her," I stated firmly. Maybe, if Emma were there (and this is only a possibility, mind) she would have detected a note of sullenness there. Judging by Brock's confused glance, he may have heard it as well. Not that it existed, that is; he may have imagined it as well.
The girl who had won the sit-next-to-Darien competition (not that there were any other competitors) fluttered her eyelashes at me. I didn't think anyone even did that outside of cartoons. Why did I attract such girls?
"Yes you do," she whined, digging hot pink nails into my arm and casting what I think she thought were flirtatious glances at me through eyelashes so mascaraed and tweezed that I could hardly tell what they were, "You never have any time to spend with us anymore!"
I shot Brock an annoyed look that, if not a plea for help, at least requested assistance. He returned a sympathetic but helpless gaze. Lots of use he was.
I calmly but firmly detached her from my arm. "Nothing could make that happen," I told her with just enough irony in my voice that those who already knew what I really felt about these girls (namely, Lex and Brock) could hardly contain their sniggers. But she definitely deserved my mockery.
"But really," Lex asked as soon as he could trust himself to speak without snickering, "Where's Emma?" Candy's eyes darted to him, than away. I could almost have sworn that the sky blue flickered to green in that second.
"Trying out for the talent show," I answered. Blue, brown, and grey eyes gave me an irritatingly significant look. So what if I knew where she was right now? That happened with friends. They didn't have to make such a big deal about it. It's not like had her schedule memorized or anything. "But she might be finished by now. But I'm not sure," I added significantly.
"Talent show?" Candy's interest was piqued. She sat up a bit straighter in Lex's lap. His face turned scarlet again. I studied it with interest. I had never seen that shade of red before. "What's she doing?"
Lex and I exchanged clueless looks. I would have thought that one of us would be able to answer that, but apparently Emma had decided to be mysterious. She loved to be enigmatic far too much for anyone's good. Including her own. And, more to the point, mine, because if she hadn't been so damned intriguing, I wouldn't have needed to find anything out about her.
"Don't know," I admitted reluctantly. Then, as it was irrelevant because she better not have gotten in, I continued dismissively, "It doesn't matter, anyway. She won't get in."
Lex shook his head slowly, something that would have been a smirk had it not been Lex spreading across his face. "I wouldn't bet on it," he cautioned me. I decided to forgo the obvious retort, because anyone even guessing that her inevitable confession wasn't voluntary would ruin the fun.
Again directly on cue (was my life a fucking play?) Emma strolled out of the back room and took over the counter with a few quick, mumbled words to the girl there.
"Hey Em!" Lex called as soon as he caught sight of her (a good minute after she came out). Candy, Brock, and the other girl's heads whipped to face her, only just noticing her. I rolled my eyes. How unobservant wer
e they? "Come over here!"
Her eyes fixed on me with burning intensity for a fraction of a second, then flitted away as Emma glanced around the near-empty café. Then, with a shrug, she jumped over the counter and meandered to our table. Her long night-black hair was up in a ponytail, and her cheeks were flushed, although that was probably from running here. She looked nice without her hair shadowing her face, not that I would ever tell her that.
"What's up?" she asked when she got within earshot. Brock and I made unconscious motions to get up and offer her our chairs, but she waved us back down, hopping onto the neighboring table.
"How'd it go?" Lex demanded. Her mercurial temper shifted. She glared at me; I smiled innocently back. I hadn't done anything wrong. Everyone would have known eventually. It's not like I told people she kissed-
"Darien told you?" After the whole table nodded, she shook her head in annoyance but went on regardless. "I don't know; the results aren't posted until next week."
"Oh yeah!" Candy exclaimed suddenly, "That is what they said" All eyes turned to her. She twirled a piece of hair ingenuously around one perfectly manicured finger and leaned back into Lex's shoulder. There was that new shade of red again. "What? I forgot!" Emma's gaze shot between Lex and Candy, but , unusually for her, she didn't comment.
"Are you trying out?" Emma inquired tolerantly. Trying to get anything out of Candy took way too much patience, even if she was smarter than all of the girls she hung with put together. Of course, I think Emma's cat was too.
"I did, yesterday. I've sung for the past two years." Emma nodded and seemed content to let the subject drop. Candy, however, was not. "What're you doing?"
Emma's eyes twinkled as she saw the curiosity in everyone's looks. I refused to meet her eyes for exactly that reason. Even if I wanted to know, she didn't have to know that I wanted to know. And it didn't matter, because Emma couldn't ever answer a question.
