Vicious Little Darlings (8 page)

9

I
t's a Wednesday, two in the afternoon, and I'm alone in the new house. My first nude self-portrait for drawing class is due tomorrow and I haven't started yet. I'm a little annoyed that Professor Connelly is making us do this. What could I possibly learn from studying my own naked body? I already know that I have flabby thighs. Professor Connelly is a sadist.

I go downstairs to get a Coke from the fridge and then drink it at the counter.

The new house is amazing. Every morning I have to pinch myself; I can't believe this is where I get to live. The house is rustic, elegant, and sparsely decorated in Agnes's minimalist style: bare walls, sleek couches in beige and taupe, tables with long, skinny, brushed-aluminum legs. The only room with any color is the downstairs bedroom, which came with bloodred walls. Agnes wanted to repaint them ecru, but Maddy insisted that she liked the red, so Agnes deferred to her like she always does. Since Hope sleeps on a dog bed in the den, we turned the fourth bedroom into a library. Every night we gather there in front of the fireplace on Maddy's Persian rug. We talk and drink hot chocolate and read from our favorite poets; it's all very old world and romantic. I'm happy that I finally have a place I can call home, and it's hard to explain, but I feel right with Maddy and Agnes. We fit together like the sides of a triangle, each almost dysfunctional without the other two.

The additional three bedrooms are upstairs. Agnes's room is next to Maddy's and faces the front of the house. My room is the most private—separated from Maddy's by a bathroom that we all share—and faces the backyard, where Hope spends her days.

The best part of our living arrangement is that Agnes cooks dinner for us every night. Even though she's vegetarian, she cooks nonvegetarian meals for Maddy and me. Complicated dishes like lobster risotto, braised short ribs, and grilled lamb. I'm in awe of how self-sacrificing Agnes can be when it comes to Maddy—it's hard to imagine a vegetarian touching raw meat without wanting to vomit. And who knew Agnes was so domestic? Cooking seems to relax her, and since she only needs four hours of sleep a night, and is always caught up on schoolwork, what else is she going to do with her time?

But I know that everything Agnes does is for Maddy. I'm just tolerated because Maddy happens to like me. And though she won't admit it, I know Agnes is desperately in love with Maddy, but it's a repressed love, totally one-sided. Maddy never shows her any affection aside from a hug now and then. It's tragic, really. Thank God I'm not part of that equation.

Another weird thing is that Agnes always pays for everything. Maddy doesn't chip in, and I can't afford to. I'm afraid to even guess how much our weekly food bill is. But Agnes never says anything about it, never asks us to pay our share. I'm starting to worry that I'm going to owe her my life by the end of the semester, but what can I do? Nana's check still hasn't arrived. I got so desperate I called California the other day, but the phone just kept ringing and ringing. Where could Nana be? I know for a fact that she would never leave her wet bar for more than a few hours at a time. After all, even Jesus drank, Nana used to say.

Back to my assignment. I go upstairs and stare at the blank page. It's two fifteen. Agnes has lab until four and Maddy has art history until three, so I've got about forty-five minutes to get my portrait done. I lie on my white sleigh bed—which Agnes picked out and paid for—and try to get into a depressed state of mind, because depression is absolutely necessary for art-making. I stare at the ceiling and the crown moldings, and think of Nana's popcorn ceiling and the perpetually dim, dank condo we called home. Now I'm depressed.

I strip out of my jeans and my
I AM EVIL
T-shirt and stand in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the inside of my closet door. I've been gaining a lot of weight. For the first time in my life, I have actual hips and breasts. But I'm more pear-shaped than hourglass, and although I look like a woman, I still feel like the scrawny kid I was up until a month ago. This new body does not fit my personality.

Suddenly there's a knock at the door.

“Sarah? It's me, Maddy. Can I come in?”

“Just a sec.” What is she doing home so early? I slip into my robe and say, “Come in.”

Maddy saunters in, rosy cheeked, wearing white jeans and an indigo peasant top. Her walk kind of reminds me of Sebastian.
Weird.

