Sass & Serendipity (28 page)

Only she was the dimwit. She hadn’t even realized what she’d done until she’d tried to unlock the front door with her cell phone.

Now what?

She wandered around the house, trying every window, including the one above the dryer, Daphne’s favorite escape hatch. But they were all locked tight, thanks to her own recent safety check. Yay, Gabby! Such a responsible girl!

She tried the front door one last time, jiggling the handle every which way and trying to pick the lock with a spring she’d pulled out of one of her pens. But all she managed to do
was spill the contents of her purse all over the porch and get splotches of blue ink on her hands.

“Damn it!” Gabby threw down her makeshift pick and plunked down on the front step.

There was no one she could call. Not her parents. Not Daphne. Not Mule—definitely not Mule. She’d rather sleep on the porch than call him up. It wasn’t that she was mad at him so much as … guarded. Too scared of doing even more damage to the friendship or relationship or whatever-ship she had with him.

Why did she even bother having a cell phone if there was no one she could call? It was kind of pathetic.

Lately Gabby had felt haunted by her aloneness, as if it were a shadowy entity. She had Nobody. Nobody was part of her life, stalking her from place to place, peering over her shoulder, sitting with her during meals, and—quite possibly—making her lock her stupid keys in her stupid car.

“Now what?” she asked Nobody.

As if guided by an unseen force, her gaze wandered across the grounds toward Applewhite Manor.

“Right. Okay,” she said.

She pulled herself to her feet and lumbered across the lawn.

“This could be a bad idea,” she said to Nobody. Raising her fist, she gave a tentative knock.

A vague sense of déjà vu came over her as she stood there in the hazy evening light. Glancing around the porch, she found herself reliving Prentiss’s kiss and wishing there were some photos or footage of the incident, something she could study
so she could more accurately view those moments and figure out what they meant.

The door opened and Prentiss appeared on the threshold, silhouetted by the soft peachy light of the foyer.

For some reason, Gabby smiled. “Hi,” she said. “I did something stupid, and … I need help.”

“I was stupid,” Daphne said. “I’m sorry.”

Mule stood in the doorway to his house, frowning and scratching his messy curls. “What the heck …?” He stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind him. “What are you doing here? What happened to you?”

Daphne teetered on the porch planks. One of her heels had come off on the walk over, and her perfectly upswept hairdo had come undone yet still defied gravity due to the sheer power of hair spray. Making things worse, she’d also tripped and fallen—probably because of her differing shoe elevations—and ended up muddying the bottom of her dress. She must look like a zombie homecoming queen.

“I’m fine,” she said, scratching a mosquito bite on her arm.

“What do you mean you’re fine? You look awful.” Mule’s face was all crimped with concern. It was nice to see. “Did that guy … Did he …?” His hands balled into fists.

“No! Luke didn’t do anything,” Daphne said. “I just … called off our date and walked over here. It was farther than I thought.”

“Samuel? Who is that?” came a man’s voice from inside the house.

“It’s okay, Dad!” Mule shouted back. “It’s … a friend of
mine! Go back to sleep.” He waited a few beats and then turned back toward Daphne. “Come here,” he said, grasping her hands and pulling her toward the porch swing. “You should get off your feet.”

They sat down, side by side. Daphne kicked off her shoes—or what was left of them—and tucked her legs beneath the many layers of skirt.

“So what happened?” Mule asked. “Why’d you call off your date?”

“Because it was a big mistake.” She looked over at him. “You were right.”

“Right about what?”

“I don’t love him,” she said, smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt. “It was just me. Like … I have all this love inside me, and I can’t wait to give it to someone. So I made up someone perfect and pretended Luke was him. I went out with him for all the wrong reasons.”

Mule stared out at the darkening sky. His big Converse sneakers pointed and flexed against the wooden planks, rocking the swing back and forth … back and forth.… Daphne was struck by how easy it was to just sit with Mule and say nothing. She felt comfy and protected, free of all worries.

Except one.

“Mule?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you ask me to prom because you felt sorry for me?”

He looked at her, one side of his face in shadow, the other lit up by the glow from the nearby window. “No,” he said.

