Every Single Secret(38)
I nodded, curling my fingers around the crumbly cookies. My stomach growled as I imagined them melting in my mouth. The sharp, sweet tang of the chocolate chips in the crevices of my molars.
“You know where the clubhouse is, right?” Omega said.
I squinted up into the piercing morning sun, up at her gorgeous face. Her lashes were coated with mascara and lined with a thick black sweep. Her mouth glowed fuchsia. She looked like a girl that should be on TV.
“Chantal showed me,” I said.
She pursed her pillowy lips. “I should’ve known she’d sneak. I bet she lied and said that we let her come in, didn’t she?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to give the wrong answer and ruin my chances.
“Because we don’t let her in,” Omega said. “And we never will.”
I smiled.
Omega did too. “You wanna know why? She’s a disgusting piece of shit. She’s trash. Her parents killed each other, did you know that? Her mother shot her father in the face, and then shot herself in the face, right in front of Chantal.”
My throat went dry.
“You know what she did after that? She ordered pizza and watched a movie. I’m not even kidding.”
I waited. There was more, I could tell from the gleam in Omega’s eyes.
“Has she thrown up yet in your bedroom?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Well, she will. She has these fits and throws up everywhere. And we don’t want her getting sick in our clubhouse. Having one of her fits and upchucking all over the place like that demon-possessed girl in The Exorcist.”
I didn’t have the slightest idea what she was talking about, but I nodded. Omega studied me with narrow eyes. I wondered how she got her eyeliner to wing perfectly like that on both sides.
“We got something better than cookies in the clubhouse, if you’re cool,” she said. She had a devilish tone in her voice. “After school, okay, little Daphne-Doodle-Do? You come to the clubhouse and hang out with us.” She reached out and tweaked my left nipple and the shock of it, the sting, actually made my eyes water. “Titty twister!” she shouted over her shoulder. I didn’t say anything. My newly budded breast burned.
I watched her saunter away, her hips swaying in her tight, low-slung jeans. Her deputies running to flank her as they approached the bus. They were a force to be reckoned with, the Super Tramps. And I was going to be one of them.
When I got to school, I scooted into the girls’ bathroom, counted the cookies one more time for good measure, then threw them in the trash. I brushed the crumbs from my palms, as something warm and strong surged through me. It was a new sensation, one that made me feel ten feet tall. I didn’t need cookies. And I wasn’t going to be a fat fuck anymore. Omega had given me a gift. And it had made me into someone completely different.
It was the new Daphne.
And she could withstand a million earthquakes.
Chapter Thirteen
After Glenys and I parted, I felt raw and skittish—sandblasted from the inside out from talking about the ranch. That was probably why I forgot my plan to retrieve the knife from the barn and return it to Luca’s kitchen.
After I’d finished, Glenys asked if I would tell her the end of the story. Before weighing the consequences, I agreed, promising to meet her at two thirty the next afternoon on the brow of the mountain.
She’d taken my hand once again, before we parted. “I know it may sound strange to you, but hearing your story makes me feel like I’m not so alone.”
“That doesn’t say much for Dr. Cerny’s therapy.”
“It’s different with him.” She pressed her lips together. “Hard to explain. I feel like you and I understand each other in a way that a man like Matthew Cerny never could.” She studied my face. “I’m thankful for your friendship, Daphne. And I’m glad we met.” She hugged me before I knew it was happening. “See you soon.”
Talking to Glenys had felt as natural as the turning of the leaves, but now, back at the house, I was wondering why I’d been so quick to agree to meeting her again. What she’d said about therapy made sense—I did feel lighter after talking to her—but I couldn’t say that I was ready to completely let go of all of my story. The truth was, I didn’t know this woman, and there was no guarantee she could be trusted to keep my secret. If it even still needed to be kept.
On my way down the first-floor hall, I heard Cerny lumbering up the back stairs to his suite. He called down to Luca that he was not to be disturbed, and I paused.
His office was empty. Possibly unlocked.
I waited, listening for the door of his suite to close. When I finally heard the distant click, I hurried toward the office. I tried the door, and it opened. Cerny probably didn’t intend to be away for long. Maybe he’d only gone upstairs to use the bathroom—at any rate, I would have to be quick. If there were any files on Heath, this might be my only opportunity to learn something.
The office was bright and spacious, spanning the length of the side of the house and glassed in, just like our room. It was furnished with a desk, a couple of squishy chairs, and, no surprise, one sleek black leather couch. A few Mark Rothko–esque paintings hanging on the brick wall and a couple of giant palm trees. I turned to the fully packed bookcase. Freud, Skinner, Piaget, Ainsworth, Jung—familiar names from the intro-level psych class I’d taken in school. There were other books too, of a darker sort. Marx and Kipling, Hitler and Machiavelli.