Sass & Serendipity (7 page)

It felt as if a mini-explosion went off in her chest. Yes! He’d written back!

Daphne ran her fingertip across the line of text. Somehow the words looked sweet coming from him. The font seemed
pretty, and the sentences brimmed with meaning. He’d thanked her for her message, which meant he was happy to hear from her. And he’d used her name! He couldn’t spell it, but so what? Just knowing that his fingers had typed it out made her shudder with excitement.

She paused. She really didn’t want to point out his misspelling, so she backed up and tried again.

She hit Send and perched on the edge of the couch, rocking back and forth with anticipation. And she waited. Her hands were so sweaty, she had to wipe them on her lap a couple of times so she didn’t lose her grip on the phone. And she waited, and rocked, and waited some more.

Finally the phone vibrated. Even though she’d been expecting it, she gave a little yelp of surprise.

Yes! Of course she would call him!

She chose him off her contacts list and pressed the button to connect. Two rings later she heard his voice in her right ear. “Hello?”

“Luke, it’s Daphne.”

“I figured,” he said with a chuckle. “This is better. I’m trying
to make something to eat and I can’t really do that and text too.”

“Wow. You’re cooking?”

“Well … it’s just a sandwich. It’s going to be a really good one, though.”

She laughed. “Hey, that counts.”

“Besides, I’m not much into texting. All that typing and writing—it feels too much like school.”

Daphne wasn’t sure what to say, so she just giggled again. How come she hadn’t noticed how sexy his voice was before?

“Maybe I’m just old-fashioned.”

“Me too!” she said. “I’m so old-fashioned, sometimes I feel like a freak.”

“Ha! I know what you mean. My friends at my old school kept teasing me about moving to the backwoods. They think it must be so boring here. But you know, I like small towns. You guys actually have a Main Street. And that’s its actual name.”

“Yep,” she said. “We’re very Norman Rockwell around here. We even have swimming holes.” She congratulated herself on remembering the name of the artist known for his wholesome and funny pictures of small-town life. Of course, she only knew about him because Gabby referred to him all the time when talking about Barton—usually in a snide tone. But still, Daphne was impressed with herself and hoped he would think she sounded smart.

“I love that the guy at the nearby gas station already knows my name,” Luke said.

“Gus?”

“Yeah! Gus! I love that his name is Gus, too.”

“We used to have a drive-in theater, but that closed when they built the new cineplex. And there was this general-store-type place, but that closed when the Walmart came.”

“Aw, too bad.”

“But Quick’s Pharmacy still has a real old-fashioned soda fountain.”

“Really? Cool! You know, we should go there and, like, get a sundae with two spoons.”

Daphne felt like squealing, only she wouldn’t let herself. Instead, the squeals built up inside her until it seemed her upper body might burst open. “That would be so great,” she said. “I wish I had something old-fashioned to wear. Like … a poodle skirt.”

“You’d look nice in a poodle skirt,” he said, his voice a low murmur.

Daphne fell sideways on the couch and hugged herself with her free arm. This was by far the sweetest conversation she’d ever had in her life.

“So … when do you want to go there?” she asked, barely able to take in enough breath to speak.

“I don’t know. Do you have plans tomorrow after school?”

Daphne thought about her promise to stop by the restaurant and apply for the hostessing job. But there would still be plenty of time to do that after hanging with Luke, right? There was no reason she couldn’t do both.

“No. No plans. Let’s go.”

“Sam Milburn has the most amazing tongue!” Lynette Harkrider exclaimed, gazing upward as if she could see a little thought bubble with his image in it.

Eight other girls, including Daphne, leaned toward her as if she were magnetized.

“He’s so cute!” Sheri Purnell said, emphasizing every word in her sentence.

Daphne thought Sam resembled a lizard too much to ever be considered good-looking. His eyes were so far apart, they were practically on the sides of his head, and he seemed almost hairless with his crew cut and sparse brows. Plus, like his reptilian brethren, he apparently had mad tongue skills. But she kept quiet. As a junior varsity cheerleader, Daphne had to defer to the varsity cheerleaders’ superiority. And Lynette was the most alpha one of them all.

She wasn’t even head cheerleader—that was Tricia Albright. But Lynette was the mouthiest and, according to public opinion, the prettiest. She had expertly styled honey-colored hair and skin that was a matching honey hue, and her
daily makeup job was as elaborate as a Monet painting. Daphne didn’t think Lynette was anywhere near as beautiful as Gabby; in fact, underneath all those dabs of color, Lynette was rather freckled and ordinary. But she did have the best legs of all the cheerleaders, and her painstaking morning routine probably should count for something. Thus, Lynette reigned as Queen Supreme at Barton High. And, of course, Gabby was too much of a sourpuss to seriously compete for the title.

