Sass & Serendipity (14 page)

She was probably still fretting over the whole Prentiss thing. She never could tolerate other people’s imperfections, and his mistake was a huge one. Or perhaps she really was daydreaming. Maybe, like with everything else, she was more talented at it than Daphne. Maybe she didn’t need to lie still and could actually daydream while doing other things.

“Hey, Gab?” Daphne propped her head in her right hand and let her left hand dangle, brushing the smooth hardwood with her fingertips. “Do you think you’ll miss our old place?”

Gabby let out a snort. “No way. It was a pit.” She squeezed Albert Camus’s
The Stranger
in between Barrie’s
Peter Pan
and
The Complete Illustrated Lewis Carroll;
then she glanced around the room and scowled. “Of course, this is probably just a different kind of pit.”

“I love all the colors here,” Daphne said, staring at the wall behind Gabby, a creamy taupe that subtly contrasted with the snowy trim and ceiling. “I wish Mr. Tibbets had let us paint at the old place. White walls are so blah.”

“Colored walls are stupid. Everyone has different preferences, so if you want to rent or sell a place it’s much smarter to keep the color scheme neutral.”

“When I get married and have a house, I’m going to have my husband paint every room a different color. Pink, lilac, aqua blue …” Daphne flopped onto her back and began superimposing images of her multihued home—and Luke looking oh-so-cute in splattered overalls—on the empty ceiling above her.

“You really have to stop.”

“What?” Daphne asked, annoyed that Gabby’s tone had dissolved the vision of her colorful and Luke-filled future.

“Stop with all the marriage stuff,” Gabby went on. “Why do you equate ‘matrimony’ with ‘happily ever after’ anyway? It’s not always the same thing. In fact, it rarely is. Just look at Mom and Dad. Think about the parents of most of the kids we know. And did you hear about Mrs. Lewis? Even she’s getting a divorce.”

Daphne sat up and scowled at her. “So I should just give up all my dreams because
they
failed? What about your plans? I mean, if lots of kids drop out of college because it’s hard, maybe you shouldn’t waste your time going. Same difference.”

Gabby just rolled her eyes, and Daphne couldn’t help feeling triumphant. It wasn’t like her sister to go quiet like that. The fact that she didn’t have a snappy comeback meant Daphne really did have a point.

Feeling bolder, she decided to ask a question she’d been wondering about for a while. “Gab? Why are you so determined to not have a guy in your life?”

This time Gabby’s eyes rolled the other direction. “Why are you so determined to
always
have a guy in your life?”

“I asked first.”

Gabby made an impatient sound, as if she felt the answer was obvious. “Because it just seems … weak. Like you can’t handle things on your own. Besides, guys our age are only slightly more mature than monkeys. All they care about is food and sex and goofing around.” She frowned down at the cover of
A Little Princess
. “And lots of them probably get stuck that way, since there are so-called grown-up men who act like that, too.”

“So … you’re holding out for the perfect guy?” Daphne asked, trying to follow her logic.

“I’m not ‘holding out’ for anything,” Gabby said, making quote marks in the air. “I’m just trying to earn the grades and money to get out of this crappy town. If you’re smart, you’ll do that, too.”

Daphne shuddered.
If you’re smart
. In other words, Gabby didn’t think she was smart. Of course. She made that clear every time she talked to her.

“Well, I think you’re just being snobby,” Daphne said, slouching against the wall and crossing her arms. “You refuse to like anyone—or any place. Even this house. But Mom likes it here, and so do I.”

“Of course you do. You like everything about this place. You refuse to see anything bad about
anything
. That’s why you love every single guy you meet. That’s why you even like Prentiss, no matter what sorts of crimes he’s committed.”

“So?” Daphne winced as soon as the word left her mouth. What made her think she could have a real talk with Gabby?
Her sister always had to turn everything around to Daphne and make her feel stupid. “You hate every guy. Except Mule, and I’m not sure he
is
a guy. Does he even have a penis?”

