I wish I could rewrite you out of my life
But all your pages are highlighted
Dog-eared and thumbed to death
I can no longer read you
But you are still my favorite poem
Daria
That evening, my two public enemies both raise the white flag.
The first one is Mel, who summons all of us in the garage after dinner and after taking Via to the dentist to fix that missing tooth of hers. In the garage is a vehicle clothed in bright pink parked next to Dad’s Tesla. I’m standing with my arms folded. My face suggests a hostile terrorist organization has kidnapped me when Melody, with her fake enthusiasm and mental pompoms, unveils the vehicle and presents it with her arms outstretched like Vanna White on The Wheel of Fortune. It’s a bright pink Hummer Jeep.
“I know we said no presents and no celebrations—you only wanted a party—but I just couldn’t help myself.” Melody squeals and claps her hands. Via and Bailey gush right along with her. Dad and Penn are silent next to me. After the female excitement dies down, and the garage goes silent, I react.
“Wow.” I walk around it, deliberate and placid. “That is horrifyingly ugly.”
I raise my eyes to meet hers, and I’m smirking. I’m smirking because, as it turns out, she doesn’t know me after all. If she thinks she can buy her way into my heart with fancy things, she obviously misread me. Sure, I like my designer collection of dresses, shoes, and bags, and I have expensive tastes—maybe not as expensive as Knight’s, but definitely more upmarket than Vaughn’s and Luna’s—but I don’t need it. Materialistic things don’t excite me. I like them because they’re there and available. Because they’re a calorie-free treat.
Melody’s smile collapses like a straw house in the wind, and she blinks back at me. I think she is about to cry but find it hard to care. She brought my nightmare into my house without even warning me. She made it so perfectly clear that she is not half as impressed with me as she is with my sister.
“I think it’s amazing, Mom.” Bailey rushes to console our mother, hugging her tight. “Don’t worry. It’ll grow on Daria.”
Via looks around and tentatively joins Mel and Bailey, rubbing Mel’s back the same way she did mine this afternoon.
“Yes, Mrs. Followhill. I’m sure she is just shocked.”
“I’m not shocked. I’m a little offended she’d think I’d voluntarily drive this thing. It looks like a giant clitoris.”
Penn bursts out laughing, and Dad reluctantly joins him even though he tries to cover his mouth with his fist. They elbow each other to stop, but it does nothing more than throw them into a rowdier version of hysterics.
Bailey’s eyes widen, and Via somehow manages to fake a blush. Great. I’m uniting them against me. Via must be thrilled. She is probably inwardly dancing the cha-cha.
Mel looks up at me, her eyes glistening. She pays no attention to Via and Bailey, who are fussing around her, but it’s too late. The damage has been done.
“What do you want from me, Daria?” she asks, so quiet I can barely hear her.
“Nothing.”
Everything.
“What can I do to make you happy? To get to you?” The plea in her voice is so shrill, it’s tearing me apart. And for a moment, I actually believe her. Until I remember she put me in a school where she screwed her student, brought me a brooding, angry, hot foster brother, then his even angrier, batshit crazy sister, who is my enemy, then ignored and belittled my existence for four years to a point where, at times, I wondered if I was even real anymore.
“Is my party still on for this weekend?” I pretend not to catch the true meaning of her words. I can’t break down in front of all those people.
“Yes, but that’s not what I…”
“Thanks, Mel! Good luck selling this thing. Don’t they say that a vehicle loses half its worth the minute it rolls off the lot?”
I bounce out of the garage, leaving them behind. I close the door to my room, shoving back the bitterness at not being able to go downstairs to the studio and cry myself to sleep privately because Via’s got the entire place to herself. I fling myself onto my bed, grab my phone, and message Principal Prichard, who is saved under “Prince” on my phone. I have a feeling I’m going back to tri-weekly meetings with him at this rate.
I need to see you. I’m desperate.
