Vicious Little Darlings (15 page)

I keep my eyes on the floor. As bad as I feel, I can't get over the fact that she just said
fuck
. Twice. She never says
fuck
. Curse words really are more powerful when they're uttered by people who don't normally swear. “I wanted to tell you,” I mumble, “but I just couldn't.”

“You know, it's so fucking ironic too. Here I was, thinking of
you
, worrying that Reed would break your heart the way Sebastian broke mine, praying that he wouldn't, without even the slightest clue that you were the evil whore who fucked up my relationship. All this time I was hating
you
, and didn't even know it. I feel so foolish. After everything I've done for you, Sarah, this is how you repay me? No wonder you don't have any fucking friends.”

Damn. That was a little mean. I decide to let it slide, but I know I'm on the verge of exploding.

Maddy wipes her eyes with her fingertips and then resumes pacing. “You know, someone should sew your legs shut. You'd sleep with anyone, wouldn't you?”

“Depends how big his penis is,” I blurt out. “And, by the way, Sebastian is nowhere near eight inches.”

“I guess you'd know,” she hisses.

“Like you don't.”

Maddy stops pacing and snarls, “At least I'm still a virgin.”

“They don't give out awards for that, Maddy,” I snap back. “I don't think you're as innocent as you pretend to be. And I don't think you ever really loved Sebastian. How could you? You only care about yourself. And even though you know Agnes is in love with you, you act oblivious. That way you can keep using her.”

There's more I want to say, but something stops me. It's like I subconsciously know that if I continue I might end up betraying Agnes, who, unlike Maddy, deserves my loyalty.

Maddy pivots and heads for the door, turning around to look at me one last time. She waves her index finger at me. “I'd be careful if I were you. You might catch a nasty, incurable STD.” She opens the door and pauses. With her back to me, she says, “You might want to check if our old room at Haven House is still available, because Agnes isn't going to be happy when I tell her what you did.”

A chill runs up my spine.

She just stands there with her back to me, as if she's waiting for me to say something really ugly, really regrettable. There are a million cruel words at the tip of my tongue, the most accessible of which are
Go to hell
and
Die now, bitch—
appropriate, but totally unoriginal. But it's hard not to speak or even think in clichés when you're this furious. I want nothing more than to unleash all my hatred and fear on Maddy right now, but something holds me back. I don't know what it is. I want to hurt her, I really do, but for some reason … I can't. And then I think, Maybe she really
will
die young. I hope so, because I don't think I'll be able to take much more of this. Who needs her? Life would be infinitely more peaceful if she were dead.

When I don't say anything, she walks out, slamming the door behind her.

My first impulse is to get out of the house before Maddy tells Agnes and Agnes subsequently murders me.

I shove my feet into my Chucks, snatch my jean jacket, and bolt down the stairs. The house is dead quiet. They're probably in the basement. I open the front door, gasp in the cold air, and let the night swallow me whole.

17

I
don't know where I'm going. I just know that I can't stop walking. Hot tears sputter out of me. I keep going—down the path I take to class every day and past the dean's house. When I get to the pond, I stop and stare into its ebony surface, and wait for clarity to come to me.

Things were good and then I had to go and fuck them up. What if Agnes kicks me out? I can't go back to Haven House. I don't belong there anymore. Then again, do I still belong with Maddy and Agnes? Even if the answer is no, I can't leave them, and I won't unless they force me to. I can't leave anyone I care about. That's the theme of my life. I'm the leavee, never the leaver. Because I'm weak.

What now? I have nothing with me, not even my wallet or my phone. If I had my cell, I would call Reed. Maybe I should sneak back into the house and get it, call Reed, and stay over at his place.

Yes, that's what I'll do.

I go in through the still-unlocked front door and creep toward the stairs. The basement door is closed with just that sliver of light shining from underneath.

As I take my first step up the staircase, a board creaks loudly, and I freeze. Just as I'm about to take my next step, a voice calls out from the kitchen, “Sarah, is that you?”

It's Maddy. I have two options: turn and lunge for the door, or face her. I decide to face her.

She's sitting at the table with a giant ball of Kleenex in her hand. She looks terrible—her face red and blotchy, her eyes raw, swollen. Seeing her like this chips away at my anger. A little.

“You came back,” she gurgles.

“I had to get my phone.”

