That Girl, Darcy Read online

  “I doubt it,” she said with an indignant frown.

  And why are we dancing, again?

  “I can think of one thing we have in common,” I said, realizing that I only got a response out of her by offending her. “Gabby Whitney. The two of you have . . . history, I understand. You were friends?”

  Darcy’s jaw set, and I felt her tense. A slight, barely noticeable redness touched her face. “Gabby’s always making friends,” she muttered, almost to herself. Then she looked up and said directly to me, “She’s very good at that. Keeping them, though, that’s another story entirely.”

  The song ended and the lights brightened.

  “Time for a change of pace,” said the DJ. Electro-pop music started pumping through the speakers, and all around us the dance floor morphed into something more like a mosh pit. Darcy and I were caught in the middle of it, just standing there staring at each other.

  “What were we talking about?” she asked.

  “We were having trouble settling on a topic,” I said dryly. Now that our dance was over, I had no reason to keep trying to make conversation. Excusing myself, I fought my way off the dance floor and back onto the fringes. I headed back to the snack table, taking the long way.

  I was surprised when Darcy popped up alongside me.

  “Tell me, Elliott,” she said, pronouncing my name with strange emphasis, “what don’t you like to read?”

  I slowed my pace. “What don’t I read?”

  “You work at a bookstore. You obviously have some propensity for literature, and therefore asking what you enjoy reading reveals nothing at all. Your dislikes are much more telling,” she clarified.

  Despite the condescending tone with which she explained her logic, I had to admit it was sound. “Books with bad endings,” I told her.

  “That’s limiting.” Her face was unreadable.

  “Speaking of limiting,” I turned to face her, “what do you have against friends? Having friends is never a bad thing.”

  She lifted her nose a little higher than I thought was necessary. “It can be, actually. Under the right circumstances.”

  “Really, and what are those?”

  We had stopped again, with less than two feet between us, forcing what traffic there was to go around us. But I hardly noticed anyone else.

  Darcy chewed her lip for a moment before speaking. “Friends are privy to your darkest secrets, and there are only so many people who can know a thing before it becomes common knowledge. The way I see it, a smaller circle is less complicated. It’s less likely you’ll be betrayed that way.”

  Funny you should mention that. “I think that’s a risk worth taking.”

  She dismissed this with a wave. “Of course you do. You have no shortage of friends.”

  Something about the way she said “friends” annoyed me. “I just don’t have secrets,” I huffed. “Besides, having a conversation with someone doesn’t mean you’re friends.”

  Take the two of us, for example.

  “Some people aren’t worth talking to,” she said for the second time.

  “And yet you’re talking to me,” I said, more to spite her than anything, “I wonder what that means.”

  Darcy started to reply, but stopped short and scowled. “What, indeed?”

  All this cryptic behavior was really starting to grate on my nerves. “So, just so I understand you properly, you don’t think most people are worth talking to, and you hold grudges. Right?”

  “Yes—”

  I refused to let her finish. “And you believe that intelligent people are better than other people?”

  “What’s your point?” she asked.

  I tried to keep from rolling my eyes. “Nothing, I’m just trying to figure you out.”

  She crossed her arms. “And what have you ‘figured out’ so far?”

  I thought about it. By all accounts—mine included—Darcy was arrogant and cruel. All accounts save one: Bridget’s. I glanced back to the dance floor, where she and Jake were doing some sort of dance I’d never seen before. It looked like a cross between the Macarena and the Electric Slide.

  I looked back at Darcy. How could someone like Bridget stand being friends with someone like her? I didn’t buy into Bridget’s being that clueless. No one could be that clueless.

  “I’m . . . I’m not sure,” I admitted.

  Darcy stared at me with a face that was frustratingly indecipherable. “Be sure to let me know of your progress in that endeavor.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. She brushed past me and disappeared.

  I wasn’t out of the woods yet, because when I turned around I nearly ran face first into Calvin.