I’ve never seen him off school grounds, but I don’t know who else to turn to. My friends are fake, Knight and Vaughn will give me the third degree, dragging Dad into this will only put more strain on his relationship with Mel, and Bailey is amazing, but she is too young and too sweet to understand all those dark feelings swirling inside me.
Tomorrow.
I can’t wait until tomorrow.
He types. You made me wait long enough the past couple of weeks. Tomorrow.
My head falls against my pillows, and I close my eyes, sighing. Shit. I was in la-la land, all-consumed with everything Penn Scully, and was able to dodge Principal Prichard’s many advances. He knew better than to hunt me down in a way that would be too obvious.
When I hear my door pushed open, I’m expecting Melody or Dad. Maybe Bailey with her naïve Hallmark words of wisdom. But Penn stands in my doorway with his elbow braced against the doorframe. His white V-neck rides up and shows off his incredible V, leading like an arrow to his groin.
“Are you going to ignore me for the rest of your life?”
I blink at the ceiling, desperate not to let my traitorous eyes slip to his face. I’m already suffering from PPSD. Post-Penn Scully Disorder. “That’s the plan.”
“Always knew you were a pussy. Nice to get valid proof.”
Eat shit, Scully. I’ll give you a second serving, too.
“I thought we established I had a pussy the other day.”
“There she is. Hideous little sarcastic monster that you are.”
“Why are you here, hood rat?” I huff.
“To talk it out.” He steps into my room and closes the door behind him. I glance at him, just to make sure I didn’t imagine the click. A smile kisses my scowling lips.
“My dad is going to kill you if he finds out you closed the door.”
“Best of luck to your dad trying to catch my ass,” he shoots back, unblinking. I right myself and press my back against the headboard. I allow myself an ounce of optimism. Maybe he cares.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Via?”
“Didn’t know.”
He is still standing all the way across the room, and I don’t know if I’m grateful for the space or want him to drown me in a suffocating hug that would steal my breath and give me life all at the same time.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“What you do with this information is up to you. I had no idea Via was coming back. Your mom mentioned she was trying to find her a few times, but honestly, she didn’t appear too optimistic, either.”
“Well, thanks for deflowering me, then ignoring me while you figured the situation out.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, then looks away at my door, blinking. He lets out a ragged breath, moving his fingers through his hair.
“Look, it’s all pretty fucked up. Emotions are running high. I wanted to take a step back and figure shit out.”
“And did you?” The dark chuckle I’m producing actually tastes bitter in my throat.
“Not by a long shot.”
I break, tears falling across my cheeks. I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my pale pink cardigan. Penn makes his way to me, jerking me up to my feet and wrapping his arms around me. I drown in him. In his touch. In his body. In his soul.
“Marx, Penn. I thought you were using me.”
“Whoa.” He pretends to pull away for a fraction of a second. “Who said that I’m not?”
I nuzzle my nose into the hole in his shirt where his heart is and laugh.
He takes a step back so he can cup my cheeks. Our eyes meet, and my heart accelerates.
“I’m not even sure how I feel about her being here. It’s like being born with a limp and given a second pair of legs. Supposed to feel good but it’s an actual shitshow. I already learned how to live without, you know?”
I know.
I want so badly to tell him that she is just pretending to be good and nice.
That she threatened to take everything away from me earlier today. The words burn on my tongue, begging to come out. A few months ago, I’d have spilled it all out without batting an eyelash. But I’ve seen all the damage it has caused Penn to be alone. I can’t do this to him. I can’t ruin his chance at reconnecting with his sister, no matter how much I despise her.
“I know.” I pull him back into our hug because I miss him already. I miss him even when he’s here. There’s not enough of him to satisfy me, and maybe I’m dragging my feet about college because life post-Penn doesn’t even register right now. “Give it time. It’ll get better.”
And just like that, muscle memory kicks in. My lips find his, and we are kissing. Deep and long and passionate. He groans into my mouth and takes my face in his rough hands, backing us both up to the bed. My knees hit the bed frame, and we both dive onto the mattress, breathless chuckles escaping our lungs. He is straddling me, kissing my neck and chin.
