Daphne's Questionable Bet, page 8
“What on earth did you do?” She got some plates from the cupboard and handed them to me. I held them while she scooped the omelets onto the plates.
“Just remember, you’re the one who wanted me to take this bet.”
We sat down at the table, saying a quick prayer before we dove into our breakfast. Mom kept her eyes on me, waiting for me to spill.
I sighed. “I may have fallen out of a tree at some point last night.”
Mom’s hand went to her mouth, covering up her smile as she chewed. “You fell out of a tree?”
“I had to get a better angle of Sierra’s room!” Taking a bite of the omelet, I let the savory flavors explore my mouth. Mom sure knew how to make an omelet.
Mom pointed her fork at me. “Climbing back down would have been a lot easier.”
“Veronica showed up and scared me. Thank goodness Weston was there to soften the blow.”
“Who’s Weston?”
My cheeks flared, and I quickly shoveled another bite into my mouth.
Mom grinned. “Oh, Weston. The guy Veronica showed me pictures of.”
My eyes widened. So, it was Weston who had a thing for me. I didn’t know how to feel about that.
“Daphne hot.” She leaned toward me, her tone scandalous. “What was he doing here last night?”
Another round of blushes attacked my skin, sucking out my ability to speak evenly. “I’m actually not sure. He showed up with Veronica. With everything that happened, I didn’t think to ask why he had come with her.”
Mom tilted her head to the side. “To see you, of course. That’s so sweet.” She cut off another piece of omelet. “Do you like him?”
Another bite of the omelet went into my mouth, way bigger than was comfortable.
She winked at me. “So, that’s a yes. You going to call off the bet with Sierra?”
I vigorously shook my head, trying to finish off the bite in my mouth.
“Just asking.”
I swallowed the huge lump in my mouth. “I’m not calling off the bet. Prom is still months away, and anything can happen between now and then. I mean, they’re called crushes for a reason, right? I’ll probably find out he has a secret doll fetish or something.”
Mom choked on her bite of food, pounding at her chest. Her phone buzzed on the table, and a goofy grin spread on her face when she looked at the screen. She held it up for me to see. It was a candid picture of her and Cody at the party, all cozied up and laughing.
“Someone apparently snapped this of us last night.” She moved the phone, so she could stare at it better. “He has the greatest smile.”
I quickly got up from the table, not wanting to say anything that would make her mad. It wouldn’t last, her and Cody. I just needed to brave through the next couple of months, and all would be well again.
Sierra was waiting for me at the school entrance, her face a mix of anger and annoyance. A girl stood next to her, equally upset, her black, curly hair gelled to perfection. If she hadn’t looked so pissed, the girl would have been pretty. A part of me wanted to walk up, put my fingers on the sides of her lips, and pull her mouth up into a smile, fixing the scowl. But, you know, that would be totally weird since I’d never met her before.
I’d seen her before, though. On Sierra’s social media pages. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember her name.
Veronica stayed close to my side, linking our arms together so I couldn’t run away.
“Choose your words wisely,” Veronica whispered as we approached.
That wasn’t something I knew how to do.
Sierra was back in her all-black outfit with red lipstick.
“Realized the pastels clash with your dark personality?” I asked.
The girl next to her moved as if she wanted to lunge, but Sierra put her arm out to stop her and went straight to the point. “I can’t believe you spied on me!”
“I can’t believe you tried to kiss him!” I said, my eyes darting to the scowling girl. What was her name?
Sierra had her hands balled into fists. “I was not trying to kiss him. We were just …” She trailed off, her thick lips twisting to the side.
“About to kiss?” Veronica offered.
Sierra glared at her. “You’re just upset that our study session went well. We’re having another one tomorrow.” She lifted her chin with a smug look on her face. “At his place, so you can’t spy on us.”
Was that a challenge?
Veronica, in all her freakiness, whispered in my ear, “That’s not a challenge.”
