The Misadventures of Daria Pigwidgeon (12 page)

I do have to give the boy props though, I am a few feet away already and he caught up quickly.

Not that I slow down or face him though.

“Hey, Daria? Would you like a ride home?” He asks in his familiar squeaky voice.

Not looking at him, I say, “Thanks, but not tonight. I like walking, especially after a busy day.”

He nods like I spoke with absolute genius and turns to his car with a wave. That’s when it hits me. I clearly said, not tonight, meaning another night I would. Ugh, that can’t be good. No wonder he walked away with a spring in his step. I gave him an opening to ask me again another time. That can’t be good. Not that I wouldn’t accept a ride from him (like say if it were raining or snowing for example), or that he’s so annoying I can’t stand to be in his presence or something. I just don’t want to lead him on. And that’s what it feels like I’m doing.

There is something I can’t quite put my finger on with Toby. He’s nice enough, and shy enough to fill a football field, but something feels off. He feels off. Maybe it’s nothing. I am the same I suppose. And he’s not trying to avoid me. I’ll have to make it up to him, maybe get him a thank you for being neat card.

Or not.

***

As I walk the empty hallway in the school on Monday, I can’t stop the cringe that rises when I think about the car ride in this morning. It was like awkward times a thousand. I don’t even know why either. Alright, that’s a lie. I do know a little. One, it was the first time I saw Chance since Friday night. He was quieter than usual, as in he didn’t say a word. Not even to Ashley, when she asked what his deal was halfway down the road from the house. And two? When we first spotted each other in the garage, he eyed his jacket on me and actually glared.

Seriously, there was some real glaring action going on. It was all aimed at me.

I put the blushing Toby to shame.

While I tried to get a grip on myself, he went right into asking for it back (so I lied when I said he didn’t say a word, but I don’t count him being rude) and I had no other choice but to return it with shaking hands. Then came the silent car ride. In which he made go as fast as possible, but that’s only because he drove overly fast. Thus the reason Ashley went to badgering him. I don’t blame him for wanting his jacket, it’s his, and it should be on his person. Not mine. But did he have to act like an ass?

I just don’t know what I did wrong. Things were a little strange Friday night, not to mention hid odd muttering. But to do a complete one-eighty of his personality? I have to say, it’s a little disconcerting. I guess I misjudged something important when I decided he is who I wanted to have a crush on. Like the fact that he obviously isn’t into me. Which is fine I suppose. I shouldn’t really be jumping into anything right now anyways, kind of like Homecoming.

I just wish I didn’t feel the sting of betrayal.

Not only did I lose a perfectly nice and warm jacket that was filled with boy smell, but I also lost a friend.

When we finally (or when we instantly) got to school, he couldn’t get out of the car (away from me?) fast enough. I was left trailing behind an irritated Ashley, trying to keep back my frustrated tears from falling. I succeeded, thankfully. But not a class has gone by this morning that I haven’t once been thinking about Chance, and what I could have possibly done wrong.

Like now, for example. I’m currently on a one student mission to retrieve a history text, that the history teacher couldn’t be bothered to retrieve herself. So while I’m in search of a storage room (one I doubt even exists at this point) my mind flies with possibilities of why Chance suddenly seems to hate me. And same as the conclusion that I keep coming back to, is that there isn’t a reason. Not one that see anyways.

Convinced that there isn’t an actual storage room to be found, and maybe my teacher was just being cruel (guess it’s let’s be cruel to Daria day), I’m turning around when I see it. A brightly lit star, my sanctuary. Not really of course. It’s just a door that reads ‘Storage Room’ in big block letters. Though, in retrospect, it could be considered my sanctuary. After I retrieve what I came here for, I can get back to sitting while thinking about Chance. That is so much better than walking around aimlessly while thinking about him. My aching feet agree.

I cross the two short steps to the door, and yank on the handle to quickly get what I came for. The knob doesn’t budge. Well, it budges, but it doesn’t open. Great, I finally find the door, and the dang thing is stuck. Is this what my life is going to be like now? I get one good thing, and then ten bad things have to happen to compensate? If that’s the case, then screw that. I didn’t survive a family of freaking demons to get pushed around by a stupid door that can’t be bothered to open correctly.

