Janine shifted on her stool at the Sweetie’s counter, nearly falling off. “Holy shit! You went to Joshua Tree and found a pair of cojones on a cactus.” She frothed at the mouth. “So, on a scale of one to ten…”
Daphne paused from washing the scooper in the sink. “An eight.”
“An eight? That sounds horrific.”
“I initiated. If he would’ve kissed me, it would’ve been a nine.”
“A nine? It should be an eleven!”
“It can’t be more than one hundred percent. It’s statistically unsound and makes the whole rating system irrelevant.”
“Why not a ten?” Janine planted her cheek into her fist.
Daphne continued scrubbing the scooper, the metal lever jangling in defiance. “I’ve kissed three people in my life. I don’t want to set the bar at perfection with someone I’ll never kiss again. That’s madness. And, actually, since I don’t give out tens, nine is ten. I’m downgrading it to seven and a half. A seven-and-a-half kiss, ladies and gentlemen, nothing to daydream about here.”
Janine shook her head slowly. “Poor puppy.”
Lumping the three kisses together further diminished the shining glory of the Oliver kiss. Putting Janine’s stupid cousin, Oliver, and Andrew Taylor in the same sentence tallied a dispiriting average on human lips.
Andrew (still revered for taking down the class bully in fifth grade with his accidentally perfect dodgeball launch) had been her first kiss. His kiss was only engraved in her mind forever because of the happenstance of it being the first. The Andrew kiss wasn’t worth expanding on because it wasn’t good (even to a girl who fiercely wanted to be kissed, who had an open mind and nothing to compare it to), and it was done on a dare. The dare had not been Daphne’s, and Andrew had publicized his disgrace after its fulfillment. Douche.
Daphne stopped torturing the scooper and set it on a towel to dry. “So want to go stag to prom with me?”
“I don’t even want to go.” Janine swallowed. She’d dialed down the usual volume in her voice to barely a whisper. “I got turned down.”
Daphne was equally surprised and sympathetic. “You asked someone?”
The words tumbled out against Janine’s will. “Mel Jennings.”
“Mel? She’s hot. I love her hair.”
Now it was Janine’s turn to be surprised. She sat up but kept her words low. “We’ve been hooking up since New Year’s.”
“The closet at Penny’s.” It all made sense. Janine hadn’t been getting high, she’d been getting some.
Janine hung her head, torn between guilt and delight in her mischief.
“You literally fell out of a closet with Mel!” Daphne folded over laughing.
“I’m glad you find my coming out so funny.”
Daphne cackled. “And you closed the door! You left her in there.”
“She’s still in there.”
Daphne dug into the freezer, scooping out a cone. “Well, there’s something sexy in a secret. Until it would be sexier if it wasn’t a secret.”
Janine’s mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. “How long have you known?”
“I don’t know. A while. I knew you’d talk about it when you were ready. Talking is kind of your thing.”
Janine nodded.
Daphne handed her a cone with a scoop of mint chip. “You look like you could use this. Sexual liberation ice cream on the house.”
“You da best.”
“So, on a scale of one to ten, what’s kissing Mel?”
“A ten!”
“Not even a 9.9, like gymnastics before they messed it up?”
“You know me. It’s a ten or nothing.”
Daphne laughed with her whole body, the oxygen of a thousand trees filling her blood. For a few minutes, she forgot all about Oliver Pagano.
• • •
In the three weeks since the Jimmy Choo blowout, Daphne had come to terms with not seeing Oliver again until prom. She hadn’t visited the chapel after school, nor dropped off any notes anywhere else. He hadn’t called or texted, probably didn’t miss her at all, which was particularly infuriating. A nerve in her left eyelid would twitch if she thought about it for more than five minutes. By this point, the twitch was commonplace.
She was leaving Sweetie’s after her shift when she spotted someone leaning against the side of the building.
The shadow spoke, “Hey.”
