The next day was better… and worse.
It was better because the sky was surprisingly clear and it was a bit cooler. It was easier because I knew what to expect of my day. Michelle came to sit by me in English, and walked me to my next class, with overly-helpful Erica glaring at her all the while; that was flattering, if not completely humiliating. People didn't look at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that included Michelle, Eric, Jesse, and several other people whose names and faces I now somewhat remembered. I began to feel like I was floating on water, instead of drowning in it.
It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn't sleep through the noise and lights echoing around the huge empty house. It was worse because Mr. Varner called on me in Trig when my hand wasn't raised and I fumbled over the answer, even though I had the right one. It was miserable because I had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn't cringe out of the way of the ball, I hit another guy in the head with it. And it was worse because Layla Kelby wasn't in school at all.
All morning I was dreading lunch, fearing her bizarre glares. Part of me wanted to talk to her and ask her what her problem was, but I knew myself too well to think I would really have the guts to do it. I made the Cowardly Lion look like the Terminator.
But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jesse- trying to keep my eyes from sweeping the place for her, and failing entirely- I saw that her six siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and she was not with them.
Michelle intercepted us and steered us to her table. Jesse seemed pleased by the attention, and her friends quickly joined us. But as I tried to listen to their easy chatter, I was terribly uncomfortable, waiting nervously for the moment she would arrive. I hoped that she would simply ignore me when she came, and prove my suspicions false.
She didn't come, and as time passed I grew more and more tense.
I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, she still hadn't showed. Taking on the qualities of a golden retriever, Michelle walked faithfully by my side to class. I held my breath at the door, but Layla Kelby wasn't there, either. I exhaled and went to my seat. Michelle followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. She lingered by my desk till the bell rang. Then she smiled at me wistfully and went to sit by a boy with braces and a bad haircut. It looked like I was going to have to do something about Michelle, and it wouldn't be easy. In this school rumors and attention came too quick too control and averting attention was still my main priority. I had never been enormously tactful; I had no practice dealing with overly friendly girls.
I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Layla was absent. I told myself that repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was the reason she wasn't there. It was ridiculous, and egotistical, to think that I could affect anyone that strongly. It was impossible. And yet I couldn't stop worrying that it was true.
When the school day was finally done, and my shin and elbow had stopped bleeding from the volleyball incident, I changed quickly back into my worn out jeans and math camp t-shirt. I hurried from the locker room, pleased that I had evaded my retriever friend for the moment. I walked swiftly out to the parking lot. It was crowded now with fleeing students. I got in my car and checked the dashboard compartment for my money. My weekly allowance, according to Betsy.
Last night I'd discovered that Betsy was never home long enough to prepare more than a bowl of cereal or grab a power bar. So I decided that, rather than letting Nadia the housekeeper cook my meals, I'd buy my own groceries and make my own food. No one was around to protest and I was already basically living on my own.
I gunned my powerful engine to life, smiling at the purr of the machine, and backed quickly into the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited, trying to blend into my seat's upholstery, I saw the three Kelbys and the three Hurleys getting into their cars. One was a vintage Thunderbird, the other a sleek Corvette. Of course. I hadn't noticed their clothes before-I'd been too mesmerized by their faces. Now that I looked, it was obvious that they were all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but in clothes that subtly hinted at designer origins. With their remarkable good looks, the style with which they carried themselves, they could have worn dishrags and pulled it off. It seemed excessive for them to have both looks and money. But as far as I could tell, life worked that way most of the time. It didn't look as if it bought them much acceptance here.
No, I didn't fully believe that. The isolation must be their desire; I couldn't imagine any door that wouldn't be opened by that degree of beauty.
They looked at my purring sports car as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I finally was free of the school grounds.
The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south into the poorer side of the city. It was nice to be inside the supermarket; it felt normal. I did the shopping back at home, and I fell into the pattern of the familiar task gladly. The store was big enough inside that it was perfectly cool, no scorching heat to remind me where I was.
When I got to Betsy's house, home now I guessed, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them in wherever I could find an open space. I knew Betsy wouldn't mind. I wrapped potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in marinade and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge that had probably never been full.
When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs. Before starting my homework, I changed into a pair of clean sweats, popped my retainer in, and checked my e-mail for the first time. I had a shocking three messages.
"Dan," my dad wrote…
Write me as soon as you get in, son. Tell me how your flight was. Is it burning up out there? The house is pretty empty without you. Me and Susan are almost finished packing for Virginia, but I can't find my fishing boots. You know where I left them? Susan says hi. Dad.
