Dalia and Lucille sat beside each other in the very back of the bus. Dalia sat next to the window. She wanted to avoid the cruel stares of her angry peers. The bus hit every speed bump along the way, jostling the passengers all around. Dalia barely even noticed while she stared out the window. Her stomach growled with hunger because she had skipped lunch. The bus let Dalia and Lucille off at their stop. Dalia plodded down the aisle with her head down. She felt the eyes of her classmates bore into her stomach. The bus driver gently grabbed Dalia's wrist. "Cheer up," the bus driver said. "It's not the end of the world." With that comment, the bus driver released her grip.
Once inside her home, Dalia headed into the kitchen. She grabbed two bananas, a bottle of water, and locked herself in her bedroom. Next, Lucille locked the door.
"Leave me alone!" Dalia shouted.
"Let me in," Lucille pleaded. "I want to talk things over.
"There's nothing to talk about," Dalia said. "My life is over."
At dinner that night, Bob and Flo noticed Dalia's somber mood.
"What's wrong?" Flo asked. "I don't want to talk about it," Dalia insisted.
"Come on, sweetheart," Bob began.
"If something is bothering you, why don't you tell your mother and me. We'd be glad to help.
"This isn't something you can fix," Dalia said. "May I be excused?"
"Not until you tell us what's wrong," Bob demanded. Dalia looked at her parents as Flo and Bob looked at their daughter with bewildered expressions. Everyone at school is mad at me because we got creamed in basketball. They think it's my fault because I refused to play in the Championship game!"
"Is that all?" Bob started. "I'm sure all this will blow over in a couple of days."
"I don't think so," Dalia answered.
"Things are rarely as bad as they seem at first," Flo said. "I remember one time in high school…"
"No offense, but I'm not interested in a nostalgic story right now," Dalia said.
"Okay," Flo remarked. That night, Dalia pulled out her camera phone and recorded herself.
"I've always been the popular girl in school. It started in third grade and lasted right up
until last Friday night," said Dalia. Basketball has been my life. However, after what's recently happened, no one wants to be my friend because I chose to stick up for my sister.
I am quitting basketball!"
She went to bed, and when she woke up, Dalia got a big surprise.
"That video has one thousand views?" Dalia thought. "Sweet!" She went through her usual barrage of silent treatment and cat calls of "you suck." Her life was about to change. She was about to embark on a thrilling new chapter in her life. YouTube Fame.
Chapter 4
When she got home from school, Dalia found that she had ten thousand views on her video.
"I can't believe this," Dalia thought. By the weekend, she had over a million views.
"Don't you get a check for getting a million views?" Lucille asked.
"I think you get a couple of bucks," Dalia said.
"Are you feeling better yet?" Lucille questioned her.
"I think so," admitted Dalia. "My inbox has been blowing up all week;
"I'm blown away by how much support I've been getting."
"That's awesome," Lucille responded, slapping her sister a high five.
"It looks like your subscriber count is over a million, too."
"Yes, it's just crazy," Dalia said.
Dalia felt a twinge of excitement flow through her body. People were noticing her. Perhaps this was how she could gain favor with the kids at school again. Flo knocked on the bedroom door.
"Come in," Dalia called out.
Flo appeared in the doorway; her red hair was put up in a messy bun. She wore gray sweatpants; they were ratty and afflicted with holes.
"Your friend Rachael is here," Flo said.
"I'll be right there, Mom."
She hurried down the stairs. Rachael was dressed in blue jeans, a white blouse, and black shoes.
"Hey," said Rachael. "Do you wanna go hang out at the mall?"
"Sure," Dalia answered.
Off they went; it was a clear and sunny day. They hopped into Rachael's car; it was a red Corvette. Her father was a neurosurgeon. Rachael's mother had held two political offices. She had been a local mayor and a member of the House of Representatives. That meant Rachael came from money; therefore, she was set for life. As soon as Rachael graduated from high school, she planned on attending Stanford. She had been given some serious attention by some college scouts. She was a full two years older than Dalia. Rachael was by far the best shooter on the team, all-conference in fact. Her defense was not the best, however. She was in the bottom half of defense for her conference; her stats were towards the bottom in every defensive category, in fact. They blasted some hip-hop and sang along with the lyrics.
"I can't believe you're YouTube famous," Rachael said.
"I don't really feel like it," shrugged Dalia.
"That will change," answered Rachael.
"Is that why you agreed to be my friend again?" Dalia asked.
Rachael hesitated for a minute before answering.
"No, of course not."
Her mind reeling, Dalia's eyes darted around for a minute. Was she lying? The two had known each other for years. The two had known each other for years; Dalia wanted to believe her. Dalia thought back to the past couple of weeks, the isolation, and the silence. She pushed the idea out of her mind.