“Fuck. I missed your lips.”
“I missed your ass.” I squeeze his ass, biting his lower lip.
“You’re a solid hobby, Skull Eyes. Just remember that it’s nothing more, and the minute you get attached—that’s around the time I’ll probably cut you off.”
“See if I care, baby. You’re just a phase. Maybe my future surgeon husband will fix up your broken leg if you ever make it to the NFL.”
He chuckles, kissing his way to my chest and unbuttoning my cardigan.
“Maybe he’ll chop it off altogether when I taunt him about how much fun I had inside his wife.”
“More fun than you had with Adriana?” I pull away, inspecting his eyes.
“Lima or my classmate?”
The one your sister said you’re in love with.
“The latter. As if Adriana Lima would give your ass the time of day.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Are you avoiding the question?”
He drags his teeth down my neck and sinks them into my collarbone. I know he is piercing my skin, marking me for everyone to see and know. The sheer relief washing over me suggests that one of the reasons I felt like I was holding a seven-ton weight of angst on my shoulders the past few days was because I couldn’t be with Penn. And while I’m his hobby, he is turning out to be my…everything. My solace. My good part. My favorite thing about life.
“Adriana is not a factor here. She’s a permanent fixture in my life that has nothing to do with you. You…” He fists the collar of my cardigan and jerks me to his face. “You’re the best temporary treat I’ve had in a while.”
“Don’t believe you for a second.” My lips tremble around the words. I have to convince myself that it’s not true.
He dips his head down, smirking at me.
“It would be a pleasure to prove to you just how little you mean to me.”
Our lips are about to lock again when there’s a frantic knock on my door. Penn peels himself off my body, releasing a frustrated groan. Even though he doesn’t give a damn if we get caught, he knows I do. He runs his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back, and shoves a hand into his faded Levi’s to rearrange his hard-on.
“Yes?” I ask, a little too chirpily, considering the mood I left the garage in. I clear my throat, readjusting my tone. “What?”
“Daria?” Via’s nervous, fake voice bleeds from the other side of the door. “It’s me. Sylvia. I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to, but I’d really like to make you feel better.”
I immediately know that Via saw Penn sneaking into my room and is trying to ruin the moment. It makes perfect sense. She told me herself that I can’t have her twin brother. And to make matters worse, us locking the door just confirmed that we are, in fact, hiding something. I can’t say no to her. Not with Penn here. She is allegedly trying to reach out to me. He can’t know the truth.
Penn and I exchange looks. There’s hope in his eyes, and it’s crushing me because Via is setting me up for destruction. He is starting to get used to the upgraded version of his sister. He may have known her as a cunning, tongue-in-cheek, driven teenager, but now she is all sunshine and good intentions. He is falling for her when he should be falling for me—in very different ways, but it’s happening, nonetheless.
I decide to play her game. If she is going to pretend, then so will I.
“I…” I look around frantically, but looking for what, exactly? I can’t hide her brother anywhere. He is a wide receiver the size of an industrial fridge. My closet is too crowded and full of stuff, and the space under my low bed is tiny. “Let me put something on and unlock the door,” I say as I run to the window and open it for Penn to get out. He is still standing in the middle of the room in all his height and muscled glory. I’m not even sure he could fit through my window, let alone slip through it undetected.
“For real?” He arches an eyebrow. “I can barely fit through fucking doors, Skull Eyes.”
“Well, it’s either that or being pushed under my bed or into my closet. Your pick of a high school movie cliché.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
He smirks, pulling me by the hem of my shirt and kissing me leisurely, with tongue and all, as though his sister is not waiting on the other side of the door.
Penn squashes my butt, pulling me close to his erection and rubbing my body up and down against it, manhandling me in one hand without even breaking a sweat.
“You playing nice with Via doesn’t go unnoticed.”
I cup his dick between us, clutching a little, not enough to hurt but enough to tease the hell out of him. He licks his lips and raises his head skyward, squeezing his eyes shut.
“It costs me all my patience and goodwill.”
