The Dollhouse

Chapter 18

RANDY'S diner looked different under the moonlight.

The streets were stained with the scent of petrichor. Evening showers had fallen softly on to the cars and houses, and beat soothingly against the window of the nighttime bus. The moisture made the strands of my hair curl on end, my lipstick a smeared-on grin.

The four of us ended up in a booth, sharing french fries.

Betsy leaned over the table to give my hand a squeeze. "Oh, Lydia, we have so much to catch up on! We've been going crazy not knowing what happened to you."

"I'm sorry," I apologized, knowing all eyes were on me. "My Dad wasn't happy with what we pulled. I know it's not anyone's fault. Believe me, if it hadn't been for Rudy-"

I shut up abruptly.

Fortunately, Danny ploughed ahead with every detail about his daytrip to New York. It wasn't a clever move to mention Rudy had cold-heartedly administered my stepmother a small dose of poison.

Betsy was wearing a stunning metallic dress. Her hair gathered in tendrils around her face, with dangly earrings swinging around as she talked. I couldn't put my finger on it, but she seemed more hyper-active than usual.

She slapped a fry out of Nick's hand. "Your dress is wicked. Where's it from?"

I told her.

"Love the red," Danny commented.

The diner had that deserted, ghostly feeling, like the weird sensation reserved for when the school corridors are empty. Or strange bathrooms on roadtrips, or museums galleries locking up for the night. I was running on adrenaline, not quite believe this night was actually happening. Here I was, about to go out with my friends after such isolation!

"Anyway honey," I pulled a dramatic face, pulling back my best friend's hand. "How was summer camp? Did you do anything spectacular?"

"Oh, you know, it was garbage, really," Betsy scrunched up her face. "My Mum and Dad just wanted me to go. I'm so happy to be back in Haverbrook."

Danny snorted. "Heavens knows why."

"She won't even tell us about it," Nick teased, elbowing her in the ribs. "There weren't even any cool things to do, like abseiling or canoeing in the rapids. What's the point in that? I'd rather stay here. I managed to beat my brothers at shooting tin cans out in the fields."

"Are you sure there isn't a reason you haven't told us about it, Dawson? Did you meet anyone speeeecial?" Danny dragged out the phrase until she was agape with protests.

"God - don't be ridiculous - Lydia, stop laughing!"

"Could you be anymore one-dimensional?" Nick exclaimed, but it wasn't in disapproval. His fingers traced his chin - which I noted he had shaved away the slight grey tinge of stubble. "When have you ever pulled a girl anyway?"

"Ha!" I laughed. "When have you?"

"Fuck off and write a poem about the flowers or something," he shot back with a grin.

"My name's Nick and I have the reading level of a fourth grader," I imitated in a pantomime voice.

"It's word blindness and I can't help if the letters are the wrong way around -!" He fired back."My name's Lydia and I can't hold my liquor."

Danny bent over with such laughter his knobbly knees slammed into my own.

I cringed at the memory. One time behind the bike sheds at school, he had swiped a bottle of Jack Daniel's for us to swig down during the break. The plan wasn't to get roaring drunk. But I had sipped the stuff - y'know, because I hadn't had many opportunities to taste alcohol in my short life. It was repulsive and only made me choke and splutter.