Sass & Serendipity (25 page)

Daphne got up from the table and walked to the couch for a closer look. “Hey, Gab … I’m sorry about before,” she said. For hours she’d been stewing about it in the back of her mind. She really had been unfair to Gabby. Things had been hard on her, too, these past few days—especially with Mom gone.

Gabby seemed confused. “Huh?”

Daphne frowned. “The fight,” she reminded her. “About Dad.”

“Right.” Gabby nodded slowly. “No big deal.”

No big deal?
Okay. Something was definitely up. In fifteen years she’d never known Gabby to voluntarily back down from an argument.

She looked at Mule again. He was hanging over the back
of his chair, scowling hard in Gabby’s direction. He also seemed thrown by her behavior. Or even downright alarmed.

Daphne decided to give them some alone time. If anyone could get to the bottom of this, Mule could.

“Oh, man. This studying has really worn me out,” Daphne said, stretching her arms. “I think I’ll go on to my room now.” She headed to the table for her books, giving Mule a tap on the shoulder. “Thanks for everything.”

“No problem,” Mule said. “You did great.”

“Because of you. You’re so good at this.”

“Hey,” he said, gently grabbing her elbow as she walked past. “You’re good at a lot of stuff, too. Don’t forget.”

For some reason, Daphne felt a lump in her throat. “Thanks,” she whispered, and continued on to her room.

“So where’d you go?” Mule asked.

“Oh, just … out,” Gabby replied. She didn’t want to talk to him. In fact, it felt funny just moving around. Her limbs felt floppy and everything looked fuzzy around the edges, as if the entire world were wearing an angora sweater.

It was hard to concentrate on the here and now when most of her gray matter was busy pondering what had just happened on the Applewhites’ dark porch.

“What is up with you?” Mule asked.

Gabby tried to tear her mind from her thoughts and focus on him. Even he seemed outlined in wool. “What do you mean?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. You’re all distracted. And you keep touching your mouth.”

“I do?” But even as she asked this she realized that the tips of the first two fingers of her right hand were perched on her lower lip. It felt numb and tingly, like the time it snowed and her face had half frozen—only this time it was warm to the touch.

She’d only been kissed three times before this. The first time was in fourth grade when she’d kissed Sammy Farnsworth on a dare. It had been the quickest, wettest smooch in history, made worse by the stink of pepper sausage on his breath. Then, during the sixth-grade Fall Ball, she’d accepted Lane Brinkley’s offer of a slow dance. Basically they’d just clutched each other and swayed in a rhythmic circle until she was in a dizzy stupor, but during the song’s final, schmaltzy crescendo, he’d stopped and leaned in for a kiss. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to have the basic principles down, and he’d sucked her lips between his, making a loud smacking sound when he finally let go. Afterward, he’d ducked into the crowd and disappeared, leaving Gabby with a dark pink ring around her mouth for the next two hours. They avoided each other’s glances in the hall for the next month. Soon after, his family moved to the Dallas area. And, of course, the last time she’d shared a kiss had been with Sonny during their secret encounter in the woods. That, too, had ended badly.

Those three sad anecdotes made up her entire romantic history—if one didn’t count Mule’s attentions, which she didn’t. And now this.

But what, exactly, was
this
? What did it mean? She hadn’t
been sure with Sonny and she wasn’t sure about now. Typically kissing meant you shared feelings with someone. Her feelings for Prentiss had been strong and plentiful—mainly hate, anger, frustration, annoyance, and, more recently, remorse. Not anything romantic.

And yet … she hadn’t pulled away from him. It hadn’t seemed weird. Surprising, yes, but not weird. It was only now, as she pondered the whole scene, that she thought it odd.

Gabby rolled onto her side and propped her head in her hand. What did other girls do in this situation—normal girls with normal love lives? From what she understood of the world, they talked things out with their friends. Of which she only had one.

She glanced over at Mule, who was now sitting on the chair opposite the couch, studying her with his most analytical, heavy-browed, scientific stare. Could she talk to him about it? He was her pal, after all. And he was smart and logical and able to find answers to the most impossible-looking problems—in math and physics, anyway.

