[Cybil]
I slip out onto the patio and look around. There are a few people sipping—or in some cases chugging—beer, but no one looks seriously trashed. Smoke drifts by an outside lamp post. A few couples are in various stages of lip lock.
I see Jillian totally entangled with Josh Rule, the wide receiver who caught the winning touchdown pass two weeks ago in the game with Alder. I think I’m completely safe in assuming Heather has no idea this is going on. But I have other things to worry about.
I find a flagstone path leading away from the house. It’s kind of dark, but I decide to follow it. Shrubs scratch my arms and snag on my clothes, and I almost trip over a tree root or something, but I manage to keep going. I hear some rustling in the bushes, and I wonder if maybe it’s Devon and Darcy.
I hear a moan, then a breathy voice that sounds like Bethany says, “Oh, Mitch!”
Bethany’s boyfriend is Kellen Pope. I can’t think of anyone named Mitch who would be at the party. Maybe it’s one of the guys from Madison. In any case, so not my problem. I ignore the grunting and groaning and continue picking my way along the path. I see a gazebo. There’s a guy in it, sitting on a bench. He’s alone, at least as far as I can tell. Is it Devon? It could be. I think it is!
I don’t see Darcy. I wonder if I should tiptoe over for a closer look, or stroll on down to the gazebo as if I didn’t realize it was occupied, and then act all surprised to find Devon there. I decide to stroll. Maybe if Darcy is nearby, she’ll return to the gazebo and find me with Devon and we’ll be all making out (I mean, I’m sure I can make that happen) and she will wish she were her real self again!
I saunter inside the gazebo. No Darcy. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize there was someone in here,” I say, all acting concerned that I’m disturbing Devon’s privacy.
“Darcy?”
He remembered “my” name! I’m not sure whether I should be pleased that he remembered “me,” or ticked that he remembered “Darcy.” “Uh, yes.”
“What’s up?”
Wait. The voice doesn’t sound quite right. I sit down. A shaft of moonlight filters through the gazebo and I realize I am next to Joey, not Devon. “Um, nothing,” I say. “Well, I was kinda looking for someone.”
“Devon?”
I don’t know why, but I don’t want to hurt Joey’s feelings, even though he doesn’t know I’m me, so I hesitate before I answer, “Uh, yeah.”
“Funny, I was looking for him too. Well, not him really, Cybil.”
“Ah, Cybil ….” I say. It’s weird, because I’m used to all kinds of guys drooling and lusting after me, but I’m flattered by Joey’s interest in the actual me.
“I mean, the party’s kind of blah, but I’m giving her a ride home, so I can’t leave until I find her ….”
“Yeah ….”
Suddenly, it hits me, like an apple fell out of the tree and plunked me on the head. If Joey and I together find Devon and Darcy together in a, um, what’s the phrase Mother uses? Oh, yeah, a compromising position. If that happened, Darcy would so be embarrassed, and totally worried that Joey would punch out Devon that she’d wish she were her real self again! I bet that would do it! In fact, I’m sure of it.
Then I as me again could tell Joey that everything was fine with me and Devon, that he didn’t have to give me a ride home and I’d find another ride (I mean, someone would give me a ride—I’m Cybil Sheffield!), then Joey and Darcy would leave, and I could resume whatever with Devon and live happily ever after, or at least have a great time at this party.
All we have to do is find Devon and Darcy.
[Darcy]
This licking business is creeping me out! I mean, where will Devon want to lick next?
There must be a not embarrassing way out of this! As Devon’s tongue flicks in and out of my ear (eww!) I try to think. From somewhere in the recesses of my brain, this emerges:
“Devon.”
No answer.
“Devon!”
Groggily, “What, luv?”
Perfect, he called me “luv!” “Um, I think it’s very sweet that you call me ‘luv,’ but …” Okay, here goes. “… I’d love it if you’d use my name sometimes, too.”
“Uh, righto. I’ll do that.” Lick.
Ugh. “I mean, now would be a nice time.”
“Now?” Devon gives me a funny little smile. “But we’re busy.” He fumbles with the hooks on my bra again.
I sit back hard and smoosh his fingers. “We could use a break. Come on. Use a sentence with my name in it.” This is beginning to sound like a vocabulary lesson, but hey.
