Vicious Little Darlings (9 page)

The test turns out negative.

When I get back to the house, Agnes isn't around and Maddy is still asleep in her room. I go to the backyard and look for Hope. I promised the universe I'd give her a bath, so that's what I'm going to do. I may be an atheist, but a promise is a promise.

Hope is sleeping on a bed of leaves under the maple tree. I check her food bowls, half-full of nuts and dried cranberries. Why does she eat so little and sleep so much? I know that's not a good sign, but at least she looks peaceful.

It's a beautiful day. The air smells of cut grass and nutmeg. The sun is out, the birds are chirping, a cool breeze grazes my face. I feel oddly content. I'm not pregnant, and everything is as it should be. I have friends who care about me, a home, my whole life ahead of me.

I hoist Hope up and carry her into the house. For someone who doesn't eat, she sure weighs a ton. Fifty pounds, I would guess. I wonder if that's normal for a fawn her age. I wonder if she misses her mother or the forest or any of her deer friends. She smells pretty rank. The kabbalah string Maddy tied around her right front leg is partly chewed, ready to fall off.

I take Hope upstairs to the bathroom, which has a claw-foot tub with an attached shower unit, a pedestal sink, and a stained-glass window facing the neighbor's house. Hope gets comfortable on the plush periwinkle rug and watches as I run the bath. I pour some bath gel into the water and wait for the citrus-basil scent to permeate the air. When it does, I take a deep breath. As the tub fills, weird shapes form on the surface of the water. Skulls and laughing faces. WTF? I get rid of them by adding more bath gel. Now all I see are bubbles. You'd never guess there was scalding water underneath. It's the same with people: it's hard to know what's under all those layers.

I dip my hand into the water to check the temperature. It's so hot that, for a second, it feels cold.
Ow!
I add more cold water. Hope sniffs at the bubbles. When the tub is full, I check the temperature again and then lower Hope into the water. She fights me. She sloshes around and snorts bubbles and tries to jump out of the tub. I hold her down so I can scrub her back with Maddy's loofah, but her slippery body squirms away. Then she starts eating the bubbles.

“Stop,” I tell her. “You'll give yourself diarrhea again.”

I hold her head up, away from the bubbles. But when I take a step back, Hope leaps out of the tub and splashes water all over the floor.

“Great,” I mutter. “Just great.”

Her kabbalah string, I notice, is lying next to the toilet, and the bathroom floor is now a wading pool. Agnes is going to have a cow.

“I was just doing you a favor, but forget it,” I say, my voice rising. “I don't need this. I should've just sprayed you with the garden hose. Shit.” I grab my towel and wrap it around her, then carry her downstairs to the backyard.

“Happy now?”

She just looks at me with her blank eyes.

11

C
ornell's off,” Maddy announces, running down the stairs in her bathrobe. “Sebastian's coming
here
instead!”

“
What?
” Agnes and I say in unison from the dining table.

“He just texted me. He's coming for the weekend. I think he sensed I was coming to surprise him today. Soul mates can do that, you know.” Maddy places her hand over her heart and looks at me. “Sebastian and I have such an amazing bond.”

Not knowing how to respond to this, I just swallow.

“Well, that's great,” Agnes says, a worried look settling into her face, “but where's he going to stay?”

“I don't know.” Maddy tightens the belt to her robe. “We didn't get a chance to talk about that. Maybe we'll get a room at the Wetherly Inn.”

“Or he can stay here,” Agnes offers. “With us.”

I blurt out, “Like one big happy family?”

“Sure,” says Agnes. “Why not? It'll be fun. And much more comfortable than a hotel.”

“What if Maddy and Sebastian want some privacy?” I say, hoping Agnes will get the hint. After all, Maddy just might want to lose her virginity tonight, and why would Agnes want to be anywhere near that?

“If they want privacy, they can go into Maddy's room,” Agnes replies, missing the point entirely. “Right, M?”

Maddy beams. “I'm going to text Sebastian right now.” She pulls her cell phone out of her pocket and starts typing.

“Good. Then it's settled.” Agnes gets up to pour herself another cup of coffee.

“He hasn't left Cornell yet,” Maddys says, staring into her phone, “so it'll be a while before he gets here. Perfect. That'll give me enough time to get a haircut. Anyone want to come with?”

“I'll go,” Agnes volunteers. “I don't need a haircut, but I can keep you company.”

Maddy looks up from her phone. “Sarah, you have to come too, because you actually
need
a haircut.”

The two burst into laughter.

“Thanks a lot,” I say.