“Hey,” she says, “I just finished tying a kabbalah string around Hope's ankle to protect her from the evil eye.”

I snicker. “The evil eye? Who would envy a fawn?”

“I don't know. The shar-pei next door?” She smiles. “Why are you wearing your robe?”

“Oh.” I tighten my sash. “I was just getting ready to draw.”

“Yeah?” she says. “I left class early. It's too beautiful out. I didn't feel like being in a stuffy classroom, listening to another boring lecture.” She sighs, goes over to the window, and opens it. “Some fresh air would do you good. Look, the leaves are starting to turn.”

I peer out at the giant red-and-gold-leafed maple tree in our backyard.

“Hey,” Maddy says, “do you want to go to town for some ice cream?”

“I wish I could, but my assignment's due tomorrow.”

“You're so studious. That's one of the things I like most about you. You're a true Capricorn—diligent, serious, and loyal.”

“How did you know I was a Capricorn?”

“By your actions, of course. Why? When's your birthday?”

“December twenty-fifth.”

“See? I was right. Poor thing. It must be hard having your birthday on Christmas.”

I shrug. “It's fine.”

“I thought
I
had it bad. My birthday's on December twenty-first. But I'm a Sagittarius. We're honest, open-minded, and trusting. Agnes is the one we have to watch out for—she's a Gemini!” Maddy giggles. “Come on, take a break. We poor little orphan girls need to have fun once in a while. Right?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Actually, my parents aren't dead,” I say, surprised that Agnes never mentioned that to her.

She turns toward the window. “Oh, I know all about that. Agnes told me. But your parents aren't in your life, so basically you're all alone, just like me.”

Confused, I nod.

“So, are we going to get ice cream?” she asks.

“I can't. Anyway, I need to go on a diet. My ass is getting huge.”

“Don't be silly.” Maddy looks away. “You're superskinny.”

She's totally lying. But I guess she's just trying to spare my feelings.

“It's okay if you don't want to go,” she says. “Can I watch you draw?”

“Well … I have to do a nude self-portrait.”

Flipping her hair, she says, “Why don't you draw me? I've always wanted to have my portrait done, and it's not like your professor knows what you look like naked, right? A body's a body, after all.”

Before I can begin to consider how awkward it would be to draw Maddy naked, she's already taking off her clothes. It's not so much her nakedness that bothers me—it's the intimacy of drawing someone I know, naked
or
dressed.

Surprisingly, Maddy's body is not perfect. Her breasts are slightly asymmetrical, her legs are a little on the skinny side, and she doesn't have much of a waist. But somehow her imperfections only seem to heighten her beauty. It's so unfair. If I weren't her friend, I'd hate her.

I consider telling Maddy I don't want to do this. But I can already imagine how crushed she would be. She's so damn sensitive. Agnes and I always have to tiptoe around her, and yes, it's exhausting, but what choice do we have? She's had a tragic life.

I dig around my art box for a fresh stick of charcoal.

“How should I pose?” Maddy asks, now fully nude and facing me.

I try not to look at her as she adjusts her breasts.

“Should I do a sexy pose?” she says, squeezing her breasts together and cocking her head to one side. I feel my cheeks getting warm.

“Why don't you sit on the floor facing me? Wait, I'll go get a towel.” I really just want to get out of this room.

“No need. The floor's clean,” she says, sitting down yoga-style. “We could practically eat off it, thanks to Agnes.”

“But you might get splinters.”

“Don't be silly,” she says, laughing. “Just draw.”

I sit on the floor facing her and press my charcoal into the paper. It's strange at first. We're so close and her nipples are right there and her stomach puffs out a little every time she exhales. I can even smell her strawberry-scented lip balm.

But soon I lose myself in the drawing. Maddy doesn't exist anymore. I see lines, shapes, and shadows. And then nothing at all.

“Maybe you should get naked too. Wouldn't that be fun?”

I ignore her. I'm free, floating, at peace.