I let out a big breath and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first.
"Dan," he wrote…
Why haven't you e-mailed me yet? Whacha waiting for? Dad.
The last was from this morning.
Daniel,
If I don't hear anything soon, tonight, I'm calling Betsy.
I checked the clock. I still had some time but what else did I have to do?
Dad,
Chill out. I'm fine. Of course it's burning up. I was waiting for something legitimate to write about. School isn't so bad, just a little repetitive. I met some alright kids who sit with me at lunch. Your boots are in the garage under the shelf. Betsy bought me an amazing sports car, can you believe it? I love it. It's gorgeous, really quiet and really nice handling. This house is pretty empty too. Nadia, the housekeeper, is only here part of the time and you know how often Betsy's here. I'll try to write again soon but I have my own things to do. Again, chill out. I miss you, Dad. Dan.
I had decided to read Wuthering Heights- the novel we were currently studying in English-yet again for the fun of it, and that's what I was doing when Betsy came home. I'd lost track of the time, and I hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.
"Danny?" my mother called out when she heard opened the fridge.
That was definitely annoying.
"Hey, Mom, you're home." I tried to feign happiness.
"Yep. But I only have time for a power dinner then I have to go back to the office to finish up some paperwork. Then I have a cocktail slash dinner arrangement with a client later." She kicked off her dangerously high heels and on her way to the pantry, for one of her power bars most likely, she halted suddenly. She sniffed cautiously then gave me a puzzled look.
"I'm making steak and potatoes for dinner." I said simply. She looked completely flabbergasted; I doubted the oven had ever been used. I smiled as best I could at her.
"Huh. So your dad taught you to cook. Well, in any case, that dinner is obscenely fattening and I couldn't justify eating in while on my diet. Sorry, kiddo. Maybe Nadia will want some!" she bustled out of the kitchen then, leaving me to my dinner with Nadia. I tried to convince myself I wasn't upset but I'm awful at lying.
I finished cooking my obscenely fattening dinner just as Nadia strolled in carrying a huge laundry basket. After telling her I didn't have any dirty clothes I invited her to eat with me. She gave me a pondering look, trying to see if I was joking. Finally she accepted and we ate at the huge table made for at least ten people. I decided Nadia and I should find a smaller table to eat at from now on.
Nadia seemed to think conversation was necessary.
"So how did you like your new school? Have you made any nice new friends?" she asked as she forked another potato onto her plate.
"Well, kinda. I have a few classes with a guy named Jesse. He's cool. And there's this girl, Michelle, who's really nice. Everyone seems okay." With one outstanding exception.
"Oh yes, Michelle Norberry. I have connections all over L.A. I know a lot of the families at your school, believe it or not. She's a nice girl, nice family."
"Have you heard of the Kelby family?" I asked hesitantly.
"The plastic surgeon? Sure. Dr. Kelby's a great man."
"They… the kids…are all a little different. They don't seem to fit with everyone else in school."
"Oooh yes. Those kids are gorgeous. Could be models, all of them, live anywhere or do anything. But they stayed here. They are quite the family, wonderful people though. Never any trouble with any of them. Which is pretty rare here. They even go out on little cruises every few weekends, they're so rich. People talk 'cause they're so young and pretty and rich, but, hey, it's L.A."
I was surprised when Nadia agreed to eat with me, let alone her talking now. I was pretty sure what she had said so far was more than Betsy had said to me in years.
I backpedaled. "Yeah, they seemed nice enough to me. I just noticed they kept to themselves a lot. They really are all very attractive," I added, hinting on the obvious.
"Oh goodness! Wait till you see the parents!" she chuckled and we went back to finishing dinner. She cleared the table while I loaded rinsed the dishes and loaded them in the washer. Then I went upstairs to finish my math homework. I could feel a tradition in the making.
That night it was finally quieter. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted.
The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students in all of my classes. In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I happily stayed out of their way.
Layla Kelby didn't come back to school.
Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Kelbys entered the cafeteria without her. Then I could relax and join in the lunchtime conversation. Mostly it centered around a trip to Santa Barbara in two weeks that Michelle was putting together. I was invited, and I had agreed to go, more out of politeness than desire. Beaches should be cooler and breezier.
By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer worried that Layla would be there. For all I knew, she had dropped out of school. I tried not to think about her, but I couldn't totally suppress the worry that I was responsible for her continued absence, ridiculous as it seemed.