Even as she said it, she knew she was being unfair. And a total hypocrite. Just the other day she’d talked about how cute and manly Mule was looking—something Gabby could very well have pointed out to her. But she couldn’t help herself. She was tired of living with boring, responsible robot people who never wanted to have a juicy conversation. She was fed up with being brushed off every time she made a comment.

And it was so worth it when she saw the look of horror on her sister’s face.

“Uck! Stop!” Gabby exclaimed.

“Oh, come on. It was just a joke. I’m sure Mule has a penis.” Daphne felt a surge of satisfaction when Gabby cringed again. “I mean, he does have a bulge in his pants.”

“God, will you quit it!” Gabby’s hands were out in front of her as if lamely attempting to shield herself from Daphne’s words. “What is wrong with you?”

“Although …,” Daphne went on, tapping her index finger against her cheek. “Have you noticed it’s typically on the left side instead of the right?”

“Mom!”
Gabby shrieked, holding her hands over her ears. “Please do something about your sick, twisted daughter!”

Two seconds later Mrs. Rivera stood in the doorway with her usual weary expression. “What’s going on here?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Daphne said casually. “I was just asking about Mule’s penis.”

Her mother’s eyes grew wide. “What?”

“You see?” Gabby said, then went back to glowering at Daphne. “Quit acting like an idiot! I swear I always regret talking to you.”

“Are you saying I should ask Mule about his penis, instead of you?”

“Daphne, please!” her mom said. “Enough with this nonsense!”

“Yeah, shut up!” Gabby’s face was now almost the same color as the prom dress hanging on the closet door.

Daphne was thoroughly enjoying herself. “What? You guys act like ‘penis’ is a bad word or something.”

“Well, it’s certainly not a topic that I wish to discuss,” her mom said, “nor do I want my fifteen-year-old daughter discussing it. So please just leave it alone. I want you girls to have this room unpacked before bedtime. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Daphne replied. Gabby nodded.

As soon as their mother trotted back down the hall, Gabby glared at Daphne fiercely. “You are such a weirdo,” she mumbled.

“Penis!” Daphne hissed back. “Penis! Penis! Penis!”

Gabby heard the bell chime and hurried to open the front door before the others emerged from their rooms.

“Hey,” Mule greeted her. He stood on the porch holding his calculus textbook in one arm and a three-liter Dr Pepper in the other.

Don’t look at his bulge
, Gabby told herself.
Don’t look at his bulge
.

“Hi,” she said, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on his. “Come inside.” Eleven whole years she’d gone without ever considering Mule’s private parts. Now, thanks to her warped little sister, she was trying her hardest to not think about them.

“This place is nice.” He stepped into the living room and turned in a slow circle. “And it actually costs you guys less than the new rent at the other place?”

Gabby nodded. “That bit of information makes me suspicious,” she said.

He set his soda and book on the dining table and stretched out his arms … and there it was. Mule’s bulge. Gabby’s eyes just locked onto it as if they’d been programmed to do so. Daphne was right; it did seem to be mainly on the left side. Was that a coincidence or had Daphne actually checked it out beforehand? And was going to the left normal? Or was it supposed to go right? Or was it like right- and left-handedness, with most people going one way and some going the other?

She was suddenly, vaguely aware of Mule’s voice chattering away in the background. “… does it meet your expectations?” he asked.

“What?” Gabby’s gaze snapped back up to Mule’s eyes. She could feel her face warming over.
Damn it, Daphne!

Mule chuckled. “Is this what it’s going to be like now that you live at Applewhite Manor? You going to go all snot-nosed and ignore everything I say? Or did I not enunciate clearly enough for you rich, respectable folk?”

Gabby glared at him, but inwardly she felt better. The fact that he was being his typical annoying self meant he hadn’t noticed her ogling his nether regions.

