to
buy a dress
?”
A prickly feeling spread over Daphne, like a sudden rash. “How did you …?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you let us down—again. Do you care that we’re in dire straits and Mom needs all the help we can give?”
“Of course I care.”
“Then why won’t you go find a job? And why are you out spending money on stupid things? Please don’t tell me you charged that dress.”
“No! She let me put it on a tab or whatever. I’m supposed to go pay it tomorrow. And don’t look at me that way. I’m going to use the money Grandma left me.”
Gabby’s eyes and mouth widened in a look of horror. “How could you do that at a time like this? What if we need that money for an emergency?”
“It’s my money.”
“It’s
our
house. It’s our well-being. God! It’s like you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
“Shut up!” Daphne pressed her hands over her ears. “Shut up! Shut up!
Shut up!
” It was so unfair. She’d had one of the best afternoons of her whole life and her sister was determined to ruin it.
“Girls! What on earth is going on here?” Great. Now Mom was swooping into the room, as usual. Like some wide-eyed, frowny superhero.
“More of the same,” Gabby said. “Daffy is going daffy over some guy again. What else is new?”
“Leave me alone! You’re just jealous because I found someone special.”
Gabby rolled her eyes and made a huffing sound. “Please! You’ve just met the guy. How can you even know that he’s
so special
?” She uttered the final two words in the breathy voice of a total ditz while waving her hands in the air.
“Because! I just do!” Daphne yelled. She quickly tried to think of some evidence to back up her claim. “He’s … different. He’s sweet. He reads Brontë and—”
Gabby started laughing. “Oh, my god. You are falling for a guy because you like the same
books
? If that’s the best basis for a relationship, you should date Mrs. Shropshire down the street. She has stacks of paperback romances all over the floor of her living room.”
“What do you know?” Daphne was really screaming now. Her throat felt warm and raw. “When did you ever even have a boyfriend? Real guys won’t even come near you!”
“Girls, stop! I’ve had enough of this!”
Daphne pointed at her sister. “It’s her fault! She jumped all over me for no reason! She thinks she’s the one in charge but she’s not—you are.”
Mrs. Rivera studied her for a moment and then nodded. “You’re right. Gabby, you really should let me handle things,” she said. But before Daphne had a chance to look triumphant, her mom added, “Although she does have a point, sweetheart. You really do tend to lose your head over these boys.”
“No! It’s not like that. This time it’s different. Why do you always have to take her side?”
“I’m not taking her side. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Now who’s jumping to conclusions? You’ve never even seen him and already you think he’s a jerk?”
“It’s not that, honey. I’ve lived longer. I know more about men.… Boys …” Her mom seemed to be struggling to find the right word. “… Relationships.”
She reached out and placed a hand on the back of Daphne’s head, stroking her hair. It seemed more condescending than tender, the same gesture a preschool teacher would use with a sad four-year-old. Daphne’s teeth clenched. It was more proof that they saw her as a baby.
“Real life, real
love
, isn’t the way you see it in movies or read about in books,” her mom went on. “I hate to see you risk yourself like this. I just wish you’d be more … sensible.”
“Sensible.” It was one of those words Daphne hated. Something she apparently wasn’t—along with being “responsible” or “mature.” “Sensible,” she repeated, considering the term. The opposite would be “foolish,” right? “Silly.” “Idiotic.” “Stupid.”
“Do you
buy a dress
?”
A prickly feeling spread over Daphne, like a sudden rash. “How did you …?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you let us down—again. Do you care that we’re in dire straits and Mom needs all the help we can give?”
“Of course I care.”
“Then why won’t you go find a job? And why are you out spending money on stupid things? Please don’t tell me you charged that dress.”
“No! She let me put it on a tab or whatever. I’m supposed to go pay it tomorrow. And don’t look at me that way. I’m going to use the money Grandma left me.”
Gabby’s eyes and mouth widened in a look of horror. “How could you do that at a time like this? What if we need that money for an emergency?”
“It’s my money.”
“It’s
our
house. It’s our well-being. God! It’s like you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
“Shut up!” Daphne pressed her hands over her ears. “Shut up! Shut up!
Shut up!
” It was so unfair. She’d had one of the best afternoons of her whole life and her sister was determined to ruin it.
“Girls! What on earth is going on here?” Great. Now Mom was swooping into the room, as usual. Like some wide-eyed, frowny superhero.
“More of the same,” Gabby said. “Daffy is going daffy over some guy again. What else is new?”
“Leave me alone! You’re just jealous because I found someone special.”
Gabby rolled her eyes and made a huffing sound. “Please! You’ve just met the guy. How can you even know that he’s
so special
?” She uttered the final two words in the breathy voice of a total ditz while waving her hands in the air.
“Because! I just do!” Daphne yelled. She quickly tried to think of some evidence to back up her claim. “He’s … different. He’s sweet. He reads Brontë and—”
Gabby started laughing. “Oh, my god. You are falling for a guy because you like the same
books
? If that’s the best basis for a relationship, you should date Mrs. Shropshire down the street. She has stacks of paperback romances all over the floor of her living room.”
“What do you know?” Daphne was really screaming now. Her throat felt warm and raw. “When did you ever even have a boyfriend? Real guys won’t even come near you!”
“Girls, stop! I’ve had enough of this!”
Daphne pointed at her sister. “It’s her fault! She jumped all over me for no reason! She thinks she’s the one in charge but she’s not—you are.”
Mrs. Rivera studied her for a moment and then nodded. “You’re right. Gabby, you really should let me handle things,” she said. But before Daphne had a chance to look triumphant, her mom added, “Although she does have a point, sweetheart. You really do tend to lose your head over these boys.”
“No! It’s not like that. This time it’s different. Why do you always have to take her side?”
“I’m not taking her side. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Now who’s jumping to conclusions? You’ve never even seen him and already you think he’s a jerk?”
“It’s not that, honey. I’ve lived longer. I know more about men.… Boys …” Her mom seemed to be struggling to find the right word. “… Relationships.”
She reached out and placed a hand on the back of Daphne’s head, stroking her hair. It seemed more condescending than tender, the same gesture a preschool teacher would use with a sad four-year-old. Daphne’s teeth clenched. It was more proof that they saw her as a baby.
“Real life, real
love
, isn’t the way you see it in movies or read about in books,” her mom went on. “I hate to see you risk yourself like this. I just wish you’d be more … sensible.”
“Sensible.” It was one of those words Daphne hated. Something she apparently wasn’t—along with being “responsible” or “mature.” “Sensible,” she repeated, considering the term. The opposite would be “foolish,” right? “Silly.” “Idiotic.” “Stupid.”
“Do you
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