  “Hello, Eric,” he said in his usual clipped tone, staring down his nostrils at me.

  “It’s Elliott,” I groaned. “What do I owe the honor this time?”

  He rolled his eyes and inspected his nails. “I hear you’ve been keeping company with Gabby Whitney.” He infused her name with as much contempt as he could inject into four syllables. “Can’t say I’m surprised, and as much as I don’t care, you really ought to reevaluate your choice of association.”

  “I’m doing that right now,” I said, moving past him. “Thanks for the unsolicited advice.”

  “She’ll tarnish your reputation,” Calvin said. “A great many words could be used to describe Gabby and few of them are good.”

  “It’s a good thing I don’t care about reputations then, isn’t it?” I said as I walked away. I was still trying to flush Calvin’s voice out of my head when I got back to the snack table. Lucas was still there, looking as miserable as he’d been when I left him.

  “This is the most unparty party I’ve ever been to,” he said glumly.

  I pulled up a chair next to his. “At least you didn’t have to deal with the axis of evil.”

  Jake hurried over to join us, a happy grin fixed firmly on his face. “Isn’t this great?” he said, snatching a cookie off a platter and inhaling the entire thing. “We really should have more homecomings.”

  Lucas grunted, and I could only shrug halfheartedly. “I think the verdict’s still out.”

  Jake grabbed another cookie. “Oh, hey, I asked Bridget about what happened between Darcy and Gabby.”

  “What’d she say?” I asked, eager to hear a third party’s explanation of events.

  Jake lowered his voice. “She says she can’t say much about it, but that Gabby is definitely bad news.”

  Not at all what I expected to hear from Bridget. “Did Darcy tell her to say that?” I asked skeptically.

  Jake frowned. “I don’t think so. But I trust Bridget. If she thinks Gabby’s bad news, she probably is.”

  “Maybe,” I said. But I didn’t believe it. I wondered if everyone would be so down on Gabby if she were here to defend herself.

  “I think it’s just a matter of miscommunication,” said Jake. “‘He said, she said’ kind of stuff. I’m sure if they got together and talked it out, everything would be fine.”

  From what I knew of Darcy, I highly doubted that. But I was sick of talking—and thinking—about Darcy.

  “Bridget seems fun,” I said, hoping to steer the conversation toward something positive.

  “She really is,” said Jake, his happy grin returning.

  “You’d better go find her before somebody else does.”

  Jake hopped up. “You’re right.” He rushed off. I wasn’t all that worried about anyone stealing Bridget’s attention away from Jake. She seemed pretty taken with him. Jake was obviously attached to her, too. At least, it was obvious to me. He just needed to make that obvious to her.

  As Jake moved away, Andrew sauntered toward us with his arms in the air. “Tell me you two caught the game.” He was wearing his jersey and his letterman jacket. He came over and squeezed between Lucas and me.

  It was definitely a rough night when Andrew came in third place on my list of people to avoid.


  “No hard feelings about the fight, eh?” he asked, making a punching motion.

  I shook my head. “None at all.”

  “Who’s that?” he asked, nudging me with a massive shoulder and pointing across the gym. “The hottie in the black dress all by her lonesome.”

  He was pointing at Darcy, who, incidentally, was ranking number one on my list. She was standing against the wall, watching people dance like she was trying to figure out who to murder first.

  I was detecting a pattern.

  “That,” I told Andrew, “is Darcy. She’s single; you should definitely introduce yourself. She’s a big fan of football players, and she’s an even bigger fan of football players who play instruments.”

  Andrew’s eyes lit up and he sprang from his seat. “Say no more!”

  I watched as he plowed through the center of the dance floor and laughed.

  “That was utterly bogus,” said Lucas, which made me laugh even more.

  I shrugged. “Hey, I’m just trying to put all my least favorite people together so I can avoid them all at once.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “You consider Darcy one of your least favorite people?”

  “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” I was thoroughly confused.