“What is going on with you?” he asked again. “You really seem out of it.”

He was concerned about her, too. That was a friend thing. Maybe she should just come out with it and see how he viewed the whole situation. Maybe he would see something she didn’t.

“I’m just weirded out over something that happened,” she said, sitting up and facing him.

“What?”

“I went over to the Applewhites’ to”—she paused—“to
drop something off, and I ran into Prentiss. While I was talking to him he just … kissed me.”

Mule seemed to shrink about a centimeter. “Oh, really? Just like that?”

“I certainly wasn’t asking for it.”

“So … what did you do?”

Gabby absently pressed her fingers to her mouth. They still throbbed slightly, as if the lips themselves were also replaying the kiss. “I just left,” she said, lowering her hand. “I guess I was in shock. Maybe I still am.”

“Right.”

By now the jealousy was evident in Mule’s sad, droopy eyes. Oh, god. It had been a mistake to tell him. She hadn’t been thinking straight. Things between them were icky enough already, and here she was adding more excrement to the mix.

“Look. He was probably just drunk or high or something,” Gabby said. “It was stupid of me to wander over there in the dark. He’s just a clueless ape who misreads social cues.”

Mule nodded. And yet he still wouldn’t stop staring at Gabby as if she were some cafeteria bully who’d stolen his Twinkie.

“It was nothing. Really,” she went on. “The guy was just messing with my mind.”

It suddenly dawned on her that this could be the truth. Kissing her could have been some sort of mind game—revenge for her yelling at him all the time and accusing him of things he didn’t do. A way to shut her up, throw her for a loop, and turn her into the distracted, babbling idiot she was being this very minute.

The tingles stopped and her hazy vision corrected itself. Now she just felt embarrassed, and more than a little pissed off. Mainly at herself for being so overwhelmed by it all. Sure, she’d treated him unfairly. Prentiss might not be a coldblooded killer, but that didn’t mean he was a great guy. There were plenty of other blotches on his record.

“Anyway, enough about me,” she said, eager to change the subject. “Let’s do something. Want to watch TV?”

Mule shook his head. “I’ve gotta go.” He stood and started shoving his things into his backpack.

Gabby felt disappointed. Mule’s leaving had an unsettling déjà vu quality to it after both her dad’s and Prentiss’s angry departures earlier that day. “Are you mad at me?” she asked.

He frowned out the window, as if he were giving Applewhite Manor a dirty look. “No,” he said, turning toward her with a blank expression. “I just need to check on Dad.”

She stared at him, trying to gauge his mood. But it was as though she couldn’t read him anymore. Had she forgetten how? Had Mule suddenly been converted into a jumble of wingdings?

No. It was more like … static. As if there were some nebulous interference between them, preventing clear speech. “Um … okay,” she said. “Guess I’ll see you later.”

“Later.” Mule slipped his pack over his shoulder and headed outside.

Gabby locked the door and slumped against it. The day had been so full of highs and lows and whirly maneuvers that she felt woozy and jet-lagged. She closed her eyes and put her hand to her mouth. For a second, she was back on the
shadowy porch, being kissed by Prentiss. Feeling the crush of his arms and the soft pressure of his lips. She hadn’t felt that way since …

No
. She opened her eyes and shook her head, dislodging the memory. What was wrong with her? Prentiss was not Sonny. Sonny was gone. Besides, she wasn’t a stupid thirteen-year-old. She was older and wiser now. She knew better. Even though she could sort of understand how addictive it was, and how someone like Daffy could get hooked on such emotions, she also knew it would be a mistake. Those hormonal surges never lasted, and people only ended up getting hurt down the road. Like poor Daffy. And Mom.

She pressed her forehead against the window, wishing Mule would come back inside so they could do something like study or watch bad TV—something that would make her feel normal. But his car was already rolling down the driveway.