I smirked at Sierra. “Aww, talking about dead people and things they did years ago for a date.” I fanned my face. “How romantic.” I pointed a finger at the girl. “Who’s this?”
The girl’s jaw dropped, completely horrified that I didn’t know who she was. Yeesh. I’d just moved back here.
“Rosalind,” Sierra said, her tone oozing with, ‘duh.’
“Right,” I said dryly. “Rosalind. The girl I’ve never met before, and no one has introduced me to.” I waved a finger gun and winked. “Got it.”
Rosalind sneered. “You have P.E. with my brother.” She said it like it was another thing I should have known. “Sebastian.”
My eyes lit up. “Oh! Sebastian. He’s a nice guy.” I motioned to her magenta tunic. “Love your shirt, by the way. Best color ever. I think you might rock it better than I do.”
Rosalind’s glare faltered. “Uh, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I turned back to Sierra. “Are we done here, or—”
With a huff, Sierra turned on her heel and stalked off, with Rosalind right behind her.
Veronica rubbed my arm, but then stopped when I sucked in a sharp breath from the pain. Did she have to rub right over my massive bruise? It wasn’t like it was hiding or anything.
“Sorry,” she said. “That went better than expected.” She glanced sideways at me. “I’m more worried about how it’s going to go with Bentley.”
We’d only taken a couple of steps when someone called my name. I spun around to see Weston jogging toward me, also in a Captain America shirt. Oh, and belt.
“No matching earrings?” I asked when he got to us.
He chuckled. “Not yet. One day.” He held out a bottle of Cherry Coke dripping with condensation. “Thought you could use it this morning.”
I took it from him, our fingers brushing against one another, and boy, howdy, was it hot outside?
“Thank you,” I said, holding the cold bottle against my neck. Oh, that really helped. Maybe I needed to invest in one of those misting fans.
“Holy bruise!” Weston shouted, looking at my arm.
“I would make up a really cool story of how I got it, but you already know the truth.”
His reddish-brown eyebrows inched up in concern. “Does it hurt?”
“Nah. I get bruises all the time.” I moved the bottle, so it was pressed against the other side of my neck. It was definitely cooling me down, which was good, because every time Weston and I made eye contact, the heat inside me flared.
Veronica cleared her throat, making us both look at her. “We should probably get to class, seeing as the bell just rang.”
“The bell rang?” Weston and I asked at the same time.
“Jinx!” I yelled. I counted to ten so fast, he couldn’t stop me. “You owe me a Coke.” I took the bottle away from my neck. “This one doesn’t count.”
Veronica tugged on my arm, taking me into the school and away from a smiling Weston.
Chapter Fifteen
Mr. Buckley had opted for a pastel pink suit today. It clashed with the stern look on his face when class started.
I’d made sure to come in at the very last second, so Bentley couldn’t talk to me. I knew he’d ask questions about last night, and I so didn’t want to answer them.
“Listen up,” Mr. Buckley said, his booming voice commanding everyone’s attention. “I was reading your book reports last night and was completely horrified.”
There were some murmurs from the class, a few people shifting uncomfortably where they sat. His tone was unsettling, to say the least. I mean, I thought mine had been pretty good, but maybe he didn’t appreciate my comment that everyone in the Scarlett Letter could have learned a thing or two from the Care Bears.
“Your grammar and spelling are horrendous,” Mr. Buckley continued.
Okay, now he better not be talking about me. I took great pride in my grammar awesomeness.
“I blame it on texting and social media.” He folded his arms, making his muscles bulge through his pink blazer. “You have to know how to spell out there in the real world.”
“Why?” Sierra asked. “Isn’t that what autocorrect is for?”
Mr. Buckley clenched his jaw, clearly annoyed. He pointed a thick finger at her. “It’s comments like that that make me worry for our future. I swear, the English language is going to be non-existent within a few years. The whole dictionary is going to be full of acronyms and emojis.” He swept out his arms. “This is our language. You should be proud of it. Explore it. Not shorten it and snuff it out altogether.”
