We sipped the wine.
“So, did you enjoy the dinner?”
“Yes, very much. Thank you.”
“Personally, I couldn’t wait to leave. I thought it was a bit stuffy, everyone watching his or her table manners. I hate having to be so perfect all the time, but my mother keeps one eye on me and the other on everyone else. God forbid I have a strand of hair out of place.”
“My aunt was the same before I left tonight. She had to approve my clothes and my shoes, too.”
“Exactly. Everyone is so busy impressing everyone else that they forget who they really are. It’s like we’re all in a play and can’t miss a line.”
I nodded, even though I really didn’t expect to hear such a thing from Fani. In school, she looked as if she thought that was the most important thing, impressing everyone else, parading about as if she were truly on a stage.
“If you are true to yourself, you will probably impress anyone you care to impress,” I said.
She smiled and then narrowed her eyes and leaned toward me.
“I like you because you’re still innocent, natural, and honest,” she said. She sat back and waved the air beside her as if she were chasing a fly. “You probably won’t be for long, though.”
“Why not?”
“You’ll be like everyone else, worried about having friends, being popular. Don’t tell me you weren’t bothered by the cold shoulder you were being given at the beginning of the week,” she said.
“That was because of Sophia, because…”
“Doesn’t matter whose fault it was. You didn’t like it. You were very happy to be rescued. Lucky for you, I could do that.”
I felt myself stiffen, a cold chill actually crawling up my spine but turning into a hot flash when it reached my neck and face. I didn’t like being thought of as someone who needed to be rescued, and Fani sounded too arrogant about it.
“I don’t want to be friends with anyone who doesn’t really want to be friends with me, who will only be my friend because I suddenly seem important.”
“Then you’ll have no friends at all,” Fani said. “Don’t get too high on a horse. You’ll only fall farther down. Relax. Enjoy the moment. We had some fun, and maybe we’ll have some more. I don’t like your cousin and her friends, but I don’t particularly like anyone very much in that school.”
“Why not?”
“I told you. They’re all too worried about being popular, accepted, important.”
“Aren’t you?”
“I don’t have to worry about it. I know I am,” she said without hesitation. “Now I’d like you to tell me about what happened, the incident with Bradley Whitfield.”
“Incident? He died,” I said. “That’s more than an incident.”
“You know what I mean,” she snapped, and then smiled. “How did he rape you? And don’t try denying it. I have my sources of information, or I should say Daddy does. Well?”
“It is not easy for me to talk about all that,” I said. “Please.”
“Oh, stop it. It’s over and done with. The Mexican boys are in jail, and one is dead, right? There’s no one’s feelings left to hurt.”
“Except mine,” I said.
“I did you a favor. You can repay it by telling me everything. I want to know every detail. When something like that happens to you, even the smallest things are significant. Well?”
I felt tears coming to my eyes. To talk about it was to relive it, an
d I was always afraid that I would say something to lead people to believe Ignacio was not dead.
“It is very painful to remember.”