Page 21 of Chasing Chase London: Part 8-Valentines Day
“Hey, I don’t want to say that,” I say, sitting on her other side. “I just don’t know how to help. Tell me, and I’ll do it.”
“I hate Elaine!” she screams between hysterical sobs.
“Sweetie, you know how she is,” Lindsey says, patting Daria’s back. “She’s not a bad person, she just forgets that other people think about, you know,doing it, differently than she does.”
I find it a little amusing that at a time like this, Lindsey still feels the need to whisper words she thinks are too private to say aloud.
“She’s a backstabbing slutbag!” Daria seethes.
Lindsey gives her softest, most sympathetic smile. “She’s a good person at heart.”
“Donotdefend her to me right now!” Daria roars at Lindsey, who looks surprised and jumps back a little. “I don’t care if she’s your supposed best friend for life! You know what your best friend for life did? Doyou?”
Like everything about her, Daria’s anger is huge and passionate, larger than life. Fury, drama, and pain roil out of her like a hurricane. I only hope this hurricane won’t leave too many bodies in its wake.
“Yes, I know, and it’s horrible of her,” Lindsey says. “But maybe they really care about each other.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they love each othersomuch,” Daria says, hiccupping. “Like either one of them is capable of more than manipulative, evil, self-serving, diabolical schemes.”
“I know you’re hurting,” Lindsey says, scooting back to Daria again. “I know it’s hurtful that Elaine didn’t tell you. I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
“I’m never speaking to her again,” Daria says, breaking down into tears again. “If either of you really want to help me, start by planning her demise, and finish by showing up with a tarp and some shovels.”
I clear my throat. “Normally I’d say violence isn’t the answer, but in this case, it’s Elaine so… I’d be down for burying a body.”
“Right?” Daria says, rolling over at last. “Someone needs to stop her. Might as well be us. Hell, if we got caught, they probably wouldn’t even arrest us. They’d give us a medal for community service.”
I can’t help the little laugh that escapes, and thankfully, Daria smiles too. She sits up and dries her eyes. “We could be each other’s alibi. Whenever I watch those true crime shows, I always notice what they do right after the murder. That’s where they usually fuck up and get caught. What would you do?”
“After killing someone?” I ask. “I mean, honestly, I’d probably go straight home and crawl into bed and cry.”
“I’d throw a party,” Daria says with a smile that morphs into a grimace. “And dance on her grave.”
“I know you hate her right now,” Lindsey interrupts. “But she’s a good friend. She’s always been there for us.”
“Speak for yourself,” I mutter.
“We’ll just have to find a way to make things right,” Lindsey insists. Aside from that one time, Lindsey doesn’t talk bad about her friends—even when they deserve it. She always sees the good, even when it’s hard for others to find.
“Make things right?” Daria stares at Lindsey in disbelief, new tears pooling in her eyes. “It’s too late to make things right! She is dead to me. And your‘good friend’? Yeah, she slept with your boyfriend too. So how aboutsyoumake things right.”
seven
Now Playing:
“Hold On”–Wilson Philips
Everything stops.
The air is sucked from the room.
The three of us sit frozen.
Daria and I stare at Lindsey, Daria with a hand over her mouth like she just realized what came out of it and wants to put it back in; me with my heart pounding so hard I can’t hear anything else in the silence. Lindsey stares back at Daria, her eyes wide with shock.
“You need to leave,” Lindsey says at last, her voice quiet and cold and final.
For one second, she looks like a stranger, her face as severe and cruel as her brother’s.
