Chapter 2

It was another three weeks before Danielle would talk about David.

They were the three slowest weeks of her life. Each morning she would wake up and wonder what to do with herself. Each night she would fall into bed with the same question. In between she sat and stared. She tried to use the computer, to do her summer reading, to catch up on books she'd meant to finish; she tried to keep herself busy. It never worked. Always she found herself sitting aimlessly, blankly, unable to focus. Once she read the same page for an hour. Her period came, and went; there was blood on her panties, but she didn't think to do anything about it. Nothing happened.

Obviously, her parents had questions about why her best friend had suddenly stopped coming round—not to mention her younger sister Sonya, little brat that she was—but enough times yelling "I don't wanna talk about it!" at them finally put them off the scent. She was just glad that David himself had not shown up at the front door; he certainly could have, it wasn't like he hadn't spent half his life here. But for whatever reasons of his own, he didn't. For a while she dreaded it; then she merely worried that he might try to phone the house; then she wondered whether he might send a letter or an e-mail. But as weeks turned to months and no contact was forthcoming, she began to think that maybe he had taken it seriously—as he should have!—when she said she was done with him.

Her friends were no help; Shelly Baumgarter and the others had made it plain that she should not attempt to contact them over the summer. (They had also made it plain that they would be out of state, possibly out of the country, over the summer, and any attempts she did make at contacting them would necessarily fail, so why not save herself the trouble? Danielle wished her family had that kind of money.) Not that there was much she could say to them anyway. They had all ridiculed her "outdated" attachment to David; they thought she should sow her wild oats while she could. She would get no sympathy from them.

And her other friends...

"Danielle?" The voice sounded amazed. "Danielle Mayer?"

"Do you know any other Danielles, Liz?" Danielle asked.

"Well," said Liz, "no, not particularly. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure I know this 'Danielle Mayer' person you speak of either. I mean, she hasn't talked to me in a couple of months. Which is pretty crappy for someone who claims I'm her best girl friend."

"I am not in the mood, Elizabeth," Danielle snapped, two inches away from hanging up.

"Ooh, a first name ultimatum, " said Liz. "Powerful, but not nearly as effective as the full-spectrum triple-name treatment. 'Elizabeth Viola Lewiston!' See? There's a difference."

"You want me to use it?" Danielle growled.

"No, not particularly. What can I do for you, Nellie? We haven't spoken since school ended, it must be something important."

"I ... I..." said Danielle. "Can you just come over?"

"Well, I was going to meet Heidi and Vanessa for a movie. Can it wait?"

"Umm," said Danielle. She wasn't sure she wanted to say anything out loud—as though, somehow, keeping it quiet would make it all go away. But despite it the words came tumbling out: "I'm not with David anymore."

There was a crackling silence from the other end of the phone. Then Liz said, "I'll be right over."

And she was. Within the next fifteen minutes after that, Heidi and Vanessa arrived too; Carmen was at summer school and would only be available after five, but Liz assured her that she had been texted and was fully aware of the situation. Danielle, now the center of the maelstrom, was almost too stunned to function. While she had known Liz longer than she had David, their friendship had long become part of the background noise of her life; for years now she had not nearly been as conscious of Liz as she was of David. Would she have dropped everything if some disaster had happened in Liz's life? She wasn't sure. Suddenly she was absurdly grateful she'd never had to find out.

"So," said Liz. "When did this happen? What's going on?"

"Umm ... Three weeks ago," said Danielle.

"And you didn't say anything?!" Liz exclaimed.

"Well..." said Danielle. She hadn't wanted to say anything; it was as if she could keep it from being true by not admitting it out loud. These were decisions she had made in the half-light of the night, far into the blue hours of the morning when her eyes swam with fatigue. Now, with the sun out, they seemed stupid. But she had kept to them all the same.

"Well, if I had a boyfriend break up with me, I wouldn't want to tell anyone," Heidi announced. "God, I'd be so embarrassed!"

Liz passed an eyeroll to Danielle before saying, "We know now, at least. And we can do something about it." What surprised Danielle was not the ostentatious little smirk; what surprised her was that she remembered to look at Liz's face to catch it. She and Liz had been close as sisters, once; maybe some things didn't end.

But that thought brought David to mind, and then things were cold in her heart again.

Though Heidi and Vanessa pestered her about it, she couldn't bring herself to admit what had happened. Not to them. She could just imagine Vanessa pecking at her for details, or Heidi making faces and being grossed out. Liz seemed to see; after the other two had bugged her for a while, Liz swept in and managed to start a spirited argument about what movie they were going to see. They? "Well, you don't think we're leaving you alone here, are you?" Liz said. But Danielle didn't think she'd mind that. She wasn't sure she wanted to be out in public right now. What she really wanted was for all these well-meaning but stupid people to go away, so that she could tell Liz what had happened—so that she could actually talk about it; now that the subject had been broached, she realized she wanted nothing else but to talk about it, and to wonder how, if she had loved him and he her, this could have happened. But it wasn't to be. So she went to the movie with them, and it wasn't until after dinner that night that Liz could extricate herself and come talk.

