Page 27 of Yours

“How’s Darcy?” she asks, lining up her first shot. I hadn’t known we were playing again, but whatever.

“Uh, good, I guess,” I reply with a shrug that feels tight. “I mean, I don’t really know her.” This is such a lie that I get a pang in my ribs, like someone’s squeezing me in a vice.

Stacy breaks then stands back, watching. “I used to,” she says, finally looking at me. “We were in the same class.” A striped ball falls into a side pocket. She lines up another shot and makes it. “I always felt bad about what they did to her.”

I watch her move to another position and line up her shot. “What do you mean?” I ask.

Stacy taps her ball into the corner pocket. “I guess you didn’t grow up here,” she says. “Or you’d know.”

I cross my arms. “Nope, I grew up in Riverdale.” What the hell is she talking about?

Stacy misses her shot, and I assess my options, my mind chewing on the idea of someone doing anything to upset Darcy.

“The fucked-up thing is that half the kids who teased her, their dads were sleeping with her on the side.”

“Wait,what?” I ask, my adrenaline flooding into my veins, though there’s no one to fight.

Stacy blinks in surprise. “Her mom was the town hooker. You don’t knowthat?”

I stand frozen to the spot, my mind grinding through gears, but nothing sticks.

“I bet Darcy’s family isn’t the only one she ruined in this town,” Stacy says, raising an eyebrow. She makes a show of bending over the table right in front of me. But if I was indifferent before, I’m practically the South Pole now.

Stacy misses, and I start to wonder if she’s throwing the game to make it last longer. I decide that I’m through. “I’m sorry, but can we finish this some other time?” I say, still unable to comprehend what I’ve just heard.

A look of disappointment crosses her face, but she recovers. “Sure,” she says.

“Can I buy you a beer or something?” I add.

“Yeah,” she concedes, her eyes flashing with hope. We rack the balls and store the sticks. I order us two fresh beers even though I know I won’t drink mine.

Stacy and I talk for a while. She tells me about her job and her uptight boss, and how she hates living at home because of all her siblings and how crowded it is. I find myself feeling proud of Darcy for making it out of Willow Creek. She could so easily end up like Stacy if she’d stayed. Even though I wish Darcy was home, I can’t possibly imagine her anywhere else but at school, building a better future than what Stacy’s got going on. I imagine Stacy in about three years, married with a kid and pregnant with another, living in a cramped apartment, thinking she’s made the big time.

While Stacy chatters, my thoughts drift back to what I learned about Darcy’s mom. Is it true? I try to imagine Darcy’s childhood not only without a mom, but the whole town knowing her secrets. Stacy’s words spin round and round in my brain:I always felt bad about what they did to her. I remember back to the ideas in Darcy’s head when we were together, and things start to click into place. A horrible feeling settles in my gut. I mean, I had my share of troubles growing up, but I realize they’re nothing compared to this.

Stacy finally finishes her beer and looks surprised, as if realizing that she’s been talking the whole time.

“You need a lift home?” I ask, glancing down at Higgs and Ivy still cozied up at the far end.

Her face stills.

“Higgs is all right,” I say to reassure her. It’s true, for all his swagger, Higgs is a pussycat.

“Um,” she says. “I’ll just go make sure Ivy’s okay,” she adds, and slides off her stool.

I drop a few ones on the bar and grab my jacket.

Stacy returns, and Higgs gives me a nod over the top of Ivy’s head. I turn away, and Stacy catches up at the door. We walk to my truck, our arms pulled in tight from the cold, our breaths making puffs of white steam.

I get the cab’s heat running but know it won’t do much good by the time I can get Stacy home. Willow Creek is a small town.

“We can go to your place, if you want,” she says while buckling her seatbelt.

I feel for this girl, I really do, but my heart’s not in it. “I gotta get up early,” I say.

Stacy looks out the window. “Oh,” she says.

I clear the thin layer of frost off the windshield with a few swipes of the wipers, then pull onto the street. I drive slowly, my studded tires ticking on the pavement. Higgs and I are heading up north next weekend for some deer hunting, and there could be snow up there.

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