“You're going to leave again?”

I nod.

“Please don't, Sarah. I want you to stay.” She gets up and hugs me, nearly knocking me over.

I don't hug her back.

She pulls me in tighter. “I'm so sorry.” Her face is hot and damp and her grasp childlike and needy.

Suddenly I start crying.

“It's okay,” Maddy says. “Don't cry. I forgive you.”

“I didn't mean all those things I said.”

“I know, Sarah Bear. Neither did I. Here, come sit.”

We sit down at the table and she hands me a tissue and watches me blot my face. Then she smiles weakly and says, “He's a guy and he needs sex. I couldn't give him that. But it's not my fault. I didn't do anything wrong.”

“I know.”

“He loved me; he was just horny. And you were there and willing. It's perfectly understandable.”

Ouch
. I don't want to kill this mood of forgiveness and reconciliation, but did she just insult me?

“Where's Agnes?” I ask, dabbing at my eyes.

“In the basement. Her mom called again.”

“Did you tell her what happened?”

“No. She's been down there this whole time. But I wasn't going to tell her anyway. This is between us, Sarah. It's our little secret.”

Our little secret? I shudder. Isn't that what child molesters say?

“So, I was thinking,” she continues. “You know how you said you would do anything to make this up to me?”

Reluctantly, I nod.

“I thought of a way.” She looks down at her hands, picks at her chipped violet nail polish for a moment, then meets my eyes. Her lips curl into a smile. “Break up with Reed.”

“What?” I say, stunned.

“It's only fair. You took my boyfriend, so you should give me yours in return.”

“You want to date
Reed
?”

“No, I just want you to stop seeing him. I want you to prove that our friendship means something, that nothing will ever come between us again. Especially not a boy. If you gave him up, I would know that you really cared about me and then I could trust you again.”

“But that's crazy, Maddy.”

“You need someone who's secure anyway. Especially since you aren't.”

I stare at her in disbelief.

“Your parents abandoned you—that's enough to make a person insecure. I mean, don't you ever secretly think you're unlovable, because if your parents didn't want you, then …”

I keep staring at her. Is she insane, or just evil?

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks innocently.

I shake my head and scowl. “Do you ever listen to yourself?”

She touches my hand. “Don't take it the wrong way. I wasn't trying to say you're unlovable, because you aren't. What I meant was, maybe you don't know
how
to love. Because no one ever taught you.”

I rub my eyes. “God, Maddy. Did it ever occur to you that I might actually
like
Reed? I mean, what if I can't just give him up?”

“I never said it was going to be easy, but if you really cared about our friendship …” She trails off.

What a manipulative bitch.

“Look,” she says. “This is exactly what you did to
me
, except you did it behind my back. At least I'm being open about it. I'm not going to talk to Reed, much less have sex with him. I just want you to give him up like I had to give up Sebastian.”

“Two wrongs don't make a right.”

“But you barely know the guy. I mean, you just met him. He can't possibly mean as much to you as I do, or as much as Sebastian meant to me before this whole mess. I promise you, Sarah, if you do this for me, everything will go back to normal. We'll be friends again. Everything will be perfect. I won't tell Agnes. But if you don't, then I don't know what will happen …”

I hear noise coming from the basement.

Emboldened, Maddy looks me in the eye and says, “I'm not asking too much, am I?”

I feel like an old toy in the hands of a bratty child. When I hear Agnes's approaching footsteps, I mutter, “Okay.”

I'll just have to hide my relationship with Reed. There's no way I'm going to stop seeing him because of Maddy.

“Thank you, Sarah. I knew you'd understand.” She claps giddily. “You are the best friend in the whole wide world, you know that?”

The basement door opens and Agnes appears in the doorway. “What's going on?”

“Oh,” Maddy says, grabbing a fresh tissue, “I was just thinking about Sebastian again.”

“You need to stop torturing yourself, M. You're better off without him.”

“I know,” Maddy says, winking at me. “I know that now.”

Agnes goes into the kitchen and puts the kettle on. Then she sighs and says, “So, do you two want to go to Boston tomorrow? My mother won the battle—I'm going to meet that Harvard half-wit after all.”

18

I
t's eight o'clock. We're in Boston, killing time at a Starbucks before Agnes's blind date with Hoyt. Little does Hoyt know that Agnes will be bringing two additional girls on their date. I have a feeling he won't be pleased.