The mall had a strange feel to it. There was a fountain. A glassy-eyed kiosk worker called out to people passing by.
"How about a spritz of Love Fancy?" one woman said. Another man said:
"Just ten dollars a month. You can't beat that deal." Suddenly, a man dressed in black appeared about twenty feet away. He looked like a weirdo. His gray eyes were squinty, his nose hooked and thin, also his gloved hands were badly burned. He held a pen and a picture in his hand. Dalia and Rachael avoided his stare. Next, he trapped Dalia, cut her off, and left her no way to pass him.
"Pardon me," the man said; his voice had a sing-song quality to it.
"My name is Alex Breckenridge. I saw you on YouTube, and I was wondering if you would sign an autograph for me?"
"Sure," Dalia reluctantly replied while trying to mask the uneasiness in her voice. Alex handed Dalia the pen and the picture he was holding. The picture was of himself; he had a mustache and was leaning against a brick wall of some kind. She wrote her name on the picture. Actually, not her name, she gave a false name. Then Dalia and Rachel hurried away.
"No one said YouTube fame didn't have its drawbacks," Rachel said.
"He was pretty creepy," Dalia admitted. They found some college guys at the food court. The guys were talking about football and casually sipping sodas.
"Those guys are so cute," Dalia remarked. "I'd love to go talk to them."
"Why don't we go together?" Rachel asked.
Dalia felt her palms dampen; her legs turned to limp noodles.
"You want me to talk to them? Are you nuts?" Dalia asked.
"Come on," Rachel insisted. "I'll be right there with you." To Dalia, it felt like her legs each weighed a metric ton as she headed over toward the handsome college guys.
"The blonde one is mine," Rachel insisted.
"No problem," Dalia answered. "I like dark-haired guys."
"Hi there," Rachel greeted them. The blonde one, Devan, spoke first.
"Hey, yourself."
"Mind if we sit with you, gentlemen?" Rachel asked.
"Not at all," Devan said. "This is my friend Craig," Devan stated. The light caught Craig's brown eyes just right as Dalia gazed into them. He gave a reassuring smile.
"Are you ladies in college?" Devan asked.
"No," Rachel said. "We're both seniors." Rachel was a sophomore, and Dalia was a freshman. Dalia knew she should speak up, but would Rachel still be her friend if she were to call her out on that little white lie? Chances were good Rachel would tell everyone that Dalia was a blabbermouth, a social pariah. Dalia was not about to go through that again.
"We go to Green University," Craig said.
"We play football there," Devan added.
"My dad coaches there," Dalia remarked.
"That's cool," Devan said. "Would you girls like to go to a party Saturday night?"
"Sure," Rachel said.
Rachel looked over at Dalia. Rachel's glare stung Dalia. It was as if she had stepped into a hornet's nest, and the hornets inside were rebelling. She squirmed in her seat. These guys seemed harmless enough. They were not the problem for Dalia; it was her parents. No way would they let her go to a college party. What if her dad were hanging around campus? It was springtime; the season would not be underway until September. Who knew he might be hanging around the campus?
"So what?" thought Dalia. "On the other hand, it's not like Dad's going to be searching the college campus for parties." She thought about it for a little more before uttering a quick answer.
"Yes!"
"Terrific," Devan said. The address is 1213 West Street.
"Sounds cool," Rachel answered.
At another part of the mall, Alex noticed his autograph was wrong. Dalia had signed a false name.
"Alicia? Gotcha!" Alex thought.
That girl is in major trouble. He crumpled up the paper and disposed of it in a nearby trash can. He hurried to the parking lot, climbed on his bicycle, and peddled home. The day was not an unpleasant one; he could feel the sun warm his face. Alex thought about this YouTube star. He had felt so connected with this person; she was an outcast like him. She had insulted him. As his rage mounted, he peddled faster. He weaved in and out of traffic. Yet his gaze remained straight ahead. When Alex arrived home, he parked his bike in the garage.
The inside of the home looked in disarray. Pictures hung askew. A chicken raced from the kitchen to the living room and back again. He stepped into his closet and lit a candle. The e he had erected a makeshift shrine, consisting of candles and a picture of Dalia he had printed off from her Facebook page. He got down on his knees, clasped his hands together, muttering incoherently and closing his eyes.
"I call upon the Goddess of Wind Palomo; hear my plea. I ask you to hex the girl Dalia Becker. She has spurned me, and I wish to pay her back!" said Alex. Outside, the wind began to pick up. The clothes of Dalia and Rachel fluttered in the breeze. Dalia arrived home several moments later. She waved goodbye to Rachel before turning and heading up the driveway. Her sister met her in the living room.