She didn’t look at him because she didn’t want to smile. She didn’t want to cry. “Hi, Oliver.”
“I found a trail that has a waterfall. For Niagara Falls.”
She shook her head, “I don’t know…”
“We’ve come this far. We’re almost done. It’s crazy to quit now.” Desperation overwhelmed the enthusiasm in his voice.
She remained uninspired. “Maybe the crazy part was starting in the first place.”
He ignored her negativity and kept buzzing like a salesman. “We could go tomorrow morning.”
“I’m working tomorrow morning.”
“I know, I called and asked Jed which shifts you were working this week.”
Daphne glanced inside. Behind the counter, the freckles on Jed’s cheeks rose with pride. She swung the door open. Paired with the glare on her face, the bell clanging against the door frame didn’t have a welcoming effect. “Jed, from now on, never give out my shift information.”
Jed’s cheer faded into failure. She started to let the door close and swung it open again, attempting to remove the bullet she’d lodged in the messenger. “Please.”
“I asked him to switch shifts with you tomorrow and he said he would,” Oliver explained.
She swung the door open again. “Jed, from now on, please don’t switch shifts with me unless I ask you to.”
Jed nodded, beaten by the day.
“I also told him to cover for you if your mom calls,” Oliver added.
Daphne swung the door open again. “Jed, if my mom calls, please cover for me. Cleaning the bathroom, you know the drill.” The door fell to a close and she tugged it back open. “Thanks, Jed.”
Jed beamed, redeemed.
“He likes you,” Oliver stated the obvious.
“Who doesn’t?” Passive aggression was her current superpower.
“Let me give you a ride home.”
“I want to walk. I’ll see you tomorrow at ten.” She hastened without glancing behind her. However long he’d lingered or watched her, she was five blocks closer to not caring.
The next morning came sooner than she’d expected. She knew getting in Oliver’s car was a mistake before he’d even pulled up to the curb. She wasn’t in the mood to socialize, to swallow her feelings, to be the bigger person, to be an adult. Yes, she was being petty, but she didn’t care. She’d been an adult for the last seven years. It was someone else’s turn.
Upon arrival, Oliver was his usual, considerate self. He’d packed them lunches, brought enough water for two camels, and carried it all in his own bookbag, leaving nothing for Daphne to bear except the weight of her mind.
They started out on the wooded, secluded trail. Ten minutes away from civilization and they were in the middle of nowhere. That was the magic of the L.A. foothills.
“What are you doing after prom?” Oliver asked.
Daphne heard the same reluctance in his voice that she felt in her own stomach. Yet, they’d both been compelled against their better judgment to make this day work. “Norae bong,” she said.
“What’s that?”
She wasn’t in the mental state to play this game. Prom would always be a spot that was sore to his touch, after-party included. “It’s karaoke, but better. Why are you asking? It’s not like you care.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t care.”
Daphne responded with a huff. She had only bitterness to expel and he didn’t deserve it, so she stopped there.
Oliver accepted the olive branch. “Fine, we won’t talk. Let’s enjoy nature.”
Waves of nausea rolled through Daphne. Spending time with Oliver used to make her feel queasy in a good way. Now the movement of her innards felt like E. coli consumption. There was such a fine line between elation and lethal bacteria.
The awkward hike stretched for miles. They got to the waterfall, a sad excuse for a stream that happened to be flowing in a downward motion. Under normal circumstances, she would have ooed and aahed at the sight of trickling water in the Los Angeles metropolitan area. But with prom looming and the tension of the delayed arrival of her Berkeley acceptance, Daphne was not romanced by small quantities of dihydrogen monoxide.
“This is it?” she muttered.
“You were expecting Niagara Falls?”
“I was at least expecting something pretty.”
“It’s pretty. Kind of.”
“You could stand at the top and pee and it would have the same effect.”
“I’d have to consume a lot of beers.”
“Anything is possible if you put your mind to it.”