“Sorry,” says Maddy, “but it's true.”

I tug at my ragged ends, parched from a recent dye job. I guess I could use a trim.

Two hours later, after a trip to Sally Jo's House of Beauty, the only salon in town, I am beyond furious. Somehow Maddy and I wound up with the same haircut. On a whim, I decided to chop off my hair and get that Winona Ryder pixie Maddy suggested, and the second Maddy saw me with my new hair, she told her stylist to give her the same cut. Never mind that her stylist had already snipped her long hair to shoulder length, blown it dry, and flat-ironed it. Maddy just
had
to have my haircut. Now we look like twins. Except she's blond and beautiful and looks chic with her new hair, and I look like a twelve-year-old boy with big thighs.

It's close to five o'clock when Sebastian arrives.

“What took you so long, Boo Boo?” Maddy says, opening the door.

“Traffic was bad, baby.” Sebastian leans in for a kiss. When he sees Agnes and me standing in the foyer, he pulls away and grins, wiping Maddy's lip gloss off his mouth. “Hello,
chicas
.”

“Hello,” Agnes says in a bored tone.

I force a smile. “Hi.”

He winks at me. I look away, hoping no one saw that.

Maddy grabs Sebastian's hand and pulls him into the house. He does a three-sixty in the foyer. “Nice place you got here, Agnes. Better than that crappy old dorm, that's for sure.”

Agnes lets out a chuckle, but her eyes can't hide her contempt for Sebastian.

Suddenly Maddy claps her hands together. “Why don't we all go into the den?”

Sebastian pinches Maddy's ass as she leads the way. When their backs are turned, Agnes rolls her eyes at me and motions for me to follow them.

We enter the room just in time to see Maddy pushing Sebastian down on the sofa and straddling him.
Someone's desperate to lose her virginity.
Agnes and I sit on opposite armchairs and try not to stare at them.

“I missed you so much, Boo Boo,” Maddy purrs. “Aren't you happy to see me? Aren't you going to compliment me on my hair?”

“It's short,” he says.

“Do you like it?”

Sebastian puckers his lips and Maddy automatically leans forward to kiss him. The kiss quickly turns into a full-on tongue fest with groping hands and everything. Agnes and I turn away in disgust.

“We'll leave you two alone,” Agnes says, getting up.

“Wait.” Maddy looks at her while Sebastian continues nuzzling her neck. “We were thinking of ordering Thai food later. Want to join us?”

“No, Sarah and I have plans.”

We do?
I glance over at Agnes.

“We're going to catch a movie and then go out to dinner,” she explains.

We are?

“Oh.” Maddy pouts. “Well, have fun.”

“You too,” Agnes mutters before heading upstairs.

I give Maddy a quick wave and then I turn. But sensing she's still looking at me, I turn back around just in time to catch her scowling at me. Then, suddenly, she flashes me a big smile. What the …?

Maybe the scowl wasn't meant for me. Maybe it was intended for Sebastian, who's still busily sucking her neck. Whatever. I give her a faint smile and exit the room.

Agnes is waiting for me at the top of the stairs. “Pack an overnight bag,” she whispers.

“What? Why?”

“Just do it. I'll wait for you out front.”

I throw some clothes into my backpack and slip five hundred dollars into my wallet. I ended up cashing Agnes's check after all. At first I felt bad for taking her money, but then I decided it was a fair trade. I needed the money, and she wanted the portrait. And now, for the first time, I've got money to burn. It feels good. I think I'll treat Agnes tonight.

I head out to the car, where Agnes is waiting for me in the driver's seat.

She exhales loudly when I get in. “Unbelievable.”

“What?”

“The Wetherly Inn is completely booked for a conference. We have to find somewhere else to stay.”

“Why? I thought you wanted us to be one big happy family.”

Rolling her eyes at me, she says, “I just wanted to make her happy. But the minute I saw his face …” She grips the steering wheel. “How can she like him? A piece of cardboard has more depth. He's not even alive. He's a zombie like everyone else.”

I shiver. Am I a zombie too? The thought scares me, so I tell myself to think about it later. “Let's get out of here,” I say.

Agnes doesn't start the car. She just looks out the window without saying a word. What can I tell her? That she's too good for Maddy? That she should find someone else to love? I'm pretty sure that's the last thing she wants to hear right now.

“It's just a phase,” I finally say.

She turns to me. “What is?”

“Sebastian. She'll grow out of him.”

“You don't know anything, Sarah,” she says, starting the engine.