I twist the knob again. Only this time I throw my entire body weight against it. It gives way a little, and along with it a scrapping sound, as if there were something blocking it from the inside. This makes no sense. Why would something be blocking it form the inside, if this in the only way in? Or maybe it’s not the only way in, as far as I know. Still, it’s the only way I can get in. So when I grasp the handle again, I make damn sure I throw every ounce of my ninety or so pounds hard into it.

It gives way.

So much so in fact, that I spill into the darkened room, and right into the scrambling bodies of Ashley and some boy missing a shirt. I guess there is a reason to block a door from the inside after all. Go figure. None the less, as Ashley tosses a shirt to the boy missing one, I clench my eyes from the show I really don’t want to see. Not that the boy isn’t a little bit of eye candy, because he totally is, he’s just not my flavor. I prefer blue eyed with dark hair types, not the blonde surfer type that Ashley seems to be.

Stumbling backwards to the door, I say, “I am so sorry Ash. I’ll just get……..oohph.”

Sadly, I never got the whole apology out. I guess that’s a side effect of smashing backwards into a wall that is meant for not trying to go through it. I pivot forwards like a ping pong ball and crash to the floor on my hands and knees. All my breath, that was once pleasantly happy in my chest, is somewhere back in the wall behind me.

I feel a sting in my hands and know I must have scraped them for sure.

Ashley and surfer dude kneel beside me before I can attempt to get to my feet on my own, with at least some dignity left. Together, the three of us get me steadily on my feet, all the while the two of them apologize to me like this is their fault. Oh right. It is. I guess I missed the sign that says this is the preferred make-out spot and not just a storage room. I should really keep that in mind.

Once on my feet again, I glance to my hands, and sure enough I have a very serious case of awkward embarrassment. Or you know, a little of cement burn. Nothing a good quality alone time and some ice can’t cure. Unfortunately, I’m getting neither at the moment, because Ashley sends surfer boy on his way, with his shirt back in place. Here’s the part where I’d think to get my history book and skedaddle back to class.

But then Ashley is shutting the door behind him, turning on the light and securing a chair back under the door. This is not what I thought would happen when I got handpicked to go searching for my own textbook. To be trapped in a storage room with a girl. It’s every adolescent boy’s fantasy (or so I think), except I’m not a boy.

So this is just kind of creepy and unexpected.

When Ashley turns back to me, my face must be pretty transparent, because she bursts out laughing.

“Relax Daria. I’m not going to attack you with my mouth.”

I scoff, as if I weren’t worried about that very same thing.

“So, what do you want?” I say not at all nervous, yeah right.

The smile slips from her face, and she goes about wrapping her arms over her chest. And here I thought I was the uncomfortable one. Turns out, she looks as much as or maybe more than me. I did just walk in on her making-out with someone. I’d imagine that scenario is even awkward to the other person’s point of view.

Sighing, Ashley looks me right in the eye as she says, “Can I tell you something in complete confidence? As in, whatever I say to you never leaves this room?”

Seeing the seriousness in her face, I nod. In this moment, I’m Vegas. What happens here, stays here. That has to be the motto of the storage room anyways. I can only imagine the number of people sneaking kisses or more in here. The scratches on my hands burn at that thought. Where is disinfectant when you need it?

“Good. If my parents ever found out, I’d be shipped off to the farthest all girls catholic school.”

“Got it, I’m Vegas, shoot.” I tell her.

She nods at me, even though I can tell she wants to mock my statement.

Instead, she says, “Yeah, well. You wouldn’t know this at first glance, but my family is catholic. And that means, all inter-relations of the unmarried sort is kind of frowned upon. You know what I mean?”

I nod my head yes, “No, I’m sorry what?”

She laughs bitterly.

“What I’m saying is, the reason Jesse and I were hiding out in here, is because we’re kind of dating in secret. My dad would flip if he knew about him. I’m lucky he hasn’t branded a purity ring on my finger yet.”