My first weekend in Los Angeles passed without incident. Betsy, unused to spending time in the almost constantly empty mansion, worked the entire weekend. I slept, got ahead on my homework, and wrote my dad more bogusly cheerful e-mail. I did drive to the library Saturday, but it was too big to really know what to look for; I would have to visit a smaller shop around town some time. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the car got… and shuddered at the thought.
The smog cleared a bit over the weekend so I could crack my window at night.
People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I didn't know their names, but I tried to smile back and simultaneously blend back into the crowd. It was hotter today, but happily less smoggy. In English, Michelle took her accustomed seat by my side. We had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. It was straightforward, very easy.
All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point. More comfortable than I had ever expected to feel here.
When we walked out of class I couldn't see a foot in front of me for the pouring rain.
"Whoah," Michelle said. "It's raining."
I looked at the violent pelts battering the sidewalk and noticed that this was not the rain I was used to.
"Egh." This was hardly rain. There went my good day.
She looked surprised. "Don't you like the rain?"
"Not like this."
Michelle laughed. Then someone running past leapt in the huge puddle in front of us, soaking us both. We both turned to see who it was. I had my suspicions about Erica, who was walking away, her back toward us, in the wrong direction for her next class I thought. Michelle giggled and looked at me expectantly, as if asking permission.
"Uh, I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke. "Puddle splashing is my cue to leave."
She just nodded, her eyes on Erica's retreating figure.
Throughout the morning, everyone talked excitedly about the rain; apparently it was the first rain of the new year. I kept my mouth shut. If only they could experience Forks rain.
I walked alertly into the cafeteria with Jesse after Spanish. Squeaking sneaker sounds echoed through the room. Michelle caught up with us as we walked in the doors, laughing, with her long hair dripping water. She and Jesse were talking animatedly about the puddle fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward that table in the corner out of habit. And then I froze where I stood. There were seven people at the table. Jesse pulled on my arm.
"Hello? Dude? What do you want?"
I looked down; my ears were hot. I had no reason to feel self-conscious, I reminded myself. I hadn't done anything wrong.
"What's with Dan?" Michelle asked Jesse.
"Nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda today." I caught up with the end of the line.
"Aren't you hungry?" Jesse asked.
"Actually, I feel a kinda sick," I said, my eyes still on the floor.
I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, my eyes on my feet.
I sipped my soda slowly, my stomach churning. Twice Michelle asked, with unnecessary concern, how I was feeling. I told her it was nothing, but I was wondering if I should play it up and escape to the nurse's office for the next hour.
Ridiculous. I shouldn't have to run away.
I decided to permit myself one glance at the Kelby family's table. If she was glaring at me, I would skip
Biology, like the coward I was.
They were laughing. Enton, Jackson, and Ethan all had their hair entirely drenched with the rain. Erin, Addison Raelle, and Layla were leaning away as Ethan shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying the rainy day, just like everyone else- only they looked more like a scene from a movie than the rest of us.
But, aside form the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what that difference was. I examined Layla the most carefully. Her skin was less pale, I decided-flushed from the puddle splashing maybe- the circles under her eyes much less noticeable. But there was something more. I pondered, staring, trying to isolate the change.
"Dan, what are you staring at?" Jesse intruded, his eyes following my stare.
At that precise moment, her eyes flashed over to meet mine.
I dropped my head, letting my curls fall to conceal my face. I was sure, though, in the instant our eyes met, that she didn't look harsh or unfriendly as she had the last time I'd seen her. She looked merely curious again, unsatisfied in some way.
"Layla Kelby is staring at you," Jesse laughed in my ear.
"She doesn't look angry, does she?" I couldn't help asking.
"No," he said, sounding confused by my question. "Should she be?"
"I don't think she likes me," I confessed. I still felt queasy. I put my head down on my arm.
"The Kelbys don't like anybody… well they don't notice anybody enough to like them. But she's still staring at you."
"Stop looking at her," I hissed
He snickered, but he looked away. I raised my head enough to make sure that he did, contemplating violence if he resisted.
Michelle interrupted us then- she was planning an epic puddle battle in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jesse agreed enthusiastically. The way he looked at Michelle left little doubt that he would be up for anything she suggested. I kept silent. I would have to hide in the gym until the parking lot cleared.
For the rest of the lunch hour I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table. I decided to honor the bargain I'd make with myself. Since she didn't look angry, I would go to Biology. My stomach did frightened little flips at the thought of sitting next to her again.
I didn't really want to walk to class with Michelle as usual but when we went to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison, the rain had stopped and the heat was back. I pushed my sleeves up, secretly pleased. I would be free to go straight home after Gym.
