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.