The only place with a vacancy is the Full Moon Motel, ten miles outside of town. Unfortunately, it looks a lot like the Bates Motel, shabby and run-down, with its very own flickering sign outside.

Opening the door to our room, I'm greeted by the stench of mothballs and cigarettes.

“There's only one bed,” I say, noticing the ugly jungle-print comforter.

“It's a queen. It'll fit us both.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, distraught over the idea of sharing a bed with lovelorn Agnes. What if she snaps and stabs me in the middle of the night?

She inspects the bathroom. The tiles are dirty, and on the wall there's a large brown stain that looks like dried blood. She opens her Goyard suitcase and takes out a bottle of Tilex and a Brillo pad, then snaps on a pair of latex gloves.

“This will only take an hour or so. Then we'll go out for dinner. I'm not really in the mood for a movie. I hope you don't mind,” she says, closing the bathroom door behind her.

I pace the musty room, finally opening the sliding door to let in some air. Behind the motel is a forest, which makes me think of Hope. Shit. Is Maddy going to remember to feed her? That job is pretty much Agnes's now.

I knock on the bathroom door.

“What?” Agnes says.

“I need to borrow your phone.”

“Come in.”

I open the door to find Agnes crouching in the shower stall, her Brillo pad hard at work. The exhaust fan whines like a dying animal.

“Who do you need to call? Your grandmother again?”

“Ha ha. No. I wanted to remind Maddy to feed Hope.”

“She'll remember. She's crazy about Hope.”

“But you're the one who feeds her.”

“And I'm not there, so Maddy will do it. Have some faith, Sarah. Is that all you wanted?”

“No,” I say, annoyed. “You should keep the door open. It's not good to breathe in these fumes.”

“It's fine. The fan's on. Close the door. I don't want the germs to escape.”

“Whatever.” I shut the door.

12

T
he Salamander is packed with couples, and Agnes and I are sitting at a corner table. There's a definite mood here: low lighting, a strolling violinist, single long-stemmed roses for sale.

“This place is trying way too hard to be romantic,” I say.

Agnes looks up from her plate of shiitake mushrooms and polenta. “Well, some people actually like romance,” she says, calmly stabbing a mushroom.

I ignore her snippy tone and cut into my chicken. She's obviously tortured by thoughts of Maddy and Sebastian having sex. She probably knows she's the last person Maddy is thinking of right now. It's kind of heartbreaking.

Still, I can't resist saying, “I hope Maddy's okay.”

Agnes chews without blinking or saying a word. If she's worried about losing Maddy to Sebastian, she should talk to me about it; isn't that what friends are for?

“So why don't you have a boyfriend, Sarah?”

I take a sip of water. “I don't know if you've noticed, but there aren't a lot of men at Wetherly.”

“There are plenty of male professors.”

“Yes, but they're all married. Besides, I don't do relationships.”

“Really,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“Really.” I take another sip of water. “Relationships are messy and complicated and a complete waste of time. Guys are only good for one thing anyway.”

She smirks. “That's very progressive of you. I guess you're kind of an expert, what with all the men you've slept with.”

I ignore the insult. “What about you? What about that mystery person you lost your virginity to?”

“What about her?”

So it was a girl. I raise my napkin to my lips. “Do you still keep in touch?”

“No. It was a meaningless fling. It happened while I was in Switzerland.”

“Right,” I say, cheeks burning. We've avoided talking about Agnes's sex life for so long that it almost feels taboo. And way too intimate. She should really be more respectful of my intimacy issues.

I drag a piece of chicken through my mashed potatoes.

“I'm not a lesbian, though,” Agnes says.

Our eyes lock. Is she trying to be funny? Then again, I guess there are a myriad of possibilities: Agnes could be bisexual, bicurious, homoflexible, heteroflexible, a LUG (lesbian until graduation), or just straight and in love with Maddy.

She takes another bite of polenta and for the next couple of minutes we avoid looking at each other. While she stares at her plate, I focus on the guy and girl sitting next to us. They're dressed identically, in jeans and black turtlenecks, and they're both eating lamb chops. They're barely talking, but every so often they'll look up at each other and smile. The heat finally leaves my face.

Our doe-eyed waitress refills my water just in time to break the grating silence. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Just the check, please,” says Agnes.

“Sure thing.” The waitress slinks away.

It's quiet again. I take out my wallet and check to see if the money's still there. It is. It's the largest amount of cash I've ever carried around with me. I place my wallet on the table and turn back toward the couple.

“Why do you keep staring at them?” Agnes asks.

I shrug. “They look happy.”

“It's rude to stare.”