Jesse must be the surfer boy, and the name oddly fits. What doesn’t fit is the fact that the Harris’s are catholic. Didn’t I witness them saying a football prayer? Do Catholic’s even joke about that kind of thing? Clearly, they do. What’s even more surprising is the fact that I (a demon since birth) hasn’t caught on to this little tidbit until now. I really need to be more observant.

I mime zipping my lips and throwing away the key and say, “These lips are sealed. No worries.”

She sighs in relief. I suddenly have the urge to memory block her, like that would help relieve her stress for some reason. I know I’m not the cause, but I did add to it. As helpful as it would probably be, I just can’t do it. Not after what I did to get the money that got me my ticket here. That’s one convenience store worker that has an hour or so missing from their life. I won’t do that to Ashley too.

Not when she is just starting to trust me.

Then of course, she gets a guilty look in her eyes, and I can only wonder. Whatever she says next, I brace myself, it’s sure to be a doozy.

“That means you can’t say anything to Chance about Jesse either. They’re friends. So it’s way worse than just my dad finding out. Can you keep that from him?”

I look at her like she’s lost her mind. Why would I not be able to keep this from him? We’re not exactly bosom buddies at the moment, or that we were ever.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem Ash. We’re not exactly talking as it would seem.”

She nods, looks away, and then looks back.

“So, what was that about this morning? Are you guys hooking up or something and have a fight?” She asks a little too bluntly for my tastes.

I jump back with my hands warding her off, a wild look in my eyes.

“No. I mean, I don’t know what’s going on with him, and no, there is nothing going on in the hooking up department.” I say in a fast squeaky voice.

“Oh. Well if you were, just give him time. He’s like a girl, with the emotionally equivalent time of the month syndrome. He’ll deal.”

I nod.

Boys get emotional too? That is so weird on so many levels.

But that would explain him acting strange, I guess. It definitely makes me feel better to be let off the hook though. With a few more promises to remain like Vegas, I finally get to retrieve my history book and she lets me leave the room. With the knowledge that I’m never stepping foot in that room again, I hastily make my way back to class.

For the rest of the day I wonder if space will cure Chance of his problem.

I hope so, but the way my life is going, I wouldn’t count on it.

It’s pretty obvious that Ashley didn’t really believe my denial that there wasn’t anything going on with Chance and I. That’s mostly due to the fact that the following morning, she is suspiciously absent from the garage when I go down for the ride to school. If I’d known it would just be me alone with Chance for an entire car ride, or that I’d see him looing so glum by his car, I would have added a little spice to my wardrobe.

Since it’s colder today than it has been, I’m wearing layers that consist on a long sleeve shirt and that huge pink hoody that goes to mid-thigh on me. Not sultry in the least. But like I said, that’s hardly the point, especially since Chance is leaning against his car looking so down and out. His expression gets darker when he glances up at me when I reach the bottom of the stairs.

For the life of me, I so want to bolt in the opposite direction.

All my confidence since I moved here, gone.

Poof.

Even looking not like himself, he still has that pretty boy look going for him, a look that I can’t help but to admire. Especially his eyes, they pull at something inside me. Something I never thought another person could make me feel. Too bad this feeling isn’t reciprocated.

I stand as still as a statue at the base of the stairs, almost like I’m afraid to get any closer to him. Oh who am I kidding? I am scared to get closer to him. Just yesterday, he coldly took back a jacket he gave me at a moment of sweetness. I’m not likely to forget something like that. It’s almost crueler than some of the things my family has put me through. And that’s saying something.

Clutching the straps to my backpack, I avert my eyes, looking everywhere but at him.

He looks at nothing but me. I can feel it like a heat pressing down on me.

It’s not a nice feeling.

I hear him shift away from the car. He’s closer to me now. So are his lingering eyes.

Keeping my voice cold, I say “Where’s Ashley?”

“She’s sick.”

Yeah right, I want to yell. I really doubt she is so sick she can’t come to school. Wasn’t she making-out with surfer boy yesterday and demanding my silence? I so have the feeling she’s forcing the space issue with her brother and I. She is such a sneak. I could learn a thing or two from her. So could my family.