Boston is so-so. The weather is dark and damp, with the threat of a major storm, but there's definitely more to do here than at Wetherly. Yet all we did today was shop: Newbury Street, Copley Place, CambridgeSide Galleria. Though I didn't buy anything, I'm exhausted from following Maddy and Agnes around and supplying endless opinions on the various outfits they tried on. I didn't want to come to Boston in the first place, but Maddy refused to come without me, and Agnes wasn't about to come to Boston alone even though it was
her
blind date. Together they convinced me that we'd have a blast shopping, eating, and exploring the city. But it hasn't been a blast, because I miss Reed.

I've been thinking about him nonstop, as well as about Maddy's ultimatum. How dare she ask me to give him up, as though he were a bad habit, like smoking or nail-biting. As if she has the right to ask me to stop seeing a guy I love. She must think she's queen of the world. Well, her plan backfired. It only made me love Reed more.

Last night, right before bed, I called him. It went straight to voice mail, so I left him a message saying I wanted to spend all day Sunday with him. When I woke up this morning, there was a voice mail from him saying he would meet me in town at nine on Sunday morning. And then he said he couldn't wait to get together and that he loved me.
See?
I felt like telling Maddy.
I'm not unlovable.

Agnes takes one last sip of her coffee and gets up to throw away the rest. “Let's get this over with.”

When Agnes returns to our table, Maddy pats her on the back. “You're a good daughter. We all have to make sacrifices for the ones we love.” Maddy doesn't look at me when she says this, but I know she's saying it for my benefit. Every time she opens her mouth, she finds some way to remind me of our agreement.

I take my Caramel Macchiato with me as we make our way back to the car. The air outside smells of mold and wet asphalt.

In the car, just as Agnes is about to pull away from the curb, Maddy says, “Wait. I need to get something from the trunk.”

“Hurry,” Agnes says, “I told Hoyt I'd be there at eight.”

I look at my watch. “It's already eight twenty.”

“I know,” Agnes says, irritated.

“Shouldn't you let him know you're running late?” I ask.

“He goes to Harvard. He'll figure it out.” Agnes starts cracking her knuckles.

Maddy gets out of the car, opens the trunk, and returns with two large shopping bags. She climbs into the backseat next to me, and places one of the bags on my lap. “This one's for you.”

Agnes starts the car.

I look at the large brown bag emblazoned with the words
LOUIS VUITTON
. “What is this?”

“A present, silly. From the both of us,” says Maddy. “But it was my idea and I picked it out.” That means Agnes paid for it. One picks, the other pays. They're the perfect shopping team.

I squirm under the brown bag. Expensive gifts make me uncomfortable. The iPhone was bad enough, but now Louis Vuitton? I don't even like Louis Vuitton. It's one thing to accept a gift I like and then owe Agnes and Maddy my life, but to accept a gift I don't like and then still owe them my life—well, that's just lame. Why am I getting a present, anyway?

“My birthday's not till December,” I say, stalling.

Maddy says, “Think of this as a prebirthday present. Or whatever. It's a gift! Open it.”

I do as she says. Inside the bag is a box, and inside the box is a cloth bag, which predictably contains a purse. The purse is small and drum-shaped with an extra-long strap. It's hyper-feminine and not me at all. It's Maddy's kind of purse. “Wow,” I say, dumbstruck.

“Say cheese,” Maddy says, and I look up just in time for Maddy to get a shot of me with her iPhone. “Do you like it?” she asks, her voice giddy. “When I saw it in the store, I thought of you. Isn't it cute? I got the same one so we could match. We'll be purse twins!”

Purse twins. Now there's a concept. “Thanks,” I say, “but I can't accept this.”

“Of course you can,” Agnes says, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.

Maddy touches my arm. “You can use it tonight. Here, I'll help you transfer your stuff.” She seizes my backpack and starts loading up the purse. She hands me my phone. “Looks like you have a missed call.”

Shit
. It's probably from Reed. Everyone else who calls me is in this car. I hold my breath while I glance down at the screen. It's a number I don't recognize. Thank God. And there's a voice mail too. Maybe Reed was calling from a pay phone.

“Who was it?” Maddy asks. She's so fucking nosy.

“I don't know,” I say.