"How'd your trip to the mall go?" Lucille asked. Rachel and got invited to a college party for next Saturday night," Dalia answered. Lucille hesitated for a moment.
"Are you guys crazy? Mom and Dad will not let you go to a college party."
"We aren't going to tell them it's a college party," Dalia said.
"I'm not going to lie for you," protested Lucille.
"You won't be lying," Dalia replied. "You just won't be giving all the information."
"Now you sound like a politician," joked Lucille.
"Come on," Dalia added. I don't want Rachel to rag on me.
"That's always been your problem," Lucille began
"You've always put too much emphasis on what others think of you."
"I've always been popular," Dalia said.
"I don't know how to live without constant adulation."
"Okay," Lucille said. "But if Mom and Dad find out, you are on your own."
"You won't regret this," Dalia tried to assure her.
"I already do," muttered Lucille. Dinner consisted of pizza that night. The box read Allen's. Bob looked up and saw his daughter Dalia.
You seem really upbeat tonight," he remarked.
"Care to share what you're so chipper about?" Bob asked.
"I got invited to a party," Dalia admitted.
"That sounds nice," Flo said. "Who is throwing the party?"
"Um…" Dalia said nervously. "It's a college party," Lucille blurted out. "A couple of college guys invited her and Rachel when they were hanging out at the mall." Then Lucille looked down at her plate.
"Dalia, you are not going to a college party," Bob said.
"Come on, Dad," Dalia pleaded. "I'm not going to do anything wrong."
"I know, because you're not going," Bob answered.
"Mom, what about that time you hitchhiked to see Pearl Jam?" asked Dalia.
"We're not talking about your mother," Bob snorted. "You are fifteen years old. There are grown men at these parties; they are most likely drinking and using recreational substances."
"Don't you trust me?" Dalia asked.
"Honey," Flo said firmly. It's not you we don't trust. We just want you to be safe!"
"You two are being unfair," Dalia said, storming off. Bob tried to call after Dalia, but Flo said:
"Let her go."
"Thanks for telling us the truth about the party," Bob said while watching Lucille out of the corner of his eye. This should have been a triumphant moment. Her dad acknowledged something she did. She should have been ecstatic. Instead, her stomach hurt, and Lucille's appetite had vanished. She pushed her plate away and then stood up.
"May I please be excused?" Lucille asked the question.
"Of course," Bob said.
"Sure," Flo chimed in. Lucille headed up the stairs and went straight to Dalia's room.
She could hear hip-hop music pouring out of Dalia's room. The door shook from how loud the music played. Lucille knocked on the door.
"Come in," Dalia called out. The door swung open, and Lucille stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. Dalia was lying on the bed; she was glancing up at the ceiling.
The voice on the radio belted out the lyrics:
"You betrayed me. You're dead to me." Dalia saw it was her sister.
"What do you want?"
Lucille's ears started to ache as well as her head. Next, she walked over to the stereo and turned it off. The sweet sound of silence filled the room for a brief and relieving moment before Dalia sat up and went all Linda Blair on Lucille.
"Did I ask you to turn off the stereo?" Dalia fired at her sister.
"I didn't want to join the ranks of the hearing impaired today," Lucille shot back.
"What do you want, NARC?" Dalia asked.
I'm sorry I let it slip about the party," Lucille said.
"It just didn't feel right lying to Mom and Dad," Lucille said.
"You just can't stand me being happy, can you?" Dalia asked.
"That's a load of crap," Lucille answered. "Do you even want to go to this party?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dalia asked.
"You're so worried about your reputation that you probably let Rachel bamboozle you into going," Lucille said. Dalia's nostrils flared, nd she felt her temples grow hot.
Dalia leaped at Lucille, and they began rolling around on the ground. Clothes got torn and hair got pulled. Suddenly,y Flo came stomping into the room.
"What's going on around here?" Flo asked. Dalia and Lucille stopped fighting.
"Nothing," Dalia said.
"You're sisters," Flo pleaded. You're supposed to be on the same side!" their mom added.
"We got it, Mom," Lucille replied. With that, Flo turned and left.
"We're not sisters anymore!" Dalia said.
Lucille wanted to snap at her; she wanted to say something to get back at her.
"Who does she think she is?" Lucille thought bitterly. Her heart hurt too much. She had never seen such hatred in her sister's eyes. It especially hurt the anger directed at her. Lucille walked away defeated and with her head down.
That Monday, Lucille and Elise were standing next to Lucille's locker as Dalia and Rachel walked by them. Dalia pretended not to see her sister. "It looks like Elise is still mad at you," Elise remarked.
"I'm afraid so," Lucille answered.
"Don't worry," Elise said, placing a hand on the shoulder of her best friend.
"I'm sure this will all blow over soon."