“I asked,” he went on, “and let me go slower this time: What’s … the … new … room … like? Does … it … meet … your … expectations?”

“Yeah.” Her nod turned circular. “I mean no. I mean … The place might be nicer, but our room is actually a little smaller. I’d show you but Daffy’s still unpacking.”

“Seriously? Daphne’s not done moving in?” Mule made an exaggerated look of surprise. “Shocker!” Gabby breathed a sigh of relief when he sat down at the kitchen table, moving his left-leaning lump out of sight.

She’d always known Mule was a boy, but that was just a technicality. A fact she’d filed away in the back of her mind—along with his eye color (hazel), shoe size (twelve and a half), and sandwich preferences (mayo, mustard—but not the kind with seeds—and extra pickle). It didn’t matter, and it didn’t affect how they interacted. She’d never let that little detail between his legs loom large.

Even after the crush of puberty and the disorientation brought on by brand-new feelings, brand-new body parts, and brand-new understandings, she refused to let herself think about her best friend that way. Sure, there had been fleeting curiosity once or twice, but she would always quickly dispatch it and then reprimand her insubordinate little mind. Perhaps someday she could freely entertain such thoughts, but not now. Not when there was too much history between them and too much to lose. Not after losing her first crush (or whatever Sonny had been) and getting dumped by the only other man in her life, her dad.

Happily, Mule never seemed to bring up the possibility
either. At least, not directly. Although lately all his talk of prom was freaking her out.

“And how are the landlords?” Mule asked.

“Oh, god!” Gabby exclaimed, dropping into the chair across from him. “Prentiss insisted on showing up to help—as if we’re too fragile to handle boxes that
we
packed!”

“Really?”

“He even insisted on giving us a guided tour. ‘This here’s the sink. And this here’s the door,’ ” Gabby spoke in an exaggerated East Texas drawl at half speed. “Lemme know if y’all need any help openin’ this here door.”

Mule lost it. She loved it when he really busted out with his big, loud honk of a laugh. It never failed to make her crack up, too.

“God, he’s a moron,” she said once she’d regained her breath. “And the sad part is, I think he really thought he was charming us. Like, just because he has muscles we’re supposed to swoon at his very presence.”

“Oh?” Mule’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his curls. “The guy has muscles, huh?”

“Whatever. Muscles, yes, but brain? No. Empathy? No.” She shut her eyes and shuddered slightly. “God, it makes me sick the way Mom and Daff think he’s some guardian angel. As if he can lift a few boxes and suddenly all his past transgressions are forgiven.”

“I heard he couldn’t handle UT and left. That’s why he’s around this semester. In the fall he’ll be going to community college.”

Gabby’s eyes widened. “Community college? Oh, my god,
how pathetic. He was probably out getting drunk every night and never studied. You just know his mom and dad are dying of embarrassment.”

“Probably.” Mule shrugged.

“Huh.” Gabby nodded slowly, staring off into the distance. Now it all made sense, why Prentiss was always around. “What do you know? I’d just figured his parents were paying someone else to go to class for him.”

“Anyway …” Mule looked sheepish. “Sorry I didn’t show up to help. I’d planned to, but I didn’t want you to think I was showing off my physique.”

“Yeah, right.” Gabby chuckled awkwardly, remembering that only seconds before she really had been checking out his physique—or sections of it.

“So … how often do you have to see Prentiss?” Mule asked, watching her strangely.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, is he required to come by and check on you guys and stuff?”

Gabby wrinkled her nose. “Not if I can help it.”

“You think he came by to help because his parents made him, or because he’s just a great guy? Or do you think he maybe had … ulterior motives?”

Gabby took a moment to study Mule. His face was set in its usual easygoing expression. But there was something in his tone—a barb or jagged edge—that told her to be careful.

“I don’t think Prentiss is smart enough to have ulterior motives,” she said, with total conviction. “Frankly, I’m not sure he’s evolved past the
Homo habilis
stage.”

