When The Sun Rises | ✔

23 | Cannonball Lecture

Chapter 23 | Cannonball Lecture

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        Those two grumbled words plunge us into a tarrying silence.

        The type of silence so loud it rattles your eardrums and fills the room with a bundle of bees. The kind of silence only found in Vietnam war trenches, accompanied by clinking glasses and popping champagne corks.

        It makes my damn skin prick.

        "That sounds a lot like something that ain't none of my business so..."

        Donovan glances over his shoulder at the door like it's an all-access pass to the Playboy Mansion, his readiness to avoid the topic reflective of the guilt still hemming him up.

        Saying an awkward goodbye, he retreats to his room and turns his music up just loud enough for us to hear the bass, but not loud enough for us to make out any words.

        The rhythm and lyrics blend together, giving off a garbled, underwater effect like every beat and note is fighting through stretches of ocean water.

        Facing away from Daria, I all but pant at the empty doorway, itching to follow his lead and escape to my corner of the house.

        "There was this one time, we all watched this really scary movie. I don't remember the name of it, but for like two weeks I was scared to go downstairs by myself, right?"

        Daria picks up where we left off like nothing happened. Eyebrows raised and cheeks pinched, I force my attention back to her and do my best to actually look interested.

        I take the blame for asking her to tell me about Abigail, but I only did that shit to stop her tears – not purge her memory bank.

        "So every time I wanted to go downstairs, I would get Abby and we would go down together." She stares down at her clasped hands. "She was my big sister. Like the Galleria to my Chanel. You know, we even learned the choreographies and tried to start our own Cheetah Girls, but it didn't work because she wouldn't accept that I was the Chanel."

        She picks at the purple polish on her nails.

        "Oh, wow. That's crazy. For real?"

        Those are the only words I manage to squeeze in, but she doesn't need me to say much else.

        Like most people, all she needs is a listening ear, someone there to make her feel heard and like her problems matter just as much as anyone else's. To sit quietly while she rambles about fears and failures, fantasies and futures, and every small detail in between.

        I look her over, straight-backed and mouth moving a mile a minute, and can't resist the gentle upturning of my lips at the familiar sight.

        "Oh em gee, Keila. I know what we should do." Daria's fingers latch on to my forearm. "I still have some of them old board games. Even real vintage stuff like Mancala."

        I roll my eyes at her calling Mancala "vintage," but nod anyway.

        "We should play some of them after the movie. You do plan on finishing it with me, right?" She narrows her eyes and grins sweetly, telling me without really telling me that I don't have a choice.