disclaimer: Santa doesn't like me :(
(He'd once told her she knew nothing about love. He'd told her to come and tell him she knew what love was like when she'd thrown out her color-coded lists, because she couldn't classify what she was feeling.
She's sitting there now, with pen poised over notebook, colored markers in the other hand, trying to write -tryingohgodsofuckinghard- but there are no more words.)
Sally opens the door, and immediately puts her arms around her. And for some reason it feels warm, and safe…like home.
"Hey", she says softly, stroking her hair "You alright now?"
"She's all right. I'm the one who had to put up with her crying all evening."
"De-rek" she and Sally say simultaneously.
She turns to look around at Sally. Because. (Because it had sounded so wrong. Like…like that version of his name wasn't completely and totally hers. Like…like he wasn't hers to talk about.)
Derek groans, "Not you too, Sal. One Casey is enough. My name'll be permanently damaged if everybody keeps ripping it apart like that."
(And she'd like to think –oncejustonce- that he says it because he knows it as well as she does; De-rek belongs to her. And yeah, she knows exactly how much of a fool she is.)
"Hey Derek!" says Lyra from her position on the couch, radiating exuberance (and it's not as if her incredibly hot room-mate is sitting around on a Friday night just to catch a glimpse of her stepbrother. Nope, not at all.)
"Hey…Lyra." And everybody in the room knows he's turned his charm on 'high'. Because he's Derek, it's what he does.
She giggles a little, twirling a lock of her hair (and high school just never ends) and then her eyes slide past him to rest on her, the smile sliding off.
And then…then she can practically hear the 'Twilight Zone' music in the background. (Because Lyra?) She moves forward jerkily, like a bad camera-shot taken by amateurs. Right into Lyra's outstretched arms. And then she's hugging the girl who takes an hour out each day to point out what's wrong with her outfit, the same girl who calls her all variations of the word geek, the girl who equates spending time with her to an appointment with the dentist. That girl is whispering "He must've been a moron. How could he not see how amazing you are?" in her ear.
Totally normal.
She remembers the girl at the parlor whom she'd never seen before, and now Lyra who'd disliked her since she first entered the campus, and then it strikes her…
(Heartbreak. It's universal.)
She's lying on her bed (not thinking about mirrors at all) when they enter her room. And even through her half-dazed state she can see that what they're wearing isn't exactly normal 'Hey-we're-spending-a-Friday-at-home wear.'
"Right," Lyra's saying decisively, "I choose red. I'll help make those dark circles look intentional."
"I know! I have this gorgeous red dress, it'll definitely fit her. We're almost the same size."
"Umm…guys?" she says tentatively, "I'm the one who's supposed to be disoriented here."
And by their surprised looks she can tell they hadn't even registered her presence.
"Get up, we've work to do."
(Question: when you don't have a heart any longer, does your mind work faster to compensate? Because she knows what they're talking about.)
"I'm not going." She says flatly.
"Sure you are." (And they're both even speaking in sync. Someone give them matching pinafores already.)
She really doesn't want to go to some random party. Where she'll have to watch all these happy couples, and pretend to be the same (because she's not happy. She's bitter, and tired, and she just wants to sleep.)
She's about to protest again, when a memory hits her, so sharp, she can almost feel it happening. Truman is kissing this girl who looks like her (but isn't her) and she's standing there, watching. Because that's where she always ends up- on the sidelines. Max goes with Amy, Truman with Vicky, and she's always left right there. With a stupid break-up box and nobody to give it to.
(His voice is so clear in her head, she almost shivers, "Haven't you ever wanted to live a little dangerously.")
Yeah, she's going.
"She's not going." He says flatly.
"Of course she is," says Sally outraged, "Why wouldn't she?"
He looks directly at her, "Don't you have to cry yourself to sleep tonight or something? "
She dully registers it probably wasn't meant to hurt so much (butitdoesithurts.) "Why? You're afraid the fact that you know me is going to ruin that 'rep' you spend so much time building?"
He doesn't say anything.
"Can't you pretend not to hate me for one night?"
"I'm not sure," he says sarcastically, "When you make it so hard." His scornful eyes rove over her, and she feels mortified and completely exposed. That's all it takes. One look.
(She's argued with Sally about the dress. But she wasntwasnt going to let Derek know that. She would show him she could be one of those girls he lusted after. That she could be wild. And desirable.)
She doesn't look at him as she moves out into the dark night towards the car.
She doesn't know the name of her host. Through the drunken haze of her mind, it stands out. And it makes her giggle. (Because she's being rebellious, and totally anti-Casey. And this feels good.)
"Hey gorgeous."
She looks up to see another nine on the Emily-scale. (How had she never noticed that her college was teeming with them? Being away from Truman was definitely a good thing.)
"Me?" she says, and there might be incorrect grammar involved but she doesn't care. This is Casey Danger McDonald.
