That Girl, Darcy Page 9

  She leaned against the counter and watched me sift through boxes of new books. The speed and quality of my work took a sharp decline with her here.

  “So guess what I went out and bought?” she asked.

  I gave her a sideways smile. “How about you tell me?”

  “No fun! Anyways, after our conversation I finally cracked and bought myself a brand spanking new longboard.”

  I was impressed. “You on a longboard? I’d like to see that.”

  She leaned further across the counter until our faces were dangerously close. “I’ll bet you would,” she half-whispered before sliding away to trace imaginary circles in the countertop. “Obviously, I’m not all that great. And if someone would teach me, I’d be so grateful . . .”

  “I could teach you.”

  “Really? You’d do that?” She treated me to the full force of her green eyes. “That’s so sweet. But I live on the other side of the valley, and after school it’d take a lifetime to get there.”

  “You can always transfer to our school. I know people who would love to have you.”

  She grinned. “Oh? Like who?”

  Her phone rang before I could respond. “Be right back,” she told me. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “I’ll try not to.” She could’ve told me to wait for her in the middle of an earthquake, and I would’ve tried it.

  She winked and rushed to the back. I watched her disappear behind the sci-fi section. Behind me the door chimed as another customer entered, and I turned to greet whoever it was.

  Darcy, the last person I wanted or expected to see, was standing in the doorway. “Oh,” she said, “you.”

  Her voice carried a not-so-subtle hint of exasperation. “Yes,” I responded in kind, “me.”

  She huffed and crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?”

  “I work here. What are you doing here?”

  She groaned. “This is the closest bookstore to where I live, unfortunately.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “That is very unfortunate.”

  Darcy took a step inside, taking in her surroundings as I waited warily behind the counter. “So you’re a skateboarder who works at a bookstore,” she mused, “how paradoxical.”

  “How do you figure? And for the record, the proper term is ‘skater.’”

  She glanced at me with an annoyed expression. “Such a difference.”

  Just then, Gabby returned from the back. She halted the second she saw Darcy. I was shocked by the look they gave each other. It looked like they wanted to kill one another.

  “Wow,” Gabby said in a clipped voice. “Small world.”

  Darcy scowled. “Too small.”

  Without another word she turned and pushed back out the door.

  After sufficiently recovering from the spectacle I had just witnessed, I turned to Gabby. “I take it you two know each other?”

  She groaned. “You could say that.”

  “How?” I pressed.

  Gabby hesitated, glancing out the door as if to make sure Darcy had gone. “How well do you know her?”

  “Not well at all,” I confessed, “although I have to admit she’s a bit . . .” I tried to think of a polite substitute for the word I was thinking.

  “Prickly?” said Gabby.

  I nodded. “Yeah, that.”

  Gabby shook her head. “Trust me, you don’t know the half of it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Gabby took a deep breath. “I’m not one for talking about people, but . . . oddly enough, Darcy and I used to be pretty close. Best friends, even.”

  “What happened?” Their behavior toward one another was definitely not that of best friends, even former ones. I had to know more.

  Gabby sighed and came back to the counter, where she rested her head in her hands. “So I used to go to this prep school that was pretty much all rich kids. I was only there on a scholarship, but I didn’t mind. Darcy looked out for me, made sure none of the other kids messed with me. I thought we were friends. She even introduced me to this guy who was a friend of hers. The three of us used to hang out, go to movies; it was fun. And then he asked me out, and we started dating. That’s when Darcy’s true colors started showing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Darcy was jealous. I guess letting me tag along like her little pet was alright, but she couldn’t stand seeing one of her precious uppercrusters dating someone who wasn’t born with a silver spoon in their mouth. It all came to a head when my dad lost his job and my family fell on some hard times. I didn’t know what to do. My boyfriend insisted on helping us out. For whatever reason, that really set Darcy off. She started spreading these lies about me behind my back. She turned the entire school against me. She even told my boyfriend I was using him and cheating on him, which is obviously something I would never do. But for whatever reason he believed her, and he broke up with me.”

  “He believed her?”

  Gabby nodded glumly. “She’s a very good liar.”

  It took me a moment to grasp what she’d told me. My opinion of Darcy reached a new low. She wasn’t just rude, she was mean. And I was beginning to loathe her as much as it appeared Gabby did.

  “Did you ever confront her about it?” I asked.

  Gabby looked up at me with a face that made me want to hug her. “Of course I did. But Darcy’s not the type you can just talk to.”

  “That I do know.”

  “My dad got a job offer out here, we moved, and I thought I’d seen the last of Darcy. Apparently, I was wrong.” Gabby straightened up, her lip puckered defiantly. “It’s not like I would never forgive her. But I’ve given up trying to reason with Darcy. If she wants to talk, she’s going to have to come to me.”

  I was certain that would never happen. “I’m sorry,” I said, though the words did no justice to the way I felt.

  Gabby only shrugged. “Yeah, well, you live and you learn.”

  That much was very true. And I was fast learning to despise Darcy Fitzwilliam.