“I think Sebastian's cheating on me.”

I drop my charcoal. “What?”

“He hardly calls me anymore. I always have to call him, and when we do talk it's always brief because he's so busy. He'll say he has to go to the library or to a meeting or to a study group. I know he's lying. I mean, it's not like I don't know him. Sebastian in a library would be like Agnes in a Walmart. He's definitely avoiding me, and I think it's because there's someone else.”

I start to panic. I never should have slept with Sebastian. It was a stupid, stupid thing to do. The sex wasn't even good, and now it's going to ruin my friendship with Maddy. I've got to reassure her of Sebastian's fidelity.

“But what if he really
is
studying?” I say, fully aware of how ridiculous that sounds. This is a guy who thinks Spanish and Italian are the same language. So I add, “People change. Maybe being at an Ivy is making him more studious.”

I pick up my charcoal and force myself to continue drawing.

Maddy shakes her head. “I've known Sebastian for two years. He won't read a book unless it has pictures in it. I don't know what to do, Sarah. I love him so much. I can't lose him.”

“Don't worry,” I say, redoing her clavicle. “He's probably just busy.”

“Yeah, with some slut.” She pounds the floor with her fist and groans. “It's just that he's so irresistible to girls. I wish he was uglier,” she says in a bratty voice. “I wish he had a big scar on his face.”

“Don't say that.”

“Well, don't you think he's cute? If he wasn't my boyfriend, wouldn't you go out with him?”

I stop drawing. “No.” My face goes hot. “We all have our type, I guess.”

“And he's not your type? He's gorgeous; he's everyone's type.” She gives me a probing look, then lowers her eyes. “But he's picky. He might sleep with you, but that doesn't mean he'll like you.”

Ouch.
Where did that come from? Does she know I had sex with him? Or am I being oversensitive because I'm guilty?

Maddy gives me a sheepish smile and then unties her ponytail, letting her hair cascade down her shoulders and over her breasts. “So, I was thinking of surprising him this weekend. I have to find out who this other girl is. Come with me, Sarah. Please? I need you there for moral support.” She twists her hair into a haphazard knot.

My heart contracts. “I don't think you should go. It's never a good idea to drop in on someone unannounced. And you shouldn't accuse him of cheating just because he's been a little distant lately.”

“But I know it. I
feel
it. I'm psychic, remember?”

Shit, shit, shit.

“I just need to find out what's going on. If he's seeing someone else, I have to know so I can figure out how to win him back.” She starts picking at her cuticles. “Will you come with me?”

Do I have a choice?
I sigh. “Okay.”

Maddy beams. “Thank you, Sarah. You're such a good friend.” She gets up and hugs me, and her naked body so close to me surprisingly doesn't bother me because I'm too busy figuring a way out of this mess.

I toss and turn. Finally I flip on the lights. It's one in the morning. What am I going to do? I have to warn Sebastian somehow. Of course he's been cheating on Maddy. He'd sleep with anyone. If I don't warn him, they'll have some big confessional conversation, and he'll end up telling Maddy the truth about us.

I tiptoe downstairs. I look for Maddy's cell phone, which she normally leaves on the dining table. My plan is to copy down Sebastian's number and call him tomorrow from campus.

Light shines from under the basement door.
Damn.
I thought Agnes would be asleep by now. The basement is her personal study area, where no one else is allowed. I'll have to be quiet. Maddy's phone gleams from the dining table. I pick it up and scroll through her contact list. I find Sebastian's number and write it on my palm.

“What do you think you're doing?” a voice behind me says.

I freeze.

10

I
slowly turn to face Agnes. How am I going to explain myself? What good reason could I give her for snooping through Maddy's cell phone?

She's standing in front of the basement door and even though it's dark, I can tell she's scowling. When she flips on the light I notice her pajamas: an adult-size onesie. She looks like an old baby, and it's such a disturbing image that for a second I consider telling her the truth.

“Well? What are you doing?” she repeats.

