Chapter Twelve An Adventure in the Study #2
“I have to say, she sounds like a real piece of work,” Zada said, and Daphne let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “I realize usually when people say sorry, they mean ‘forgive me’ but you don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Daphne was silent for a moment. Then she said, “If you could go back in time, would you have done it differently?”
Zada bit the inside of her cheek. “I didn’t have a choice,” she said finally.
“Of course you had a choice!” Daphne shifted, her knees knocking against Zada’s as she leaned forward. “If you’d told me you were worried about getting kicked out—”
“You would’ve, what, stopped breaking the rules?” Zada cut in. “Straightened up and become a model citizen? Never again asked me to come along on another one of your wild adventures? You would have done all that for me?”
“We’ll never know.” Daphne’s voice was harsh now. “It was your call to stop being friends. You made the choice for both of us.” Daphne huffed out a sharp laugh. “And why did you always say yes then, if you were so opposed to my so-called wild adventures?”
And there was the problem. A reasonable person would have been able to resist the impossible pull of Daphne’s charms, would’ve chanced and weathered her disappointment.
Zada didn’t have an excuse, not really. She’d wanted to say yes because it was Daphne, but she couldn’t very well admit that—especially not now, with the two of them huddled so close together in the dark, their elbows and knees touching.
“Would you really have been happy if I’d said, ‘Oh gosh, Daphne, I can’t do any of that for you anymore.
I can’t step in and make any of your visions happen.
You’re on your own.’?” Zada took a breath.
She said, quieter this time, “Would you honestly have responded, ‘Of course, Zada, that’s fine. You can keep eating lunch with me and talking to me and staying up late with me and nothing will have changed between us.’? Would you have let it go at that?”
“Maybe I would have,” Daphne said. “No, I know I would have. Because back then, I would’ve done anything for you. Among the two of us, you’re the one who’s a fair-weather friend, not me.”
“I’m not calling you a—I think we both were, if you want to call it that,” Zada said.
It didn’t feel true even as she said it, but she couldn’t stop opening up this wound.
Anything was better than examining the soft underbelly of feelings beneath it.
“I was useful to you. I don’t blame you for it.
On some level, that’s what friendship is. ”
“Oh, do tell.”
Zada fixed her gaze on the bookshelves across from them that were crammed full of hefty volumes chosen all for show. The shelf might as well have been empty.
“You meet someone,” Zada began, “and they’re pleasant enough.
Maybe they know how to make you laugh, or maybe they have some other skill that can help you, and so you put up with the things about them that annoy you.
They’re not very brave, or their social skills are just terrible, or they can’t open their mouth in front of a crowd without making an absolute fool of themself.
But as long as they bring some value into the exchange, then they’re worth it.
You pass the time with them until you meet the person who actually matters, your soulmate, and then finally, your life begins for real.
” Her eyes prickled. She took a shaky breath. “Friendship is a transaction.”
“Is that how you see Flora?” said Daphne. “Or Augusta? Is that how you saw—”
“Don’t say it,” Zada said.
“—Carine? Were you just killing time with all of us until you met your Heartsong match?”
“No, I—” Zada shook her head vehemently. She was crying now, for some reason. “I wasn’t. But I think it was different for you. For all of you. How could you have felt any different than—”
“I wasn’t,” Daphne snapped. “I wasn’t killing time.
You don’t get to decide that for me. And it sounds to me like you’re saying that you were a better friend than we were.
If you thought we all were your friends because it was some exchange, some waiting period until someone better came along, then you’re wrong.
Honestly, who were your friends before you came to Dalrymple? ”
“I was always studying,” said Zada. “Trying to qualify for the scholarship. I didn’t really have time to—I knew how few slots there were, you know?”
“Wait,” said Daphne. “Are you saying you didn’t have friends before you went away to finishing school?”
“I suppose I must have played with other children when I was very young,” said Zada. “But I don’t remember it.”
Daphne said nothing for a long moment.
“I’m not saying—” Zada hurried onward. “It was my choice. But a lot of other people were trying for that spot. I think it was pretty common, not to spend a lot of time socializing.”
“You were a kid,” said Daphne. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Well,” said Zada, discreetly dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s not exactly your concern.”
“Don’t tell me what my concern is,” Daphne retorted. “Don’t tell me—”
“—what to do,” Zada finished, their voices mingling in unison. She felt her lips curl into a ghost of a smile. “You know, you’re always yourself, every minute of the day. I think I envy that.”
