Lament: The Faerie Queen's Deception

“He like you?”

“A lot.”

Dad nodded and got his car keys from the hook by the door. “I’m glad. I’m going to go get the AC running in the car. Meet me out there when you’re ready to go, okay?” He let himself softly out the back door, as quiet as Mom and Delia were loud, and I went back upstairs to get changed into something that didn’t smell quite so strongly of wet grass and staying out all night.

Upstairs, as I was transferring my phone to the back pocket of a nice pair of jeans for work, it rang. I looked at the number, but didn’t recognize it.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

I recognized Luke’s voice at once, and despite everything, I shivered. In a good way. “You have a phone?”

“I do now. I never had anybody I wanted to talk to before.” He paused. “Do you want to talk to me?”

“I shouldn’t.” I remembered Dad waiting in the car and began to hunt for a clean pair of socks. “But I do. I just keep thinking you’re going to bust out an explanation for what I saw in your head last night.”

There was silence.

“Is this the phone version of that sad face you do where you say you can’t tell me anything?”

“Yeah, I guess it is. I guess I was hoping that you’d see something that would counteract all those—the—that stuff—when you read my mind.”

“Is there something that would counteract all that?”

Luke sighed. “Better count this as another phone version of the sad face.”

I had more important things to ask him, but curiosity pushed me forward. “What happens when you can’t tell me something? Does your tongue freeze, or what?”

He paused. “It’s painful. My throat seizes up, sort of. I never know exactly what’s going to set it off, so I try to avoid it.”

“What about writing it down?”

“That would hurt. A lot.”

“So … telling me who is keeping you from talking would definitely cause you problems.”

“Just thinking about telling you that makes my tonsils go cold,” Luke said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Can I see you today?”

I contemplated just how idiotic that would be. Then I remembered. “Luke, Granna’s in the hospital. My mom just left with Delia. They said she fell down or something. But—”

“Granna doesn’t fall down,” Luke finished.

I hesitated. “Do you think that it could be—”

“Maybe. Do you want me to visit her? I’d be able to tell.”

“She hates you.”

“She’s not the only one. What about us? Can I see you again? You can say no. You’d crush all my hopes and dreams, but it’s an option.”

I pulled on my shoes while I thought. I could probably blame my hormones for all this. For my complete lack of ethics. A friggin’ pile of dead bodies and here I was allowing myself cold chills at the idea of seeing him again. Oh man, and if he kissed me again, I’d probably explode. Earth-to-Deirdre. Snap out of it. We’re talking killer here, remember? But maybe there was a reason for the bodies. Or maybe I was just being pitifully hopeful. Out loud, I reasoned, “So, there just might be something to counteract what I saw in your head.”

“I think I am allowed to say a definite maybe.”

“And you aren’t going to kill me.”

The smile vanished from his voice. “I promise you that. If nothing else, I promise you that. I won’t ever hurt you.”

I wondered what it was like to have a normal relationship, where you didn’t have to ask these sorts of questions. Would I feel the same about him if he just had a normal life and a normal past? I made my decision. “Then I’ll see you later.”

“You’ve made my day, pretty girl. I’m off to visit your granny. Keep my secret with you.” The phone went dead in my hand.

Dave’s Ice was officially dead. The hazy blue-gray sky of earlier had traded in its stifling heat for growing knots of storm clouds, and no one was in the mood to get ice cream. I leaned against the counter, staring out the large pane-glass windows at the gathering clouds and playing with the iron key, sliding it back and forth on its chain. I could think of one thousand places I’d rather be.

I didn’t want to look at the clock, because it would just remind me how much longer I had to stay here. I didn’t want to read old text messages from James, because that would just remind me how nobody had called and updated me on Granna yet.

“He gave you that, didn’t he?” Sara interrupted my boredom. She leaned against the other side of the counter, revealing a lot more of her cle**age than I’d ever wanted to see. Even though she was wearing the same chaste Dave’s apron I was, she’d managed to find a shirt that made it look like all she was wearing was the chaste Dave’s apron.

I glanced up at her. “Yeah.”

“I saw you guys on that first day, sitting out by the car. He really is cute.”

“Yeah.”

Sara leaned toward me, conspiratorial. “And older. He’s a senior, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

She poked a finger in her ear and squinted out the window as if trying to see what I was looking at. “I know I said it before, but I just can’t get over, like, that someone like you ended up with someone like him. No offense. Seriously, no offense.”

Previously, on Deirdre’s Life: in the last installment of our show, Deirdre receives casual put-down from Sara, and because Deirdre’s socially paralyzed, she takes it without a squeak.

This week on Deirdre’s Life: Deirdre fights back.

I rolled my eyes toward her. “I think older guys go for a more subtle look, don’t you?”

Sara followed my gaze down into the cavern between her br**sts. “I—uh—never noticed. Do they?”

“Yes,” I said firmly, warming to my theory. “You know, younger guys want arm candy. Older guys want depth.” I swallowed a smile and went in for the kill. “It’s why I wouldn’t date any of the guys from school.” I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with her—like we were friends. I wondered if this was how the other girls in high school were, the ones that babbled in front of their lockers about their boyfriends and the music they liked. Maybe they were all just pretending to be buddy-buddy, when really they knew nothing about each other.

Sara’s eyes opened wide. “That’s why you didn’t date? I totally thought it was because you were some kind of freak.”