  “I think I finally got it.” Gabby held up her hand. It was almost a perfect Vulcan salute. Except—

  “Your thumb’s touching your index finger,” I said. I reached across the counter and nudged her thumb into the right position with my own. “See, like that.”

  She laughed. “One of these days, I’m going to get that right.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Shatner can’t do it either. Not without fish hooks, anyway.”

  She pretended to scan the room. “Got any of those around here?”

  I laughed. “Nope, probably not.”

  “Where is everybody?” she asked, running her hands through her hair. “It’s so quiet.”

  “It’s Saturday,” I said. “Most people don’t hang out at a bookstore.”

  “Their loss,” she said. “The company’s nice.”

  “I definitely agree,” I said, keeping eye contact.

  “So we’re just about the only two people here in this quiet little place,” she stretched out across the counter. She smelled wonderful, like strawberries. “You know what that means? That basically, we can do whatever we want.”

  “That depends,” I said, taking her hand and forming her fingers into a V, “on what you want to do.”

  Gabby smiled invitingly. “What time do you get off?”

  “Five-thirty.”

  “That’s too bad.” She pulled away from me and started walking toward the door. “I would have really loved to hang out with you after work.” She sighed melodramatically. “Hey, um, do you have like six bucks I can borrow? I’m catching the bus home.”

  “I could give you a ride if you want.” And by give her a ride, I meant have Jake pick us up and drop her off.

  “That’s so sweet of you, but I should leave now. My parents are pretty strict about curfew,” she complained.

  I did my best to mask my disappointment, but I couldn’t really expect her
to wait around until my shift was over. Luckily, I had the money.

  “You’re the sweetest!” she said, and she leaned over the counter and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

  “Thanks,” I said, star-struck, as she headed out. “Hey, Gabby?”

  She stopped with her hand on the door. I hesitated, wondering if the question I was about to ask was such a good one.

  “Would you like to go with me to the homecoming dance this Friday?”

  I waited nervously. I hadn’t really wanted to go to the dance, but I had a sinking feeling that I should, if only to keep an eye on Jake, who I was almost certain would be going with Bridget. If Gabby were there with me, then maybe it wouldn’t be the horrible evening I was sure it would be otherwise.

  Gabby turned back around, twirling a curl of her hair while she thought about it. “I suppose I could put in an appearance. For you.”

  My heart gave a little spasm of joy. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”

  She smiled. “If you’re there, of course it will be.”

  Chapter 9

  By Monday I had all but forgotten about my scuffle with Andrew. Evidently no one else had, because as soon as I set foot on campus on Monday I was bludgeoned with questions.

  “Who won?”

  “Who started it?”

  “Did anyone break any bones?”

  Andrew wasn’t helping matters. Apparently, he’d been telling everyone how he’d mopped the floor with me, and now they all wanted to see the damage for themselves.

  At least I had my friends, who swept me up like they were my own personal bodyguards and escorted me to class, shielding me from most of the questions while Mark hovered next to me, spouting thank-yous. I answered what I could.

  “It wasn’t a real fight. No one got hurt. There wasn’t any blood,” I kept saying.

  Kyle and Liam, at least, seemed to be enjoying my newfound notoriety much more than I was.

  “You’re a celebrity now,” said Liam. “You’ve got groupies. And it’s all over Facebook.”

  “If I were you,” Kyle added, “I’d steer clear of Andrew, though.”

  “I appreciate you putting yourself in harm’s way for me,” said Mark.

  “It really isn’t that big a deal. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

  A quick glance at his uncertain expression told me that no, he probably wouldn’t. I shrugged. “And I’m not afraid of Andrew. What’s he going to do, rally student government and have me executed at dawn? I really couldn’t care less what he thinks or does.”

  And I meant it. I really did. But I wasn’t naïve enough to think that Andrew wouldn’t have some sort of revenge plot up his sleeve. He was as petty as he was arrogant. I wondered if he had the authority to kick me off the paper but decided to try not to worry about it. I didn’t actually care about the stupid paper anyways. At least, that’s what I told myself. Once I’d reached the relative safety of my first hour class, I retreated to my seat and sat there with my head down. I sent Gabby a text.

  You wouldn’t believe the day I’m having.

  A few minutes later, I got a reply.

  Tell me all about it.

  So I did. I told her how tempted I was to skip class altogether and how I wanted to strangle Andrew for outright lying and that I was pretty sure I now knew what it felt like being hounded by paparazzi.

  What do you expect? You’re a rebel.

  Rebel? Was that the impression I’d given Gabby? I could live with that.

  She sent me another text.

  Wish I were there to cheer you up with X’s and O’s.

  I imagined a kiss from Gabby and wished the same thing. The thought made me grin, and I was still grinning when the warning bell sounded and Darcy walked in. We made eye contact, she frowned, and then plopped into her seat.

  She didn’t say a word to me for the entire period, and, I had to admit, I was relieved. Now that I had a clearer picture of the type of person Darcy was, it was easier to ignore her.