“I’ll pay you back with my tongue and dick.”
He steals one last kiss before he fumbles out the window, his laughter rolling on my skin. He is not even pretending to hide himself. Hide us. If he is open about us to Via, then that means he is not ashamed of me. That he is not one hundred percent in her camp.
I open the door, allowing Via to walk into my domain. I’ve decided I am going to be so nice she’ll want to throw up rainbows and unicorns by the time I’m done with her. If I don’t give her any ammo on me, she’ll eventually get tired of trying.
Via doesn’t take a moment to appreciate my pink champagne aquarium wall and fancy room—but why would she? She’s already been here, digging through my clothes. She closes the door and throws herself onto my bed as if it belongs to her. She inhales a deep breath, smiling from the throne of my satin pillows and vintage teddy bears.
“Smells like my brother in here.”
Does that turn you on, perv?
I sit on the edge of the bed, knowing somehow she is privy to the fact he’s already left. She doesn’t have the balls to stand up to Penn. I don’t think anyone does.
“You know, you could take the Jeep.” I examine my perfect French manicure. “Mel is probably not going to return it, so it’ll go to waste.”
I want my mother to choke on her prejudice against me, thinking I’ll be awful to Via. And if I can kill Via with kindness in the process—well, that’s just a big fat bonus.
“Ech.” She sticks her tongue out. “That thing was fucking disgusting. No thank you. I don’t know how you deal with that woman. She is so submissive. It was a huge turnoff back then, but it’s a total nuisance nowadays.”
My mouth goes slack. Did she actually just talk about my mother like that? The woman who invested more in her than in her own daughter? The woman who fought tooth and nail to bring her back? Who housed her? Who freaking jeopardized her relationship with my father and me—both of us guarded by nature—just to save her? My expression probably gives away my shock and disgust because Via explains herself.
“I vanished four years ago. She only found me, like, a month ago. And not a minute before she took Penn under her wing. Where has she been all this time?”
I saw Mel mourn Via. It was half the reason I kept mum about what Penn and I did that day. I knew she’d never forgive me. She’d hate my guts and mentally disown me if she knew. I’m not Mel’s biggest fan right now, but even I know that this is bullshit.
“She tried really hard to find you when you disappeared,” I say in what I hope to hell is an even tone. “She is not your mother.”
“Thank God. Imagine if I’d have inherited her thighs, like you.” She springs off my bed and saunters toward the aquarium. She taps it with her finger, watching the bubbles rising from the oxygen tank below. “Ever wonder what would happen if you put a hammer into this thing?”
“No,” I snap.
“Hmm.” A faraway smile curves on her lips before she returns her attention to me, twisting her head in my direction. “As I said before, you can’t date my brother. Correction—you can’t even fuck my brother. You’re just a piece of ass for him, and even though you have zero self-respect, I’m here to tell you that even you can do better. Adriana would never let it happen, and she is the girl he’ll eventually marry and take to college with him. She gave birth to his kid, for crying out loud. Stop embarrassing yourself and finish this stupid thing with him. Today.”
“What did they feed you in Mississippi? Acid and delusions?” I examine my nails, trying to come off as blasé. “What if I liked to be used? What if he’s only a piece of ass for me, too?”
She stares at me in bewilderment as if I just revealed a piece of information that is completely new to her.
“I can make your life a living hell.”
“Go ahead.” I gesture to her with my hand. You already are. “Be my guest.”
“Is this war, Daria?” A spark of madness ignites in her eyes. I’ve seen this flash before, the day Penn suggested we should be friends all those years ago. The adrenaline zing. This is how you know a Scully is excited.
I pretend to yawn. “If you want it to be? I’ll bring my tanks; you’ll bring your sticks.”
“Paper tanks.” She smiles sweetly, and for some reason, her gaze on my face makes me feel naked. At some sort of disadvantage. “Glittery paper tanks I can crumple in my fist. It’s on, Followhill.”
Penn leaves three hours before my birthday party starts.