Mule seemed to relax into his chair a bit more. “Ah. Maybe he’s studying spear making at community college.”

“Maybe.” Gabby laughed, but it felt forced and phony, powered more by nerves than delight.

She didn’t like this. She didn’t want to be uneasy around Mule. She didn’t want to be scared of accidentally staring at his crotch or feel the need to protect his feelings by disparaging Prentiss. More to the point, she didn’t want to be so very much aware that he was a guy.

Because guys couldn’t be trusted.

“How long has she been up there?” Daphne stood looking out the front window, biting her nails in loud, rhythmic chomps.

“I don’t know. Maybe … forty minutes?”

“What could they be talking about?”

“Beats me.” Gabby tried to look and sound uninterested, but in truth she couldn’t stop wondering why her mom was meeting with the Applewhites in their showy chateau. They’d found her note on the kitchen table when they arrived home from school, but it didn’t provide any details. Had she been summoned? Had she set it up? Maybe Prentiss had lost his license and they needed Gabby and her mom to become his private chauffeurs.

“I hope we’re not in trouble,” Daphne said. “Do you think they saw me accidentally step on those flowers the other day?”

“Not unless they have infrared vision. It was after dark.”

“Maybe they want to invite us over to swim. Or maybe they want us to move into the big house!”

Gabby made a face. “Why the hell would they suggest something like that?”

“I don’t know.” Daphne shrugged. “Maybe they always wanted daughters or something.”

“That would be creepy.” Gabby went back to pretending to read her economics textbook.

“Here she comes!”

Gabby couldn’t help tossing her book onto the coffee table and rushing to stand next to her sister.

Mrs. Rivera stopped in her tracks when she found her daughters standing just inside the front door. Gabby scrutinized her expression but couldn’t glean anything from it. No smile, but no evidence of crying or a heated argument, either. Just the usual stress fissures. And a little extra powder and lipstick, as if she’d freshened up before meeting their landlord and landlady.

“Well?” Daphne asked, her whole body pitched forward with anticipation.

Gabby was torn between yelling at her sister to give their mom some space and bouncing along beside her demanding to know what was up.

Her mom slowly, infuriatingly, took off her sweater, hung it on a wooden peg next to the door, and then sank down into the nearest chair. “Well, I have good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” Daphne urged.

“No, let me start with the good news and continue from there.”

“That means the bad news is really bad,” Daphne whispered to Gabby.

“Be quiet,” Gabby muttered, but secretly she agreed.

“Are we in trouble?” Daphne asked, chewing her left thumbnail.

“No, no. Now please listen. As it turns out”—Mrs. Rivera paused and a soft smile stole across her face—“I’m getting a promotion at work.”

“Mom!” Daphne squealed. “That’s awesome!”

“Does it mean more money?” Gabby asked.

“Thank you, dear,” her mom said. “And yes, it’s a little more money. Plus an office of my own. But …” She bit her lip and glanced at each of them.

“We have to move?” Gabby said. That would be so unfair. They’d only just settled in.

“No, we don’t have to move,” Mrs. Rivera replied. “But I have to go away for some training. This Wednesday, in fact. They’re flying me out to Atlanta, and I’ll have to stay there for three and a half weeks.”

“But … what about us?” Daphne asked.

“You’ll be on your own. Gabby is old enough to watch out for you guys, and the Applewhites said they would be glad to help if there are any problems. Of course, I’ll be in touch by phone as often as I can. And it’s only for a few weeks.” Three faint grooves appeared in Mrs. Rivera’s forehead and each hand took turns gripping the other.

“It’ll be fine,” Gabby said. She reached over and squeezed her mother’s arm. “I’m so proud of you for getting that promotion. You deserve it.”