Daphne snorted. “Don’t. To be honest, I’m sick of myself. It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be, being me.”
“Thanks,” said Zada, “I’ll keep that in mind in case I ever feel tempted to develop a personality. For now, I’ll happily remain a blank slate of nothing.”
Daphne leaned in close enough to knock their shoulders together.
“You’re quiet, you’re not blank,” she said. “It’s really not the same thing.” She paused, her shoulder still pressed against Zada’s. “Hey, do you remember our signaling system?”
“I remember frantically humming the ‘stand by, play it safe’ melody even as you ignored me,” said Zada. “Why?”
“Did you ever do anything with the ‘all’s a go, proceed’ tune?
” asked Daphne. “Did you write it into a piece, I mean? I always thought that one had promise.” She broke off to hum it, all seven notes in quick succession, and Zada had to momentarily swallow past a lump in her throat.
It hadn’t occurred to her that Daphne might remember the melody.
Zada grinned despite herself. “You just liked it because it meant you were free to cause mayhem and mischief.”
“Mayhem and mischief? You make me sound so productive. Can’t I just pick one?”
Zada yawned. “But how would you ever choose?”
“I could flip a coin,” Daphne suggested.
“Mm,” said Zada.
“You shouldn’t be so down on yourself,” said Daphne.
At that, Zada shrugged. They were sitting close enough that Daphne could feel it. “I know,” she said. “It just means that others will feel obligated to reassure me—”
“Okay,” broke in Daphne, “sure, that and also it’s not true.”
“Sorry for crying,” Zada added.
“Now you’re doing it on purpose,” said Daphne. “I swear, Zades, if you apologize for breathing, I’ll—”
“What?” said Zada. “What will you do?”
“I’ll go ahead with my brilliant break-in plan.” Zada could hear the smile in Daphne’s voice. “Break a window, smash a vase. Maybe break a few windows, actually.” Daphne waved a hand toward the glass. “Imagine the sound.”
“Contain yourself,” said Zada.
“You contain yourself.”
They lapsed into silence. It was strangely comfortable, like something from their school days. They had done this sometimes, when Daphne didn’t feel up to the rest of the world.
“I may fall asleep,” Zada warned her.
“Go ahead,” said Daphne. “I’ll stay up. I hear I have a very comfortable shoulder. The best in the business.”
“Braggart,” muttered Zada, tipping her head to rest on the offered real estate.
She wasn’t sure she actually wanted to sleep like this.
For one thing, she didn’t want to miss their silence.
Still, the longer they sat there, the more she couldn’t help noticing how good it felt to close her eyes, even for a few seconds.
I’ll just give them a rest for a minute, she told herself.
It was the last thing she remembered thinking before sleep overtook her.
“Wake up,” hissed Daphne, and Zada jerked back to consciousness so abruptly that her head spun—her head, which was resting cozily on Daphne’s shoulder. Weak rays of light were finally filtering through the windows in the study.
Zada jerked back, but not before noticing the small patch of drool she’d left behind. Wonderful. Phenomenal. Sensational.
“Sorry,” Zada muttered, wiping at her mouth as subtly as possible.
But Daphne’s eyes were on the feed projection they’d set up of Chancellor Fallow’s sleeping figure. He lifted a hand to his face to rub his eyes.
“Steady,” Daphne muttered. She was on her knees now, hand hovering over the interface Zada had used to get into the security system. Then Chancellor Fallow opened his eyes.
“There!” Zada whispered. Daphne enhanced and captured the image with a few deft gestures across the screen.
“Well,” Zada said, pulling herself stiffly to her feet, “here goes nothing.”
Zada took over. The sight of Chancellor Fallow waking was a dash of cold water on her mind.
She was awake and alert, so much so that she nearly vibrated.
With a few taps, she routed the image of Chancellor Fallow’s eyes into the iris scan.
The lock whirred, and then from deep within sounded an almost imperceptible click.
Zada sprang to her feet. The drawer sat open, Chancellor Fallow’s Gem there for the taking.
“I should do this part,” said Zada.
Perfectly in tune, Daphne hummed the seven notes of “All’s a Go, Proceed.” Zada took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and proceeded.
“Gem,” said Zada, “activate Wavelength program.”