“And you're Miss Polite, right?”

“I'm polite to strangers.”

“Who cares? You're not polite to me.”

“I'm honest with you,” she says, “and that's better. A friend's job is to tell you the things you need to hear, even if you don't want to hear them.”

“So then why are you still lying to me?”

Agnes wipes her mouth on her napkin. “What are you talking about?”

I shake my head.

“What am I lying about?” she asks.

The waitress returns with the check, and Agnes hands over her black American Express card.

“I wanted to treat,” I say.

“Forget it.” She waves me off. Then, after our waitress leaves, she asks me, “What do you want to know?”

“You're obviously upset. Talk to me.”

“You want me to admit that I'm jealous of Sebastian?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I just did. I'd tell you more, but I don't think you can handle it.”

“Oh, please,” I say.

After a long pause, she asks, “Shall I start from the beginning?” Her eyes dart around the room and then land on mine. “When I was six years old, a strange thing happened. Maddy and I were in my room playing with our Barbies and I looked over at her and saw right into her soul. In that moment I knew we belonged together. I don't know how a six-year-old could understand something of that magnitude, but I did. It was the most profound thing I've ever experienced. Suddenly everything made sense. I literally felt an uncontrollable force pulling me toward Maddy. It wasn't sexual, or even emotional. It went beyond all that. With Maddy, it was like I was suddenly whole.”

“Did she feel the same way?”

“Yes, although we didn't talk about the incident until years later. When we were twelve, I brought it up to her, and she said she'd experienced the same thing. She saw into my soul too, but was too afraid to say anything. I was astounded; I had no idea the feeling was mutual. Normally I'm skeptical about spiritual or psychic phenomena, but what we experienced was real. Maddy and I have a special bond that can't be broken by anyone.”

“You mean Sebastian.”

“I mean anyone,” she says, eyes glinting. She folds her napkin into a neat square and places it on the table. “Have you ever felt so strongly about someone that nothing else in life mattered anymore?”

I shake my head.

“It's an incredible feeling.” With a wistful look in her eyes, she says, “It's … otherworldly.”

“Isn't that just love?”

“It's
more
than love. My whole being is tied to Maddy—and that overrides love. I don't consider myself a very sexual person, Sarah. I don't lust after people. Sex is something I could do without. But I do need to belong, to feel that I'm part of something.”

“And you're sure Maddy feels the same way?” I ask her again.

Agnes nods. “She's just more hesitant than I am. Nobody likes to give up their power. But that's one of the most important lessons in life, isn't it? To let go. To trust. I know Maddy and I belong together; it's just taking her a little longer to realize it.”

“She's dating Sebastian.”

“Because she's afraid. She's not ready for something this powerful. It's easier to be with someone you don't really love. Then you're in control.”

“She seems to be attracted to him.”

“She
wants
to be attracted to him. It would make her life easier. But he's just another distraction. She's using him to put distance between us.”

I give her a sidelong glance. “If you've always felt this way, then what happened in Switzerland?”

“Oh,” Agnes says, looking down, “that girl only appealed to me because she resembled Maddy: tall, blond, innocent looking. Nowhere near as beautiful, of course, but she was a coquette and kept trying to get close to me. I was homesick. I lost my head. It was a mistake. I knew it even as it was happening.” Flushing, she takes a sip of water. “I've never told this to anyone other than Maddy. I don't even know why I'm telling you.” She takes another sip. “She's everything to me, Sarah.”

“Did you ever find out what the Gypsy said to her?”

The color drains from Agnes's face. “That's no longer an issue. Maddy probably forgot all about it, so you don't need to worry about it anymore.”

“How can you assume she forgot? When you first told me about it, you were so distressed.”

“Just drop it, okay?” Her tone is curt.

“I don't understand.” I shake my head. “Did Maddy tell you what the Gypsy said? Is that why you're—”

“I said drop it, Sarah. It was nothing. Promise me you won't ask Maddy about it.”

“Why?”

“Trust me. It's for your own good.”

For my own good?
I shrug and decide to drop it for now. But all I can think about is how desperate Agnes seemed when she first told me about the Gypsy. And after all her talk about how friends are supposed to be honest with each other, she's lying to me now. Why? Is Maddy in trouble? Did the Gypsy tell her something horrific?

Agnes impatiently scans the room. “Where's our waitress?”

Back at the Bates Motel, I toss and turn while Agnes sleeps like a corpse. A snoring corpse.