And even then, it wasn't alone. For reasons surpassing her understanding, Liz's boyfriend Martin came too. She had seen him around school, of course, but never paid much attention to him; he was one of the quiet ones. She'd never understood, for that matter, what it was that Liz saw in him. But she'd rarely had time to ponder, nor any reason to either; there had always been David to wonder about.

Her skepticism must have shown on her face, because Liz said, "Look, he's not coming in with us. I'm gonna leave him here in the den and then you and I can go talk in your room."

"Why'd you bring him at all?" Danielle demanded.

"Because I thought he might have something useful to say," Liz said. "Look, Nellie. He—"

"Don't call me that," she said. "It makes me feel like a kid."

"Umm. Well. What would you rather be called?" said Liz.

"Anything else. Danielle. Dani. Dee. Anything else."

Martin spoke up for the first time. "Antonio?"

Danielle gave him a glare.

"Well," said Liz, "you did say 'anything else.'"

So that was what they saw in each other: the same juvenile sense of humor. "Yes," she said, letting sarcasm drip from every word, "Antonio would be fine."

"Oh, good," said Martin. He stuck out his hand. "Hi, Antonio, I'm Martin. Pleased to meet you."

"And, now that you two have introduced yourselves," said Liz, "it's time for the girl-talk to happen. Martin, you stay here. No. Noooo. Stay. Stay. Yes. Good boy. Good boy." She blew air kisses while Martin sat on the couch at attention, grinning with his tongue out in a caricature of canine obedience.

With effort, Danielle controlled an urge to vomit. Public displays of affection were one thing, but that ... And yet mixed in with the irritation was a small kernel of sorrow. Why hadn't she and David ever felt the need to be demonstrative? Why hadn't they ever generated their own in-jokes?

Liz shut the door behind them and turned to face her. "Okay, so. Where would you like to begin?"

Danielle didn't know where to begin. What had happened? Her best friend, her lover, her husband to be, her good right arm—all of it was gone. She couldn't begin to explain. She didn't actually know what to say.

"Danielle Sabrina Mayer, you dragged me up here to tell me the whole story," said Liz, folding her arms across her chest. "Now I'm here, and I want to hear it, damn it. So talk. What's going on."

"I ... I don't know where to start," Danielle said.

"Start at the beginning," Liz said. "Good place to start, generally."

"From the beginning?" Danielle protested. "That's, like, when we were six!"

Liz blinked for a moment. Then she said, "Ho-ooo boy, I'm in for a long night, aren't I."

"Well, I ... I guess you don't have to go back that far..." said Danielle. "But ... I mean, it's all tangled, you know? I don't know where one thing starts and the other ends."

"Well, fine," said Liz, crossing over to the bed and sitting down. "What's the last thing that happened between you two?"

"Well, we had a fight—"

"Before you had the fight," said Liz, giving her a dirty look. When had she gotten so impatient, anyhow? Perhaps after five or ten years of very loose friendship, someone might change.

"Before we had the fight? We, uhh..." Danielle steeled herself with a deep breath. "We had sex."

Liz blinked at her. "Okay. And?"

Whatever response Danielle had expected from her, this was not it. "Wha, well, aren't you— I mean ... That's it? You're not surprised?"

Liz gave her an exasperated smile. "Nellie, I've seen you two together. You two've been in love from the instant you met. You two were in love before you even knew what love meant. Of course you were gonna give it up to each other. When did you start?"

"Uhh, well ... The time before we had the fight," Danielle said.

" ... Oh," said Liz. "That's ... Well, that's an inopportune time to have a fight. Umm. I was going to ask what the fight was about, but maybe it doesn't matter. I mean, anything going wrong then could make a difference."

"What?" said Danielle. "Why?"

"Well, you're ... Danielle, think about it for just a minute. You've just had sex for the first time. So has he. Furthermore, you've both just had sex with each other, which is a special occasion even when you aren't both virgins. Both of you have just shared a very special, very intimate part of your bodies and your souls with another person, for the first time ever. Not to mention sharing it with each other for the first time ever. There were a lot of firsts going on, Danielle, of course you're both bound to be ... Stirred up."

"How do you know all this stuff anyhow," Danielle asked, "how've you..."

Liz just met her gaze.

"Oh, no. No," said Danielle. "No way. With ... With who??"

"With Martin, who else?" Liz said.

"With ... With Martin?" Danielle exclaimed, hearing her voice scale an octave. "I mean ... You ... I didn't..."