An hour after Bailey and my parents left to stay at a Malibu hotel for the night, to be exact. They cleared out of the house until Sunday morning so I can throw the mother of all bashes. Before Penn moved in, I was notorious for my parties.
Before he left, Penn and I stood at the door, making out, groping, and kissing for long minutes before Via descended the stairs. Penn groaned, tearing his mouth from mine with a pained frown. Shame she didn’t catch it. At this point, I wanted her to see that we were still on. I recently told Knight and Vaughn about us—I had to tell someone, and Marx knows I can’t trust Esme and the cheer crew—and they both told me that I’m crazy for doing my foster brother even though I haven’t explicitly mentioned sex.
Principal Prichard, on the other hand, has been avoiding me on principle all week since those text messages. I think he is testing me. Or maybe he wants me to crawl back to him. Things have been awkward since he caught Penn and me in the locker room. I know I need to face the music, but I have so many war fronts, I can’t even begin to tackle the Prichard problem.
Now that my party is in full swing, I can sit back and relax for the first time in what seems like a lifetime. I watch people cannonball into my pool, lit in a million different lights, from my spot on the couch overlooking my backyard. I’m tucked next to Esme and Blythe. Knight, Colin, and Vaughn are sitting on recliners around us. Gus is nowhere to be seen, and I’m guessing Via is somewhere, sucking the souls out of random babies while pretending to be their unassuming nanny. Mel was so excited that Via “agreed” to stick around for the party.
“I’m so glad you’re making friends, Via.”
Yeah. My friends. And not by freaking accident, Mother.
“Where is Gus?” I ask as I sip from my champagne. I put a handful of my junior minions in the kitchen on bartender duty, and they’ve been serving us champagne and imported beer all evening. Not that they care. They get to mingle with high school royalty and be seen. Not to mention, they got a Followhill invite, which is practically a winning lottery ticket in this town.
The thing about parties at All Saints High? If they’re good, with a lot of alcohol, sex, and good music, you usually don’t know about them unless you’re in.
Next year, they’ll pass it forward and act just like me. For tonight, though, they will bask in my afterglow but only from afar.
“He’s been working on the new chick for like, two hours or something.” Colin takes a sip of his beer, nudging Knight’s thigh for him to pass him the joint.
“Via?” My mouth goes dry. I hope they are not hooking up. Penn absolutely hates Gus and vice versa.
“Yeah, her.” Colin yawns, pointing at me with the beer. “I hope she knows he is called Texas Gus for a reason.”
“Gus is called Texas Gus?” Blythe wrinkles her nose. Esme reddens next to me, downing her drink in one go.
“Correct.” Knight passes Colin the joint he just meticulously rolled using my mascara wand. “He once gave a certain girl pink eye by shooting his hot sauce in a strategic direction.”
Blythe snorts. “So embarrassing. Who was it?”
Esme pretends to text on her phone, but her fingers are not moving. Knight smirks, averting his gaze to her.
“Guess it was someone who wasn’t worth fucking.”
“Excuse me,” I singsong (like my mom, I realize after I do), slipping from the couch to go look for Via and Gus. “Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine is blasting through the speakers as I make my way across the packed living room, crammed with teenagers drinking, dancing, and making out against the walls and furniture. I hear laughter from upstairs as people jump from Bailey’s window right onto the trampoline outside and make my way to the second floor, holding the bannister as my vision sways. I’m drunker than I thought I was, zigzagging my way upstairs. I start throwing doors open, my pulse picking up as I do. Penn’s is locked, but I knew it would be. I saw him packing everything that might’ve hinted at his presence into trash bags and tossing it straight into Vaughn’s pool house earlier today. He’s not taking any chances. I haven’t been bringing any friends to my house ever since he moved here, and I’m guessing he knows it’s a sacrifice. What I don’t tell him is that I do it gladly. What I never voice is how freaking proud I am of him going through all of this without complaining.