“‘Your name is beautiful.” Devon smiles as if he’s just solved the mystery of the Stonehenge.
“Ha, ha.”
“Don’t laugh,” Devon says with a chuckle. “‘Your name is beautiful.” He starts licking my neck as if he thinks I’m really going to let him get away with that.
“Dev on!”
“All right, luv.” He wears a boyish, sheepish grin, but I can almost see the wheels spinning in his brain. He half closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and starts to whisper, “Sssssss.”
I’m thinking, okay, he’s dragging it out, but he’s going to say “Cybil.”
“Sssssmantha.”
“Wrong!” I try to wriggle out of Devon’s embrace. “My name is Dar—uh—Cybil!”
Devon holds me tight, one hand still under my top, up around the bra hook region. “Luv, luv,” he says in a voice full of anguish (or is it bullshit?) “I confess! I’m terrible with names. Always have been!” He pauses to give me a blushing, bashful look. “But I could never forget a face as beautiful as yours! You’re more beautiful than all the flowers on earth! More beautiful than all the stars in the sky!”
He’s good. I want to believe him. Maybe I should. I mean, this face is beautiful. It has one of the world’s greatest noses, after all.
“You have hair of gold, skin of ivory, eyes more beautiful than sapphires!”
Okay, I could get used to this.
“I could never forget a beauty such as yours!”
Sold! I nibble Devon’s earlobe.
Devon licks my neck.
I kiss Devon’s eye.
Devon kisses my chin.
At this point, even I am not sure what my name is!
[Cybil]
“Let’s go back in the house, and I’ll help you find ‘Cybil,’“ I say to Joey. “Maybe she’s ready to leave the party. Besides, I … I just told Winston I needed some fresh air. He’s probably wondering where I am.”
“Okay,” Joey says.
He’s probably hoping he won’t find “Cybil” and Devon all over each other. Not that I’m really looking forward to that scene either, mind you, but if us barging in on them in that kind of situation gets Darcy to totally wish she were herself again, then I’m all for it.
As we step back in the house I notice Snowball cleaning the floor with a sponge mop, bucket and all, and he so looks, like, frantic.
“Let’s check upstairs for Cybil,” I say, hoping to discover Devon and Darcy in a bedroom. I don’t want to find anything too shocking going on, ‘cause to tell the truth, I as myself have not done anything that would make headlines and I don’t want to get some rep and have every guy in school thinking he can knock boots with me. I only need to see enough for Darcy to be embarrassed for her brother to see her like that, even though she knows he’ll think it’s me. I’ll feel kind of bad for Joey, ‘cause he’ll be mad and hurt and probably devastated to see “me” with Devon like that, but some things can’t be helped.
“Hold on a sec,” Joey says. “I have to talk to Snowball.”
I decide to wander around while I wait. I think about getting a beer, but decide against it. I need a clear mind for the upcoming mission. I see Heather talking with Josh, and she’s all, like, smiles, so I guess she has no clue about his little adventure with Jillian. In a dark corner I spy Erin sitting on some guy’s lap, but I can’t see who because she’s practically devouring his face. In fact, whoever he is may be in danger of losing his tonsils.
Rachel and Vanna are sprawled on a sofa, and I can almost see spots dancing before their eyes. Rachel has a hand on her forehead, Vanna is clutching her stomach, and I have a feeling they’ve both spent some time recently hanging their heads over a porcelain bowl, the kind you, like, find in the bathroom.
Suddenly some guy lurches into me. It’s one of the Madison football players. I’m not sure who, just that he’s the bigger one. “Hi,” he says.
His eyes look like two red coals.
“Uh, hi,” I say, looking around for Joey. He’s still talking to Snowball, his back turned toward me.
“Nice party, huh?” Two hands the size of lobsters land on my shoulders.
“Yeah, nice.”
There are no further preliminaries. Madison guy’s arms engulf me, and next thing I know he is vacuum kissing my mouth. I’m afraid he’ll swallow my lips.
I can’t speak, I can’t even mumble. I try to push him away, but it’s like a moth trying to open a door. I don’t think he even notices that I’m so not enjoying this. In fact, judging by his hmmms and ummms and grunts and groans, I get the distinct feeling he thinks I’m deriving, like, great joy from having my mouth turned inside out.