"I hope so," Lucille answered. The two headed in opposite directions. During morning announcements, ts Lucille tried to get her sister's attention, but it was in vain. Dalia continued to ignore her sister.
The bell rang, and the day was set to begin. At lunchtime, everyone swarmed Dalia's lunch table. She signed autographs for her classmates. The cafeteria was abuzz with the chattering and squeals of excited students. Here it was the digital age, an era where someone could become famous just for talking into a camera.YouTube fame is a curious thing; it's a definite result of a digital world. It's a world obsessed with the idea of being connected without any actual physical interaction. In the United States, as of 2018, any teen with internet access could fire up their phone, laptop, or desktop computer and watch their peers, whether they ever met them or not, and watch their videos.
Their smiling faces surrounded her while Dalia's heart beat faster in her chest. She tried to conceal her smile as her classmates showered her with adulation. These were the same people who just last week had ignored her; they felt just so much vehement disdain for her that their hypocrisy could flood the world twice over. Fame could do a lot to erase many past mistakes. This was an athlete with a talent they once admired. Next, she was a social pariah; now, she was a hero on YouTube.
Did her video touch any of these students legitimately or connect with them personally? No. It was all because she had YouTubefame. Her sister truly cared for her; he had even stuck up for Dalia, and now Lucille faced being ostracized herself. Rose and Colleen sat at the Drama Club's usual table while Elise and Lucille were forced to sit at a rarely used table; it wobbled and had obscenities carved in it.
"This stinks," said Lucille. Elise stuck a spongy plastic fork into a spongy macaroni and cheese and looked up at Lucille.
"What stinks?"
"My own sister won't talk to me," lamented Lucille. There's got to be some kind of way I can win my sister back.
"Maybe you could enter the Radio Camden Contest," Elise suggested.
"Radio Camden is having a contest?" Lucille asked. Elise nodded.
"At 4:00 pm, be the eighth caller to correctly identify who plays the killer in the original Friday the 13th film."
"Betsy Palmer," Lucille said. "My dad is obsessed with that movie." Dalia received a strange text on her phone.
"You have been hexed! Love is the only way out." That was the wording of the text.
"What?" Dalia thought. "Delete." At 4:00 pm, Lucille turned on her radio and dialed the number to Radio Camden. It came up busy, so she tried it again. Troy was the name of the Radio Camden disc jockey. He came on the radio in a full booming voice.
"That was caller number 5; we are still looking for caller number 8." She called a couple of more times. It was still busy. Lucille called again. Finally, it rang. She crossed her fingers, took a deep breath, and held it in.
"Hello," Troy said. "Congratulations, you are caller number 8. Who played the killer in the original Friday the 13th?"
"Betsy Palmer," Lucille answered.
"You are correct! You win two tickets to the Boys Without Knees rap concert in Harmony, Ohio." Troy announced.
"The tickets will be sent to you after you fill out the registration form we sent to your email. "What is it?"
[email protected], Lucille answered.
"Enjoy the concert," Troy said.
"Thank you!" Lucille said. She was thrilled. It gave her hope to mend fences with Dalia. When she hung up, Dalia entered the room.
"I heard you on the radio," Dalia said. "What gives? You don't even like Boys Without Knees."
"No," Lucille admitted. "I know you do. I was hoping you would forgive me and we could attend the concert together."
"I was hoping to take Rachel," Dalia said.
"Oh," Lucille answered. "I guess that would be okay."
"Good," Dalia muttered. "Maybe then she'll forgive me for not going to the party."
Next, Bob walked up to Dalia.
"This package came for you today." He handed it to her today, and Bob and Lucille looked on as Dalia opened it. Staring at her was the Golden Play button, along with a note from YouTube.
"Dear Dalia, We want to congratulate you on passing the one million subscriber milestone. We wish you the best of luck and keep making the world smile with your videos."
Dalia read the letter.
"Congratulations, sweetheart," Bob said.
"Thanks, Dad," Dalia answered.
"Yeah," Lucille chimed in. "Congratulations," Dalia rolled her eyes, ignoring Lucille.
"I'm going to go call Rachel and tell her about my Gold Play button." Dalia turned and hurried off to her bedroom. Bob looked over and noticed how sad Lucille seemed.
"What's wrong, pumpkin?" Bob asked.
"Dalia still hasn't forgiven me for telling you and Mom about the party," Lucille admitted. Bob sat down next to his daughter on her bed. He placed an arm over her shoulder and pulled her in close to him. She could smell his aftershave; there was a citrus type scent to it.
"Rather pleasant," thought Lucille.
"You're both fifteen," started Bob. "Your hormones are raging, and you are both feeling strange things. Give Dalia some time; she'll come around." He smiled as he looked into her eyes.
"Feel better?" Bob asked.
"Not really," Lucille shrugged.