Mrs. Rivera smiled and one of the worry lines disappeared. The grin also seemed to brighten her face and add sparkle to
her wide green eyes. Gabby hadn’t seen her look so young and pretty—and happy—in a long time. “Thanks,” she said. “I knew I’d lost out on that one job to Rick, but then they told me I’d gotten this one. I didn’t even know about the opening.”

“Wait a minute.” Daphne looked even more concerned than she had before she heard the news. “Does this mean Gabby gets to boss me around for almost a month?”

The crease reappeared in her mom’s brow. “Not exactly …,” she began.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gabby said to Daphne. “Why can’t you be happy for Mom? You should be congratulating her, not complaining.”

Daphne gestured toward her. “This is what I mean. She’s going to do this the whole time. Can’t Dad come stay with us?”

“That’s not possible.” Her mom’s gaze lowered to her lap. “Not with his job, his situation.”

“But—”

“Sweetie, try to understand. It’s the only way.” Mrs. Rivera reached out and grabbed Daphne’s extended hand. “I’m going to be depending on you, too. Not just Gabby. She can’t watch you all day and night, you know. So I’m going to need you to be a little more responsible and independent. Can you do that for me?”

Gabby watched her sister’s expression ease into a smile. She knew exactly what Daphne was thinking: more time with her latest boy obsession, less nagging from Mom. Gabby wondered if she should say something, but her mom already
had so much on her mind. Besides, she’d be the one in charge. She’d handle it.

“Don’t worry. I can do that,” Daphne said. She stepped forward and hugged her mom around the neck. “And I am really proud of you.”

“Thanks, baby. Now what do you say we all go out to dinner and celebrate?”

“You mean … at a restaurant?” Daphne asked.

Mrs. Rivera laughed. “Yes.”

“We’ve got that coupon for Whataburger,” Gabby said, heading for the drawer in the kitchen where they kept loose papers.

“No. No coupons. No fast food. Let’s go to the Rushing Water Inn.”

Daphne sucked in her breath. “Really?”

“Sure, why not?” Mrs. Rivera said.

“Oh, thank you!” Daphne hugged their mom again and then trotted off toward the bedroom. “I’m going to change into something swanky!”

“Mom, are you sure?” Gabby asked once Daphne was out of earshot. “That place is so expensive.”

Her mom held up both hands in a “stop” gesture. “I don’t care. We have lots to celebrate. New house. New job. I think we deserve to spoil ourselves at least one night, right?”

“I guess,” Gabby replied. She didn’t like this shifting of positions. Daphne promising to be responsible. Mom offering to blow a ton of money on a fancy meal. It was disturbing.

“Well? Get to it,” her mom said. “Like Daff said, go get swanky!”

Her mom looked so happy, so relaxed. Gabby knew she should be ecstatic for her. For all of them. So why was she so edgy? Why did all these good things feel … wrong?

“Oh, my god. I’m so full.” Daphne patted her stomach as if Luke could somehow see her over the phone. “You won’t believe where we ate dinner tonight. The Rushing Water Inn!”

“What’s that?”

“The best restaurant in town.”

Daphne lifted one of Gabby’s T-shirts off the pile and checked it for stains as well as she could with one hand. She had offered to sort the laundry to prove to her mom that they’d be fine without her for a few weeks. It seemed like an easier chore than doing the dishes. Plus, the utility room in their new house was nice and secluded—a cramped little room off the kitchen with only one tiny window. When the dishwasher was running it muffled all noise, so there was little danger of her conversations being overheard.

“It’s really awesome,” she said, shoving the shirt into the washer. “I ordered something French-sounding. Chicken breast with this cheesy stuff inside it.”

“Cordon bleu?”

“Yeah, that’s it!” Daphne said. “It’s nice. You should go there sometime.”
Like, for prom
, she added mentally.
With me
.

“Yeah, I should.”

She waited, hoping he would use this as a chance to finally ask her, but he said nothing further. Just made a little combination humming-sighing sound, as if he were stretching.

