Pretty Reckless

Gus looks up, recovering quickly.

“Strangers might be screwing my ma. But you, Scully? Your worst enemy is screwing your sister. In every position under the sun.”

“Not my sister anymore.” Penn spits on the ground as he continues to circle him, still toying with his Zippo. “My sister was angry.” He raises his eyes to Via and smiles bitterly. “But she wasn’t soulless.”

I wish he’d stop saying things like that. I wish he’d stop playing with his Zippo.

If in the first act you have a pistol hanging on the wall, then in the following one, it should be fired.

“Penn.” Via runs toward him, but she stops halfway when his body freezes and his jaw hardens into a rigid square. “Please. You don’t understand. Hear me out. I’m sorry, okay? You want a secret? You want dirt? I’ll give you filth that’ll make Daria very happy. Four years ago, when I ran away, I was heartbroken over quitting ballet and leaving you. But I was also heartbroken over leaving Gus. We loved each other,” Via cries out, pushing Gus’s chest as she turns to face her brother. “I thought he was the love of my life. Stupid, I know, but I was so young. We went to the same middle school together. He was my first crush, my first kiss, my first time sneaking out and jumping on rooftops together, defying death. When I came back, I desperately wanted everything I once had back. Getting back together with Gus was a no-brainer. I never realized how much he’d changed in the time we weren’t together, and he went to an all-rich high school and wanted to fit in. And I guess I changed, too. I was so focused on ruining things for Daria, I did it at the expense of gaining a family, and a friend, and my brother back.” Her shoulders slump, and for the first time since I met her all those years ago, Via turns around to look at me, and she doesn’t look like she hates me. She looks tired. Destroyed. She looks exactly how I feel.

“We all have embarrassing secrets. Every single one of us. We’re just happy it’s not our diary on display. My secret? I’ve always envied you, Daria Followhill, and I tried to hurt you as much as you hurt me. With the only difference that you only did one bad thing to me. I did a lot of nasty things, and now I’m more isolated than I’ve ever been before. Even in Mississippi. Revenge tastes like shit. I wish I had known that before I put everything on the line to get it.”

Colin steps forward. He runs his fingers through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“Gus told me to go for your quarterback’s leg,” he says. “That’s my secret. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I haven’t slept in two days. Haven’t eaten, either, which might explain why we were so crappy back there on the field. The truth is, my brother got drafted to the NFL, yet I’m a subpar player. My parents don’t even bother coming to our games. I wanted this championship so badly. I just wanted them to see me for once in my miserable life.”

Esme steps forward. It feels like a huge purge of feelings, secrets, and sins. The snake pit has never been more crowded…or poisonous. Yet the antidote to all the venom is honesty.

Esme huffs, taking off her high heels and throwing them across the field, leaving her barefoot.

“Shit. Ugh. I hate these!” she exclaims, laughing. “God, I hate heels. And those miniskirts.” She wiggles her butt as she tries pulling her very short skirt down her thighs. Blythe is beside her, eyeing her with a look I decode as fear.

“My secret? Ha. Where do I even begin? My mom told me I was fat when I was, like, probably five or something, and I pretty much haven’t eaten a carb since. Not that she cares anymore. She’s on husband number three right now and too busy traveling the world with him. I hate anyone and everyone with a semi-functioning family and therefore loathed Daria before she even opened her mouth. Then she started talking smack about her mom—who bakes cupcakes for us when we had pool parties at her house and used to braid Daria’s hair before school and send her with home-cooked food until this semester—and I had a really good reason to hate her. I want everyone to feel the pain I feel. All. The. Time. Maybe that’s why I’ve been fucking Vaughn Spencer since the beginning of the semester. Sorry, Bly—”

The slap comes before she can even complete the sentence. Blythe growls in her face and rushes toward me, flinging her arms over my shoulders. I freeze.

“I’m so sorry, Daria. Esme never should’ve gotten your title. I’m sorry I took her side. My secret is that I’m insecure, probably too insecure, to stand up against bullies. To tell people how I feel about them.” She sniffs, chancing a glance at Vaughn. “I don’t know. I sometimes feel like I’m too afraid to live.”

Esme looks up at me hesitantly, and I shake my head while drawing Blythe into a deeper hug. I feel bad for both girls, but that doesn’t mean I can forgive so quickly.

“I…uhm…” Adriana takes a step forward, wiping her sweaty palms on the back of her jeans. “I’m probably going to regret this as soon as it leaves my mouth, but I care too much about Penn not to say this when I have the balls to do it. Harper is not his, okay? I can’t say more than that, but Penn’s been sticking around because he is good, and responsible, and my best friend. Not because he should’ve or had any responsibility to. I outstayed my welcome in his life, even when it was so painfully clear that his heart wanted something I could never give him.” She looks up at him and chuckles to herself. “I’m sorry, Scully. I hope it’s not too late for you guys.”