Sass & Serendipity (4 page)

Eventually she just stopped going. But rather than argue with her parents about it, she made sure she went somewhere else during that hour and a half she was supposedly at team practice, to prevent them from growing suspicious. She would wander out of sight behind buildings, looking for loose change scattered on the pavement. Or she’d climb the big live oak in Monroe Park and read.

One day Gabby had been following Chandler Creek, searching for fossils and keeping an eye out for water moccasins, and she’d ended up roaming farther than ever before. The noises of town gradually faded and the brush grew higher around her, forcing her onto the bank. After a while she came upon a clearing she’d never seen. A gently sloping grassy bluff that provided a scenic view of the nearby hills. She wandered into the field and, for some bizarre reason, lifted her arms and started twirling about like Julie Andrews in
The Sound of
Music
. Even now, she shuddered a bit at the memory. How unlike her. She must have gotten stoned off the stagnant creek-water vapors.

She’d continued spinning and staring up at the sky until a voice called out, “You aren’t going to dance off the edge, are you?”

Gabby stopped midwhirl and began scanning the vicinity for her onlooker. She felt as if she’d been intruded upon, but in essence, she was the interloper. She had been the one who showed up second.

“Let me guess … Julie Andrews?” came the voice again.

This time she spotted him. It was Sonny Hutchins. He’d been leaning up against a tree, watching her, partially obscured by shadows and branches. Sonny was two years older and went to a private school, but she’d known who he was. For one thing, he was kind of famous. He came from one of the oldest and most well-connected families in town, and his relatives were always leading parades and running for office. But also, every summer their fathers were tapped to judge the annual chili cook-off.

What was he doing there, sitting under a cypress in the middle of nowhere, away from all his friends and fancy relatives?

She must have stood gaping at him longer than most sentient beings would have, because he asked again, “So was I right? Channeling your inner Julie?”

Gabby had nodded and then he’d smiled. She could still see it in her mind—the way leafy shadows played across his face; the way a tiny gust of wind lifted a few strands of hair on
the top of his head and they danced about, waving in all directions like insect feelers.

That was another thing Sonny was famous for: his looks. Delicate, almost pretty features. A lopsided grin. Blond hair that he somehow managed to keep fairly long, in spite of his superpowerful, superconservative parents. A guy so attractive, it was intimidating—even though he seemed friendly enough. Every festival he would chat with Gabby a bit and make witty observations about the various entries. Meanwhile, she would barely manage to squeak hello and probably turned redder than Eddie Hardee’s celebrated batch of Crying Marine Chili con Carnage.

She assumed Sonny didn’t recognize her, so she nearly lost her balance when he cocked his head and said, “Gabby, right?”

Once again, all she could do was nod.

“Thought so,” he said. “Come over here and look at this.” He held something in his right fist.

She’d gone right over to him. It still made Gabby shake her head. Older guy she barely knew. The seclusion of trees. Too far away for anyone else to hear or see her. But she trusted him. She hadn’t even stopped to think—she’d just walked straight to him as if pulled by an invisible tractor beam. Then she sat down beside him and peered into his cupped hands.

He’d been holding a caterpillar. Soft and plump, about the length of his pinkie finger, with thin yellow, black, and white stripes along the width of its body. The larva of a monarch butterfly.

“I found it on one of those leaves,” he said, nodding
toward a clump of lush green plants. Gabby thought it was sweet the way he stroked the creature’s back with the tip of his forefinger as it slowly inched up his palm.

“That’s milkweed. It’s their food. This area is part of their breeding ground,” she’d said, ever the good student.

“I always knew you were smart,” he said.

Gabby felt her face flush. “What do you mean ‘always knew’?”

He shrugged. “I noticed how your dad has you tally the score sheets while he does the tasting at the cook-offs. Plus, I’ve seen you around. You’re always reading and coming in and out of the library.”

Her breath seemed to run out. Sonny had noticed her? He’d wondered about her?