This was getting frustrating. Sure, prom was still three
weeks away, but so many people had already been asked. All they had left to do was brag and daydream. She at least had the dress, and was therefore slightly ahead of the game, and she was doing her best to be patient, but she still wished a fairy godmother would suddenly materialize atop the dryer and wave her magic wand, making Luke her official date.

In fairy tales, the heroine always had someone to help her, like a pixie or a band of dwarves or a flock of animated bluebirds. But who did Daphne have? Who was on her side? Definitely not Mom or Gabby or anyone on the cheer squad. This meant she had to figure things out herself. Only solving problems was more her sister’s forte; Daphne was better at wishing them away.

“So what are you doing this weekend?” she asked as she reached into the hamper and pulled out another blouse. It was one of her mom’s, beige with a light yellow floral design. Should it go with the lights or darks? It was medium in color and weight. And the label had faded so much she couldn’t tell what the manufacturer recommended.

“I don’t know.…” Luke’s voice trailed off, as if he were considering something.

Daphne shoved the blouse into the washer and waited. Perhaps if he didn’t want to take this chance to ask her to prom, he’d at least ask her out somewhere—this time excluding Walt and Todd.

“Oh, wait. There is something going on,” Luke said. “I heard about a big party Saturday night.”

Oh, no!
So he knew about Tracy’s party. Daphne’s heart sped up so suddenly, the pile of clothes in front of her started
to shimmer. She twisted her thumbnail between her teeth, envisioning Lynette in one of her slutty party dresses, targeting Luke like a blond heat-seeking missile.

“They said it was going to be pretty cool. Are you going?” he asked.

“Um, I’m not sure I can. Are you?”

“Yeah, I promised the guys I’d go. I hope you’ll be there. I hardly get to see you. It would be nice to … hang out.” His tone turned soft and rumbly. Almost like a purr.

Daphne leaned against the wall of the laundry room and closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his words ooze all over her.
Think, Daphne, think
. There had to be some way she could get out of the house without her sister knowing. But the front door squeaked, and Gabby was such a light sleeper, despite the snoring.

Opening her eyes, Daphne suddenly beheld the window … small but not too tiny to fit through, and perfectly situated above the sturdy dryer.

Could she?

No. She couldn’t. Even with Mom gone, Gabby would be watching her like a hawk. No … a vulture. Yeah. A grumpy, killjoy vulture. And if she waited until Gabby went to sleep, the party would be almost over. Plus, even if she managed to sneak out of the house, what then? She couldn’t exactly walk the ten miles to Tracy’s house.

Her eyes clouded and her nose got that itchy feeling that always preceded a good cry. If only she had the freedom to come and go as she wanted—to attend keg parties and go on unchaperoned trips to the beach. Some kids had it so easy.
Meanwhile, she was stuck at home with a cruel older sister, doing drudge work, just like Cinderella.

It was Fate testing her again, seeing whether she could be the noble heroine. If she did something stupid, she could blow all her chances of going out with Luke. She had to remember that.

“I really want to see you, too,” she said. “But we can be patient, right? And what about Sunday? Maybe, after you’ve slept late, we could meet up and bowl another game or two. You could tell me all about the party. And maybe this time it could just be you and me? You know … so I can give you pointers?” She bit her lip and shut her eyes again, wallowing in her longing for him, concentrating on each wrenching beat of her heart and the faint shushing sounds of the telephone connection.

“Sure. That sounds great,” he said.

He sounded pleased, even excited. Daphne took comfort in it.

“Well, I gotta run. See you later, Daffodil.”

“Bye.”

Daffodil!
Daphne shut off the phone, hugged it to her chest, and lay back against the dirty laundry. First he gave her a penny, and now a nickname? It was the best reassurance she could have asked for. (Well … second to an invitation to prom.) But still, it was a sign of closeness. Of love. It made her feel hopeful and strong enough to endure. Like a princess in a tower or a genie in a bottle.

Or a flower standing straight and tall in a storm.