Oliver couldn’t tell if they were tossing jokes or hurling insults. “You must think very little of how I spend my time.” He smiled.
“Who even wants to go to Niagara Falls, anyway? What’s the big deal?”
“Well, it’s huge. The photos probably don’t do it justice.”
Daphne’s face burned. “It’s a suicide hot spot.”
“Don’t go there, Daph.”
“They probably made elaborate plans to jump off together holding hands.”
“You’re making this ugly when it was probably innocent.” He scratched his neck. “You know there’s always a rainbow at the bottom of the falls, where the mist hangs in the air?”
“Too bad they’d never see past the rain. And when did you become a ‘there’s a rainbow at the end of everything’ type of person? It’s trickery of light. You’re resting your laurels in illusions, now?”
“I never would’ve brought you here if I thought it would upset you.”
“What did you hope to accomplish?” She asked as an emotionless, blank slate so he’d have to give a real answer.
“I wanted to check something off the list.” He took a breath, knowing he needed to reveal more. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted things to feel normal again.”
“Maybe this is the new normal.”
“You want that?”
“I can’t change it. Neither can you.”
They turned together and began the long walk back to the car. Birdsong grated against her eardrums. Oliver kicked a pinecone into the dense trees, playing games.
“Why are we doing the list?” she snapped. “Emily and Jason aren’t watching us. We aren’t learning anything about them. And whatever I’ve learned about you and myself, I wish I didn’t know.”
“You mean that?” He sounded like he’d been punched in the face, rubbing his sore cheek in disbelief.
“No. But I wish I did.” She searched the sky for clouds but found only blue and smog.
He spoke with pauses, giving her chances to cut him off. “Then we should stop. Hanging out. The list. Everything. Finito.”
Daphne nodded, not out of anger or exhaustion or grief. She nodded because she wanted it to end. He was right. She wanted more from him than she was ever going to get. It was time to let go, even if that meant letting go of Emily, too. It wasn’t worth finding Emily if it meant losing herself.
“Whatever we’re doing, it’s important. It means something.” He glanced down, unwilling to beg to her face. Oliver wasn’t ready to let go, but he wasn’t ready to hold on.
“I think I’ve gotten everything I can get from the list. It’s been…” She didn’t owe him absolution or contempt. “You know what it’s been.” She looked straight at him, neither happy nor sad, but no longer bitter. It was the least she could do for Oliver, Emily, Jason, and herself.
“Give me some more time. To figure things out.” His eyes were still in the dirt.
“What things?”
“About dating…seeing…you.”
“Oliver, I’m not big on ultimatums, but if you wanted to be with me, you’d already know. I’ve accepted that. It’s time to move on. For both of us.”
“I’m complicated.”
“You’re not that complicated.” She smirked at him, a smirk from the past with no subtext, all in good humor.
He craned his neck, acknowledging one of his many flaws.
The ride home was quiet, but it wasn’t the airtight seal of recent car rides. The air between them blew mild amidst the melancholy wafts of uncertainty coming from the vents. The list was over. Something new had to begin for both of them, and neither of them knew what that would be.
Daphne received the answer when she emptied her mailbox that evening. One of the items was a fat packet addressed to her from The University of California, Berkeley. It should have been the happiest moment in her life. Instead, all of her energy, positive and negative, had been exhausted on Oliver Pagano: trying not to be angry with him or upset at herself for giving up on him, stamping down the warm dust that fluttered through her whenever the sound of his voice crossed her mind, trying to prepare for the devastation of seeing him with Penny at prom.
As Daphne reached her front door, she recouped a piece of her joy. Berkeley was her ticket out. No more parents, no more Oliver, no more L.A. desert masquerading as an oasis. In four months, she would be in a land of redwoods and bridges and rain and seasons.
The sound of her parents’ muffled arguing from their bedroom further validated her future relocation. In response to her mother’s condescending Of courses and Typicals, Daphne’s dad said phrases that included Can’t afford it and Debt and Mortgage.