“There really are so many fun words,” I said. “Fickle, lollygag, catawampus, boondoggle.”
“You’re just making up words,” Bentley said, smiling over at me.
I shook my head. “Oh, they’re real, mister. Very real.” I held up a finger. “My use of they’re being t-h-e-y-apostrophe-r-e. They are. Just to clarify.”
Mr. Buckley cracked a small smile. “Nice to know someone gets it. That’s probably why she’s only one of two in this class who got an A.”
Relief washed through me. He hadn’t been talking about me. Then I did a fist pump under the table, because I freaking got an A.
He went over to his desk and lifted a stack of papers. “Which is why we’re going to have a pop quiz!”
Groans rippled throughout the room, tearing through the silence.
I clapped my hands together. “I’m just aflutter with delight!”
Weston snickered next to me, while Zander turned around to shake his head at me, smiling the whole time.
Mr. Buckley pointed the stack of papers at me. “Ms. Richards, you don’t have to take the quiz if you don’t want to.” His gaze slid to Weston. “Same with you, Mr. Ashworth. You both proved in your report that you know what you’re doing.”
Weston sat back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. “Sweet.”
“But I can take it, right?” I asked.
“I’m certainly not going to stop you,” Mr. Buckley said.
As Mr. Buckley passed the papers down the aisle, “Let’s Get it Started” by the Black Eyed Peas provided the soundtrack in my brain, making me dance in my seat.
“How could you possibly be excited about this?” Sierra hissed from her desk.
“Words are fun,” I said.
Bentley leaned toward me. “What song are you dancing to?” When I told him, he held out his fist for me to bump. “Classic.” He glanced at the bruise on my arm. “You okay, by the way? I’ve been worried about you.”
He was worried? That was a good sign, right?
“Totally fine,” I said.
“Why were you in the tree, anyway?” Bentley asked.
I really had no sane reason for that. There was no way he’d believe that Taylor and I just liked to climb trees in Care Bear onesies.
“Veronica dared me,” I said, finally taking the quiz from the girl in front of me. She’d been waving it in front of my face, trying to get my attention, but I was enjoying the nice breeze. “Thought we couldn’t climb a tree in a onesie, but we proved her wrong.” I glared at my bruise. “Well, until I fell.”
Bentley stared at me for the longest time, and I wasn’t sure if he bought my story. Sierra probably told him we were spying on them, and I mean, come on. Out of all the trees in my grandparents’ backyard, we choose the one that just happens to be next to Sierra’s bedroom window? I wouldn’t believe me, either.
“Do you like to read?” I suddenly asked Bentley.
He shook his head. “Not really my thing.”
“That just means you haven’t found the right book,” I said. “We should go to a bookstore this weekend. Find you a book with all the fun words.”
Weston leaned toward us, a shy smile on his face. “There’s this indie bookstore near the beach you could check out. Big selection. Cozy, beach vibe. Tons of places to chill. It’s one of my favorite places to go.”
I reached out, placing my hand on his arm. “That sounds amazing. We should all go!”
When I noticed he was staring at my hand on his arm, I quickly yanked my hand away, blushing. Why had I even put it there to begin with?
“Yes, we should,” Sierra said from the other side of Bentley. She smiled at him. “You want to drive?”
Bentley nodded. “Sure. I can pick you all up Saturday afternoon, and we could head down there. Maybe grab something to eat, too.”
“I’m in,” Weston said.
Even though I was mad at Sierra for inviting herself, it was still time with Bentley at a place where I would feel comfortable. I stole a glance at Weston. He would be there as well.
“And, go!” Mr. Buckley said.
I quickly turned my eyes to the paper, hoping Weston didn’t notice me checking him out. Which I wasn’t. Checking him out. I was just looking in an observatory way. Huge difference.
Chapter Sixteen
After chucking a box of Lucky Charms into the cart, I placed one foot on the bottom of the cart, then used my other foot to get some momentum going before I soared down the aisle. My foot kicked up behind me like I was an Olympic ice skater. Honestly, cart riding should have been an Olympic sport. I’d totally take home the gold.
