Page 8 of Chasing Chase London, Part 8: Valentines Day

“Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Oh, totally,” Daria says, clapping her hands gleefully. “I can’t wait!”

“They’ll settle down once she gets to college with him in a few years,” Lindsey assures us.

Daria snorts. “I think she’s a nympho, and he knows she can’t be faithful, so he doesn’t make her.”

“It’d be nice if she’d stop nymphing after my boyfriend,” I mutter.

“Aww, did you just call Todd your boyfriend?” Lindsey asks.

I shrug. “I mean, he was when they hooked up.”

“I bet she just does it because he’s amazing in the sack,” Daria says.

“How do you know?”

“Just a guess,” she says. “That boy is huge, for one thing, and for another, he’s like this big dumb Neanderthal.

And you know the more primitive the guy, the better he is in bed.

So she’s got the brains in Ian and the brawn in Todd.

I mean, Ian is cute in a nerdy sort of way, but I bet he’s totally weak when it comes to getting down and dirty. ”

“Daria,” Lindsey scolds, looking scandalized. “These are our friends.”

Daria lets out one of her famous, head-thrown-back laughs.

“So what about you?” Lindsey asks me, pointedly ignoring our friend. “Got your eye on anyone special besides Todd?”

Does her boyfriend count?

My face flushes, and I duck my head and take a drink, hoping she won’t notice. I hate that I can’t make my heart give up on him. Why can’t I just turn it off?

“I don’t know, not really,” I mumble. “I’m not ready to date anyone yet.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Lindsey says, rubbing my back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sensitive subject.”

I immediately feel like shit that she took my words to mean I’m still torn up about Todd. I didn’t even care that much, and here she’s feeling bad for bringing it up. I’m the one who should feel bad.

When we get up and head towards Juice King, Daria nudges me with her shoulder. “Well played,” she whispers, which only makes me feel worse.

Am I really so conniving as to play off Lindsey’s sympathies while I fantasize about her boyfriend behind her back? I wasn’t trying to, and I didn’t mean that I was heartbroken, but I also didn’t correct her.

Yep, it’s official. I am an evil bitch. That must be why Lindsey likes me—I remind her of Elaine. After all, I sat there soaking up her sympathy when all the time I’m the one betraying her.

*

“I can’t believe it! Motherfucker!”

I glance over at Lindsey as Daria punches the pillow and howls into the bed the next night. Her spy mission was successful, although I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Lindsey murmurs, sitting next to Daria and rubbing her back.

I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do.

Lindsey called me over to her house to help absorb the shock waves from Daria’s discovery after she talked to Isabel.

I’ve always thought of Daria as being so strong, and I’m not sure how to comfort her.

She’s usually the one doing the comforting, saying how we don’t need boys, how expendable they are.

And now she’s sobbing like her heart’s been wrenched from her chest, and I can’t do anything to make her feel better.

“Oh, just go on and say it,” Daria says through her sobs, gesturing towards me. “You know you want to!”

“Say what?”

“Say you told me so. That I shouldn’t let myself get pulled in, that he’d only do it again. You’re right, okay? You’re right! I hope you’re happy.”

“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.”

“Do not defend 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? Do you?”

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 other so much,” 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 abouts you make things right.”