September Girls (7 page)

“What the fuck?” Jeff said. Kristle let go of me and turned around.

“That’s my little brother,” Jeff said, speaking of course to Kristle but in a tone of voice that made it sound like he was talking to himself. “He’s fucking fifteen,” he said, then paused to consider it for a second. “Sixteen,” he muttered. “He’s fucking sixteen.”

“Seventeen,” I managed to say.

Jeff didn’t hear me. “What the fuck are you doing?” He wasn’t actually making eye contact with me or with Kristle but instead was looking sideways toward the ocean.

Kristle seemed unsteady, flailing. She pulled her fingers through her hair, tucked a strand behind her ear.

I could see that I had no choice but to walk away. So that’s what I did: I walked away, and as I did, the chatter on the deck stopped abruptly and everyone stared at me. I stumbled and almost fell as I reached to push the sliding doors open, but I recovered myself just in time and stepped inside, over the prone body of a passed-out meathead, back into the party where things had turned uncomfortably wild. The floor was littered with beer cans and there was another guy nearly passed out on the crappy couch, drooling and mumbling to himself. At the kitchen island people were slamming shots and screaming, led by a raucous blonde wearing nothing but a red string bikini and a baseball cap with her ponytail pulled through the back. She was counting off shots as glassy-eyed dudes chugged. “Five!” she shouted. “Can I get six?”

I tried to focus, to modulate my breathing. I tried to pretend I was watching this all on television. I just needed some space.

I just needed to sit by myself and not think about anything. So I padded away from the crowd, down the dark, carpeted stairs into the sandy depths of the house. In the downstairs living room, things were quieter, sort of
.
The light was dim; on the couch, a girl in gold, lace-up sandals was straddling the lap of a sandy-haired guy who looked about my age, practically sucking his face off.

I didn’t want to stare, but I couldn’t not. The boy seemed to sense me watching, and he peered out from behind the girl, meeting my eyes with his. He looked blissful and content, drugged, and I turned away and opened the first door I could find. I hoped it would lead to a dark and quiet bathroom where I could lie down on cold tiles and take a nap.

The door did not lead to a bathroom. Instead, I found myself on the threshold of a sparse bedroom, decorated in beachy floral with a fake ficus in the corner and a busted, tiny two-dial television on a dirty wicker chest of drawers. A girl was sprawled on the twin bed nearer to the window reading
Her Place
and listening to her iPod. It took me a second to realize that it was DeeDee: The girl I’d met on our second day here. The girl from the pier.

She looked up from her magazine and took her headphones out of her ears. She didn’t seem surprised to see me. “Hey, you,” she said.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

“I’ve read this same issue of this same awful magazine three times,” she grumbled, tossing the magazine aside. She touched her fingers to the wall behind her and arched her back, stretching casually.

“I’d never heard of it before we got here,” I said. “But it seems like it’s everywhere now.”

“Yeah, well. It was probably put on this island specifically to torment me.” She gestured at me with a blue package of cigarettes. “Want one?”

“No thanks,” I said.

“I mean, look how depressing this is.” She showed me the cover. It did indeed look idiotic. The photo was of a woman I didn’t recognize as a celebrity. She was holding a plate of cookies and tossing her hair with a psychotic grin.

DeeDee read a cover line aloud: “‘Ten Steps to the Old You! Rediscover the Gal You Used to Be!’” Then another: “‘Snack Happy: Slim Your Waist by Improving Your Attitude!’ Give me a fucking break. Who reads this? Besides me I mean. Just once I’d like to find a rental stocked with
The Complete Works of Shakespeare
. Almost anything would be better than this shit. Not
that
much better, but every little thing counts when you’re working on your English.”

It seemed like her English was fine, unplaceable accent aside, but I didn’t question it. I lingered at the threshold, not sure if I should leave her alone or what. Of course I’d wanted to be alone but now I sort of didn’t. I couldn’t move. It seemed important to be with her now.

DeeDee’s eyes glittered with a private joke as she lit her cigarette. I had the weird, impossible feeling that I already knew her. That I had been here before.

“You can come in, you know” she said. “I’m just hanging out. I could use the company.”

“People are, like, practically having sex out there,” I said. I don’t know why I felt the need to say it. “Like right in the open and everything. Well, not full sex, but . . .”