Gabby waited until she saw the lights of the Range Rover fade into the distance. Then she closed the drapes and turned off the nearby lamp. Because those were the kinds of things she did.

Because she was responsible. And safe.

“You’re going!”

“No I’m not!”

“You are!”

“No!”

“Get in the damn car!”

Daphne threw down her hairbrush. “No! You can’t make me!” She knew she sounded like she was four, and the truth was, it did feel as if she’d time-traveled back to the days of pigtails and Hello Kitty. She felt ganged up on and defenseless, too small to be heard. All she could do was scream and stomp.

“You’ve missed way too much school already,” Gabby continued. “If you stay home another day, they’ll probably send the truant officer over. Then we’ll have all kinds of explaining to do, and Mom will have to fly home to prevent us from being sent to juvenile hall. Do you want that?”

Daphne pouted as furiously as possible. No, of course she didn’t want that. But she also didn’t want to walk back
into Barton High with all its surly teachers and traitorous friends.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “Those people ruined my life.”

“So what?” Gabby said.

“God! You’re such a cold bitch sometimes.”

“Yep. That’s me. Now quit whining and let’s go.”

“You don’t even care, do you? Everyone’s going to be picking on me!”

“You have to face them sometime. Just deal with it!”

Daphne stared at her sister’s crimped features. Gabby was so unfeeling, so by-the-book. She didn’t care about anything or anyone, just the rules. “I won’t
just deal with it
. I don’t have to!”

The sound of crunching gravel distracted them. For some reason, Mule’s Range Rover was rolling down the drive. As he reached them, he lowered the driver’s-side window.

“I think I left my calculator here the other day,” he said. “Mind if I run in and look?”

“No,” Gabby said, flicking her hand toward the door.

Leaving the truck running, Mule jumped out and bounded into the house. As soon as he disappeared from view, Gabby rounded on Daphne again.

“Get in the car! I swear, I will call Mom if you don’t. I’ll call Dad. I’ll call the freaking truant officer myself!”

“But you don’t get it!” Daphne said, panic making her voice high and whimpery. “I can’t. I can’t take any more. I don’t want to see those people. I don’t want to see … 
him.
”

“Damn it, Daphne!” Gabby looked at her watch. “I don’t
have time for this. I’m supposed to be in the counselor’s office in fifteen minutes. Ms. Kephart needs my scholarship application today. I’ve got to go
right now
!”

“Go ahead. I’ll take her.” Mule emerged from the house, holding his futuristic-looking calculator in his right hand.

Gabby shook her head. “She’s my problem. You go on. Save yourself.”

Daphne felt a little stabby at being referred to as a problem.

“Really, it’s no big deal,” he said. “I don’t have to be there for a while.”

Gabby looked at Mule, then at her sister. Her lower lip disappeared beneath her front teeth. “Fine,” she said finally. “But if she’s not there, she’s in the biggest trouble of her whole life.” She hesitated another few seconds before huffing away to the car. Mule and Daphne watched silently as she drove away.

“She’s right, you know. Staying home isn’t going to help,” Mule said. “You really do have to go to school now.”

“But I don’t think I can take it. Not the school part. The … being there.”

“Don’t worry about those jerks. They’re not worth stressing yourself out over.”

Daphne let out a sigh and slumped against a porch post. “You say that like it’s so easy. You guys don’t know what it’s like.”

“Maybe not exactly, but I’ve been their target before. They’ve shoved me in the halls and called me all kinds of bad things. They even gave me my nickname. Because of them
I’ve had to go through life being called a sterile hybrid farm animal.”

Daphne tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t stop her mouth from curving upward.

“Yeah, okay. It’s kind of funny—I know. But seriously, Daff. Those people don’t matter.” He walked over and placed his big hand on her shoulder. “You’re better than all of them.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not. You’re strong. You were willing to take a risk with someone. It didn’t work out, but so what? You were brave enough to go for it. Lots of us … lots of people never do that. You should be proud.”

Daphne met his gaze. He really did seem to believe what he was saying. Once again, he was calling her bold and brave. But was she?