“Excuse me,” someone says. “Ex CUSE me!
“Huh?” Mr. vacuum lips lets go of me and turns toward the voice, which happens to belong to Winston, whose finger is tapping vacuum lips on the shoulder.
“I just thought you’d want to know—your car is being towed.”
“What! Where? Why?”
Winston shrugs and simply points to the door.
Madison guy turns out to be surprisingly agile. Within less than two seconds he is out the door.
I am so relieved to be breathing again that I grab Winston and kiss him. “Thank you!” I say. “You saved my life. Or my lungs, anyway.”
A thin red line creeps up Winston’s face, and for a moment he is silent. Then he recovers. With an exaggerated bow and an English accent he says, “At your service, Eliza.”
The play. Ack! I’d forgotten all about it. Well, I can worry about that later. “Just one thing,” I say. “How did you know it was that guy’s car that was being towed?”
“I didn’t know anybody’s car was being towed,” Winston says. “But I figured that’d be a better way to get that behemoth away from you than trying to pry him off.”
“Good point.” I didn’t realize Winston was so quick-thinking. I see Joey is no longer talking to Snowball. “Uh, I have to go help Joey … with something. See you later.”
Winston scratches the back of his neck and gives me this odd smile. “Later.”
“Hey, Joey,” I say. “Is Snowball okay?”
“He will be,” Joey says. “But first, I’d like to find Cybil.”
I’m trying to think of a diplomatic way to suggest we look upstairs, when Francey materializes.
“Are you looking for Cybil?” Francey says to Joey, though she is talking into a cell phone. Without waiting for an answer, she says with an evil smile spreading across her thin lips, “I saw Devon leading her upstairs just a little while ago.”
“Thanks, Francey.” The corners of Joey’s mouth pull down as he grabs my hand. “C’mon, Darcy.”
[Darcy]
Devon’s fingers have fought their way between my back and the back of the sofa and they are twiddling with the hooks on my bra again. Eww! We’re right back where we were before I asked Devon to use my name in a sentence! Why did I let a little flattery go to my, uh, head and mess up my thinking???
Suddenly the hooks are unhooked and “my” breasts have escaped from their pen and are bounding around loose all over the place. Ick! Devon’s hand is fumbling around, trying to corral the right one.
“Samantha ….”
He still doesn’t remember “my” name, even after I just told him! How’d I get into this mess? Oh, yeah, one minute I have it all under control, the next minute Devon tells me I’m beautiful and here we are. I elbow Devon and start stuffing everything back into my bra and try to get it hooked all at the same time. This kind of thing never happened to me when I was Darcy! If I was still myself, things wouldn’t have moved so fast. There’d be no big breasts or perfect nose to automatically turn some guy on. Things would move slowly, the guy would get to know my personality, my values, my inner self, and then and only then would he be hot for me. I wish—
[Cybil]
Uh! What’s happening? Where am I? Why are my boobs all out of line? How did I get here? What is going on? Am I me again? I think I’m back in my body, but I don’t feel quite like me. Who’s sucking on my neck? “Devon?”
Devon removes his lips from my neck. His gaze rivets on my face for a second, then slides downward toward my boobs, where one hand, the one not on my waist, is about to make a landing. “Yes, luv?”
I grab both of Devon’s wrists and hold them tight in front of me as if I were going to lash them together. Devon may have spent a couple of hours working himself up to this point, but it’s all too sudden for me. I don’t even know exactly what’s been, like, happening! “Let’s … let’s slow down.”
“Luv,” Devon says with a crooked little smile, “you’ve been poked by half the blokes in this school. What’s once more with a fine fellow from England?”
Been poked? If that means what I think it means …. “Who told you that lie?” As if I don’t know. I’m gonna kill Darcy.
“Lie?” Devon looks genuinely puzzled. “That friend of yours.”
“Friend? Friend?” Darcy’s not my friend. Oh. He means an actual real-life friend. “Which one? Erin? Rachel? Vanna?”
“No, no, it begins with J. Janie? Julie?” Devon’s face splits into a wide smile. “She’s a cheerleader.”
“Jillian?”
