Page 243 of Sempre (Sempre 1)


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“And stop by the store on your way home and grab some Coke for me, will you? It’s just the next street over. There should be some cash in the glove box.”

She gaped at him. “But . . . your car. I can’t drive it.”

He sighed exasperatedly. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve only ever driven Dr. DeMarco’s, and that’s when you were with me.”

“Mine drives like his does. And if it makes it easier, pretend I’m in the passenger seat. Just curse a few times. It’ll feel like I’m there.”

He turned around, subject closed.

It was the middle of May, and today was Durante High School’s prom. Three weeks before Carmine had sprung it on her, casually telling her she needed to pick out a dress. Dia offered to take her shopping a few days later, and Haven got a blue one with dark golden trim.

The past few weeks had been a confusing time for Haven. There were highs and lows, the changes sometimes so abrupt that it was impossible to brace for it. The anticipation and excitement was always there, brewing underneath the surface, but there was also fear—a fear of the unknown, a fear of the plunges.

It wasn’t always bad. Carmine lost his temper quite a bit, but there were also moments, such as that one in his bedroom, when he did something uncharacteristic of the boy she’d come to know. He was protective of his car, yet he had handed her the keys without a thought even though she didn’t have a license.

* * *

The Harper family lived in a one-story tan house in the center of town, modest but big enough for the four of them. Dia and Tess shared a bedroom, the close quarters often reason for their sisterly bickering. Haven saw proof of it as soon as she arrived, a piece of duct tape on the carpet running straight down the center of the room, cutting it in half. The left was clean and decorated with shades of pink and posters of movie stars, while the right half was in disarray, hundreds of photographs covering the wall.

“Have a seat,” Dia said, motioning toward a chair in front of a desk. Haven sat on the edge of it and glanced around at the mess, fighting off the urge to clean for her. “So, are you excited?”

“Of course I am,” Haven said, although her anxiety overshadowed her excitement.

Dia eyed Haven peculiarly as she fiddled with her hair, running her fingers through the wild locks. “Nervous, huh? Your answer sounded way too rehearsed.”

“I am excited,” she said. “I’ve just never been to a dance before.”

“Me, either,” Dia said. “The only reason I’m going to this one is because I have to cover it for the yearbook. Otherwise, I’d stay home.”

“You don’t have a date?”

She shook her head. “The administration would have an aneurysm if I brought someone.”

“Why?”

Dia looked at her with surprise. “Not everyone is accepting.”

“Why wouldn’t they accept you?”

“I’m not into boys,” Dia said, treading carefully with her words. “No one’s told you that?”

“Well, Carmine said he didn’t have the right equipment for you.” Haven turned bright red when what he’d meant sank in. “Oh, he means—”

“No dick for Dia!”

Haven glanced at the doorway as the voice interrupted. Tess strolled into the room, tossing a garment bag on her bed and unzipping it to expose a bloodred dress.

Dia rolled her eyes. “Classy.”

“I’m just speaking the truth,” Tess said, pulling off her shirt. Haven gaped at her as she stripped out of her clothes. Tess noticed her expression and laughed, standing in front of her in a bra and panties. “I’m not ashamed.”

Dia laughed. “She’s not modest, either.”

Tess shrugged, not arguing against that. She shimmied into her dress before grabbing a pair of high heels from the closet and slipping them on. Strolling over to her dresser, she gazed at her reflection in the vanity mirror and smoothed her hair before applying some red lipstick. She did it so casually, so quickly, so fluidly. Haven watched with admiration.

Dia continued to play around with her hair, yanking and tugging it every which way, but Haven had no idea what she was trying to do. The same thought ran through Tess’s mind because she turned around, groaning. “Dia, what are you doing to the poor girl’s head?”

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