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Seeing my expression, Daria laughs.
“I know, right?” she says. “Bitches be crazy. But I’m Elaine’s friend, so she feels she can give me her honest opinion. Really, she’s just jealous of the girls.”
“But she’s thin too.”
“These girls,” Daria says, rolling her eyes and gesturing to her chest with her fork. “I mean, no shame to B-cups, but I’ve got a C+, if you know what I mean.”
She must be right, since other than her curves, Elaine and Daria are about the same size.
“I wish I had a B-cup,” I mutter.
We talk about the evil that is Elaine for the rest of our meal. I tell her about Elaine bringing my mom to Chase’s this morning and she throws her head back and gives one of those belly laughs that makes me a little jealous. She may think it’s her boobs that other girls envy, but it’s so much more than that. Yes, she’s gorgeous and curvy, but she’s got the personality and confidence to go with it. She also has something harder to define, an energy that says she’s a force to be reckoned with—and she knows it.
When she gets herself under control, she wipes her eyes. “I’m sorry. Really. That’s not funny. But it kind of is.”
I can’t help but laugh, too. It doesn’t seem so bad when I’m with her. Her joy is contagious.
I’m almost an hour late returning from my lunch break as rush back to work after shopping and eating. My manager is beyond annoyed, since it’s a Saturday and we actually have customers. David glares at me but doesn’t say anything as he rushes around. I feel bad, and I try to make up for it by working harder than ever, but I know it’s not about that.
David has gotten more and more belligerent since I stopped eating lunch at his table. He hates all popular people, and now I’m included in that group. I try to look on the bright side. His hatred is flattering in a way. It proves I’m one of them.
After work, my manager writes me up for being late, but at least he’s not a total creeper this time. We have a three-strikes policy, and this is already the second time I’ve gotten in trouble.
Before my mom confiscates my phone for the night, I answer a video chat from Daria. When I tell her about George and the whole sexy shoes incident, she laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Which is actually how she always laughs—head back, mouth open, tossing her hair behind her shoulder in delight, a round burst of sound building up and spilling from her in bubbly waves. Seeing her laugh is mesmerizing, and when she’s laughing at someone else and a response is not required from me, I sometimes catch myself just watching the process that makes up a Daria Diaz laugh.
After her reaction to my story, I know that I was overreacting, and I feel silly for making such a big deal of it in my head. Sometimes something tiny happens, and I build it up into something huge when it really isn’t anything more than my misunderstanding. I decide I’ll take that stance about Chase from now on. I know he teases and whistles at other girls, not just me. He’s just like that.
He’s also my best friend’s boyfriend.
To prove I’m 100% committed to my friendship with Lindsey, I call her after I hang up Daria’s call just to say hi and vent about being written up again.
“You should quit,” she says. “Then tell your mom you’re at work and come hang out with me every day.”
“You are an evil genius,” I tell her as we giggle over her idea. How can one person be so conniving, but so sweet at the same time? She’s so smart, and I have this inexplicable need to do what she wants, to make her happy.
Or maybe it’s just guilt.
“I have to go turn in my phone to the warden,” I tell her. “But I’ll consider it.”
After a few days of imprisonment, quitting my job sounds more tempting than ever. I really need the money for my car, though. I want to make sure I can get it the second I turn sixteen. It seems like I’m the only person in the entire school who doesn’t have one and hasn’t turned sixteen. Even David has a car.
Which makes me all the more jealous when Daria gets a new car that week as an early Christmas present—a cute lime green slug bug. She drives up all smiles in the morning, bubbling with Daria excitement.
When she drives away to park, Elaine tosses her hair back and smirks. “That’s a cute little car,” she says in a voice dripping with scorn.
“Be nice,” Lindsey says, giving her a look.
Elaine turns to me. “Did you know that Daria doesn’t even have money? That’s the best her family can afford, with a single mom and all. Isn’t that tragic?”
“Yes?” I squeak, glancing at Lindsey.
I haven’t exactly told my friends about my living situation. Though it’s not a mansion, my aunt and uncle have a pretty nice house in the historical district. I may have let Lindsey believe it was mine when she met my mom. I don’t invite them over, and only Chase is rude enough to invite himself and barge in. Between that and our conversation at the lake last year, he knows my situation, but no one else does.
Elaine narrows her eyes at me. “People should know their place in the world and stay in it.”
She turns and walks away, flicking a strand of long red hair over her shoulder as she goes. I wonder what she knows and who she’s been talking to. Chase wouldn’t tell them—would he?
As much as I hate to admit it, she has a point. I practically worship Lindsey, but I definitely have more in common with Daria. I don’t understand the rigid rules that Lindsey lives by or the pressures of being the daughter of a ‘founding family,’ as she likes to remind us as often as she can.