"Of course you," his voice is soft and it sounds a bit like Derek's, like he'd sounded in the car "Not one woman here to match up to you."
"Derek thinks I'm ugly," she pseudo-whispers confidingly, "I'm the ugly stepsister nobody wants. Maybe that's why he didn't visit me those first four months. Because I'm ugly."
"Derek must be crazy." Somewhere in between, he'd put his arms around her, and it feels warm, and comfortable.
"He is…he's extremely…"
But apparently her new friend has tired of hearing about Derek. "Do you want another drink?"
"Yes, please." She says obediently, as he hands her one.
"So beautiful," he whispers, and she likes the way he's looking at her. Like he believes his own words. Like she's not Casey McDonald- scholarship winner, Keener Extraordinaire, but instead Casey McDonald, the mystery woman whom random strangers label gorgeous.
So she turns and smiles up at him. She feels a little dizzy, so she rests her head on his shoulders. And suddenly she's telling him everything. How Derek left her, about Sally, about his hockey games, about everything. His free hand slides up and down her thigh, slowly, and it feels nice. It makes her shiver a little. It feels so…
"Casey?"
They both turn at the sound of his voice. He's standing there, and she's never seen him look like that before, it makes her head spin even more.
"Venturi? You're the Derek she was talking about?"
And suddenly her arm is in Derek's vice-like grip. "What happened to you?" He turns to face the other guy, "Paul" he says in grim recognition. "If you've touched her, I swear to god, I'll..."
Paul looks at him challengingly, "She's obviously moved on, why don't you take a hint and do the same, Venturi?"
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"You abandoned her when she needed you."
She can see his figure still, "What?
She wants to protest. Why are they talking about her in the third person, she's right there. But she can't speak, it hurts too much.
Lyra's by her side in a trice, "it's okay," she whispers, "we'll get you out of here in a second."
But Derek, she wants to say. Paul's a nice guy. He thinks she's gorgeous.
But she doesn't because she can't think anymore.
She wakes to the sound of voices, harsh voices, they make her head hurt. It's two in the morning. And she should close her door (but Edwin and Lizzie have taught her well.)
"What the hell were you trying to prove, Derek?" and it sounds like Sally, but she's never heard Sally scream before. It isn't like her.
"Nothing." His voice is grim.
"It isn't enough you have this stupid on-field rivalry with Paul, but now you've to…"
"It has nothing to do with that, okay?"
"So tell me. What did it have to do with, then? Because from where I'm standing it looks like you wanted to hit him. And now you have a scar to show for it. Congratulations, Derek."
"God, Sally. What he did to Casey was…"
She can see Sally stiffen, her eyes growing careful, "He did nothing to Casey. You know that. She's just not used to alcohol, and she hadn't eaten."
"Did you see how he was looking at her? He was fucking touching her, Sal. A minute more and he'd have taken her to one of those rooms above."
"You can't stop guys looking at her, Derek." Sally snaps, "She's grown-up. And she's capable of making her own decisions." She stops abruptly, and then continues, "She didn't look as if she minded being touched by him. You've got to stop with this whole brother-complex thing, okay?"
His voice is low, "No. She doesn't enjoy being groped. She's Casey. She just doesn't understand all...this."
Sally's radiating disbelief, "Is Casey a five letter word for chastity? She's a woman, Derek. And as much as you keep trying to pretend otherwise, she has her needs."
He runs his hand through his hair in pure frustration, "Casey doesn't have needs. She's practically asexual. And this is why I didn't want to take her along. Don't you know anything about her? Have you ever seen her look that vulnerable? She was easy prey for any player with smooth lines. She wanted to feel desirable, and you played right up to that."
Sally's face is practiced blank, "What do you mean."
He laughs. Once. And she's never heard a sound more devoid of humor. "That dress, Sally. That fucking dress. All it did was make every guy there want to take it off."
(She can see Sally's mask crumble a little. She's seen that expression so many times in the mirror today.)
She can't hear her, but Sally's mouthed, "Did you?" reaches her eyes.
"Did I what?"
"Did you want to take her dress off?"
She can see his expression, and it makes her stomach clench uncomfortably. That mixture of shock and revulsion. (He's repulsed by the idea?)
"She's my sister, Sal. What the hell are you saying?"
("…annoying brother. "Step-brother." "Same difference.")
"Step-sister." Sally whispers, "It's not the same thing."
"She thinks it is."
Sally cleared her throat, "I think I've got my answer." She makes a move to go to her room.
His voice is pleading, "Sal, please…"
"You know what, Derek," Sally turns around (and all Casey wants to do is take her and hug her, and tell her she's crazy. Even if there's this foolishdelusional part of her that hopes she isn't.) "That dress is mine. You've seen it a thousand times before."
And then she walks away, leaving him standing there, hands clenched uselessly at his side. The hurt so fervent it makes her eyes sting.
(He's hurting, and in all irony she's the one who wants to kneel down.)
a/n- Derek's practically psychic! :)