“That’s it! Jillian!” Devon looks pleased that I figured out the right name, and totally clueless that I’m trying to decide whose head to pinch off first, his or Jillian’s. I’m thinking maybe it should be his.
[Darcy]
Hey, wait a second. What’s going on? What am I doing in the hall with Joey? I think I’m going to faint! Breathe, breathe!
Think! Where was I? Oh! I remember. Devon was trying to—yikes! I must be me again. I reach up and touch my nose. It’s mine all right—no cute little Cybil nose. But something still feels weird. Not quite … me.
“So, should we try every door?” Joey asks.
Try every door? Why would we be trying every door? Unless. Eep! He must be looking for Cybil! And even if I don’t tell him she’s in the art gallery (since, how would I know?), assuming she’s still there, he’s going find her, but, hmm, what will be going on? Will she pick up where I left off with Devon? Or will she be clobbering him? Either way, it’d tarnish Joey’s image of Cybil, and it wouldn’t even be her fault, exactly.
It wasn’t perfect being Cybil, what with having enemies, and not knowing if guys liked me because I was a great person or just because I was great looking. Having a family that wasn’t particularly family like sure wasn’t much fun. It’s weird, but I feel glad I’m myself again. Still, I liked being Cybil enough, at least temporarily, though maybe not all the time and probably not forever, and, I sure could’ve done without Devon groping me. In any case, I’ve been in her shoes and feel as though I should protect Cybil now. “Um, what if the rooms have other occupants?”
“Then we’ll close the door—real fast,” Joey says, apparently having made up his mind. He slowly turns the doorknob of door number one. It’s dark. It’s quiet. Joey flicks on the lights. Empty.
We go on to doors number two, three and four. Two and three are also dark, quiet and empty. Door four is occupied, but Joey flicks the lights on only long enough for him to determine the couple in shock sitting on the edge of the king sized canopy bed is not Cybil and Devon.
Two bathrooms are impressive with their marble countertops and gold fixtures, but are also, thankfully, empty.
We reach the end of the hallway where it connects with one off to the right. We see light peeking out from under the art gallery door. Maybe that’s a good sign. Since the lights are still on, maybe we won’t be interrupting anything drastic. On the other hand, the light factor didn’t slow Devon down when I was in there.
“Maybe that’s an office,” I whisper to Joey, hoping to spare him from whatever. “Maybe Mr. or Mrs. Cagle is working in there.”
“They’re out of town,” Joey reminds me.
“Oh, yeah.” You can’t say I didn’t try.
Joey opens the door.
[Cybil]
Ack. Joey and Darcy! At least my boobs are back in order and it looks as if we’re just sitting here looking at paintings.
“Hi!” I know my greeting is way more enthusiastic than it would be under ordinary circumstances. Would I even say hi under ordinary circumstances? But it gives me a chance to call a halt to the, uh, situation with Devon, at least until I can decide if a guy who talks about poking me is still worth the points I’d score popularity wise as his girlfriend, what with him being The Cool Exchange Student from England and all.
[Joey]
Ah. It looks as if they’re just sitting there looking at paintings. “Hi.”
[Darcy]
Weird. It looks as if they’re just there looking at paintings. “Hi.”
[Devon]
Blast. What are they doing here? We were in the middle of something, and it wasn’t just looking at paintings! “Hi.”
[Cybil]
“Is it that late already, Joey?” I say, figuring he’ll pick up on my cue that I want to leave. I need some time to rethink the whole Devon thing.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah! It’s time to go.”
“Luv,” Devon says, with a sort of pouty, lovesick, horny look on his face, “It’s early.”
“Sorry, Luv,” I say, “but I have to go.” I stand up and slip my arm through Joey’s and we start to leave. For a second it kind of looks as if Darcy is going to stay and hang out with Devon, but Joey grabs her hand and pulls her along.
Halfway down the hall, Darcy says, “Joey, I don’t have to leave the party yet.”
“Yes, you do,” Joey says, “unless you want Mom and Dad to find out you were here.”
Darcy gasps. “You’ll tell?”
“Yes, unless you leave with me and Cybil.”
“Hey!” Darcy exclaims.
Beyond that, she is speechless.