  In fact, I spent the entire week doing exactly that. No easy task, as it turned out. It was amazing how so much of my routine could be dictated by someone I didn’t even like. Which route I took to class, which direction I did and didn’t look, where I sat—all decisions I made based on their likelihood of causing me to bump heads with Darcy.

  Keeping our contact to a minimum involved careful and concerted effort, much like a game of chess played in reverse. But I still couldn’t avoid her completely. We had two classes together, and I was determined to keep an eye on Jake and his burgeoning relationship with Bridget, which meant that more often than not Darcy was close by.

  For the most part, I was convinced that she was perfectly content with this new arrangement. But there were other, fleeting moments when I wasn’t so sure.

  Every now and then I would catch her watching me from the corner of her eye. Sometimes she’d get this weird look on her face like she wanted to say something, but she never did. Maybe she wanted to ask me how I knew Gabby, or what all she’d told me. A part of me wanted her to ask. Then I could tell her I knew just how horrible a person she was.

  I wondered who else knew. Obviously not Bridget. I couldn’t see Bridget willfully keeping company with someone like that. Calvin probably knew. Not that it would matter to him. It was clear that, for whatever reason, he was captivated by Darcy. Whenever he opened his mouth it was either to make some snide remark about someone else or compliment one of her nonexistent attributes. She never paid him any attention, of course, but I had to admire his relentlessness.

  “They aren’t all that bad,” Jake told me during our free hour when we met in the media center to rehearse his audition scene. “I’m sure if you got to know them you’d see they’re decent people.”

  “You think everybody’s decent people,” I told him as I thumbed through my copy of Romeo and Juliet. He’d always been like that. As far as Jake was concerned, people only did bad things by accident. Or they didn’t know better. Or it couldn’t be helped.

  “You’re up, Juliet,” he said with a straight face.

  I cringed. That’s why Darcy had laughed when I volunteered. The thought irritated me anew. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes.”

  I felt antagonistic. “You know I never quite understood this,” I said, “Why Romeo and Juliet’s families hated each other.”

  “You’re a Capulet, I’m a Montague. We’re supposed to hate each other.”

  “But why? What’s the motive? A little context would be nice.”

  Jake shrugged. “Shakespeare never said; it just is.”

  “So we’re meant to dislike someone purely on the basis of the fact that we’re supposed to? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Jake just gave me a weird look and kept skimming his script.

  “She’s thirteen, and he’s sixteen,” I said. “Gross.”

  “We’re both seventeen.”

  “That’s totally different. Besides, neither of us—or anyone else we know for that matter—are star-crossed lovers. That’s a little intense for a couple of teens, don’t you think?”

  Jake gave me that same look again.

  “What do you mean by that?” I demanded.

  “Irony, my friend. Pure, unadulterated irony.”

  My brow furrowed. “What did I say that’s so ironic?”

  He shook his head. “Act two, scene two, please.”

  I begrudgingly obliged.

  “She speaks,” Jake began in a bold voice I’d never heard him use. “O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night, being o’er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven unto the white upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air!”

  Two questions occurred to me at once. The first of which was how on Earth did he manage that mouthful in one breath, and secondly, why the heck were we even rehearsing? H
e clearly didn’t need it.

  He looked up and waited for me. “O Romeo, Romeo,” I mumbled, “wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny—”

  “Hold on a minute,” Jake interrupted. “You’re reading that wrong.”

  I scowled. “I’ll always read it wrong, seeing as I’m not a thirteen year old girl and all.”

  “No, when she says, ‘Wherefore art thou Romeo,’ she isn’t asking where he is, she’s asking why he is, as in, why does he have to be a Montague of all people.”

  “That makes so much more sense,” I muttered sarcastically. “So glad you’re here to explain these intricacies to me.”

  “You know, you don’t have to do this with me if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  I felt immediate chagrin. “It’s not that. I don’t mind at all. Well, it is weird, but whatever. It’s just . . . you won’t believe what Gabby told me.”

  “Who?” he asked.

  “A girl I met at the game,” I answered.

  Jake dog-eared his script and closed it. “I might if you told me.”

  I couldn’t help scowling as I spoke, and not because of the abuse he’d just doled out to his script. “She said Darcy broke her and one of her boyfriends up.”

  He looked skeptical. “Why?”

  “Jealousy, I guess.”

  “If this Gabby is single now,” Jake said with a chuckle, “shouldn’t you be thanking Darcy?”

  “I’m serious, Jake. That’s evil. How could someone be so . . . horrible?”

  “I’m sure there must be more to it.” Classic Jake response.

  I rolled my eyes. “I doubt it; knowing Darcy.”

  “Do you really know Darcy? For someone you claim not to like you sure have a way of bringing her up a lot.”

  I glared at him, but he just shrugged and cracked open his script. Jake was seldom wrong in his observations, but this time I was sure he was mistaken. Was it my fault that every time I turned around Darcy was somehow right there? Was it my fault she aggravated me the way she did? If anyone was to blame, it was her, not me, and nothing Jake could say would make me believe otherwise. I flipped my script open again and tried to shake the irritation out of my system. “Where were we?”

  “You were at ‘Deny,’” said Jake, business as usual.