“Typical,” DeeDee said. She rolled her eyes extravagantly and then laughed. “Well then come in already!” So I stepped into the room, closed the door behind me, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“You’re not into the party?” I asked.

“I’m so over these parties,” DeeDee said. “It was fun at first, but it gets old. Maybe it was never fun. I can’t even remember anymore.”

“So like, they throw these parties all the time?”

She sighed a sigh that was both cheerful and annoyed. “You don’t even know,” she said. “Every week it’s another one. Sometimes another three, at least at the start of the summer. What else is there to do here, I guess. No one else really likes them either but they won’t admit it. It’s what we
do
; how can we not like it? At least I’m honest about it. Usually I just find a bedroom to hang out in by myself and read or whatever, but these rental places have the worst books. That’s how I get stuck reading the same issue of
Her Place
over and over. I already got sick of the Bible, which is the one other thing they always have. That and mystery novels set at the beach.
The Haunted Boardwalk
and things like that.”

“I’ve never read the Bible,” I said. “I didn’t know anyone actually read it.”

“Well I did,” she said. “Three times. It seems like it’s going to be a real drag, and some parts really suck, but it actually has some good sections. I like the parts about hos, even if they always come to a bad end. Eat a fucking apple, you’re a ho. Open a box, you’re a ho. Some guy looks at you: turn to stone, ho. See you later, ho. It’s always the same. The best one is Lilith—also a ho, but a different kind of ho. She went and got her own little thing going, and for that she gets to be an eternal demon queen, lucky her. No one likes a ho. Except when they do, which, obviously, is most of the time. Doesn’t make a difference; she always gets hers eventually.”

Maybe DeeDee’s English wasn’t so good after all, since I had no clue what the hell she was talking about. Maybe I was making up the whole conversation. It’s true that I was stoned out of my mind. Either way, I nodded, trying to appear wise.

“Is all that really in the Bible?”

“No. Some of it. Well, the ho with the apple at least.”

“I never thought of her as a ho.”

“Think again.”

There was an awkward pause while I tried to figure out what I was supposed to say next. “Well I guess I’ll go find the bathroom now.”

“No,” she said. “Stay. Sorry. I’m just—never mind. I mean, I’m joking you know. Not to mention sort of drunk. Joking’s one of those things that you need a good command of the language to pull off; sometimes it comes out wrong. Did you meet Fiesta yet?”

“Who’s Fiesta?”

“Just some ho. But not enough of one I guess. More the Lilith type I suppose. She’s actually pretty great. It’s her going away party. I’m going to miss her.”

I didn’t think to ask where she was going. Later I would wish I had. “I thought it was Kristle’s party.”

“Kristle thinks every party is hers.” She rolled her eyes again, but she was smiling. “That’s her charm.” Then she looked at me knowingly and cocked her head, this time in amiable appraisal. “Let me guess,” she said. “She tried to do it with you already?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You could say that.” I hadn’t completely thought of it like that myself, but once DeeDee put it that way . . .

“God,” DeeDee said, reaching for an ashtray and stubbing out her cigarette. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. “Kristle can be so ridiculous. But who knows what I’d do without her. Total ho, by the way—not that I’m judging; I actually like hos myself. Maybe I am one—I barely know what counts anymore. Being blond certainly never helped anyone’s case. Hey, want to do the quiz?” She fished a pencil from a hidden place in her tangled hair.

“Are you always like this?” I asked.

She squinted at me. “Like what?”

“Like so direct, I guess. Or something.”

A troubled look crossed her face. I’d hurt her feelings. “All I asked is if you wanted to do the quiz,” she said. “What’s so crazy about that?”

“Oh,” I said, still unsure how much of this was really happening. “Okay. Quiz time then.”

She cleared her throat and folded back the magazine. “Cool,” she said. “Ready? Sit.” She patted the edge of the bed and I perched on it dutifully. I folded my hands in my lap and then realized that was stupid, so I let them fall to my sides, but that didn’t feel right either so I folded them again. “The quiz is ‘How Does He
Really
See You?’” DeeDee announced.

“Who’s
he
? Like in my case? Aren’t
I
the he?”