I hold up Maddy's phone. “Trying to make a call.”

“To whom?”

Think, think, think.
“My grandmother.”

“With Maddy's cell?”

“Yeah. You know I don't have a cell phone. I've never had one. My grandmother doesn't believe in them.”

Agnes raises an eyebrow. “Is she Amish?”

“No, Lutheran.” I snicker.

Agnes doesn't crack a smile. “What's wrong with the landline?”

“Nothing.” I shrug. “It's just more expensive. Maddy has a ton of free minutes.” I mentally pat myself on the back for the quick thinking and ask, “Why do you look upset?”

“Well, it's one in the morning and you're sneaking around in the dark. It's only natural that I'd be a little … alarmed.” She squints at me. “Why are you calling your grandmother so late anyway?”

“It's only ten in California. I haven't been able to reach her during the day so I thought I'd have better luck at night.”

“I see.” Agnes almost looks disappointed. Walking past me toward the kitchen, she says, “I was just going to make some hot chocolate. Care to join me?”

“Sure,” I say, relieved to be out of the hot seat. “On second thought, I'll just have some hot water with lemon. I've been gaining a lot of weight.”

“I've noticed.”

“Thanks.”

“Just being honest.”

Sure
. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about our meals,” I say. “I think I need to start eating lighter.”

“Fine. I'll make you salads from now on. I make an excellent Waldorf salad.”

“Don't go to any trouble,” I say. “Even I can make a salad.”

“In my kitchen? I don't think so. I don't want anyone making a mess in my kitchen. Sorry, but that's my rule.”

“Fine.”

“But why
are
you gaining so much weight? Because it can't be
all
my fault. Lately, your appetite seems to have gotten … heartier.” She gives me a weird look. “You're not pregnant, are you?”

“Pregnant? God, no.” I laugh nervously. “How could I be pregnant? I haven't been having sex.”

“You sure?” She looks serious.

“Yes! There aren't any men here. Who could I have slept with?” That, I realize, was a stupid thing to say. To my horror, my right eyelid starts to twitch and I can't get it to stop. If only I knew what Agnes was thinking. Does she know about Sebastian and me? Is she planning to tell Maddy? Could I actually be pregnant? The thought never even occurred to me. I
am
late, but I've always been irregular.

Agnes laughs. “Calm down. I was just joking. I almost got you though, didn't I?”

“Yeah, that was
really
funny,” I say. “I'm going to bed.”

“Oh, come on,” she says. “Where's your sense of humor? I'm sorry. Stay. Call your grandmother.”

“I'll call her tomorrow.”

“Okay, but don't go to bed yet. Sit with me. I'll make you some chamomile tea.”

I reluctantly pull out a chair and sit down. I try to appear calm but inside I'm a wreck. What if I
am
pregnant? I used a condom with Scissorhands, but not with Sebastian. It was just that one time, but still. On the other hand, it's not that easy to get pregnant. That's why there are so many fertility clinics everywhere. Even healthy young people have trouble conceiving. This is the Age of Anxiety, after all. A little stress and your body goes out of whack. And I've certainly been under a lot of stress lately.

But my breasts do feel a little tender, come to think of it. And the fact that they grew practically overnight is pretty unusual. God, I hate Agnes. Her words always get under my skin and wriggle around like ticks.

She opens the refrigerator and takes out a carton of milk, which she pours into a small saucepan. Then she places the saucepan on the stove and fills the tea kettle with Evian.

“There's something I want to talk to you about,” she says with her back to me.

“No more jokes, please.”

With the flick of a spoon, Agnes opens a tin of hot chocolate and turns to face me. “It's a business proposal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'll explain in a minute.” She washes her hands.

