Daphne was silent for a moment. Then she said, “If you could go back in time, would you have done it differently?”
Zada bit the inside of her cheek. “I didn’t have a choice,” she said finally.
“Of course you had a choice!” Daphne shifted, her knees knocking against Zada’s as she leaned forward. “If you’d told me you were worried about getting kicked out—”
“You would’ve, what, stopped breaking the rules?” Zada cut in. “Straightened up and become a model citizen? Never again asked me to come along on another one of your wild adventures? You would have done all that for me?”
“We’ll never know.” Daphne’s voice was harsh now. “It was your call to stop being friends. You made the choice for both of us.” Daphne huffed out a sharp laugh. “And why did you always say yes then, if you were so opposed to my so-called wild adventures?”
And there was the problem. A reasonable person would have been able to resist the impossible pull of Daphne’s charms, would’ve chanced and weathered her disappointment. Zada didn’t have an excuse, not really. She’d wanted to say yes because it was Daphne, but she couldn’t very well admit that—especially not now, with the two of them huddled so close together in the dark, their elbows and knees touching.
“Would you really have been happy if I’d said, ‘Oh gosh, Daphne, I can’t do any of that for you anymore. I can’t step in and make any of your visions happen. You’re on your own.’?” Zada took a breath. She said, quieter this time, “Would you honestly have responded, ‘Of course, Zada, that’s fine. You can keep eating lunch with me and talking to me and staying up late with me and nothing will have changed between us.’? Would you have let it go at that?”
“Maybe I would have,” Daphne said. “No, I know I wouldhave. Because back then, I would’ve done anything for you. Among the two of us, you’re the one who’s a fair-weather friend, not me.”
“I’m not calling you a—I think we both were, if you want to call it that,” Zada said. It didn’t feel true even as she said it, but she couldn’t stop opening up this wound. Anything was better than examining the soft underbelly of feelings beneath it. “I was useful to you. I don’t blame you for it. On some level, that’s what friendship is.”
“Oh, do tell.”
Zada fixed her gaze on the bookshelves across from them that were crammed full of hefty volumes chosen all for show. The shelf might as well have been empty.
“You meet someone,” Zada began, “and they’re pleasant enough. Maybe they know how to make you laugh, or maybe they have some other skill that can help you, and so you put up with the things about them that annoy you. They’re not very brave, or their social skills are just terrible, or they can’t open their mouth in front of a crowd without making an absolute fool of themself. But as long as they bring some value into the exchange, then they’re worth it. You pass the time with them until you meet the person who actually matters, your soulmate, and then finally, your life begins for real.” Her eyes prickled. She took a shaky breath. “Friendship is a transaction.”
“Is that how you see Flora?” said Daphne. “Or Augusta? Is that how you saw—”
“Don’t say it,” Zada said.
“—Carine? Were you just killing time with all of us until you met your Heartsong match?”
“No, I—” Zada shook her head vehemently. She was crying now, for some reason. “I wasn’t. But I think it was different for you. For all of you. How could you have felt any different than—”
“I wasn’t,” Daphne snapped. “I wasn’t killing time. You don’t get to decide that for me. And it sounds to me like you’re saying that you were a better friend than we were. If you thought we all were your friends because it was some exchange, some waiting period until someone better came along, then you’re wrong. Honestly, who were your friends before you came to Dalrymple?”
“I was always studying,” said Zada. “Trying to qualify for the scholarship. I didn’t really have time to—I knew how few slots there were, you know?”
“Wait,” said Daphne. “Are you saying you didn’t have friends before you went away to finishing school?”
“I suppose I must have played with other children when I was very young,” said Zada. “But I don’t remember it.”
Daphne said nothing for a long moment.
“I’m not saying—” Zada hurried onward. “It was my choice. But a lot of other people were trying for that spot. I think it was pretty common, not to spend a lot of time socializing.”
“You were a kid,” said Daphne. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Well,” said Zada, discreetly dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s not exactly your concern.”
“Don’t tell me what my concern is,” Daphne retorted. “Don’t tell me—”
“—what to do,” Zada finished, their voices mingling in unison. She felt her lips curl into a ghost of a smile. “Youknow, you’re always yourself, every minute of the day. I think I envy that.”
Daphne snorted. “Don’t. To be honest, I’m sick of myself. It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be, being me.”
“Thanks,” said Zada, “I’ll keep that in mind in case I ever feel tempted to develop a personality. For now, I’ll happily remain a blank slate of nothing.”
Daphne leaned in close enough to knock their shoulders together.
“You’re quiet, you’re not blank,” she said. “It’s really not the same thing.” She paused, her shoulder still pressed against Zada’s. “Hey, do you remember our signaling system?”