Mule pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “Come on. Go back there and hold your head high. They can’t hurt you if you don’t let them.”

This made sense. She didn’t exactly feel strong, but maybe she could act it. Maybe she could pretend to be Gabby and raise invisible ice sheets around herself to stay safe from their teasing.

“Okay,” she said in a shaky voice.

“Atta girl,” he said. He started to steer her toward the Range Rover, but Daphne stayed put, gripping the post tightly.

“I’ll go. And it’ll be okay. Because … I’ll just avoid them,” she said, to herself more than to Mule. “I’ll ignore what they say and just stay by myself. That’s what I should do … right?” she asked him. “No one can hurt me if I’m alone.”

Mule smiled at her. “You won’t be alone,” he said, grabbing her hand. “I’ll be there if you need me.”

The car was doing that weird racing thing again. Gabby popped it into neutral at the stoplight, to prevent it from bucking up and down like a two-dollar mechanical bull ride. She just needed to get to Mule’s house. Maybe before they started studying he could check to see what was wrong. Maybe for some free pizza and Dr Pepper.

Good old Mule. She’d buy him a whole pizzeria if she could, just to make up for hurting his feelings Saturday night when she’d stupidly told him about Prentiss’s kiss—and for all his help that morning. She had no idea how he’d talked Daphne into going to school, but she was so glad he had.

She’d nearly done a happy dance when she saw her sister in the hallway before first period. Daphne seemed fine, too. Her eyes were rather wide and cautious-looking, but she’d smiled. She’d even given Gabby the smallest of waves.

Thankfully, the gossip mill had mostly turned its focus off of Daphne, which they should have expected. Lynette Harkrider had been caught messing around with the new assistant football coach, and the whole school was buzzing about it as if it were their very own daytime TV drama. Daphne’s antics were boring in comparison, barely worth a mild nudge and whisper.

So Daphne was sane again—or at least not as batty as she had been these past several days. Now it was Gabby who was acting loopy.

All day at school she’d been distracted and weird. Her
disobedient brain kept reliving her kiss with Prentiss, complete with cricket sounds, that strange shivery warmth, and a vague taste of spearmint. Because of these invasive daydreams, her notes were spotty and her planner was incomplete. She’d even stopped in the middle of the annex hallway at one point, unsure whether she was headed to AP English or physics.

It was scary. The only other time she’d lost control of her own thoughts was in the aftermath of Sonny’s death. But how could this cause the same reaction? Had kissing Prentiss triggered the muscle memory of her zombielike stupor four years ago? Or was it more like a pathogen? Maybe Prentiss passed along some sort of pernicious germ that was toying with her body temperature and causing sense-surround hallucinations.

She didn’t like feeling so powerless. The more she made herself examine the situation logically, the more she was convinced that what had happened on the porch was in no way significant. So what if Prentiss wasn’t as bad as she’d originally thought; that didn’t mean he was good … right? Besides, she was way too smart to fall for a handsome face. And they had nothing in common—absolutely zilch. She knew all this. So why wouldn’t her mind just accept it and move on?

“Stop being so stupid,” Gabby told herself. “Just get a grip.”

Great, now she was talking to herself. She really was sick. But it wasn’t as if there were a surefire cure. She couldn’t exactly kick him out of her mind.

Suddenly she had an idea.

The light changed. Gabby shifted back into drive and hit the gas before the Jetta could decide that it would rather sputter and die. At the next break in the median, she made a
quick U-turn, ignoring the groaning sounds in the steering wheel, and headed in the opposite direction, toward Elmhurst. Soon she was pulling down the Applewhites’ long crushed-granite driveway.

Prentiss was outside watering the rosebushes. He lifted his left hand in greeting as she drove past, then waited patiently for her to park the car and join him. For some reason, this irked her—even though she really was coming to see him. It was as if he was expecting her. As if he assumed everything was hunky-dory between them, which it so wasn’t. In fact, things couldn’t be weirder.