What kind of business proposal could she possibly have for me? I search her face for clues but her small, sharp eyes betray nothing. I stare at her nose: thin, straight, patrician. I count three freckles under her left eye. Small, elfin ears that stick out in the most endearing way. She's not bad looking. You might even say she looks kind of exotic, like a pale, blue-eyed Eskimo. But most of the time she looks so severe. I guess it all depends on the angle. Like a hologram, she's pretty one minute and ugly the next. Like that French term:
jolie laide
. Pretty ugly. Not pretty gorgeous, but pretty in an odd, interesting way. She's the antithesis of Maddy's classic, universal beauty.

Agnes sets a cup of hot tea in front of me, then goes down to the basement.

She returns with the portrait I drew of Maddy.

“Where'd you get that?” I ask.

“From your room. I noticed it on your dresser when I was vacuuming the dust under your bed.” She sighs. “It's exquisite. You really do have talent, Sarah. You captured a side of Maddy that I rarely get to see.” Agnes pulls out a chair and sits down. “I want to buy this from you.”

I rub my brow. “Are you kidding?”

“How much do you want for it?”

“It's homework, Agnes. It's not for sale.”

“Everything's for sale. You should've learned that by now.”

“Well, this isn't, so give it back. I have to turn it in tomorrow.”

“I thought you were supposed to do a self-portrait.”

“I was, but Maddy came in and asked me to draw her instead.”

“So, technically, this isn't your assignment.”

“No, but it's all I've got so I'm turning it in.”

“I'll give you five hundred dollars for it.”

What?
She's out of her mind. Five hundred dollars for a stupid sketch? I shake my head.

“Why not? You can draw yourself another one before class. You still have time.”

“But I don't
want
to draw another one,” I say, irritated.

“How about a thousand?”

“You're crazy.”

“Is that a yes?”

“No!”

“Look, I know a thousand dollars isn't a big deal, but it's extra cash and you might need it this weekend when we go up to Cornell.” She exhales. “Take it.”

I think of the forty-two dollars I have left in my account. I'm tempted, but I can't take Agnes's money. I'm already living in her house for free and there is such a thing as pride.

“Why do you want the drawing so much?” I ask her.

She doesn't answer. A second later, I hear a sizzling sound.

“Shoot,” Agnes says, jumping out of her seat. The milk she was heating is now bubbling over the edge of the saucepan. Agnes puts the saucepan in the sink and begins a vigorous cleaning of the stove top.

I look at the portrait. It's actually pretty good. There's something about it that makes me want to keep looking at it. I'm surprised I was even able to finish it, what with the I-think-Sebastian-is-cheating-on-me bomb Maddy dropped on me. I was trying to capture Maddy's essence, as corny as that sounds. Looking at her, I saw big eyes—almost too big for her delicate, heart-shaped face—and a perfect button nose, and pouty, pink lips. Her beauty was overwhelming, but strangely, I couldn't connect with it. It was like looking at a beautiful mask; I felt nothing. But I started drawing anyway. I drew her head and her eyebrows and her eyes. And that's when I saw it—something sinister slithering behind the eyes. A darkness. A profound ugliness underneath all that beauty. That's what I drew.

As expected, Maddy did not appreciate the portrait. She pretended to, and forced a smile and even said she thought it was nice, but I know she hated it. I could almost hear her thinking,
This doesn't look like me at all.
And it's true; it doesn't look like her. It
is
her.

“You really like Maddy, don't you?” I say to Agnes, who is now mopping the kitchen floor.

“She's my oldest friend,” she answers dismissively.

“You can have it,” I say. I owe Agnes too much already. Giving her the drawing will, hopefully, make me feel like less of a freeloader.

“I'll get my checkbook.”

“No,” I say, “it's a gift.” Then I hurry upstairs before she can thank me.

I sleep hard and fast, a dreamless sleep. When I wake up, I discover a check for a thousand dollars on my nightstand. I leave it there. I can't deal with it now. It's nine fifteen. I've got less than an hour before class, and I still have to do that other drawing.

Thirty minutes later, I'm running out the door, clutching my haphazardly drawn self-portrait. I didn't have time to shower and I feel beyond disgusting, but I don't want to fail the only class I like.