When I reach my room and open it, I find Via writhing in my bed with Gus on top of her. Their mouths are fused, and he is running his fingers up and down her bare leg. She is wearing a dress I don’t recognize. Mel must’ve taken her shopping between the time she broke my heart and the time she crushed it with her fist, just to make sure that it’s extra dead.
“Texas Gus,” I purr, and Gus’s eyes shoot up from Via, but he is still on top of her. “Take a hike. I need to have a word with Mississippi Sylvia.”
“Nah, Followhill. I think I’m comfortable right”—he thrusts his jeans-clad crotch onto Via’s groin, and she is laughing evilly—“fucking”—he leans down to bite her nose—“here.”
I elevate my phone to my face and start typing with a cheerful bravado I don’t feel.
“I guess I’ll report it back to your QB1. You know my daddy always puts him in charge, making sure everyone’s on their best behavior when I throw parties.”
“Bitch.” Gus nips at Via’s lips one more time before he jumps to his feet, grabbing his varsity jacket from my lilac bed bench and storming past me, his shoulder brushing mine.
I continue standing at the door. I’m not even going to touch the subject of them making out on my bed with a ten-foot pole. It makes me want to throw up in my mouth, and I’m mad about it, but not as mad as I am about her sleeping with the enemy—quite freaking literally.
Via huffs and gets up, about to leave, but this time, I’m the one to close the door behind me and push her back onto my bed. “Sit.”
“Give me one good reason to.” She makes a move to stand again.
“It’s about your brother, and if you care about him at all—which you haven’t shown any signs of doing in the past four years—you will listen.”
I settle next to her on my bed. We’re both staring at our feet. I feel tipsy and frustrated with the past few days. Just when I thought I was making real progress with Penn and Mel, Via came back and screwed up everything.
“What’s going on with you and Gus?” I demand.
“As if I’ll ever tell you anything.” She sulks. I peek at her from my peripheral vision, and tears are brimming in her eyes. It must be so hard for her to see all this and know it wasn’t a part of her youth. That it never would be. She can’t get her high school years back.
“Have you ever been kissed before Gus?” I trail my linen with the tip of my finger, trying another tactic but also genuinely curious.
She snort-laughs through her tears. “Get to the point, Daria. We’re not friends, and this is not a heart to heart.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath. “I just want you to know the whole picture before you date Gus or even mess around with him. He and your brother have an open beef. I heard there was mad trash talk the day the Saints beat the Bulldogs on the football field when the season started. Penn came over to our school a few days before that to try to patch things up with Gus, but it didn’t work. Penn thinks Gus cheated somehow in order to win,” I explain, manically trying to convey to her the level of hate these two share. “And every single time I see them in the same vicinity, Gus is trying to throw Penn off-balance.”
Via takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.
“I feel like Penn gave up on me the moment I ran away, and that nothing I can do will ever narrow the abyss between us,” she admits. I perk up, looking at her cautiously. This sounds a lot like an admission. And an admission is better than an attack, which is what I’ve been getting since the day she came to live with us.
“How so?” My voice is so small and encouraging, barely a whisper.
“Penn is being weird with me. Not exactly hostile but…distant. I feel like I’ve let him down so much by leaving. As if I had a choice. I thought Rhett was going to kill me at some point. And Penn, no matter how much he loved me and was there for me, he was still only a child himself. He couldn’t protect me. I realize that I’m the only one to blame—”
“No, you aren’t,” I cut her off. “Rhett is to blame. Your late mom is to blame. Your school, and the system, and to an extent, even my mother for not noticing. But not you.”
“Penn isn’t to blame,” she stresses. “And he is the one who got hurt the most.”
Now I have my own admission. The truth is clogging my throat, and the alcohol begs for me to let it loose. It’s a confession. A difficult one. But one that would make her let go of her inhibitions and guilt, and maybe start building a strong bridge to cross that gulf.
“Penn and I are also to blame,” I admit quietly.
“What?” Her eyes shoot to me. “What in the hell are you talking about? You didn’t know each other back when that happened.”