“Hi,” he said as she strode toward him.

“Hi,” she said back. Her voice came out all breathy and in the high soprano range; it seemed to belong to someone else entirely. This was going to be harder than she’d thought.

Gabby studied his face. His eyes were shielded by sunglasses, which made him tougher to decipher. His smile appeared warm, but was it genuine? He could be glad to see her. Or he could be congratulating himself on his little mind game of the night before.

“Have you had a nice day?” he asked, setting down the hose. Water bubbled up in the grass and began spreading out along the driveway. This seriously bugged her.

Prentiss walked over and stood beside her. Too close. She could now catch whiffs of his sweaty scent—which, surprisingly, wasn’t all that awful. His perfect teeth seemed extra-gleamy in the sunshine. Maybe too dazzling, too reminiscent of a game show host. Yep, he was probably mocking her.

“I came to tell you something,” she said. Again she winced at her airy, Marilyn Monroe–like tone. Clearing her throat,
she tried again. “I think it would be better if … if you stay away from me. From us.”

She paused, but he said nothing. She could see her own big-eyed, fearful expression reflected in the sunglasses. It only made her more irritated.

“Look, I know I haven’t been the best … um … tenant you’ve ever had,” she added. “I’m sorry for that. I’ve already apologized in the letter, and I hope you’ve forgiven me. I also hope you’ll let us stay here. I just think we should … stay out of each other’s way. Keep things professional.”

Again she stopped for breath—which she suddenly seemed to need a lot of. Still Prentiss didn’t move. He hadn’t even flinched. His lips were set in a squiggled line that could convey dismay or amusement, she couldn’t tell.

Gabby pulled her eyes away. Staring at his mouth reminded her of the kiss.

“Okay then. I just thought you should know,” she said, feeling as though her speech needed a closing statement.

When he still didn’t say anything, she spun around and headed toward the Jetta, careful to step over the small rivulet of water that was now coursing down the driveway.

“Wait,” he said.

Like a brainless automaton, she stopped and turned back.

“You still don’t trust me, do you?” he asked. He stepped forward, closing the gap between them so that they were back to a body heat–sensing distance.

Gabby stared down at her navy blue Chuck Taylors. What could she say? He was right; she didn’t trust him. But she didn’t want to make things worse by admitting it.

Besides, it was more than that. She also didn’t trust
herself. Her own feelings went completely haywire when it came to Prentiss. She liked him, yet she didn’t like him. She felt drawn to him—but she wasn’t sure if she was attracted to him or to some half-buried memory of Sonny. She thought he liked her, maybe even hoped that he did, but she also couldn’t buy it. Someone like him would never fall for her. The kiss had just been an anomaly—either a takedown ploy on his part or a glitch in his behavior brought on by stress and rage. The same way mugging victims sometimes laugh as they stare down the barrel of a loaded gun.

And even on the off chance that he did like her and she liked him, that could very well be the worst possible situation. Because such feelings never lasted. They just hung around long enough to create chaos.

The water was now pooling in a small hole along the side of the driveway, taking on a sickly, chalky color from the crushed gravel.

“You can’t stop blaming me for the crash,” he said, answering his own question since she’d gone mute. He shook his head. “I don’t get it. Are you always so hard on people? I mean, it’s not like you knew Sonny. Did you?”

She hadn’t meant to react. She just … did. Her body, for some reason, flinched in response. Her head jerked up and her torso shuddered. Gabby wrapped her arms around herself to stop the sudden flow of emotion. But just like the water racing down the lane, it kept on surging. The ache of loss. The confusion. The anger and unanswered questions.

“
Did
you?” Prentiss repeated. His softened tone revealed he’d noticed her spontaneous reflex.

Gabby’s hands flew to the sides of her head. She didn’t want these thoughts. She didn’t want to be here, with him, talking about this. “No,” she said to herself and the universe, but also to Prentiss. Because it was true. She hadn’t known Sonny—not really. She had no right to mourn him. No right to miss him or punish anyone for his death. “No,” she said again.