"I guess this was the sort of reaction you were expecting from me," Liz said in a dry voice.

"But ... But you're ... I mean, how old are you?" Danielle said.

"Umm ... Sixteen?" said Liz. "Same as you are? Our birthdays are within a week of each other, remember?"

"Yeah, but..." said Danielle, helpless. "I didn't ... Remember when I told you I'd kissed David, and you said I was really gross and you wouldn't talk to me all day? Liz, the girl I remember would never..."

Elizabeth stood up. "Nellie," she said gently, "the me you remember is nine."

Danielle shut her mouth. God, was everyone growing up these days?

"So," said Liz, and this time she drew Danielle down to sit on the bed with her. "Tell me, Danielle. What exactly happened out there that would make you break up with him? Not ten minutes after giving him your innocence, and—if I know you, and I might—swearing eternal love to him, and having it sworn in return."

Danielle felt a moment of fright: that was exactly what had happened. How could Liz know her so much better than she knew Liz? Did she know anyone that well? ... Besides David?

With much coaxing and prodding on Liz's part, Danielle managed to trot out the whole sordid story. When it was done she felt drained. "I just ... I just don't understand. How could I have misunderstood him so badly? I thought..." Now in almost a whisper. "I thought he loved me."

"Didn't he?" said Liz.

"No," Danielle retorted. "If he loved me, why would he be so boring?"

"What do you mean, 'boring'?"

"He just ... He never does anything that surprises me anymore," Danielle said. "He hadn't for a long time. Whenever we went out to eat, or to see a movie, or were doing homework, or, or even when we were fooling around, I could ... Like, I could predict everything. And I would always be right."

"Well, you did date for, what, eight years?" Liz said. "You get to know a person during that time. Maybe you just knew him really well."

"I thought I did. I..." A sigh. "I thought he loved me. But he just wanted to get his rocks off. I mean, god, listen to what what he said!"

"What he said was insensitive," said Liz. "That doesn't mean he doesn't love you, or that he was manipulating you. People have been saying thoughtless things ever since they had mouths."

"Still," Danielle maintained. "I don't wanna be with someone who thinks those things. I don't wanna be with someone who even says those things. Being the same old boring guy for years, and then saying I owe him?? Complaining about waiting for four years?" The thought still made her indignant.

"Yes, about that," said Liz, standing up. "If you'll excuse me."

"What?" said Danielle.

"I'm going to get Martin."

"You're going to— What?"

"Hon, do you understand why he said that?" Liz asked her. "Do you understand what happened?"

"Why who said it? David? ... No. Not really."

"Would you like a guy's opinion on the matter?" said Liz.

"Well, yeah, I guess that would be nice, but we don't have a— Oh," said Danielle.

"The light is shed," said Liz with a crooked smile. "We'll be right back."

While they were gone, Danielle's mind wandered. She didn't know what to think or where to look anymore. All the world seemed different to her now, as though she was seeing it through new eyes. Or maybe it was just her. Everything seemed washed out to her, bleak, devoid of color—like looking at a black-and-white photo. Nothing she looked at seemed interesting anymore. Was this normal? Did she need to see an eye doctor?

Liz preceded her boyfriend through the door. "Hey, Antonio," said Martin, holding out his hand again, "I understand you're in need of a male opinion."

This time she shook it; it seemed rude not to. "I take it you're our guy."

"Well, I sure hope so," said Liz. "If he were our girl, it wouldn't help us much. Sit down, Martin, and tell us what you think."

"About what?" said Martin, taking a seat against the wall. Evidently he didn't mind being below eye level. Danielle wondered what that meant.

"How long do you think a couple should go out before they have sex?"

"What, if it were up to me?" said Martin.

"No, silly. Compromise," said Liz, with another ostentatious eye-roll. "We're not all—"

"No, hold on," said Danielle. "I want to know. What would you say?"

Martin blinked at her. "Jeez, I thought you and David were, like, totally in love or something."

She didn't like to think about that. "So what if we were?"

"So, wouldn't you have heard about it? When did he start wanting to have sex?"

"Well, I, uh ... God, I dunno."

Martin blinked. "How can you not know?"

"I mean, it was gradual," said Danielle. "At first we were like, 'Wow, that's really weird.' Sex, I mean. But slowly we started to think that maybe it was something to try even though it was weird."

"Why don't you just answer the question, then, Mar," said Liz. "When you're going out with a girl, do you want to have sex with them immediately?"

"Well, duh," said Martin. "And I see what you mean about not knowing. I guess you two didn't really 'start' dating."

"Yeah, it ... It just was, kinda." Danielle grimaced. "I feel like we've always been dating." And weren't anymore. She wondered if she should feel worse about that than she did.