“What about Daphne?” her dad asked.
“What about her? She’ll be fine,” her mom snapped.
The rest of the argument was too garbled for Daphne to hear. She closed her bedroom door and buried herself under the covers with Elliott Smith. She would take out every student loan herself if it meant escaping out from under the roof that held together these miserable rooms, the ghost of Emily around every corner.
• • •
Daphne zipped up her prom dress, a purchase made based on the best sale price to lack-of-hideousness ratio. In the end, a simple blue-silver sheath had been the standout. In certain lighting scenarios, it matched her eyes. Daphne liked how different it made her feel, elegant and sophisticated, two words her usual style never evoked. She paired the dress with nude heels and a carefully curated assortment of chunky necklaces that would make Iris Apfel proud.
She applied a more natural version of makeup than she normally wore and tried to convince herself that it wasn’t for Oliver. It was for a change. Lots of photos would be snapped tonight, and it would be good to show off her natural beauty, though she still doubted its existence.
While meticulously blending her eyeshadow and highlighting her cheeks, Daphne saw Emily through her reflection. Her sister never made it to senior prom. The rational part of Daphne’s brain told her that she was far more fortunate than Emily. She wasn’t tortured in the same way. The parts of Emily’s neurology that dangled like a broken rope bridge were (mostly) connected in Daphne’s brain. Her thoughts could safely cross back and forth in her mind. Even though her life wasn’t going to follow the scenic hike that flashed through her daydreams, there was a calm voice somewhere deep inside telling her that it was going to be okay. She never felt any temptation to end it all. The only times she never wanted to wake up were the nights she cried herself to sleep. But she always awoke refreshed and ashamed of her morbid wish. If a night’s dreams could wipe a day away, she could only imagine what a couple years at Berkeley would do.
Still, there was that irrational part of her brain, the part that ran on passion and jealousy. The part that saw Romeo and Juliet as fifty percent romance and fifty percent tragedy. It casually whispered how lucky Emily had been in high school. She’d had a boyfriend who’d spent every moment beyond sleep and school with her.
Emily and Jason watch a movie on the couch. The white-blue light from the screen flashes on their faces. Jason’s arm wraps around her; she doesn’t need a blanket. She nestles her head into the crook of his shoulder and he rests his chin on her head.
In the end, they had loved each other so much, their illness so in sync, that they’d chosen to die together. Why did Emily get to have that love, but she didn’t?
The sun caught the edge of the 2006 nickel on the right side of her dresser. White light lasered into the mirror and blinded her. Daphne slid the nickel to the left. The sound of smooth metal against lacquered wood was satisfying on this dismal day. She propped the nickel against the mirror, Jefferson at ninety degrees. Above him, her face looking back from the mirror was incomplete.
Oh, fuck it.
She blotted on the oxblood lipstick and felt like herself.
The moment Daphne climbed in the limo bus and saw The Drama Crew and Janine, her dread melted away. Holly, Macy, Anna, Danielle, and Janine looked like different, more enhanced versions of themselves in colorful dresses and prim up-dos, and Kyle was dapper in a tux. The group cheered her entrance and adorned her with a tiara before she could refuse.
Prom was like any other dance—not so different from any other day at school, really. Removed from the classroom, the class clowns still carried on with their attention-seeking antics, the jocks were still jocks, the geeks still geeks. Fancy clothes changed nothing.
The first thing Daphne did was search for Oliver and Penny under the guise of dancing with The Drama Crew. They were easy to spot in the middle of the dance floor. Daphne took a moment to soak them in, admire the flawless fit of Oliver’s tux, the crisp edges of his bowtie, his jawline catching the glow of the disco ball.
Janine brushed up against Daphne. “You’re torturing yourself.”
“No, I’m facing my torture and accepting it, so it won’t be torture. There, it’s done.” She turned to Janine. “How about you?”
