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She knew about Christopher. She knew. I felt like the bluff was slowly crumbling beneath my feet.
“How…how did you…how long have you known?” I stammered.
“Oh, only since the day I overheard him begging you to go to the winter formal with him,” she shot back, leaning forward at the waist.
Another firework exploded, followed by a series of merry crackles. I shook my head, completely thrown. Christopher and I had that conversation at our house right after school. Darcy was at cheerleading practice, like she was every day. Or she was supposed to be.
“You were there?” I asked meekly.
“I told Coach Haskins I wasn’t feeling well and went home. I’d been having a lot of trouble sleeping, in case you don’t remember,” she said bitterly.
She’d been having trouble sleeping because she’d been crying practically nonstop for the forty-eight hours since Christopher had broken up with her. I still remembered lying in bed, counting the star stickers I’d stuck to my ceiling in fourth grade, clutching my blanket to my chest as I listened to her sob.
“But if…if you were there, then you know that I turned him down,” I stammered. “You…you know I told him I couldn’t do that to you.”
Darcy let out a strained laugh as everyone started oohing and aahing over a loud series of fireworks.
“Oh, yeah, I heard. And thanks so much for your pity,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks, cutting lines through her carefully applied makeup. “That’s just what every girl wants. To hear the love of her life begging her younger, dorkier sister to be with him and hear her say no to spare her feelings. Thanks so much, Rory. And I believe all this happened after you spent an entire afternoon making out with him? I definitely remember him saying something about that.”
A huge, wet ball was choking off my air supply. “You guys were…you were already broken up.”
“Oh, we were already broken up!” She threw her hands up. “Wow! Thanks so much for giving our two-year relationship eight hours to grow cold.”
I brought my hands to my forehead for a second, trying to catch my breath, trying to organize my thoughts. When I looked up at her again, there were tears in my eyes. “Darcy—”
“No. You’re not allowed to look at me that way. I’m going to go find Joaquin, and if you don’t like it, or if you don’t like him, then good,” she said. “At least that means you won’t try to steal him, too.”
Then she turned on her heel and cut through the crowd, practically shoving Aaron and his carefully balanced plate of treats out of her way.
“What’s going on?” he asked, dipping down to place the food on our blanket. “Where’s Darcy going?” He tilted his head in concern as he got a close look at my face. “Rory, why are you crying?”
“I have to go after her,” I said.
“Now?” He gestured up as the sky turned blue, then purple, and then bright gold.
“I know, but…it’s too much to explain. I just have to talk to her,” I said. “Will you help me?”
“Of course,” he said. “Follow me.”
He took my hand and wedged through a small opening in the crowd. My back grazed a denim jacket, and I tripped over the metal leg of a lawn chair as I clung to his fingers. The sky seemed to darken by the second as more people pressed in and the fireworks popped, turning the unfamiliar faces around me blue, then purple, then red.
“Do you see her?” I asked Aaron.
“Not yet!” he shouted to be heard over the show. “Was she looking for Joaquin? Maybe we should find him, and then we’ll find her.”
I turned to walk backward, letting him carve a path for me. The redheaded boy from the party at Tristan’s hung out near the gazebo, chatting up a girl with thick glasses. The blond boy from the general store stood with his back against the gazebo’s lattice, still solo, as he watched the sky. A shower of white sparks illuminated the world, and I saw Bea, Lauren, Fisher, and Kevin leaning into the gazebo’s railing a few steps up. My heart stopped. There were a hundred people in the crowd, yet every one of the four locals was watching me.
I wrenched my hand out of Aaron’s and shoved my way over to the gazebo. “Have you seen Darcy?” I demanded.
“Who?” Fisher asked.
“My sister! Darcy!” I shouted. They all stared at me blankly. I felt like hurling something at them. Something seriously, heavy. “Forget it. Where’s Joaquin?”
“Dunno,” Kevin replied. He shrugged, then turned his back on me and the fireworks, leaning his butt into the railing. “Haven’t seen him.”
“Well, if you see him, can you—”
Someone jostled me from behind, and I whirled around, hoping it was Darcy. Instead, I caught a glimpse of a tan corduroy jacket just before it was swallowed up by the crowd.