“Of course, I always thought you were pretty, too,” he went on, smiling crookedly into his lap. He seemed almost bashful. “I was planning to ask you out when I got my license.”

She made a gasping noise—partly from shock and partly because she hadn’t inhaled in several seconds. Sonny noticed and glanced up. He didn’t look shy anymore.

“I remember you telling your dad you preferred seafood,” he said. “So I thought we’d go have scampi. Then maybe come up here.”

“Up here?” she repeated, finding her voice.

“You know what this place is, don’t you?” he asked.

Gabby shook her head.

“It’s Make-Out Ridge.”

As an unpopular eighth grader with only one friend to speak of (Mule, skinnier and shaggier, and scarily obsessed
with
Dr. Who
at the time), Gabby had only heard of the spot where high schoolers met to hook up. Looking around, she could see, logically, why it had been chosen. Even though it was just a few blocks from the town by foot, it was still rather remote by car, lying at the end of a winding dirt road. Cedar and mesquite trees bordered the field, obscuring the nearby homes and gas stations.

She watched as Sonny gently set the caterpillar onto a stalk of milkweed. “So,” he said, grinning at her. “Would you like to make out?”

She probably should have said no. A reasonable girl would have been shocked and offended. Coming from any other guy, such a question would have been laughable or even disgusting. But Sonny made it sound sweet.

For the first time ever, she wasn’t stupefied by him. Gabby found herself smiling and nodding, and then scooting near enough for Sonny to wrap his long arms around her. To this day she wasn’t sure why she did that. There was just some quality about Sonny that made her trust him—and want to get closer.

Hormones
, Gabby told herself, changing positions on her lumpy mattress so that she faced the window. She’d fallen victim to biochemistry, that was all. It was astounding how primitive urges could have such a hold on a person. The passion she’d felt as a thirteen-year-old was understandable. Just intense curiosity and an excess of glandular activity. But sometimes even today, four and a half years later, the memories of his mouth against hers created little warm spots all over.

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?”

“Of course,” she said, a little too loud and cheerleadery. “I mean … you know. Everyone kind of knows everyone in this town.”

“Right. Well, I guess no one knows me yet. But those guys were cool to invite me along.” He glanced at the expensive-looking silver-toned watch on his wrist. “Sure hope they show
up,” he added with a low laugh. “We’re supposed to grab some food and then go bowling.”

Daphne’s eyes popped wide. “Oh, my gosh! I love bowling!” It was another sign. It had to be. “I go all the time with … with people.”

“I’m really not that good. But, hey. It’s fun.”

“I could teach you.”

Luke smiled. “Oh yeah?”

“Sure.”

A familiar figure walked past the window. Only Walt Lively made that lurching movement, as if his upper body were dragging his lower half along. Daphne had grown familiar with it during three months of intense scrutiny when they’d kinda-sorta dated—or, more precisely, accompanied each other to three baseball games that had ended in three similar arguments when she wouldn’t let him feel her up. But that was last school year, and now she couldn’t even remember why she’d liked him in the first place. He was all-right-looking. Tall and rangy. Freckled. Close-set eyes and thick brows that stood straight up and blended into his bangs. Boring-cute. Could even be more attractive if he smiled now and then and didn’t spit on the ground every few seconds.

She didn’t dislike him now; she just didn’t feel much of anything—except annoyance that he’d shown up just as the conversation was getting good.

The door chimes jangled and Walt shuffled toward them, wad of snuff making his left cheek bulge, cowboy boots scuffing the flecked vinyl floor.

“Hey,” he said, nodding at them. “Carothers is going to be
late. He wants to meet us at the alley. We can just buy hot dogs there.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s cool.” Luke grabbed his drink and slid out of the booth.

“So …,” Daphne said suddenly, not wanting him to leave until she’d made some sort of progress. “Maybe you should give me your cell number and we could bowl a game sometime? I’ll give you those pointers.”