Michelle kept up a string of complaints on the way to our building.
Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that may table was still empty. Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away form the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook.
I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on the pattern I was drawing.
"Hello," said a quiet, musical voice.
I looked up, stunned that she was speaking to me. She was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but her chair was angled toward me. Her hair was dripping wet, disheveled- even so, she looked like she's just finished shooting a commercial for shampoo. Her dazzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on her flawless lips. But her eyes were careful.
"My name is Layla Kelby," she continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Dan Strada."
My mind was spinning with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? She was perfectly polite now. I had to speak; she was waiting. But I couldn't think of anything conventional to say.
"H-how do you know my name?" I stammered.
She laughed a soft, enchanting laugh.
"Word gets around."
I grimaced. "No," I persisted stupidly. "I meant, why did you call me Dan?"
She seemed confused. "Do you prefer Daniel?"
"No, I like Dan," I said. "But everyone assumes it's Daniel that meets me…" I tried to explain, feeling like an utter moron.
"Oh." She let it drop. I looked away awkwardly.
Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I tried to concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes he would be coming around to see who had it right.
"Get started," he commanded.
"You first?" Layla asked. I looked up to see her smiling a playful smile so beautiful that I could only stare at her like an idiot.
"Or I could start, if you wish." The smile faded; she was obviously wondering if I was mentally competent.
"No," I said, flushing. "I'll go ahead."
I was showing off, just a little. I'd already done this lab, and I know what I was looking for. It should be easy, I snapped the first slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective. I studied the slide briefly. My assessment was confident. "Prophase."
"Do you mind if I look?" she asked me as I began to remove the slide. Her hand caught mine, to stop me, as she asked. Her fingers were ice-cold, like she'd been holding them in a cooler before class. But that wasn't why I jerked my hand away so quickly. When she touched me, it stung my hand as if an electric current had passed through us.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, pulling her hand back immediately. However, she continued to reach for the microscope. I watched her, still staggered, as she examined the slide for an even short time than I had.
"Prophase," she agreed, writing it neatly in the first space on our worksheet. She swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, and then glanced at it cursorily.
"Anaphase," she murmured, writing it down as she spoke.
I kept my voice indifferent. "May I?"
She smirked and pushed the microscope to me.
I looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed, Dang it, she was right.
"Slide three?" I held out my hand without looking at her.
She handed it to me; it seemed like she was being careful not to touch my skin again.
I took the most fleeting look I could manage.
"Interphase." I passed her the microscope before she could ask for it. She took a swift peek, and then wrote it down. I would have written it while she looked, but her clear, elegant script intimidated me. I didn't want to spoil the page with my clumsy scrawl.
We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see Michelle and her partner comparing two slides again and again, and another group had their book open under the table. Which left me nothing to do but try not to look at her… unsuccessfully. I glanced up, and she was staring at me, that same inexplicable look of frustration in her eyes. Suddenly I identified that subtle difference in her face.
"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out unthinkingly.
She seemed puzzled by my unexpected question. "No."
"Oh," I mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your eyes."
She shrugged, and looked away.
In fact, I was sure there was something different. I vividly remembered the flat black color of her eyes the last time she had glared at me- the color was striking against the background of her pale skin and her fiery hair. Today her eyes were a completely different color: a strange cobalt, not quite a dark blue but much brighter. I didn't understand how that could be, unless she was lying for some reason about the contacts. Or maybe L.A. was making me crazy in the literal sense of the word.
I looked down. Her hands were clenched into hard fists again.
Mr. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren't working. He looked over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then stared more intently to check the answers.
"So, Layla, didn't you think Daniel should get a chance with the microscope?" Mr. Banner asked.
"Dan," Layla corrected automatically. "Actually, she identified three of the five."
Mr. Banner looked at me now; his expression was skeptical.
"Have you done this lab before?" he asked.
I smiled sheepishly. "Not with onion root."
"Well," he said after a moment, "I guess it's good you two are lab partners." He mumbled something else as he walked away. After he left, I began doodling on my notebook again.
"It's too bad about the rain, isn't it?" Layla asked. I had the feeling that she was forcing herself to make small talk with me. Paranoia swept over me again. It was like she had heard my conversation with Jesse at lunch and was trying to prove me wrong.
"Not really," I answered honestly, instead of pretending to be normal like everyone else. I was still trying to dislodge the stupid feeling of suspicion, and I couldn't concentrate.
"You don't like the weather here." It wasn't a question. I didn't respond.