"It's always darkest before dawn," Bob said.
"Florence and the Machine?" asked Lucille.
"Who?" Bob asked.
"It's a band," Lucille answered.
"Oh, I see," Bob said.
"It's so cool. Isn't it?" Dalia said into the phone.
There was a brief pause at the other end of the line.
"It's way cool," Alex said. "You're in big trouble!"
There was a sound like a dial tone from hanging up.
"Hello?" Rachel said.
"Did you hear that?" Dalia asked.
"Hear what?" Rachel asked.
"There was a man's voice on the other end of the line," replied Dalia, sounding confused.
"I didn't hear anything," insisted Rachel. "Maybe you're picking up on some interference."
"Perhaps," Dalia said.
"So you're definitely taking me to that concert?" Rachel asked.
"For sure," replied Dalia. "Talk to you later, bestie."
Later that night, while Dalia slumbered, she had a terrible dream. It began with her on the basketball court. The place was empty and dark; the dribbling of the basketball and the squeaking of sneakers were the only sounds in the gymnasium. She juked right, faked left, and gave a quick spoon move, then shot the ball. The swishing of the ball sliding into the hoop filled Dalia's ears with an intoxicating music. She soon heard clapping and laughing.
"Stupendous," she heard a voice call out. Dalia looked over and saw a man who was dressed in all black, seated in the bleachers, and his face remained in the shadows.
"Hello," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Who are you?" Dalia asked.
"Don't you recognize me? Alex asked.
"No," Dalia answered. "Should I?"
"You signed an autograph for me," Alex said. "Only you gave a false name.
"Okay, Dalia answered cautiously. "What are you doing here?"
"This is your new reality," Alex answered. "You have grown to resent your sister. I am presenting to you a new reality where you have no sister…"
"Are you nuts? This sounds like the plot to some bad fantasy novel,"
"I am a very powerful warlock," Alex insisted. "I have lived for centuries. You will spend the next eight years in this reality with this timeline continuum. You will be an only child. Do you have any questions so far?"
"None," Dalia said.
"Your time will be accelerated. Those eight years will merely feel like a matter of a few hours to you," Alex continued. At the end of those eight years, you will be presented with two doors.
One will be blue, your sister's favorite color. The other door will be red, your favorite color. One of them will lead you back to this reality, ty, and you will have to repeat this eight-year loop. The other door will lead you back to the reality where you have a sister.
You will not know which door is which!"
"That sounds like a bunch of mumbo jumbo," Dalia said.
The twin gymnasium doors swung open, and Dalia walked toward the light.
She stepped through the door, and her new life was set to begin.
The doors swung shut behind her. She soon found herself at home in bed. The alarm clock buzzed. Then she reached out her own arm and turned the dumb old noisy thing off.
She sat up in bed and stretched out.
"Just a dumb dream," Dalia thought. After getting dressed, she was startled by the sound of the smoke alarm going off. She raced toward the stairs and practically leaped down them. Dalia found her dad frantically waving a towel at the smoke alarm.
"Dad?" Dalia asked.
"Yeah, honey?" he replied.
"Why are you cooking?" Dalia asked. He looked puzzled by this question.
"Your mom is teaching late this semester, so I agreed to take care of a lot of the cooking. By the looks of it, I will be preparing a lot of frozen meals or getting takeout this semester!"
"Since when does Mom teach?" Dalia asked, looking puzzled.
"Since you were born," Bob said. Dalia remembered that her mom had quit her teaching job when Dalia and Lucille were in seventh grade. Seeing Lucille fulfill her dream of becoming an actress had inspired Flo to become an author and join a local theater troupe.
"Where's Lucille?" Dalia asked.
"Who?" Bob asked.
"Nobody," Dalia muttered. There was a part of her that wanted to believe this was all a dream. Perhaps Lucille had planned this elaborate joke on her. Dalia waited for a sign of Lucille. She figured any minute now Lucille would swagger into the kitchen. Chuckling:
"Gotcha," Lucille would say. But instead, Flo entered the kitchen wearing a black pantsuit.
"Mom?" asked Dalia. Flo looked so strange to her daughter today. Flo's usually long and red hair had been cut short and dyed black.
"Of course it's me," Flo answered. Who else would I be?" "I see your father is trying to burn the house down again," She kissed her husband's cheek and poured herself some coffee.
"Are you excited for another day of teaching D,rama Professor?" Bob asked his wife.
"I'll be ready to collapse after coming home," Flo admitted.
"You're living your dream, Babe. You're teaching Drama at Green University."
"I'm a lucky woman," Flo said, her voice sounding insincere.
"Surprised you're not wearing your basketball jersey," Bob said to Dalia.
"What do you mean?" Dalia asked. Bob looked at his daughter with a hint of playfulness.