I tell her everything about that day. Rehashing the entire thing from the moment I stood at the door and prayed not to see her to the moment Penn gave me my first kiss. And all the horrible things in-between. The letter. How he tore it. The glee I felt when he did. How I wrote about it in my little black book that same evening. How the book got thick.
“He tore it, but he didn’t know. He didn’t know, Via. He didn’t know,” I keep repeating.
After I’m done, I feel out of breath. As though I just ran a marathon. I shift my entire body on the bed so I can look at her better. She is shaking, and tears stream down her face. I realize my mother never told her that she got into the Royal Academy. And why would she? It’s cruel, bittersweet news. I try to hug her, but she shoots up to her feet. I do, too.
“There wasn’t one day in my life I didn’t think about the letter, and about you, and about what a horrible person I am,” I confess, tears blurring my vision. It’s true. Even when I hated her, I hated myself more for what I did. I still do. This was when Mom became Mel. When my downfall started. “Please, believe me.”
The slap comes out of nowhere. Sharp as a knife and full of heat. I feel her palm on my cheek long after she withdraws it and instinctively raise my hand to rub it.
You just got slapped. My brain is screaming at the rest of my body, an echo ringing between my ears. Ad infinitum.
“And that makes it okay?” Her entire face twists. “You and my brother ruined my life. Rhett was an abusive jerk. Mama was unresponsive and passed out eighty percent of the time, and your mom was pushing me away because you couldn’t handle us being close and she didn’t want to upset you,” she tells me, and I choke on my breath. I didn’t know that. I didn’t know Via and Mom weren’t super close. “I would have never left had I known I got in! I would have made it through, Daria.”
“I know.” I’m sobbing, bracing my hands on my knees and shaking my head. The tears burn where she slapped me, but drunk and armor-less, I acknowledge that I deserved it. “God, I know.”
My shoulders are shaking as the sobs flow through me. I advance toward her, planning…I don’t know, even to go down on my knees if I have to, but she backs up again. Her legs hit my nightstand, and she picks up the first thing she can get her hands on—a golden alarm clock Luna brought me from her family trip to Switzerland a few years ago—and aims it at me.
“Stay away from me, Daria. I mean it.”
“Please don’t think any less about your brother. That wasn’t my intention at all. I just wanted you to know that everyone was to blame for what happened four years ago. But now you’re back, and we can make up for that time.”
“You can’t make up for that time!”
She is screaming at the top of her lungs, hunching her body from the effort to produce such a profound yell. We’re lucky the music is deafeningly loud outside. “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell is playing, and I can’t help but agree with the sentiment.
Love is so contaminated. It tarnishes all that is beautiful and corrupts the soul. Love is so much uglier than hate because when you hate, you’re not confused. When you’re in love, you’re dumb.
“You can’t turn back time. I was miserable and abused in Mississippi, only in a different way.”
“So why did you give my mother trouble about coming back?” I’m trying to gain control over my voice, my muscles, my heart. “Why did you want to stay there when Mel begged you to come back?”
“Because I hated you too much!” She throws her arms in the air.
“Because I knew I was going to get a front-row seat to the perfect life of Daria Followhill. Because a part of me knew you would seduce Penn. Because that’s what you do, Daria. You take everything that I have and make it yours.”
“Funny.” I sniff, my mouth filling with bitterness. “I feel the same about you.”
Via shakes her head. She dashes out my door, and I run after her. I push past people and bark at them to move out of the way. I probably look possessed, and everyone is glancing over their shoulder to watch Queen Daria running after her new foster sister. But I can’t let her walk away from this conversation. Not like this. Not when nothing has been sorted. Panic rushes through my veins like a river. The more I try with her, the harder she pushes me away.
Eventually, I lose her in the crowd and get swept away by Alisha, who wants to raid Mel’s closet and see what Fashion Week garments she has ordered this season. I comply on autopilot.
The princess’s castle is falling apart.
And I know that, soon enough, doomsday will arrive.
But I just smile and wave, as princesses do.
Even—and especially—when they crumple.
