Things were icy between Meghan and Faye, to say the least. When the bell had rung in the midst of Meghan's sobbing, she'd quickly forced herself to bite the bullet, as she had many times before. She'd shoved painful thoughts to the back of her head once again, still having not had a real chance to release them. And she'd gone to class.

Thankfully, there were no more classes with Clarissa the rest of the day. There were stares from others, but Meghan had long since accepted that as the norm. However, trying to concentrate on school was completely impossible, for Meghan was too wracked with the disbelief of Faye knowing the truth about Daphne.

The car ride home that day had been almost unbearable. Only around Alistair had Meghan felt more tense than she now did sitting right next to Faye. The girl had lied to her, and she had betrayed her. Meghan wouldn't talk to Faye, and didn't know what could be said if she did. Thus, the car was silent the entire way home.

This was sad because Emma had lately been trying to adopt a new, more peaceful outlook. Laurence had been trying to follow suit, and together with his wife had at the dinner table been proposing such things as, "Let's talk about the good things that happened today." and "Remember to look for the silver lining! It's always there!"

As a side note, angsty teenager Anthony hadn't been much help to things either, having now taken to almost constantly residing in his bedroom and making depressing demo tapes. Not even Faye's diary, in fact, could excite him now.

Optimism, in truth, had actually been one of Meghan's strong points. And for the most part, it still was. But not today.

Today, Meghan had joined the Winthrops in somber sadness. She'd no sooner stepped in the door to the cottage than was in the sitting room, trying to study her brains out. It was all she could do to keep from letting herself fall back and go to sleep. She vaguely latched on the hope that maybe, just maybe, Luke would call.

But, being the busy thing that he was, he did not.

As for Faye, she'd shut herself in her room, as one might've guessed. Meghan didn't know what the girl was doing in there, and really didn't care, either.

For the next three days, things went the very same way. Meghan and Faye never spoke, never a word, and stayed out of close proximity with each other as much as possible. Meghan would escape with her love whenever she could, but eventually would always have to go back to the Winthrops' and to Faye - and sleep in the same room with her every night. Luke always made her feel a million times better, and he'd also promised that she'd get her precious locket back as soon as Lord Dashwood knew the truth. Even so, Meghan gradually felt a little brighter, what with her constant showering of affection from that boy as well as trips to the Dashwoods', to prepare for the ball. Luke had been giving Meghan some dancing lessons with Jocelyn as their supervisor and critic - and a nice, helpful critic at that.

Why can't Simon be more like her? Meghan thought.

By 8 o'clock Thursday night, Meghan was well on her way to mastering the waltz. And she actually dismounted Luke's scooter with a smile on her face after their ride back to the Winthrops'.

"Bye, love." he'd stated. "Tomorrow, then."

"Yes. Tomorrow, then." she'd repeated. It was a ritual they'd recently adopted, as they now found it hard to leave each other's company without the concrete prospect of meeting the very next day.

Meghan had then gone inside, as she'd done multiple times before, and had gone up the stairs to the bathroom to brush her windblown hair. On her way out and back down the hallway, she noticed something peculiar - the door to Faye's bedroom was open. And no one was there.

"Mrs. Winthrop." Meghan said, once back downstairs. "Is Faye gone somewhere?"

Emma looked up from the cleaning she was toiling over, then looked back and sighed.

"Don't ask me where she is, dearie." she said in a resigned breath. "Just took off somewhere. Out for a walk, she said. She'll be comin' back soon, I'm certain."

In spite of herself, Meghan was worried at this. But she was not allowed much time to worry, before the phone rang.

Thursday had not been a good day for Daphne. And it wasn't nearly over yet.

She was sitting on her bed, legs crossed, with open books and papers spread out in front of her. Her nose caught the smell of rubber and graphite as she poked the eraser of her pencil against her lip. It was what she always did when she was stuck, or lost in thought.

Daphne found herself looking to her left about every five minutes, at the other bed in the room, which had been vacant now for almost two months. On the bed was an old Pocahontas comforter, complete with pillow in a Blue's Clues pillowcase. Above the bed hung a large poster of Audrey Hepburn, surrounded by butterfly wall decals. In between the two beds was a nightstand, and on it sat framed pictures of the two closest friends on Earth. And above this nightstand was...what else? A Beatles poster. Right in the middle - that'd been the best place for it.

Daphne was missing Meghan. Terribly.

When she wasn't looking at the bed, Daphne was looking at the far left wall. Against that wall was a tall bookcase, filled with Meghan's treasures. There were the normal things, like a jewelry box, stuffed animals and well, books. But then there were other things, like Pirates of the Caribbean action figures, a framed picture of Princess Diana, and an old chess piece Meghan had received from that guy Merv - the top had broken off.

Daphne grimaced. She'd just gotten some eraser shavings in her mouth. Bending over her small trash can, she spit them out and fell back onto her pillow. She turned to her right, and saw her bookcase.