“Was it because I’m Gabby’s sister?”

He shook his head, and the soft light danced across his features. “It was because you’re you, and because I like being with you.”

She smiled. Gradually, Mule’s mouth stretched and curved until he was grinning back at her.

He reached over and gently pushed a wing-shaped clump of hair away from her face. “You know, we could still go to prom,” he said. “I still have a suit.”

Daphne laughed. “I’m a mess!”

“You look great,” he said, sliding his finger down her cheek. “Nothing a box of wet wipes won’t fix.”

“No,” she said, still chuckling. “I think I’d rather just … stay here. If you don’t mind.” She leaned sideways and rested her head on his shoulder.

“That’s fine, too,” he said, circling his arm around her.

Once again his shoes moved them back and forth … back and forth.… And once again a snug sense of belonging settled over Daphne.

“Mule?” she murmured.

“Hmm?”

“Have I ever shown you my duck impression?”

“There you go,” Prentiss said, opening the door wide. “You got a spare car key somewhere so you can get back in there?”

Gabby nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No biggie,” he said to the door, instead of her. He examined the jamb. “You know, y’all really should have a kick plate on here. I’ll talk to my parents about it.”

“Okay.”

“All right then,” he said with a nod. “I’ll be on my way.”

“Prentiss?”

He spun back around, looking wary.

Gabby stood there, not knowing what to say. She’d just felt as if she needed to stop him. He’d done her a favor—yet again. But the whole time he was stooped and mumbling and averting his eyes. It made her feel radioactive, and she wanted to make things okay between them. Somehow.

“Hey, look,” he said, before she could come up with any words herself. “I’m sorry about the other night on my porch. I was out of line.”

Again he was talking to the doormat instead of to her. His jaw muscles flexed as if he were gritting his teeth, and a neat little groove divided the space between his brows.

“I just thought … I thought there was something between us,” he went on. “It won’t happen again.” He turned to go.

“Wait,” Gabby said. Again she had the unsettling feeling that the entire world had been reinvented without her knowledge. Nothing made sense, and she needed to get some answers. “I don’t get it. What made you think there was something between us? Especially after the way I treated you.”

“It was just …” His mouth curved into a small smile. “It was something in your eyes. You frown an awful lot, but your eyes don’t. They’re all big and round and shy, like you’re always asking a question. And that night, when you looked at me, they’d gone all soft. It was like they were asking me to kiss you. Like you needed it. Know what I mean?”

“No.”

Prentiss’s face fell. “My mistake.” For a third time, he turned to leave.

“Tell me about Sonny,” she cried out. The words seemed to burst from her mouth of their own accord, surprising even herself.

Prentiss stopped in midstride. His back bowed slightly, and then … nothing. He simply remained rooted there, slightly hunched, as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked. His tone was low and scratchy. And because he remained motionless with his back to her, it didn’t even seem to emanate from him. A dismal, disembodied voice.

“I just … do,” she said.

He slowly pivoted to face her. “You knew him, didn’t you?”

“No. Yes. What does it matter?” For some reason, tears were running down her cheeks. She hadn’t planned that, either. Now even her own body wasn’t acting the way it was supposed to.

“You think I’m the one at fault.” Prentiss took a step toward her. His face was twisted in a look of utter despair. “Go ahead and say it.”

“No, I don’t. Not anymore. You weren’t driving.”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t my fault!” he shouted, his words echoing throughout the house. A deep cranberry-colored flush spread over his neck and cheeks.

All of a sudden, his eyes switched from angry to startled, and his hands balled into fists. One he raised to his mouth, his thumb knuckle pressed hard against his lips; the other
he banged repeatedly against his left thigh. Each time he shuddered, she could hear a tiny sound, like a moan trapped inside his throat.

Seeing him like that, seeing someone in more distress than she was in, somehow made Gabby feel strong again.

She grabbed hold of his clenched left hand and pulled him over to the couch. “Sit down,” she said. He dropped onto the end cushion—the same one he’d sat on when he’d visited them at their old place—and bent forward, rocking slightly as he battled to control his emotions.