“I don’t think Mel’s coming. She’s not so far in the back of the closet that she’d come with a guy for cover. Would she? Man, I didn’t even think about that. Thanks.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Daphne apologized.
Janine twirled her around. As Daphne spun away she tripped over a pair of feet, stumbled, and was steadied by a firm pair of hands gripping her arms. Oliver’s face beamed down at her.
“Two left feet,” she conceded.
“Bad for dancing.”
“And Jimmy Choos.” She winced after saying it. The last thing she wanted was to ruin her own night by picking a fight with her nondate.
His face took on a serious tone, but he hadn’t come to fight, either. “Daphne Bowman, quickest tongue in the West. You look…stunning.”
Her skin went hot and bright red.
“You like how I ignored the Jimmy Choo comment?” he teased.
“Like how I ignored your fake compliment?” She smiled.
“Not fake. And not generic,” he reprimanded her.
“You didn’t wear the chicken suit. Big miss.” She shook her head. “You look hideous.”
Penny slid up to Oliver and snaked her arm around him. “I think he looks pretty damn handsome.”
“There, it’s decided.” Daphne winked at Oliver, the same wink she tossed him when she snuck out of work. The wink from slippery shrimp and Thanksgiving, a lifetime ago. The spark of recognition in his eyes made Daphne’s stomach bubble, a sensation that cued her exit. With a bizarre combination of the sprinkler and the moonwalk, Daphne shimmied over to Janine.
“That was hot.” Janine snickered. “The dancing, not the weird ménage à trois.”
“That was my Patronus dancing. Watch all the boys come flocking. Wait for it…”
“They’ll get here. Just might not be tonight.”
“Maybe they’ll be waiting when I get back from the bathroom.” Daphne did more of her sprinkler-moonwalk while scooting off the dance floor. She could still hear Janine snort from twenty feet away.
In the restroom, Daphne found herself hurrying, anxious to get back out on the floor. Despite being dateless, the night was shaping up to be fun, and Oliver was simply another body, another faceless penguin blurred by music. When she exited the stall, ready to repel whatever the dance floor might throw at her, a figure in red waited near the door. It took Daphne a couple seconds to notice that all the stalls were open. She was alone in the bathroom with Penny Layton.
Penny laid menacing eyes on Daphne. “You said there was nothing between you and Oliver.”
Daphne washed her hands. This conversation was so fun the first time, it must be had again! Daphne punched the soap dispenser as though it had wronged her. “No, I said we weren’t hooking up. Whatever is between us, is between us.”
Daphne shook the excess water off her hands and stepped toward the door. Penny lurched sideways to block her exit. “Oly told me about the list.”
The betrayal cut Daphne to the core. She hadn’t even told Janine about the list in any detail. Wasn’t it enough that Oliver and Penny were sucking face and probably much more? Now Oliver had given away the only part of him that Daphne possessed.
“What did he say?” Daphne didn’t mean to ask the question out loud. It was supposed to remain between her ears, pounding back and forth to the beat of injustice.
“That’s between us.” Defensiveness trembled through Penny’s voice, a frailty Daphne could easily identify because she’d heard it in her own voice so many times. It was all so ironic. Daphne couldn’t keep herself from laughing, a full, rough cackle.
“What’s wrong with you?” Penny tried to sound superior, but intimidation tinged her question.
Penny’s doubt only fueled Daphne’s laughter. Here she was, spending her prom cornered in a bathroom by the dance captain. Penny’s prettiness and popularity had unraveled, her insecurity laid bare. This is what Oliver Pagano did to girls without even trying. Daphne’s own emotional threads from Oliver were still frayed.
“He’s here with you. What more do you want? You’re Penny freaking Layton.” Daphne pushed past Penny, not hard enough to knock her over, but hard enough to let her know that the conversation was finished, and Penny’s pom-poms couldn’t save her.