"Every game d, ay you get to wear your jersey to school."
"Oh yeah," remembered Dalia. "I just didn't feel like wearing it to school," said Dalia.
"Are you feeling sick?" Bob asked. "You usually can't wait to wear your jersey to school."
"I feel fine, Dad," Dalia said. "Really."
"Beep, beep." A horn sounded outside.
"Better hurry up," Rachel instructed, gripping her coffee mug with both hands.
"Rachel is here to take you to school."
Since when does Rachel drive me to school?" Dalia asked. Flo and Bob glanced at each other. Their expressions conveyed their confusion in full vigor.
"Are you sure you are feeling okay?" Bob questioned, sounding concerned.
Flo felt her daughter's forehead.
"She's not running a fever."
"I'm fine, Mom and Dad. Honest," replied Dalia gently, swatting her hand away. "I gotta go." She hurried away. Outside, Rachel greeted her. Dalia got in the passenger seat of Rachel's car. The music played, and the car took off.
"You amped for the game tonight?" Rachel asked.
"The Conference Championship?" Dalia asked.
"What other game would there be?" Rachel asked. Dalia shrugged.
"The whole school is really counting on us," Rachel said. "I haven't been able to concentrate on anything else all week!"
"Just relax," Dalia said. "It's only a game." Rachel slammed on the brakes, and her grip tightened on the steering wheel. She spoke out of the side of her mouth.
"Basketball is life," Rachel said. We'll never win with an attitude like that!" Dalia felt butterflies in her stomach. Suddenly, a great rush of anxiety and resentment filled Dalia's body.
"This girl needs a punch in the nose! If Lucille were here…" thought Dalia.
Then the realization washed over Dalia like a tidal wave of blood. She felt suffocated by an enormous wave of guilt. Dalia found it increasingly difficult to breathe, and her hands trembled. She had not known a heartache like this before. Well, not since Mom had to put Bosco, the family Beagle, to sleep. That was awful, but this pain was worse! She felt a numbness that was followed by a sharp twinge of anger. Then she remembered yelling at Lucille. Those words:
"We're no longer sisters," floated through Dalia's mind.
"I'm sorry, Lucille," Dalia blurted out. "We are sisters!" Rachel looked over.
"What are you talking about?"
"Uh, haven't you heard that Sister Sledge song? We Are Family?" asked Dalia.
"Just get your head right before the game," Rachel pleaded. Dalia let out a sigh and muttered.
"Okay."
Banners hung all over the school. People would say things like:
"Beat those Billy Goats," or "go Rave,s," Dalia remembered going through that the first time. There was genuine excitement. Back then, she had a right to be excited. At that point in time, her life was simple. She was just a fifteen-year-old girl with a twin sister named Lucille. She was obsessed with basketball, competition, and her social status.
Her life was different now. Lucille did not exist. She had no one to have orange juice drinking contests with…She was the basketball player again. "The game is on the line," she thought.
"Let's count on her." Dalia wondered if it wasn't for basketball, would anyone care about her?
"Is that all my friends see in me?" Dalia thought.
"Why does it matter what other people think of me?" She went to her coach's office. Dalia found Coach Molly reading a book entitled The Joy of Winning.
"Coach Molly," Dalia began. Coach Molly glanced up from her book.
"Superstar. What's up?"
"I was hoping we could have a little chat," Dalia admitted.
"Fire away," Coach Molly insisted. Dalia sat down across from her coach. The coach placed a bookmark into the book she had been reading and set it down on the desk.
"I want to quit the team," Dalia said abruptly.
"Why would you want to do that?' Coach Molly asked.
"Well," Dalia hesitated.
"I'm going through some personal stuff, and I need some time to sort things out?.
"Are you feeling sick?" Coach Molly asked.
"No," answered Dalia.
"Has there been a death in the family?" Coach Molly asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nope," Dalia answered.
Coach Molly leaned back in her chair, placing her hands behind her head.
"Are you aware that this school has never made the playoffs in basketball, male or female?"
"Yes," Dalia said.
"I have been coaching at this school for twelve years," Coach Molly began. "You and Rachel are the greatest basketball players in the history of this school, and I am not about to let this season go down in flames!" Her stare became wolf-like, hungry, cold, and predatory.
"I get a raise if we make the playoffs. After the season, do what you want, but right now I need you in the Conference Championship. Is that understood?"
"Understood," replied Dalia through gritted teeth. Angrily, she stormed off. Dalia sat alone at lunch, and she was in a bad mood. Now Rachel was one thing, but Coach Molly was something else. She was usually even-tempered, friendly, and a bit of a pal.
She could finally relate to her sports mentality. When he was a football player in high school and college, he talked about hating the other team. He did not want to just defeat them; he wanted to humiliate, embarrass, and crush the other team.
