For almost an hour they’d sat on the grass, kissing and leaning up against each other. They didn’t talk at all, except for one time when he pointed out a kingfisher that had stopped off at the creek. Mainly they just smiled sheepishly between smooches, until Gabby caught sight of the time on her watch and realized she had only ten minutes to get back to her house. The fear of getting caught snapped her out of her hormonal trance and made her leap to her feet.
“What’s wrong?” Sonny asked.
She suddenly felt woozy and confused—and more than a little embarrassed. “I gotta go,” she blurted.
“Wait!” he’d called out. But Gabby was already scrambling down the nearby bank, heading for home. She didn’t even say goodbye or thanks, just pointed herself toward town and sprinted away. Her panic had somehow given her superhuman speed, too. She arrived home only two minutes late and covered in sweat, which her parents attributed to a vigorous kickball practice.
She didn’t tell anyone about her encounter. There were even times over the next couple of days when she couldn’t be sure it had really happened. It was just too exhilarating and confusing, too outside her usual sphere of experiences. She had no idea how to file it away in her mind.
Gradually logic reasserted itself. It scolded her for being so rash, and it demanded some sort of definition for what transpired in the clearing. Was she now in a relationship with Sonny? Would he call her? Or would she turn an even deeper shade of scarlet at the next cook-off?
She wanted to trust her instincts. She wanted the encounter to mean something—something big. It certainly felt powerful, and he’d said he liked her, but … what if it was all bull? What if he did that sort of thing all the time, lay in wait for some silly girl to come dancing along? He seemed to not just know her, but know her—and yet maybe he said stuff like that to every female whose name he could recall.
Only she couldn’t forget the image of him holding the caterpillar, how gentle he’d been. It made her want to believe that he’d been honest with her. And in a way, it made her want to be that caterpillar, on the verge of a striking metamorphosis that would transform her from a lonely outsider into someone who was happy, well-liked, and maybe even loved.
Gabby knew she’d have her answer when she saw him again, even though the thought terrified her. She had to know what he was thinking.
Only … she never did see him again.
The next Monday at school she vaguely noticed that something was different. Instead of the usual lazy sprawl of students resisting the start of a new week, everyone stood buzzing about in neat little clusters all over the front lawn. She assumed it was football-related fervor, the usual reason for any irrational enthusiasm among her classmates. And then Jana Pennington bounced right into her path. Her face looked grave, but her eyes seemed to flicker with excitement.
“Did you hear about Sonny Hutchins?” she asked Gabby.
“What? What are you talking about?” Gabby seemed to recall that she halfway snapped at the girl. She was sure Jana had found out about the secret kissing session and was teasing her.
“You mean you don’t know?” Jana seemed inordinately thrilled to discover this fact. “You didn’t hear about Sonny Hutchins and Prentiss Applewhite?”
Prentiss was Sonny’s older cousin, and the two of them were inseparable. Gabby always kept an eye out for Prentiss’s flashy convertible since Sonny was typically in the passenger seat. Prentiss was just as rich and was considered equally handsome, but he was stupid. The winter before, he’d gotten drunk and fallen out of a pecan tree, breaking his arm. A couple of months later he got drunk and drove into the duck pond in Monroe Park.
“What about them?” Gabby asked, already feeling uneasy. It was as if, somehow, a part of her already knew.
“They were in an accident out by the reservoir. They say Prentiss is okay, but Sonny died.”
Gabby’s next reaction had no classification. She simply … stopped. Her eyes couldn’t focus. Sound grew tinny and distant. Her lungs felt like two flimsy, twisted sacks. Yet even as her body reacted, her mind was unable to grasp the news. Sonny died? Sonny was dead? His body would no longer move? It was unfeasible, even silly, to imagine his lips cold and his eyes glassy. That he would never again smile or laugh. Or pick up caterpillars. Or kiss.
Gabby glanced hazily at Jana and the little knots of people around them. They were all wide-eyed and extra-animated, as if the whole horrible ordeal were a drama written expressly for their entertainment. Maggots. She hated them all.