It's a sunny, cool day. As I run past the campus pond, amber-gold leaves crackle under my feet. I see all of this beauty, but I can't take it in. I have ten minutes before class, and I still need to call Sebastian.

I dash into the art building and find a phone booth. I open my palm. The numbers are faint and smudgy, but still visible. I'm shaking all over, but I know I have to do this. I take a deep breath and dial.

Then a crazy thought darts into my head.

What if I really am pregnant? That would make Sebastian the father of my baby!
I hang up. I'm going to have to take an e.p.t. It's no big deal. I've taken them lots of times and they've always turned out negative.

But what if this one turns out positive? I'm not mom material. It's not in my genes. I don't take care of Hope; I don't even play with her. If by some stroke of bad luck I'm pregnant, I'll just have to get rid of it. There's no other way. God, how did I get into this mess? I don't have money for an abortion. I don't even know how much an abortion costs. And it would be a hassle, not to mention traumatizing. I'm seventeen; I can't be dealing with shit like this! Well, whatever happens, Sebastian will never know about it.

Again, I pick up the receiver and dial. I stay on the line this time, even though I feel like vomiting. On the sixth ring, Sebastian picks up.

“
Ciao,
” he mumbles in a groggy voice.

“It's Sarah.”

I hear him yawn. Then, in a trying-to-be-sexy voice, he asks, “From last night?”

It kills me to think this creep could be the father of my baby. Bile rises in my throat. “This is Maddy's roommate,” I say.

“Oh, sorry. Didn't recognize your voice.” He laughs. “What's shaking?”

“I didn't call to chat,” I say, trembling. “I just wanted to let you know that Maddy is planning a surprise visit to Cornell this weekend.”

“Cool. Are you coming too?” I can actually hear him smiling into the phone. He obviously does not sense the gravity of the situation.

“Maddy is freaking out. She thinks you're cheating on her. I just called to warn you. So hide your bimbo and act surprised when you see her, okay?”

“What bimbo? I'm not cheating on Maddy. Besides, she's the one who wanted a time-out. Not me.”

Huh?
“What are you talking about?”

“She didn't tell you?” he asks. “I bet there are lots of things she doesn't tell you. Maddy's an enigma, a true enigma. I don't know what the hell's going on with her half the time. She said she wanted a break, so I gave her one.”

“When did she say that?”

“I don't know. About two weeks ago.”

“Why?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“You never told her about us, did you?”

“No! That's wack!”

“Then why would she want a break?”

“Maybe she wants to fuck some other guy. All she said was she couldn't handle a long-distance relationship right now.” He pauses. “She met someone, didn't she?”

“We go to a women's college, Sebastian. Who do you think she's going to meet?”

“Tell me who he is so I can kick his ass.”

“There's no one. Look, I don't know what's going on with you guys, but she's coming to see you, so …” I glance at my watch.
Shit.
Late again. “Gotta go. Don't tell Maddy I called, okay? Bye.”

“Wait … Sarah?”

“What?”

“Do you ever think about me?”

“Bye, Sebastian.”

I hang up, totally confused. I don't know who's telling the truth. Maddy wouldn't lie to me, would she? She did lie once—about the size of Sebastian's penis—but that was a stupid lie, and one stupid lie doesn't make you a liar. Besides, aren't I the queen of stupid lies?

Still, I get the feeling that Sebastian is telling the truth. For starters, he's too lazy to lie. And he did seem genuinely jealous of this imaginary other guy.

What is Maddy up to?

After class, I go into town to buy an e.p.t. Then I dive into a bagel store and head straight for the unisex bathroom. I do the test. I wait. I pace the Ajaxed floor, biting my nails until they bleed. I want to scream, but don't. I think of all the ways I'll change my life if the universe grants me this one wish. I'll take better care of myself, exercise, floss more. I'll quit reading
Us Weekly
, quit having casual sex. I'll read to the blind, study harder, and be nicer to senior citizens, including Nana. I'll give Hope a bath when I get home. I'll never have sex with Sebastian again.