Daphne raced out onto the dance floor and lost herself in her circle of friends, jumping up and down to the beat of the bass, one song dissolving into the next. She was jarred into the present time and space when the percussion dropped out and the music slowed to a romantic sway. The Drama Crew grumbled to each other and crept off the dance floor, making space for the couples of the night.
At the edge of the dance floor, out of the corner of Daphne’s eye, a set of fingers tapped on Janine’s shoulder. Daphne and Janine turned around to see Mel, a vision in white, the crown of her blonde hair and bangs swept into a pompadour. She nervously scratched the lower half of her head, which was shaved.
“Wanna dance?” Mel’s face was a diorama of emotions. Awe tightened her forehead, wonder glittered in her eyes, her cheeks glowed with three shades of embarrassment, and her lips pursed in anxiety. Janine might say no.
Daphne watched Janine’s face. She thought of ten wisecracks Janine would make if she saw this romantic display happening to someone else. Presently, Janine’s brain was in emotional overload. Her entire body froze. All that came out was a sluggish nod. It was enough. Janine took Mel’s hand and they moved to the dance floor, the slow song pushing them together and holding them tightly.
Janine’s triumph warmed Daphne. The other girls and Kyle cooed, and for ten seconds all was right with the world. Holly leaned over to Daphne. “Best prom ever.”
The description was accurate. For all her erroneous, silly, and masochistic notions about romance, Daphne still had the ability to be pleasantly surprised. Just then, an even larger surprise stepped in front of her. Oliver held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”
She examined his face, thinking she might have imagined his words. His eyes held that tarnished glimmer that only shone when he told the dark, absolute truth.
“I don’t know, I have to check my card. It’s pretty full.” She should have said yes. Simple, direct, easily translatable. Every cell in her body screamed yes at a rate five times her heartbeat. Instead, she’d blurted out the usual sarcasm like an asshole Jane Austen. Noticing Penny’s red silhouette looming in the distance, she corrected herself. “Okay, I think I’m available.”
Oliver led her to the middle of the floor. She clasped her hands around his neck and rested her cheek against his chest. Where she belonged. He wrapped his arms around her waist and they swayed like this until the final chorus.
Oliver loosened his hold and Daphne lifted her face from the pectoral pillow. The disco ball cast colorful trapezoids on his face. His mouth struggled in an effort to smile or speak or kiss her, Daphne couldn’t tell. The slow music bled into “Jump Around” and the bodies around them multiplied and flailed up and down. The door to the moment was closing. Daphne looked up at Oliver and pled for him to hold it open. Do something, anything.
But the door was heavy, and he crumpled against its weight. “Song’s over.” The last of his fingers lifted off her hips. He began to shift with the current around him. “It’s not about the song.” The dullness in his eyes cleared to amber, and he devolved into another meathead jumping up and down to a song that was older than all of them. “Come on, jump!”
She took a step back and he touched her arm. His jumping didn’t miss a beat. “No, stay. Come on.”
She yelled over the music. “Maybe it is about the song.”
“Daph…” Oliver stopped. He didn’t know what to say.
Daphne read the small lines in his forehead. He knew what he should say, and he knew what he wanted to say. Floating around behind his skull were two conflicting statements, so he said nothing. His unspoken lie and truth whipped around her until the notions of each were evaporated by the shrill bleating of the song. Daphne’s pulse rattled in her chest. She was furious for allowing herself to be sucked into the Oliver vortex yet again.
Meanwhile, Penny put her dance skills to good use and bounced through the crowd. She appeared at Oliver’s side like a magic trick, the big reveal. The dance floor was all smoke and mirrors. Now Daphne could see all the illusions crystal clear. The reflecting light of the disco ball illuminated the truth. “My card’s full. So is yours,” She turning on her heel.
Daphne bobbed with the music through the crowd to Janine, Mel, and the rest of her group of thrashing kangaroos. She wasn’t ready to headbang yet, but their vitality was infectious and welcome. With each hop, her heart calmed. With each push off the ground, she pumped air into her deflated self.