When I got near Mom, I set my foot down, skidding across the linoleum until the cart came to a stop next to her.
She held up a box of healthy-looking cereal that had the look of, “you could eat the box, and it would taste the same.” She tossed it in the cart with a frown. “Never get old, Daphne. It sucks.”
I held out my open bag of Watermelon Sour Patch Kids, offering her some, but she declined. “I’m not planning on it. Is there an option on those end-of-life forms that’s like, ‘once my metabolism stops working like it used to, just pull the plug?’”
Mom chuckled. “Or, you could choose not to care and get fat and have a heart attack.”
I grimaced. “Well, that sounds lame.”
We rounded the corner, going down another aisle, only to come to a stop a few feet in.
Kimber Winters—with her cart full to the brim like she was stocking up for the apocalypse—stood chatting on the other end of the aisle with another lady, both of them smiling and laughing. Huh. Kimber looked like a nice, approachable person when she wasn’t scowling like she wanted to rip you to shreds.
Also, for the record, I’d be the first to die in the zombie apocalypse, and I was okay with that.
I moved backward, taking the cart with me, whispering to Mom. “Maybe if we move quietly, they won’t notice us.”
Mom back-pedaled with me. “I was thinking the same thing.”
We’d made it back to the start of the aisle, ready to turn the corner, when Mom accidentally kicked the cart, the clatter like a freaking siren, announcing our presence.
Both Kimber and the lady turned to us, Kimber’s smile fading, and the other lady lighting up like I did when I opened a fresh bottle of Cherry Coke.
Mom sighed next to me. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Want me to fake an illness?” I asked, leaning toward her. “A burst appendix, maybe?”
“Laura!” the lady exclaimed, jogging down the aisle with her cart like she was on a game show, heading for the finish line. When she got to us, she pushed her cart aside with flair before throwing her arms around Mom. “It’s so good to see you!”
Mom hugged her back in a way that said she was at least happy to see this woman. “Hi, Heidi.”
The song came into my head, then burst out of my mouth, luckily under my breath. “Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi.”
Man, I missed Gramps. Blues Brothers was his favorite movie. Mom would probably kill him if she knew he let me watch it when I was ten.
“Kimber told me you were back,” Heidi said, finally having released Mom from her hug-o-death.
“Ho-dee ho-dee ho-dee ho,” I quietly sang, dancing a little where I stood.
Mom shot me a look, telling me I hadn’t been as quiet as I thought.
Heidi just laughed. “I get that all the time.” She smiled at me. “You must be Daphne. I’m Heidi. Went to school with your mom.”
“Two sons and a golden retriever, right?” I asked.
Heidi beamed. “That’s me!”
I grinned back at her. “I’ve seen your pictures on Instagram. Your youngest son is hilarious.”
She rolled her eyes. “He likes to think so. I’ll be glad when the potty-training days are behind us.” She glanced over at Mom. “Thankfully, the hubby took the boys to the park so I could grocery shop alone. It’s like trying to wrangle two monkeys at the zoo when I bring them.”
Kimber cautiously approached us, walking with an air of sophistication. At least, I thought that was what she was trying to accomplish. She almost looked a little uncomfortable, like her Spanx were cutting off her circulation.
Heidi motioned to Kimber. “We were just talking about our twenty-year reunion! Can you believe it’s been twenty years since we graduated? I swear, I still feel like I’m sixteen sometimes.”
I pointed my bag of candy at her. “And you look it.” She really did. She was one of those ladies that looked like she never aged.
She blushed, waving her hand. “Oh, I like you.”
Kimber narrowed her eyes at me, clearly not liking my comment.
“Can’t win them all, am I right?” I said to Kimber. “Thank goodness for those age-defying creams.”
Mom whacked me in the stomach, trying to scold me, but she was trying so hard not to laugh.
Heidi’s smile faltered, clearly confused by our interaction.