Flo stayed home to grade papers. Tip-off was at 7:30. The blonde Billy Goat dribbled down the court. Dalia elbowed her, and the other girl fell to the ground. People booed and hissed. She held her eye while the trainer hustled over to the fallen girl. The player got up, trying to shake off the hit. Play resumed after the blonde girl took a seat on the bench. One of Dalia's teammates found herself in a battle over the ball with an opposing player. Dalia shoved the other girl into the wall. Of course, the whistle blew.
"Foul," declared the referee, pointing to Dalia.
"Oh come on," Dalia shot back.
"Becker," Coach Molly yelled. "Grab some pine and cool off!" Dalia sat down on the bench. She started counting to ten under her breath.
"Calm down," Dalia thought. Be aggressive, not crazy." When she went back into the game, she was a defensive machine, blocking shots, rebounding, stealing the ball, and feeding it to Rachel.
"They wound up winning the game 42-40.
The visiting crowd exploded with applause. After the game, a shower, and getting dressed, Dalia met her dad outside in the hallway. He tried stifling a chuckle.
"Hey, Killer," Bob joked. "You were a little rough out there early on."
"Yeah," Dalia replied. "I guess I was kind of in a bad mood."
"I could tell," Bob said.
"The guy next to me kept running his mouth. I thought I'd have to hit him."
I'm starving," Dalia said, rubbing her belly.
"Why don't we stop by Allen's and get a pizza?" Bob suggested.
"You mean to take home?" Dalia asked.
"I was hoping to eat inside," Bob said.
"Unless you weren't keen on being seen eating in a public establishment with your father."
"I have no problem with it," Dalia answered. They headed out into the muggy night. The car was visible from Dalia's current vantage point.
"You sure were playing with a purpose out there," Bob said. "You definitely were a woman on a mission on that court. Seemed like you were having fun." Dalia knew her day was a lot of things: freaky, rage-inducing, annoying, but fun was not one of them.
"I remember I tried out for basketball once in seventh grade," Bob confessed.
"You never told me that," Dalia said.
"Oh yeah," Bob answered. "I didn't make the team, of course, but I had a lot of fun."
"I hadn't thought about it in a long time, but watching you play tonight brought those memories flooding back." They entered the car. Bob blasted country music. The headlights came on. Bob sang along with the radio. Dalia would usually groan to hear this "redneck music."
Her dad seemed genuinely happy. She eased back in her seat. Dalia had a good dad. She thought of her grandpa, Bob's dad. Bob had been a loner as a kid. He rarely felt comfortable around kids his age. They were strange creatures that held odd beliefs. A young Bob's mind would often be blown by observing how other fathers would interact with their children. There would be no judgment on the other kid's friends, potential love interests, or taste in music, film, or television.
Grandpa was quick to judge whenever it came to Bob. Grandpa was just plain stubborn. If you critiqued his politics, he would jump down your throat.
"I remember in fourth grade wishing he was dead," Bob once admitted. The car pulled into the parking lot. Bob was able to find a spot right next to the building. They got out of the car and headed inside. The place felt box-like in the interior. There were a few booths and a cooler with bottled soft drinks.
"What can I get ya?" the girl behind the counter asked. They shared a large pizza, and each of them ordered a medium root beer. They sat down at a nearby table and started eating.
"What would you do if you had to accept a brand new reality?" Dalia asked. Bob looked at his daughter like she was insane.
"What are you talking about?"
"Let's say you had to deal with someone not being in your life when they used to be all the time," Dalia asked.
"My advice would be to remember all the good times you had with that person," Bob said.
The next day was Saturday; Dalia heard a knock on the front door. She stretched, wiped her eyes, and headed downstairs in her pajamas. She answered the door and saw Alex standing before her.
"What do you want?" Dalia asked.
"Care to take a walk with me down to the park?" Alex said.
"Do I have a choice?" Dalia asked.
"Not really," said Alex. So they headed to the park and sat down on a bench.
"I see you are not enjoying my little game so far," Alex observed.
"That's an understatement," Dalia asserted.
"Well, you can relax," replied Alex. "When you wake up tomorrow, you will be back in your own reality and you will have a sister again."
"Really?" Dalia asked. "You are not yanking my chain?"
"Nope," Alex answered. "I started this game because I was unsuccessful at hexing you."
"You tried hexing me?" Dalia asked. "Are you crazy?"
"You had signed a fake name to my autograph; I was mad at you," Alex confessed.
"That's a little extreme. Don't you think?" Dalia stated.
"Maybe a little," Alex shrugged. "I need your help,"
"Why would I help you? You're a creep!" Dalia declared.
"I'll put a hex on you," Alex threatened. Dalia chuckled.