It disgusted her how everyone seemed to feed on the news. Conflicting rumors spread for weeks, each one more ridiculous than the last. As she walked the school corridors, she couldn’t help picking up snatches of conversations, as if she were slowly turning a radio dial. “The speedometer was frozen at a hundred and twenty.…” “Prentiss was drag racing.…” “Sonny was the one driving, not Prentiss.…” “They were trying to outrun the cops.…” People simply refused to believe the truth: that some stupid teen with a drinking problem crashed his car and killed his sweet, innocent cousin in the process. No. They’d rather twist the details and make up scenarios, just for added shock value. It was revolting. And selfish.
But then, Gabby was just as bad. As she went through the rest of the day and that week, stumbling from class to class, crying in the safety of a restroom stall or in the shower at home, she couldn’t help thinking what his death had cost her. She would never again kiss Sonny. She would never know how he’d really felt about her. And her potential new existence, her new specialness, would never, ever happen.
She didn’t tell anyone what was wrong with her. There was no way she could explain it without its seeming foolish. Besides, her few stolen moments with Sonny were all she had of him. She wouldn’t share them.
Although she’d always been somewhat aloof, Gabby quickly became even more of a loner, avoiding crowds and meetings and chatty gossips like Jana. She even pulled away from Mule for a while, certain he’d be able to divine that something was horribly amiss. Instead of morphing into a butterfly, as she’d hoped, she withdrew further into a protective cocoon.
Gradually she came to live with her secret. The trick was to ignore it, to let it fall into her hidden depths like a stray coin or a discarded scrap of paper. Most days she didn’t even think about Sonny. But every now and then, the memories crept up on her without warning. Usually nights when she couldn’t power down her brain. Or times when the world around her seemed so fixated on love.
“Wha-a-a-a-at!”
The frogs again. It was as if they were doubting her, teasing her about holding on to some residual lovesickness. That, or they were still upset about the demise of Hoppy, their fellow amphibian.
Enough thought. What she really needed was sleep. No math, no stress, no memories, no haunting by a faceless dream guy. Just rest. Then tomorrow she could start being a nicer person, an understanding sister, and a more attentive friend.
“Wha-a-a-a-at!”
“Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy!”
Daphne raced across the living room and threw her arms around her father’s neck, squeezing hard to let him know how much she had missed him and breathing in his familiar spicy aftershave.
“There’s my baby girl.” He clutched her tightly and lifted her off the floor a couple of inches, swinging her back and forth. Then he set her down and put his rough hands on either side of her face. “Que tan guapa,” he said. “I’m going to put some guards around this house to keep the boys away.”
“Don’t you dare!” Daphne laughed, feeling that familiar lifting sensation she got in her chest whenever he arrived, as if her heart was getting pumped up like a balloon.
She was proud of her dad. Ernesto Rivera was probably the handsomest man in Central Texas. Tall and strong-looking. As a tiny girl she’d always felt so safe around him and made him tell her bedtime stories about rescuing her from monsters or aliens or costumed supervillains. He even looked a little like Superman, with his thick, dark hair
and wavy forelock. But he laughed and joked a lot more, and Daphne was very proud of the fact that she’d inherited his wide smile.
She wished her mom had done more to deserve him. They had never really told the girls why they broke up, but Daphne could guess. She wasn’t stupid. Her mother was just too cold, too … dull. She only cared about things like bills and college and using the carpet rake twice a week to keep their plush pile from looking like a grimy doormat. Meanwhile, her dad was into real life. He loved all the things Daphne loved. Like movies and music and exciting stories.
Daphne’s last birthday truly demonstrated for her the differences between her parents. Her mom had given her a thick envelope. Inside was a hokey card with lots of flowers and cursive writing talking about how a daughter is a daughter forever, blahbitty blah, and behind it she’d tucked a one-hundred-dollar savings bond. At first Daphne had thought it was like a check or a gift card and that she could use the money whenever and wherever she wanted. Then her mom explained that she couldn’t cash it in until she was grown and that she was supposed to use the money for tuition and books. Then—and this was the worst part of all—she took it back! Said she’d wanted to show it to Daphne, but that she would be keeping it in their safe-deposit box at the bank.