“Just imagine yourself as someone else. Imagine yourself as someone very stupid. That’s what I always do anyway. It’s the only way it works.” And she began to read aloud. I tried my hardest to pay attention but it was very difficult. “‘It’s Valentine’s Day and your hubby’s working late. When he comes home, he brings you A, a dozen red roses; B, a string of diamonds; C—’ Hey, are you listening?”

It was true that I’d already lost my train of thought. As she’d been reading, DeeDee’s voice had started to cave in until it was unintelligible. Now it was all I could do to remember her name.

“Oh my God, you’re fucked up!” DeeDee tossed the magazine aside. “You didn’t smoke one of Kristle’s joints did you?”

I shrugged.

“For fuck’s sake. Never smoke Kristle’s weed! It’s the first rule of everything. You’re lucky you’re not a girl—you’d have wound up the child bride of some underworld demon ages ago. If anyone ever offers you a pomegranate in his fiery hell-lair
just say no,
okay? Jeez.”

I felt a line of nervous sweat forming at my brow. “Wait, what’s wrong with Kristle’s weed? What’s going to happen?”

“Nothing! I mean, it’s just really strong,” DeeDee said. “Kristle’s a total pothead. Her shit will mess you up. She never thinks to warn anyone; I think she actually does it on purpose. Just try to think about something totally neutral and you’ll be fine. Here, actually, lie down.”

So I lay down next to her on my back and looked at the ceiling, which was suddenly very interesting.

A few minutes later I was feeling slightly better and I turned on my side to face DeeDee. She didn’t move.

The small bedroom was filled with smoke and my eyes were stinging. She was reclining next to me, just burning away. The weak light from the lamp on the bedside table clouded with the smoke around her head in a wobbly yellow nimbus. She’d closed her eyes and stretched out, like she had forgotten I was there, but she wasn’t asleep. She had a private smile on her face. It all amused her.

I suddenly wanted, more than anything, to kiss her.

I wanted to kiss her to say, you know, I get it. To say, I see how funny and fucked up it all is too.

Instead of kissing her I stood. “I guess I should go now,” I said, hoping she would stop me.

She didn’t say anything, but she opened her eyes again and looked at me. I could not interpret her half smile, her slippery gaze. Her languid, curious stretch.

“Hey,” she said. I saw several thoughts crossing her face all at once, and I could tell she was about to say one thing and then changed her mind and said something else. “Have fun at the party.”

I knew I could stay if I wanted to. And I did want to. I wanted a lot of things, but sometimes it’s harder than you would think to take what you want.

“See ya,” I said, and left the room.

When I went upstairs, the men were mostly gone and had taken their disgruntled girlfriends with them. It was pretty much only the Girls who were left now, crowded around the kitchen island and jammed together on the couches, intense in their silence, the stereo now blasting Lady Gaga
.
As they noticed me, a roomful of blond heads all swiveled in my direction in eerie synchronicity.

I looked at them. They looked back at me, expectant. No one said anything.

I moved for the sliding doors that led onto the porch, feeling uncomfortable, but before I was halfway across the room I heard another door opening and turned to see Jeff stepping out of it, disheveled and guilty-looking with Kristle right behind him.

“You ready to go, bro?” Jeff asked, without looking me in the eye. “Looks like the party’s kinda shutting down.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m ready to go.” We left.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

.....................................................................

MAGIC

We have been searching for an enchanted mirror.

Where we come from, it’s redundant to talk about enchanted mirrors, as all mirrors are enchanted. Around here, enchanted mirrors are scarce. We’re not from around here. But you’re probably starting to understand that.

The truth is that none of us remember ever finding an enchanted mirror in this dried-out place. There are rumors, yes; some of the older girls think they recall hearing stories. Was it Brenda who discovered one that time? Or was it Kelly? And where was it again? How could we forget something so important?

Once, Nalgene thought she found one in a dressing room at the outlet mall, but it was a false alarm. We sent a delegation to investigate, and it was finally decided that it was just one of those mirrors that makes you look skinnier than normal—which isn’t enchanting at all. It’s just a way of trying to trick you into buying jeans. Everyone was annoyed with Nalgene for weeks after, but she’s not the brightest among us and has always been insecure about her weight, so we eventually forgave her.