“I won’t throw any stools, and you put curses on yourself. You don’t need me to do it. I need not tell you anything, and you will do nothing to hurt or displease me,” I said.
That sent a smile rippling through her face, curling the corners of her mouth. “Or else what, Delia?”
“Or else your mother will see more of this, as well as other students at school and who knows who else,” I said, plucking the picture out of my purse and tossing it onto the bed. It fell facedown at her knees.
She studied me a moment and then slowly picked it up and looked at it, her face collapsing in defeat and fear.
“How did you…where do you get this?”
“Fani Cordova,” I said. “She has them all, many copies to hand out whenever I tell her to do so.”
She glanced again at the picture. “Who took this?”
“What difference does it make? You think your mother would go rushing out to buy you your car or end your punishment if she saw that and more pictures of you like it? And if the boys at school saw such pictures, would you want to stay there?”
I could see the defiance and strength drain from her face the way I might see water disappear from a glass with a crack at the bottom.
“You’re disgusting,” she said.
“I am only what you make me be,” I said. “You can have that picture. As I said, there are many others. Take it, and get out of my room, and never, ever follow me with Christian Taylor or anyone. I don’t want to hear the Davila name come from your lips in this house or anywhere. They have suffered enough, thanks to what you and your girlfriends did that terrible night, stirring up Ignacio and his friends.”
She slipped off the bed but kept her distance from me. “I tried to be your friend and get my friends to like you,” she moaned.
“The way a spider befriends a fly. No, gracias.”
“You’ll be sorry. You’ll see,” she said. “Fani will betray you, too. When she gets bored with you, she’ll toss you off like some empty bag.”
“Don’t worry about me. I don’t depend on anyone here,” I said. “Friends here sway too easily in the wind. You know that, too, and you will see it all your life.”
“Right. You know everything, as usual,” she said. “You can tell Fani Cordova that if she shows any pictures like this, I’ll get her good.”
She tore the picture into pieces and threw it at me before running out of my room. The pieces floated down to my feet. I heard her door slam, and then I picked up the pieces and put the pile into a corner of a dresser drawer. Someday I might put them together again like a puzzle, I thought. She was mean-hearted but cowardly and stupid.
To calm myself as much as anything, I took a hot shower and washed my hair. It was getting later, and I had to prepare myself for my dinner date. Despite my liking Adan, my heart was heavy, and I was afraid I would be terrible company both tonight and tomorrow. I considered getting myself out of going sailing with him, but then I realized that would disturb Tía Isabela and might stir up some suspicions.
Sophia was defeated tonight, but she was not simply going to retreat. She would hover in the corner and in the shadows, waiting for some opportunity to strike back at me. I must do nothing to give her that opportunity, I thought. If anything, I had to be even more careful.
I fixed my hair and chose my dress and shoes and a pair of earrings. The makeup I wore was still quite understated compared with what Sophia and the other girls at school wore. I was still at my vanity table when Tía Isabela knocked and entered my room. I turned in fearful anticipation, worried that despite it all, Sophia had decided to tell her mother where I had been.
“Very good, Delia,” Tía Isabela said, inspecting me. “You chose the right dress to wear, and I like what you’ve done with your hair and makeup.”
“Thank you.”
“I had occasion to meet Adan’s father today,” she continued, coming farther in and sitting. “Apparently, Adan has told him a great deal about you. His father is impressed and happy about it. These days, the families of candidates for high office are scrutinized almost as much as the candidate. I’m here to tell you that you should expect people, photographers and reporters, will pay more attention to you. You must think carefully before you speak, especially if you are asked any questions about your family or about the terrible thing that happened to you here.”
So, that was the reason she was being so friendly. She wasn’t pleased so much with me as she was worried about herself and her reputation. How fortunate I was to have Fani give me that picture and stop Sophia before she planted the st
ory in mi tía Isabela’s mind. She would certainly see it as a threat to her image and reputation, and the explosion would have been so great all of us would have suffered.
“I will,” I promised.
“No. I mean you must be careful,” she emphasized. “They are bound to ask you questions about the death of Bradley Whitfield. You simply say you’ve been told by our attorney not to discuss it.
“And if they ask you about your life in Mexico, our family,” she added, surprising me with the word our, “don’t make them sound so poor and uneducated. You can say your father was a foreman in charge of many men.
“Of course, you can tell them about our home here, our grounds, the nice things you have, and how wonderful it has been to be here and have these opportunities. Comprende?”
“Sí.”