It was the lamest present Daphne had ever gotten.
Thank god her dad had shown up just a few minutes afterward and given her his present. His was also a fat envelope—a silly Snoopy card and a booklet full of free bowling passes. She’d been so moved she actually cried, and she couldn’t help remembering all those times he’d taken her and Gabby to Thunder Alley; how they would bowl and eat chili dogs and hang out with guys who had their own balls and bags and drab, untucked shirts with names like Hank or Chuy stitched above the breast pockets. Gabby, of course, had hated those trips and spent most of the time reading some mystery novel. And their mom had always complained that their dad kept them out too late and among the wrong kinds of people. But Daphne had always loved it.
Why couldn’t her mom give her meaningful gifts like that?
“Are we going bowling today?” Daphne asked. Lately they’d been using the passes during his visits.
“Sorry, mija. I don’t have enough time today. But let’s start with lunch, anyplace you want to go, and then we’ll see what we can do after.”
Daphne felt a tiny thud of disappointment. “Just one game?”
“We’ll see.”
“I don’t want to. We went bowling last time,” Gabby said, stepping forward. She usually stood next to Mom whenever their dad showed, as if she thought the woman might faint at the sight of him and needed someone there to catch her. Or maybe it was just a way to remind Dad whose side she was on. Either way, Daphne thought it was mean. She wondered if Gabby had even bothered to hug him hello.
“No one asked you,” Daphne snapped.
“Hey, I get a say, too. This isn’t just about you.”
“Girls,” Mom said in her warning voice. “No fussing. You agreed, remember?”
The sisters held their tongues and resorted to glaring at each other.
“How are things, Lizzie?” their dad asked their mom.
Mom raised her eyebrows as if she thought it was a stupid question. “They could be better. My account and I have been waiting for … things.”
Daphne stared down at their unraked brown carpet, embarrassed by her mom and unable to bear the shame on her dad’s face. Why did Mom always have to bring up money?
“But I already told you,” he said. “On Tuesday we—”
“Stop,” Gabby interrupted. “Daffy and I agreed not to fuss. So you guys shouldn’t, either.”
Everyone fell silent. Daphne let go of her annoyance long enough to shoot her sister a grin.
Sometimes Gabby’s grumpy nature came in handy.
“Wednesday is his plaid button-down, which makes him look like an old, skinny lumberjack. Thursday is blue oxford that’s getting too small and starting to show his undershirt between buttons. And Friday is white shirt day. Well, it used to be white. Now it’s the color of … coffee-stained teeth. Especially around the armpits.” Daphne shuddered.
Her dad reached out and put a hand on her arm. “That’s enough for now, mija. Take a break and eat some fries.”
“Yes, please,” Gabby muttered.
Daphne knew she was talking too much. She couldn’t help it. She tended to do that whenever she got nervous or excited, and right now she was superly both.
Because Luke was there.
She’d noticed him walk in right after her father had asked, “How’s school?” and it made her usual reply—“Fine”—morph into a fifteen-minute ad-libbed speech on Mr. Hathaway’s wardrobe. But apparently the rest of the table wasn’t all that interested in her fashion-doomed biology teacher.
“I’m going to grab some more iced tea, and maybe some jalapeños,” Mr. Rivera said, pushing his chair away from the table. “Do you girls need anything?”
Gabby shook her head.
“No, thank you,” Daphne said.
“Okay. Don’t eat my fries,” he teased.
As he turned toward the front counter, Daphne let her eyes hop from him to Luke, slumped forward in his booth. He still hadn’t seen her, but surely he would soon.
She should play it cool. Only … it was hard watching him without obviously watching him. So instead, she stared at the neon beer sign over his head, the thirsty-looking leaves in the planter outside the window, and the wooden cowboy and cowgirl on the restroom doors at the end of his row.
