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I pad barefoot to Vaughn’s room down the hall in my fresh nightgown—a modest one at that—and knock before I open the door.
“Come in.”
He sits on his bed, his back against the bedpost, worrying his lip and shooting a dart straight to the center of the board in front of his bed. He is wearing his usual outfit of a holey shirt—white, this time—and black skinny jeans that are at least two years old and have somehow become both tight and loose. Even I, as his mom, have to admit that he’s got the rebellious edge down to an art. He dresses simply, but his look has character, personality, and flavor. Like a del Toro movie. You can recognize Vaughn without knowing that it’s him, even from a few dozen yards.
I take a seat at the edge of his bed, cupping his bent knee. He focuses his gaze on me, a frown crossing his face.
“Where were you? It’s two a.m.,” I say. I can’t really fault him for going out on a Friday night. He is a teenager, after all. But I sure as hell can fault him for coming back an hour later than he should have.
“Just a party.” He shrugs.
“Daria’s?” Daria Followhill throws a party every other weekend, something my sister, Rosie, and I give Mel—Daria’s mother—a lot of crap about. Daria is notoriously snotty, something Jaime and Mel have a hard time coming to terms with. I honestly feel that at this point, my good friends have lost control of their daughter and their only expectation of her is to not fall pregnant or get addicted to meth before the school year ends. Daria is busier strategizing ruining other attractive girls’ lives than college admissions. In fact, she made it clear to Mel and Jaime that college was not on her agenda.
“Yup,” Vaughn says, popping the P with another unintentional eye roll.
“Who were you planning to see there?” It wasn’t Daria, that’s for sure. And Daria would die before voluntarily inviting Luna anywhere. Daria grew up thinking Luna stole some of her precious limelight, especially since the boys have always been fond of her. So that is odd, considering Vaughn and Knight’s crew take Luna with them everywhere.
Vaughn straightens his legs and leans forward, giving me rare eye contact. He licks his lips, which tells me that he is nervous, and that makes me nervous.
“Daria’s in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” I take a deep breath, bracing myself for the hit. Daria has always had her father’s rebellious streak and determination. Combined with her mother’s sarcasm and dancer genes, she quickly became an unstoppable force.
Prettiest.
Most talented.
And, therefore, not the nicest.
“I don’t wanna rat her out, so you need to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Dad.” He flings a warning finger toward me, and I take a second to think about it before offering him a silent nod. My heart beats faster. Vaughn is not a snitch. If he is coming to me with this, it means that he is worried, and Vaughn is never worried. He screams nonchalance. Well, actually, he utters it quietly, with a patronizing smirk.
“Words, Mom.”
“I promise.”
“Daria’s having an affair.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded, and blink a few times before a small smile expands on my face. “You mean, she has a boyfriend?”
My son stares at me like I’m a complete idiot. “No, Mom. Affair.”
“Define affair.”
“With Principal Prichard. That defined enough for you?”
My heart is lodged in my throat, and I am blinking away what must be tears. Daria just turned eighteen. Principal Prichard is not old, but he is almost my age. He is old for her. Thirty-six, to be exact.
She is a child.
I bathed her and cut her food into miniscule pieces, for Lord’s sake.
I stay silent for the longest time, not entirely sure what to tell Vaughn.
“Thanks for the input. Anyway.” He pokes me with his socked toes, groaning. “I’m covering for her scrawny ass as much as I can, but honestly, it’s getting a little out of control and I don’t need this bullshit, you know? We’re about to start the second semester and I’m tired of watching for her shit and making up lies.”
“Wait, how does it have anything to do with Knight? You said he was the one you are mad at this afternoon.”
“Oh.” He scratches his chin, shrugging. “We flipped a coin. Knight lost. He was supposed to say something to his parents before shit hit the fan, but of course he bailed, because he is messing around with Cadence, Daria’s best friend.”
It’s not what Knight is doing; it’s who he is doing.
That makes sense now.
“How many people know about Daria and her affair?” I want to throw up at how twisted and ironic this whole thing is. Daria’s parents had a forbidden teacher and student affair. She is well aware of that, and I wonder if it’s her way to try to rile them up.