“And he’s got these killer abs,” Lynette went on. “I mean, like,
underwear model
abs.”

“Is he taking you to prom?” Tricia asked.

Lynette made a face as if it was the most absurd thing she’d ever heard. “No way. It’s not serious or anything. We’re just having sex.”

Daphne stared at Lynette, with all her sultry confidence, and then studied the rest of the girls in her pre- and post-school hangout crowd. Being a cheerleader with a perky personality, she was part of the group by default, yet she often didn’t feel like one of them. She tried to emulate their style, painting her nails the color of the month, wearing slinky tops from the accepted stores (which she often had to hide under sweaters around her mom and dad), flirting with the jocks, and subscribing to similar views on boys, fashion, and which celebrities were considered awesome and should be copied. She didn’t have the years of gossip experience or the income bracket to be pitch-perfect, but she had managed to fake it so far. However, the one thing she never succeeded in adopting, or even credibly imitating, was their laid-back attitude toward sex.

Just sex
, Lynette had said.
Not serious
.

But how could sex not be serious? How could taking off your clothes in front of a guy and letting him touch you all over
not
be serious? Lynette and the others made it sound like a game of checkers.

It wasn’t as though Daphne were antisex. She loved it—or at least, she was pretty sure she would when she tried it. But to her it was something epic. Something that should be done on a deserted tropical beach or in a bedroom strewn with rose petals and lit by candles. Not in the dirt-strewn bed of a Dodge Ram or the auditorium’s fusty-smelling costume loft, in full view of any cockroaches or theater tech geeks. She didn’t want a cheap-sex kind of relationship. She wanted a guy who would look at her as if she was the most beautiful and amazing creature on the planet, who would pick her wildflowers and call her by a cute nickname and write her sweet little notes that he would tuck in secret places for her to find later. She wanted love—without all the smirks and cynicism. Real, unapologetic, romantic love.

Daphne’s anxiety must have shown in her expression, because suddenly Lynette was looking straight at her, her eyebrows raised into two perfectly plucked semicircles.

“What about you, Daff? Who have you been messing around with?” she asked. Or rather, demanded.

“Um … no one right now,” Daphne replied. Then she laughed. Not because it was funny—just to keep things light and make some extra noise.

“But isn’t there someone you like?” Lynette went on, one eyebrow now higher than the other.

“Well, yeah …” Daphne hunched slightly.

“I bet it’s the new guy,” Rachelle Waverly said. “I saw her waving at him in the hall today.”

“And Walt said they were totally flirting at Hawthorne’s Barbecue,” Sheri added.

Daphne just stood there, grinning stupidly, hoping that steam wasn’t rising from her face. She hated that they were talking about her as if she weren’t there. And she hated that they knew about her feelings for Luke. Not that it was a secret, necessarily, but there was no way they could understand how special her relationship with him was—or would be. She didn’t want them to twist it and spoil it with their small talk.

“You mean Luke?” Lynette seemed completely reinvigorated with this news. “Oh, my god! He’s, like, so preppy. I thought he was gay.”

“He came from a prep school!” Daphne said, a little too quickly and loudly.

Lynette held out her hands in mock surrender. “My bad. Obviously you would know whether he was gay or not.” She cracked up. The rest of the group started laughing hysterically.

Daphne giggled for the sake of solidarity, even though she didn’t think it was funny. And frankly, she didn’t really understand the comment.

“Look, there he is.” Megan Denson pointed across the courtyard. Daphne’s and seven other pairs of eyes followed her finger. Sure enough, there was Luke, standing next to the flagpole. He was rummaging through his backpack, pausing every now and then to glance around at the people scurrying past.

He’s looking for me
, Daphne suddenly realized.
He’s pretending to be busy while looking for me
.

It was the sweetest thing ever.

“Mmm. He really is cute,” Lynette said, making her voice low and provocative. “So glad to hear he likes women. If you’re worried, Daff, I’d be happy to make sure.”

Again the group of girls burst out laughing.

“Ha, ha. No, that’s okay,” Daphne said with a lame chuckle. “Ha, ha, ha.”

“You should go talk to him, Daff,” Rachelle said tauntingly.

Daphne couldn’t help grinning. “Actually, we sort of have plans. So … bye, I guess! See y’all tomorrow!” She shouldered her book bag and walked away.

She knew they would continue to talk about her after she left, distorting her and Luke’s special connection and making it into something crude. But she couldn’t worry about that right now. Right now she was just dizzy with joy at the sight of him.

It was almost scary how Luke had become so important so quickly. To think that only a week earlier she’d been walking these school corridors, totally clueless about his existence. She’d eaten her meals without composing cute text messages in her head. And she’d lain in bed without wondering what he was doing and whether he was thinking of her, too.