“Will you please eat?” Gabby said.
Daphne narrowed her eyes. “What are you, my mom?”
“Dad paid money for this. He’s not giving us much else these days, so you should at least take advantage of the free meal.”
“Shut up.” Daphne hated the way Gabby always complained about Dad. Even when he was just a few yards away. “I’m just not that hungry. That’s all.”
It was a lie. Even as she spoke her stomach rumbled and popped like a thunderstorm. But she never could eat in front of guys she liked.
Of course, it wasn’t as if Luke were looking at her right now. But when he did, she was not going to have barbecue sauce all over her chin.
Daphne twirled her plastic fork in her coleslaw and tried to strike a dazzling pose in her chair, just in case Luke should glance her way. Unfortunately, he was still frowning down at the laminated menu as if it were a bomb he needed to defuse.
Gabby made a huffing sound. “For god’s sake, just go talk to the guy.”
“What?” Daphne’s face grew prickly. How had she known? Gabby’s back was to the door and the booth he’d sat down in. No way could she have seen him.
“Come on. It’s so obvious. You went all spaz a little while ago and you keep looking at something over my shoulder. Plus you’re doing that nail-biting thing again.”
Daphne was surprised to find her left thumbnail between her two front teeth.
“Is it one of your regular boy obsessions? Or is it that new guy?”
Daphne ignored Gabby’s snide tone. “New guy.”
“Please, just go say hi so we can all act normal again. Normal for us, I mean.”
“But that’s so … forward,” Daphne whispered. “Besides, I probably look gross close-up. I didn’t do my hair and I’m barely wearing any makeup.” She wished she had dressed up more, worn something more feminine. Like her old-fashioned peasant blouse or one of her too-short-for-school skirts. And she really wished she could sneak on some more makeup. But glossy lip tint and a light dusting of blush were all she could get away with when her dad came over.
“You look great. I think you look better this way. All that gunk on your face just makes you look cheap.”
“Gee, thanks,” Daphne muttered. But secretly she felt better. Gabby wouldn’t say she looked good unless she really meant it.
She could do this. She could quickstep past Luke’s table to the bathroom, primp a little, and then act surprised
to see him as she walked back.
Gabby shot her an impatient look. “Now. Before Dad gets back.”
“Okay, okay.”
Daphne got to her feet, swished her hair out of her face, and began to stride to the ladies’ room. Suddenly it was as if walking were brand-new to her. She was acutely aware of every tiny movement and kept modifying things as she went along. She tilted her head a bit to try to look casual. She threw back her shoulders. She swung her arms less, and she swung her hips more. She even hummed some made-up tune. She hoped she was managing to look elegant yet relaxed, and not like some weirdo with a hundred different nervous tics.
As she passed Luke’s table, she held her breath and forced herself not to look at him. Easy-breezy. Just a girl bopping over to the restroom. Lah-di-dah.
Eventually she reached the door to the ladies’ room. But right as she was lifting her hand to push against the cowgirl cutout, she heard Luke shout, “Hey, Daphne!”
So much for primping. She turned and saw him leaning sideways out of his booth, craning his head around to look at her.
“Oh, my gosh. Hi!” she exclaimed. She smiled wide and did another awkward walk to his table. “Luke, right? Wow. Crazy seeing you again. What a coincidence. Hi there.”
Ugh. Her mouth was moving like some brainless, uncontrollable thing. Like a beheaded chicken flapping around a farmyard.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I’m with my dad and sister,” she said, pointing toward their table. Her father had already sat back down with Gabby and was watching her closely.
Suddenly she regretted telling him that. Did being out with her father make her seem like a baby? And what if Luke looked at Gabby and noticed how much prettier she was? Even her back, with all her cascading dark waves, was a lovely sight.
“And what about you? What are you doing here?” Daphne asked him, leaning sideways to block the view of her gorgeous sister.
“I’m supposed to meet these guys Walter Lively and Todd Carothers. Know them?”
Sass & Serendipity Page 4