"L.A. must be a difficult place for you to live," she mused.
"You have no idea," I muttered darkly.
She looked fascinated by what I said, for some reason I couldn't imagine. Her face was such a distracting that I tried not to look at it any more than courtesy absolutely demanded.
"Why did you come here then?"
No one had asked me that- not straight out like she did, demanding.
"It's… complicated."
"I think I can keep up," she pressed
I paused for a long moment, and then make the mistake of meeting her gaze. Her deep blue eyes confused me, and I answered without thinking.
"My father is getting remarried," I said.
"That doesn't sound so complex," she disagreed, but was suddenly sympathetic. "When did that happen?"
"Last September." My voice sounded sad, even to me.
"And you don't like her," Layla surmised, her tone still kind.
"No, Susan is fine. A bit young, maybe, but nice."
"Why didn't you stay with them?"
I couldn't fathom her interest, but she continued to stare at me with penetrating eyes, as if my dull life's story was somehow vitally important.
"Susan's family lives in Virginia. They're moving there." I half-smiled.
"And your father sent you here so that you wouldn't get dragged across the country." She said it as an assumption again, not a question.
My chin raised a fraction. "No, I sent myself here."
Her delicate eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand," she admitted, and she seemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact. I signed. Why was I explaining this to her? She continued to stare at me with obvious curiosity.
"Believe me, things are just better this way. So now I can spend some quality time with Betsy." My voice was very obviously glum.
"But now you're unhappy," she pointed out.
"And?" I challenged.
"That doesn't seem fair." She shrugged, but her eyes were still intense.
I laughed without humor. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair."
"I believe I have heard that somewhere before," she agreed dryly.
"So that's all," I insisted, wondering why she was still staring at me that way.
Her gaze became appraising. "You put on a good show," she said slowly. "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see."
I grimaced at her, resisting the impulse to stick out my tongue like a five-year-old, and looked away.
"Am I wrong?"
I tried to ignore her.
"I didn't think so," she murmured smugly.
"Why does it matter to you?" I asked, irritated. I kept my eyes away, watching the teacher make his rounds.
"That's a very good question," she muttered, so quietly that I wondered if she was talking to herself. However, after a few seconds of silence, I decided that was the only answer I was going to get.
I signed, scowling at the blackboard.
"Am I annoying you?" she asked. She sounded amused.
I glanced at her without thinking… and told the truth again. "Not exactly. I'm more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read-my dad always calls me an open book." I frowned
"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite everything that I'd said and she's guessed, she sounded like she meant it.
"You must be a good reader then," I replied.
"Usually." She smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultrawhite teeth.
Mr. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned with relieve to listen. I was in disbelief that I'd just explained my dreary life to this bizarre, beautiful girl who may or may not despise me. She'd seemed engrossed in our conversation, but now I could see, from the corner of my eye, that she was leaning away from me again, her hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension.
I tried to appear attentive as MR. Banner illustrated, with transparencies on the overhead projector, what I had seen without difficulty through the microscope. But my thoughts were unmanageable.
When the bell finally rand, Layla rushed as swiftly and as gracefully from the room as she had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after her in amazement.
Michelle skipped quickly to my side and picked up my books for me. I imagined her with a wagging tail.
"That was awful," she groaned. "They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had Kelby for a partner."
"I didn't have any trouble with it," I said, stung by her assumption. I regretted the snub instantly. "I've done the lab before, though," I added before she could her feelings hurt.
"Layla seemed friendly enough today," she commented as we packed our bags. She didn't seem pleased about it.
I tried to sound indifferent. "I wonder what was with her last Monday."
I couldn't concentrate on Michelle's chatter as we walked to Gym, and P.E. didn't do much to hold my attention either. Michelle was on my team today. She proudly covered my position as well as her own, so my woolgathering was only interrupted when it was my turn to serve; my team ducked warily out of the way every time I was up.
It was sultry outside as I walked to the parking lot, but I was happier when I was in the cool cab. I got the air conditioning running, for once not caring about the purr of the engine or looks. I pulled my overshirt off and tried to flatten my thick curls a little.
I looked around to make sure it was clear. That's when I noticed the still, white figure. Layla Kelby was leaning against the front door of the Corvette, three cars down from me, staring intently in my direction. I swiftly looked away and threw the car into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in my haste. Lucky for the Toyota, I stomped on the sensitive brake in time. It was just the sort of car that would crumple my beautiful car. I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again, with greater success. I stared straight ahead as I passed the Corvette, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear I saw her laughing.