Gabby sat down on the middle cushion and laid a hand on his shoulder. It pained her to see him so agitated. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Let it out.” At the same time, she realized how strange it was to hear herself say this. She, who pretended most of her emotions had been surgically removed. She, who only days before had screamed at Prentiss for having seen her in a similar vulnerable state.

Eventually, he quieted down but remained slumped over, head in hands. She couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or just spent.

“It really was my fault,” he said into his lap. “The accident.”

“So … you
were
driving?” she asked, feeling a slight wrenching sensation, as if she were preparing herself for imminent fury.

He shook his head and sat up. His face was streaked with tears, and his inflamed eyes focused on a spot of nothingness in front of him. “I was drunk,” he said. “I’m talking real drunk. And I talked Sonny into driving. He was only fifteen and
hadn’t ever driven at night before, but I talked him into it. I said it would be okay.” Prentiss’s voice quavered and he swallowed hard. “So stupid. I could have just called home, but I didn’t want to get in trouble.”

Gabby sat perfectly still, afraid that any movement on her part might break the spell he seemed to be under and send him scurrying from the house. She needed to hear this, even though it hurt. It was like getting stitches, only this was mending an old wound hidden deep inside her.

“He was scared, but he didn’t want to let me down. He always looked up to me, and I guess I took advantage of that.” Prentiss shut his eyes and cursed under his breath. When he opened them back up, he looked right at Gabby. “Did you know he saved my life?”

She shook her head.

“I wanted to stretch out in the backseat, but he made me sit up and put on my seat belt. Wouldn’t start the car until I did.” He smiled weakly, his bottom lip quivering. Gabby smiled, too. It seemed like the kind of thing Sonny would do—at least, the person she assumed he was. “Anyway,” he continued, taking a long, shaky breath, “I guess I sort of passed out a bit. I don’t know what happened. I heard screeching sounds and a big bump and then … then … the whole world exploded.”

Prentiss once again focused hard on that invisible point in front of him. His chest heaved and his hands gripped his knees tightly. Gabby wanted to reach over and rescue him, to pull him out of the intangible wreckage and guide him back to the present. But she stayed put, waiting and watching.

“Sonny … He’d hit his head … stupid goddamn convertible … and blood … it was everywhere. He could only look at me. He looked right at me … and then … then he …” Prentiss made a choking sound and fell backward against the cushions.

Gabby stopped restraining herself and threw her arms around him, pulling him up against her. It was another action without thought. She simply had to hold him. Thankfully, Prentiss let her comfort him, laying his head on her shoulder and slipping his arms around her middle. He seemed weak, but he wasn’t crying anymore. Instead, she was the one weeping. She hurt for him.

She could never know the pain he was feeling, but she understood what it had taken for him to reveal all that to her. It made her feel humbled and honored—and slightly ashamed.

“I kissed Sonny,” she said, right into his ear. She’d heard those words over and over in her head, for years after she’d left him under the tree, but she’d never uttered them aloud. It sounded strange hearing them. It was the truth, and yet it didn’t even come close to conveying the truth. The nouns and verb were correct, but there’d been more. So much more.

Prentiss pulled back and frowned at her. “What? What did you say?”

“I kissed Sonny,” she repeated. “A few days before the accident. I ran into him at Make-Out Ridge and—”

“You’re the wood nymph?”

“The … what?”

“Oh, my god. That was you!” Prentiss’s eyes widened and he pulled back even farther, as if trying to behold as much of
Gabby as possible. “He wouldn’t say who you were, though. He talked about how you just appeared out of nowhere, dancing around like some wood sprite. I should have known … the way he described you … wow.”

A tingly warmth spread over her, as if the room had suddenly filled with vapors. Sonny had mentioned her. Their encounter really did happen. It had signified something to him—enough to divulge it to Prentiss.

“What did he say?” she asked, pitching forward to close the gap between them.

Prentiss smiled. “He talked about how you just came out of thin air, floated over to him, kissed him, and then ran away.”

Gabby’s mind flipped backward. She hadn’t realized it would seem that way to him. Where she saw it as young and stupid, he’d thought it was … romantic.