"You said you already tried hexing me and couldn't."
"I prayed that the goddess Palomo would hex you," Alex confessed. "My magic is not as powerful as hers. But I am strong enough to place a very bad hex upon your head."
"I'm not helping you out, creep," Dalia insisted. Next, she felt herself being lifted off the ground. Then her eyes widened and she felt her stomach drop. She rose higher and higher like a balloon with just the right amount of helium. She found herself above the trees.
"Quite a long fall from that height," Alex yelled up. "Isn't it? Either help me out, or you'll resemble scrambled eggs with too much ketchup poured on top."
"I'll help you," Dalia screamed. "Just let me down!"
"As you wish," Alex hollered, snapping his fingers.
She began plummeting toward the Earth. She screamed while thrashing her arms and legs wildly. Right before her impending impact, Alex let her ease down gently. Once she was safely on the ground, Alex burst out laughing.
"Sorry," Alex sneered. "I have to amuse myself sometimes," Dalia muttered under her breath. The next day, Dalia awoke to the sight of being in her own bed. She held a telephone in her hand. Dalia could hear Rachel talking on the other end of the line. Dalia placed the phone to her ear.
"Rachel," she whispered.
"Where'd you go?" Rachel asked. "I think you fell asleep on me," Rachel said.
"Could you hold on for a second, please?" Dalia raced down the hallway and found her sister, sitting on her own bed, moping.
"LUCILE!" exclaimed Dalia.
"What?" Lucile asked. Dalia kissed her sister on the cheek, hugging her too.
"I missed you so much!" Dalia said.
"We just saw each other a few minutes ago," Lucille stated.
"I know," Dalia began.
"I just felt like it was a lot longer. I want to apologize for what I said earlier. We'll always be sisters. Do you want to come with me to the Boys Without Knees Concert?"
Lucille's eyes filled with excitement.
"Do you mean it?"
Dalia nodded.
"Of course. We're sisters, best friends for life." They hugged again.
"Be right back," Dalia said. She went back to her own bedroom to tell Rachel that she would be taking Lucille to the concert instead of her. There was some yelling, swearing, and tears, as to be expected. Rachel slammed down the phone. Then Dalia saw her mother appear in the doorway. Her red hair hung down past her shoulders.
"I already asked your sister and she said yes, Flo started. Since your dad's away at that coaching seminar for the weekend, why don't we order a pizza and watch chick flicks?"
"Sounds great, Mom," Dalia said. They all sat on the sofa while the film played. All the ladies were dressed in pajamas. They grabbed tissues by the handfuls, constantly blowing their noses, sounding like broken trumpets. All the ladies swooned when the hunky protagonist appeared on screen.
Chapter 5
Rachel walked up the driveway while music pulsated. Drunken dancing could be observed through the window. She headed to the front door. Rachel walked in and had to push past the mass of hormonally charged humanity. She happened upon Devan and Craig.
"Hey," Devan said. "Where's your friend?"
"Oh, she couldn't make it," Rachel said.
"Gee, that's too bad," Craig stated.
"Why don't you get our friend a drink?" prompted Devan. Craig did as he was told.
"Care to dance?" Devan asked.
"Sure," Rachel answered. Then Craig returned carrying a red cup.
"A drink for the lady," Craig said, speaking in a phony British accent. Rachel took the drink.
"Why don't we go someplace where we can talk privately?" Devan asked.
"I'd like that," Rachel replied. Devan and Rachel headed upstairs and went into an empty bedroom to talk. She began to feel faint after a little while. She closed her eyelids and passed out. When she awoke a couple of hours later, Rachel found herself being driven home by her mother.
"Mom?" Rachel asked. "What's going on?"
"We were called by an anonymous caller and told you were unconscious at a college party," Rachel's mom admitted.
"What about my car?" Rachel asked.
"Your father is driving it home," her mom told her.
"Do you have any idea how stupid it was to go to a college party at sixteen and lie to your parents about it?" Rachel's mother asked.
"I'm sorry," Rachel said.
"We're going to have you examined at the hospital, and then we're going to the police station."
Rachel's mother said. "We believe you were roofied." Those words hit like a ton of bricks. Roofied. These guys seemed so nice. What did they do?! Rachel wanted to curl up in a little ball and hide away. She had tried to talk Dalia into going with her to the party. She realized Dalia could have gotten drugged, too.
What if Rachel were pregnant? Would her parents let her keep the baby? Would they make her keep the baby? Would they make her put the baby up for adoption? What would happen to her chances of being a college hoops star with a screaming baby at home? Rachel did not know the answer to any of these questions. She looked at her mother with deep regret and said:
"I love you and I'm sorry."
"I love you too," said Rachel's mother.
Chapter 6