This had to be true love. No other guy had ever made Daphne feel this way. All her other crushes had been stupid and babyish. But this felt real. Important, even—as if she were fated to be with Luke. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was inscribed on an ancient scroll somewhere.

She crossed the courtyard in a few bounces and landed at his side. “Hi!” she said.

Luke looked up at her and smiled. “Hi.”

“Whatcha looking for?” She pointed to his backpack.

“My cell phone.” His forehead creased into a helpless expression. “It always ends up at the bottom.”

She giggled. “You expecting a call?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve met a lot of people so far.” He grinned a rather sad, lopsided grin and Daphne instantly felt foolish. Why did she have to ask him such a stupid question?

“But I did have a nice call yesterday,” he added, looking right at her and widening his smile.

Daphne’s heart seemed to swell inside her like one of those sponge toys that pop into animal shapes when you add water. One adorable grin from Luke and
sproinggg!
Instant giraffe.

“Ah! Found it.” He pulled a sleek smartphone out of his bag and held it up.

“Wow, that’s a nice one!” Daphne exclaimed. She was suddenly aware of her own phone—a three-year-old hand-me-down from her dad in the front pocket of her messenger bag. It was practically two cans attached with a string. Everybody seemed to have nicer phones—nicer everything—than she did.

Luke’s phone let out an electronic hip-hop tune as it powered up. “So let’s go,” he said, slipping it back into his pack. “Where is this place anyway?”

“Just follow me.” She ambled in the direction of downtown, pulling him with her smile. Luke returned the grin and fell into step beside her.

“So does this place have root beer floats?” Luke asked as they crossed Jefferson Street toward the center of town. The chatter and traffic sounds of school dismissal had faded to a low drone.

“Yeah.” Daphne’s eyes swiveled up to the cloudy sky. “I mean … I think so. It’s been a while since I’ve been there. But I’m pretty sure I’ve had one before. I think I’ve had one of everything. My dad used to take us all the time when he …” She paused. She had been about to say
when he lived with us
but decided not to. It sounded so pitiful. Plus, it still hurt to admit out loud that he’d left. “… when we were little,” she concluded. That was better. She’d tell Luke the truth eventually, but not today. Today was going to be all about fun.

As they crossed the small footbridge over Chandler Creek, she caught sight of their dim reflection in the water below. There they were. The two of them. Side by side. Her big mass of dark tresses and red T-shirt, and his russet-colored hair and green button-down. The images were all wavy, almost dreamlike. Daphne hadn’t even realized she was smiling until she saw her white teeth shining back at her on the rippling surface.

Luke stopped, rested his forearms on the wooden rail of the bridge, and gazed upstream. “Wow. This place is so cool,” he said, gesturing toward the water, the live oaks on the shore, and the cluster of nineteenth-century storefronts on the street beyond. “Small but nice. Like Mayberry or something.”

“It is,” Daphne agreed. She’d never fully appreciated how
special her town was, but Luke was right. For some reason, it seemed extrapretty right now. She loved the way patches of light danced on the ripples below and the way the live oaks bowed reverently toward the water. Beyond the trees she could see the very tops of Main Street’s buildings, with their dates of completion etched below their curvy rooflines: 1898. 1901. 1903. The smell of brisket from Hawthorne’s Barbecue comingled with the scents of caliche and pecan buds and fresh grackle poop. There was even a sound track of local noise to go with the postcard-pretty scene: the trickling of the creek in its limestone bed, the whir of unseen cicadas, and the creaking of the weather vane atop the old, restored Grayson house, now used for the chamber of commerce.

“Hey, lookee here.”

She looked at Luke and found him completely bent over. He picked something up off the worn planks and held it up between his thumb and forefinger. A tarnished penny.

“That’s lucky,” she remarked.

“For you,” he said, holding it out to her.

Daphne glanced from Luke’s aqua eyes to Lincoln’s somber profile cushioned within his open hand. It was so sweet! Maybe even symbolic. Today a penny … Soon, a bouquet of flowers … And after that, on some beautiful day, perhaps in this very same spot, a promise ring …

“Thanks,” she said. Her fingertips brushed against his palm as she took the coin, and a warm sensation skittered up her arm.

None of the other guys would do this. They never stopped to pick up pennies or take in the wonder of their surroundings. All they cared about were their trucks and the score of
the latest football game. Once again Daphne had an overwhelming sense that this was significant—part of her personal history in the making. Someday she and Luke would be sitting on a porch, holding hands and watching the sunset, and Luke would say, “Remember the first time we went to Quick’s Pharmacy?”

And the penny would be in a little frame hanging on their wall.

They started walking again, past the post office and the new white brick library that had been completed the summer before. Eventually they reached the limestone facade of Quick’s Pharmacy.