On the one hand, it must be a pain having an older brother telling you what to do. On the other hand, it must be kind of nice having an older brother always looking after you. I’ll miss that.
We get downstairs and Joey says to Darcy, “Find Pammie and Winston and Malcolm, and I’ll give you all a ride back to Pammie’s.”
Darcy opens her mouth as if she’s going to protest, but Joey just gives her this “look” and she caves. While Darcy is off rounding up the others, Joey tells me to wait a second, then goes up to Francey and takes her phone.
Francey stands there with her mouth open.
Joey says to whoever Francey was talking to, “Francey says goodbye,” then goes off in a corner and makes a call.
I notice Devon at the top of the stairway, scanning the room. He smiles. I follow the dots from his eyes and see they have landed on … Erin! Next thing, Erin is sauntering up the stairs and straight into Devon’s arms. For a second my heart shrivels, hurt more by Erin than Devon. I recover quickly, though. The truth is they deserve each other.
A phone rings. Snowball jumps on it immediately. “Hello?” he says in a really loud voice. “What? Oh. Sorry. Yes. Don’t worry, Mr. Jenkins. Right away.” He hangs up the phone and yells, “Quiet! Quiet everyone! QUIET!”
There is silence as everyone turns and stares at Snowball.
“That’s Old Man Jenkins. He says it’s way too loud here and if I don’t end this party right now he’ll call the police!”
Snowball doesn’t have to say another word. “Police” was enough to start a stampede.
[Darcy]
Odd, Winston has this funny little smile on his face, as if he’s awfully glad to see me, but I can’t think about that now. “We’ve got to go,” I say. “Joey’s threatening to tell the parental unit I was at the party if we don’t leave right now. Where are Malcolm and Pammie?”
“You rang?” Malcolm pops up from a sofa, pulling Pammie up from the cushion next them.
Have they been making out??? No time to ponder. “Joey’s pulled rank on me. We have to leave, as in immediately.”
I hear a phone ring, and I see Snowball grab it before the first ring ends.
“When did Joey get so bossy?” Pammie asks. “That’s not like him.”
I shrug. Even if I explained the whole situation, no one would believe me. I can hardly believe it myself.
Snowball yells for everyone to be quiet. He says something about Old Man Jenkins and it being too loud and the police. All around us, people take flight.
“Wow,” Winston says. “Joey must be clairvoyant or something.”
“Or something,” I say, as I see him handing a phone to a frantic looking Francey. “Let’s go.”
We work our way over to Joey and Cybil. Joey instructs us to take each other’s hands and form a chain, so we’ll all stay together. I’m not used to him barking orders, but I do as he says, and we all file out, Joey holds hands with Cybil, who also takes Winston’s hand, who takes mine, I take Pammie’s, ‘cause Malcolm insists he’ll, “guard the rear.”
I’m tempted to say something about how touching it is that he’s so concerned about Pammie’s butt, but I decide now is not the time for dumb jokes.
I see Erin at the top of the stairs, looking impatient. Devon is at the foot of the stairs. “Luv!” he says, trying to get Cybil’s attention. I can tell she saw and heard him, but she ignores him.
Snowball grabs Devon’s arm. “C’mon. We gotta get this place cleaned up!”
“Isn’t that what the char lady is for?” Devon asks.
“She’s the housekeeper!” Snowball says. “And she can’t see the place looking like this! She’d tell my folks and—”
By that time I’m out of hearing range, but I can imagine the rest. Snowball’s much too nervous to have a party with his parents being out of town. I bet it was Devon’s idea.
We get outside and it’s kind of a zoo with cars trying to pull onto the road from thirty seven different directions, but Joey leads us safely to the van and we pile in. Cybil doesn’t hesitate to sit in front, next to Joey, so the rest of us settle into the back.
Once Joey maneuvers onto the road and we are safely on our way, Malcolm says, “Gee, it’s amazing how Old Man Jenkins called to warn Snowball that he’d call the police.”
“Yes, it is fascinating,” Winston says, “especially the part about the noise bothering him, since I happen to know that Jenkins is hard of hearing and he takes his hearing aids out at night.”
It was so quiet, anyone, even Old Man Jenkins, could’ve heard a butterfly landing in the van.
Joey is so busted, and right in front of Cybil.