I can't seem to turn off my brain. I think about how similar Agnes and I are; all these years I've been using sex to shield myself from pain while Agnes has been using her idealized love for Maddy. I think of Scissorhands and all the guys I've slept with, none of whom I ever got to know. Why? Because I'm terrified of love. Love makes people insane. It's made Agnes delusional, weak, and totally dependent on someone who doesn't seem to love her back. And, as smart as Agnes is, she can't see that. What would she do if Maddy's fear of dying young actually came true? How would she go on living without Maddy?

And yet there's a part of me that admires Agnes. It takes guts to love like that. I doubt there are many people in this world who have that kind of courage. Or are capable of such devotion. I'm certainly not; I'm too damaged. Or maybe that's just my excuse. Maybe I choose not to love because I don't want to suffer. Maybe beneath my zombie facade, there's a scared little coward.

Stop obsessing, Sarah. Go to sleep.

I toss and turn for another hour and then finally drift into dreamland.

We're in a forest: Maddy, Agnes, and I. We're walking in the dark, single file, with Maddy leading. Branches scrape against my face and arms. It's freezing. On the ground, dead swans line our path.
Wait
, I think,
I've been here before.
I tell Maddy this, but she ignores me. I tell her I want to get out of this place, that I have a bad feeling, but she insists that we keep walking. We come to a tunnel that we have to swim through to get to the other side. At the end of the tunnel, on a patch of dry land, is Hope, lying in a coffin.

I wake up panting, with a tremendous urge to pee.

I get out of bed and tiptoe into the bathroom, now completely sanitized, thanks to Agnes. I sit on the cold, hard toilet seat and look down.

Blood. My period. It finally came.

Sometime around dawn, Agnes's cell phone rings. She jumps out of bed, rummages through her purse, and answers it.

“What's wrong?” she asks frantically. “Okay. Wait there. Don't move. I'm coming to get you.” Agnes throws her phone on the bed and hastily strips out of her Burberry pajamas.

“What happened?” I say.

“I'm not sure—Maddy was crying and there was static—but Sebastian's obviously behind this.” She flings her pajamas into her suitcase and puts on a pair of gray flannel trousers.

“Where is she?” I ask.

“At Dunkin' Donuts. She walked.”

“I'll go with you.” I change into yesterday's clothes and flip on the lights. Then I grab my jean jacket from the back of an armchair and shove it into my backpack.

Through gritted teeth, Agnes says, “If he did anything to her, I'll kill him.”

“I know you will,” I say, following her out the door.

When we pull into the parking lot of Dunkin' Donuts, I spot Maddy through the window. She's the only customer in the shop and she's facing the other way, hunched over in her ivory cashmere sweater-coat.

Relief spreads across her face when she sees us walk in. Agnes sits next to her in the plastic booth and I sit across from them. There's an empty doughnut box on the table. Maddy looks surprising well for someone who's been crying. No red puffy eyes or splotchy skin. And her new haircut really brings out her cheekbones.
My
new haircut, that is.

“He broke up with me,” Maddy whimpers.

Sebastian's words come to mind:
She's the one who wanted a time-out. Not me.
My right eyelid starts to twitch.

“Why?” I ask.

Maddy shrugs and wipes her eyes. “We didn't have sex last night.”

Agnes breathes a sigh of relief.

“I wanted to. I even wore this.” She unties her coat to reveal a sheer black nightie. “But I just didn't feel ready. So we went to sleep and Sebastian seemed pretty understanding about the whole thing. Then, this morning, he woke me up at five. He had a boner. I told him that giving up my virginity was a big deal to me and that I'd feel better about it if I knew we had a future together. He got all quiet. I asked him what was wrong and he said he didn't want us to get too serious—that he wanted to start seeing other people. And he said it so calmly that I didn't get it right away. When it finally hit me, I was devastated.” Maddy's voice cracks. “I accused him of cheating on me but, of course, he denied it. I called him a liar, and then we basically stopped talking after that. I told him to get out, but before he could get dressed, I was already out the door.”

The chubby guy behind the counter leers at Maddy.

“Maybe you should cover up,” says Agnes.

Ignoring her, Maddy says, “Can you believe I ate six doughnuts? I'm going to turn into a cow. Oh well, who cares. It's not like I have a boyfriend anymore.”

“So you didn't find anything out about the other girl?” I ask.

“No, and honestly, I don't care anymore. Whoever she is, I know she can't compare to me.”

“That's definitely true.” Agnes nods enthusiastically.

I exhale. Sebastian didn't rat me out, after all.

“Anyway,” Maddy says, “if Sebastian wants to see other people, then fine. I was thinking about seeing other people myself.”