  Lucas didn’t answer me, and I didn’t press him to. I was much too busy watching Andrew try his luck with Darcy. Leaning casually with his shoulder against the wall and his hands resting in his pockets, he was the picture of casual self-assuredness. And Darcy, with her arms crossed and her brows knitted together and her kill-me-now expression, was the portrait of impatient annoyance.

  I could only imagine the earful he was giving her, the stats he was probably rattling off, the plays he’d successfully completed, maybe his workout routine. Whatever it was, with each passing second Darcy’s brows pulled further and further together, and the smile on my face grew wider and wider. It was a beautiful train wreck, and I was so busy enjoying it that I didn’t notice Nicole until she was sitting right next to me.

  “Nice suit,” she said, her mouth directly next to my ear. I nearly jumped out of my seat.

  “Nicole, hi,” I said, trying and failing to inject any sort of enthusiasm into my voice. She was wearing a cocktail dress and stiletto heels that I had to give her credit for being able to walk in. And, of course, a tiara. Nicole had always been a fan of tiaras.

  “What are two handsome boys doing sitting here instead of dancing?” she asked, though her question was directed more towards me. Luckily, Lucas came to my rescue.

  “We were just talking about how lame this party is,” he said. “And how much I’d love to hit the dance floor with a pretty girl in six-inch heels.”

  I turned my head to hide the look of surprise on my face. Smooth, Lucas. Very smooth.

  Nicole seemed to think so too, because a great big smile spread across her face. “Really? Well, I just happen to be wearing a pair of ridiculously expensive six-inch heels right now.” She wiggled her eyebrows, and Lucas stood up and offered her a hand.

  “What are we waiting for then? Let’s make this a worthwhile evening.”

  As they walked arm in arm toward the dance floor, I caught Lucas’s eye and mouthed a thank you. He gave me a thumbs-up, and the two got to it. I stretched in my chair and popped a cookie in my mouth. Maybe this night wasn’t a total loss. Jake and Bridget were together, and I was growing more and more confident that whatever was between them was the real deal. Darcy was too busy with Andrew for either of them to bother me, and Lucas had done me a solid and gotten Nicole off my back. So even though I was alone with only a table of snacks to keep me company, at least everyone else was enjoying themselves. Well, everyone except Darcy.

  But all good things come to an end, and too soon the music faded and the lights flickered back on. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” said the DJ. “Let’s give it up for some local talent.”

  Lucas came scurrying back to the table, rubbing his hands together. Lucky for me, Nicole wasn’t with him anymore. “This is gonna be good.” He whipped out his phone and prepared to record.

  I’d forgotten all about Mark’s performance. But sure enough, there he was, stepping up to the mic stand with his guitar over his shoulder while his bandmates set up their instruments.

  “If by good you mean horrible, then I agree with you.”

  Mark plugged his guitar into the amp and strummed it once, treating us all to a pang of deafening feedback. He winced and leaned into the mic. “Guess this thing’s on, right?”

  No one said a word.

  Mark cleared his throat. “Right. From the top; we like to call this number ‘Pigs in Paradise.’ ONE! TWO! THREE!”

  The band burst into song, and I immediately wanted to burst into tears. Mark’s screeching vocals reminded me of a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, but to the tune of a blaring guitar, a lagging keyboard, and a drumbeat that sounded like it belonged in a different song. I couldn’t make out any of the lyrics, but I was almost grateful I couldn’t.

  Still, when it was all over I clapped along with everyone else. Most people at least pretended to have enjoyed the performance. It took guts to get up there in front of all these people. Mark definitely had guts. Talent? That was debatable. But guts? No denying those. The only people who weren’t clapping were Darcy and Calvin, the exact two I figured wouldn’t.

  Mark soaked it all in, bowing and waving like he’d just won a Grammy. “How about an encore?”

  Please no, I thought.

  They did one anyway.