It was, in many ways, quite different. Daphne's bookcase was one to include such things as a coin collection, two of her mother's old tambourines, and a jar filled to the brim with guitar picks. There was an old rock she'd found in New Jersey that was shaped like John Wayne's head, and an Andy Warhol banana print resting behind it. Daphne's gaze came to a rest on a stack of old A-Track tapes, right before she decided to close her eyes.

There were two people, Daphne thought, that she would give anything to embrace at that moment.

The first was obviously Meghan. Daphne was becoming increasingly unsure of whether she'd be able to go another two or so months without that face, that laugh. The phone was just the phone, and the phone was nothing. Daphne couldn't stop missing Meghan. The thousands of miles between them were crushing Daphne under their weight. She had a void, a hole inside - and she missed the person who'd always been able to somewhat fill it.

But another person was impossible to miss. He could only be longed for.

Daphne could never understand herself, her feelings of emptiness for someone she'd never even met. There were millions of girls, all over the planet, who grew up without a father - and a good portion of them probably couldn't care less. Was it the fantasy of it all? Would Daphne still long for him if he were, like, a potato farmer in Idaho? Maybe. As long as it was the same person.

She had no demeanor, no character, no voice to latch onto. To match him to. Her mother's descriptions were vague, and Daphne knew why. Libby didn't want to remember anything about him. But she couldn't surrender her memories to her daughter. They were locked in her mind, out of reach.

And all Daphne wanted was to run to him, to bury her face in his shoulder. Hear him talking. Smell his cologne. Feel strong arms wrap around her. Maybe it was childish and ridiculous, but she just didn't care.

Her eyes squeezed tighter shut as tears began to leak out. How much longer was she going to have to do this? Even Aunt Cathy knew now, and that had made it even more real, her feelings more intense. Daphne could hardly stand it. She wanted him so badly that it hurt. Oh, did it hurt.

She pressed her face into her pillow, where for a few seconds, it was impossible to breathe. Daphne was in pitch black darkness, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. It was just herself, her thoughts, and her heartbeat.

When she finally had to raise her head for air, she knew what she had to do. She couldn't wait any longer.

Daphne had to talk to Meghan. Now.

I didn't know why Mrs. Winthrop was holding the phone out to me. I never got calls on Thursdays. Come to think of it, I almost never got calls at all.

But of course, I took it.

"Hello?"

"Meghan." said an exhausted but sort of urgent voice in the phone. "I - I need to talk to you..."

"D - Daphne?" I exclaimed, fast walking up the stairs to Faye's room. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know." she told me, voice quivering. "I just...I miss you and..."

"And what?"

She didn't answer.

"Just calm down, Daphne. And tell me what's wrong."

I heard her take a breath, trying to take my advice.

"I'm trying to do some homework, but I'm just having a breakdown. Because for some reason I just can't stand it anymore. I just got hit so hard all of a sudden...Mom doesn't know I'm calling you..."

I thought about what she was saying.

"Is this...is this about..."

I knew I was right, and didn't have to finish - because she started crying.

"No...Daphne, don't cry..."

"I need to."

Maybe that was true. After all, she didn't know what I knew, or what I'd been doing. I wasn't sure what to say - I'd just realized that there was still yet another secret, one that I was keeping from her.

Trying to fend off pangs of guilt, I said the best thing I could think of.

"It won't be much longer. Just trust me, Daphne."

"There's nothing you can do! There's nothing anyone can do. I'm just running around in circles for nothing. I don't know what to think. Dang it, what's wrong with me?!"

"Nothing...nothing's wrong with you...listen Daphne, you just gotta hang in there, I promise things will be..."

"Don't say that. Things won't be alright until I see you again. Not even a little bit alright. They just won't."

What was I supposed to say to that? I wish I knew.

"Why am I so important?" I asked. Which was the question I'd been asking in my mind for years.

"Because you're the only one who understands." she breathed. "You know what it's..."

She stopped. I knew she'd been about to say that I knew what it was like. My throat tightened a little.

And I wondered what was worse. To never experience a precious thing, or to have it...and then lose it.

I had to fight the thought, I knew. To keep from crying.

With the phone still to my ear, I walked toward the window. It was dark, but the moon was shining bright enough to see the world outside. And if I squinted hard enough, I was able to see that famous, gigantic clock. The entire view was breathtaking - not bad for a cottage. This was London, understated and real. Honest, and not flashy. Only seen by coming, and surely, hard to leave behind.

Daphne was still breathing hard on the other end, still trying to stop sobbing. I waited.

Somehow, I could tell that this had to be a turning point. After all that both of us had been through, there was nothing more fitting for us to be doing than to be talking to each other, right now. Connecting as best we could, and wishing together for the sun to come, once and for all.

BE HERE WEDNESDAY. Until then, free cereal, chinese food, AND burritos for all. And check out my profile, to see what happened when I tried to get help for my writing problems...

Peace and nachos,

-rf-