  I looked around for the rest of my friends. Kyle and Liam were trolling the crowd, scouting for cute girls, same as always. Lucas was next to me filming Mark’s performance with his phone. Jake was with Bridget, huddled apart from everyone else, having a hushed conversation off in his own little world.

  I wished Gabby was here. I could use some conversation right about now.

  When Mark was finally finished, the dancing resumed. I was more than ready to leave, but Jake was still busy with Bridget, so I passed the time wandering around, striking up conversations here and there, always circling back to the snack table.

  Every time I turned around, Darcy was somewhere nearby, just out of earshot. I knew she wasn’t following me; she was never paying me any attention. Still, it was weird that of all the people here to keep running into, it had to be her.

  Eventually the evening wound to a close, and after a lengthy goodbye between Jake and Bridget in the parking lot, I was home free.

  “Some dance, huh?” said Jake as we left.

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to shave as much of the sarcasm from my voice as I could. “Some dance.”

  Chapter 11

  “People, people, I’ve got news,” announced Mr. Williams the Monday after the dance. He held up a large white glossy flyer for us all to see. “This Wednesday, there will be a college fair downtown, and I strongly advise each and every one of you to attend. It’s a great opportunity to speak with recruiters, ask questions, and maybe get a feel for which school you’d like to attend next year. That is, of course, if you haven’t already.” I knew I was imagining it, but it seemed like he looked right at me as he said the last part. “And even if you have, it’s a great time to review some of your options. Is anybody interested?”

  No one said a word. Mr. Williams frowned. “I’ll tell you what: I’ll pass around the sign-up sheet, and if you think you’d like to go, jot your John Hancock. If not, do it anyway. Kidding.” He handed the sheet to the first kid at the nearest table to his desk.

  “Do we get out of class for this?” someone asked.

  “Absolutely,” said Mr. Williams, “and I’ll even give extra credit to those who go.”

  After that, every person who touched the sheet signed it. Everyone except Darcy, who passed it on to me without so much as looking at it. I scribbled my name and handed it off. No doubt she not only had a school picked out, but the tuition had probably been paid for years ago.
I could picture her sitting smug at some snooty private university. She’d be right at home.

  It seemed she was back to ignoring me. Like we hadn’t danced or had an almost conversation just a few days ago. I had no problem with her pretending I didn’t exist, but I wished she’d at least be consistent about it.

  When class let out she was slow to pack her things. I moved to walk past her, but I was intercepted by Mr. Williams. “Elliott, may I have a word?” he asked.

  I groaned and waited at his desk. “Sure.”

  He clasped his hands in front of him and smiled. “I’ve been catching up on some grading and I must say, your essay was fantastic. Tell me, do you write often?”

  I frowned, trying to figure what he was getting at. “I read more than I write.”

  “Christian has informed me that you contribute to The Quill,” he prodded.

  An involuntary frown crept across my face at the mention of the name. “Is that the only thing he’s informed you of?”

  “Only that he believes that with some work the paper could be even better than it has been, but that’s Christian, always pushing. I’ve always thought The Quill showcased excellent writing, which is why I’m glad you’ve finally joined. You’ve always had a way with words. Tell me, have you ever considered a literary career?”

  So that’s what this was about. My future. How wonderful. “Not really,” I admitted.

  “Do you know what you’re going to do after graduation?”

  I shifted my backpack nervously. “Not really.”

  Out of my peripheral, I could see Darcy still packing up. She stood and started up the aisle. She seemed to be taking her time doing it.

  Mr. Williams leaned back in his chair. “Well, if I might suggest, ponder that. Let it simmer. The semester’s just begun, but before you know it, it’ll be over. Then it’s just a few months left until commencement, and believe you me, they go by like that!” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

  I nodded. “Will do.”

  Darcy brushed past me, and I turned around just in time to see her skirt out the door. “Good riddance,” I murmured to myself. Now I could get back to pretending she didn’t exist, just like she was doing to me.