Maddy gives me a dubious look. “Were you expecting
someone
to call?”

Bitch.
“Well, this girl in my psych class said she was going to call about my notes,” I lie. “It's probably her.”

“Maybe she
likes
you,” Maddy says, winking at me.

I ignore her.

Maddy pulls out an identical purse from the other shopping bag and squeals, “Look! Purse twins!”

I force a smile.

Agnes fishtails through the traffic and steadily cranks up the Mozart.

“When did you guys go to Louis Vuitton?” I ask.

Maddy says, “While you were at the bookstore. Pretty sneaky, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say, suspiciously eyeing my new bag. “Pretty sneaky.”

Cheesy as it is to say, walking through the Harvard gates feels like a rite of passage. It's Harvard, after all. But the campus looks like any other New England college campus: old, grand, with proud, crumbling buildings, lush trees, and abundant ivy. The air is invigorating, as if laced with speed.

A guy in a camel-colored corduroy jacket walks by.

Agnes calls out to him. “Hey. Where's Massachusetts Hall?”

The guy turns around.

“Yeah, you,” Agnes says. “Do you know where Massachusetts Hall is?”

The guy waves his arm in the general direction of nowhere.

“Thanks,” Agnes says, and then mutters, “for nothing.”

While we wander around Harvard Yard, I can't stop obsessing over the fact that my new purse clashes with my grungy, thrift-store Army jacket. I'm a walking fashion faux pas, whereas Maddy looks stylish and cute in her leopard-print coat and brown knee-high boots, which match her purse perfectly.

Agnes takes out her phone and calls Hoyt. “I can't believe I'm doing this,” she says to us, tucking a loosened lock of hair behind her ear. “Hoyt. It's Agnes. I can't find your dorm, so could you please come outside? Thanks.” She hangs up.

A second later, a cute blond guy wearing jeans and a black peacoat emerges from the building in front of us. “Agnes?” he says, looking at Maddy.

Nope.

“Over here,” Agnes says, snapping her fingers. “I'm Agnes. These are my friends. They're coming with us. I hope you don't mind.”

“The more the merrier,” says Hoyt, looking a little confused. His eyes dart around frantically, then land on Maddy. “Welcome to Cambridge.”

His eyes, oddly enough, are a Louis Vuitton brown, and he's kind of on the short side, around five feet seven, but perfect for Agnes, considering she's barely over five feet tall and never wears anything higher than a kitten heel.

Maddy extends her hand. “I'm Madison. And this is Sarah.”

Hoyt takes Maddy's hand and says, “Nice to meet you.” He seems unable to tear his eyes away from her.

“Hi,” I say, waving to get his attention. Hoyt finally looks at me and smiles.

“So, what do you ladies feel like doing tonight?” he asks. “I thought Agnes was coming alone, so I made reservations for two at a French restaurant. I could change the reservation, or we could go somewhere else …” He scratches his head.

“We already ate,” Agnes lies. We haven't eaten since lunch.

Hoyt looks disappointed. “Maybe we could grab a drink somewhere.”

“We can't drink,” says Agnes. “We're underage.”

“Oh, right. You're freshmen?”

“First-years,” Agnes corrects him. “We don't use words that contain
men
.”

“Right,” Hoyt says, looking flustered. “Well, what would you like to do?”

Agnes shrugs.

Hoyt tugs on his ear. “Let's see. They're having an eighties party at Thayer Hall.”

Maddy claps excitedly. “I love the eighties!”

Agnes hesitates. “Why don't we just go to a movie?” She tries to make eye contact with Maddy, but Maddy avoids her glance.

“A movie's no fun.” Maddy pouts. “Besides, how are we supposed to get to know Hoyt in a dark movie theater?”

Hoyt blushes. How cute is it that he blushes? Then again, it's not like he can help it. He
is
pretty fair-skinned.

We end up in a dark, sweaty room that smells of beer and dirty socks. Duran Duran's “Wild Boys” is pulsating through the air. I get a disturbing flashback of that Yale party I went to with Keiko and Amber and that gross guy I made out with. I'm just glad nobody here is naked.

The music switches to New Order's “Bizarre Love Triangle” and a guy in the corner starts miming to the music. Everyone looks sort of generic, not really Harvard-y. Just regular college kids of all ethnicities and in all states of drunkenness.

Hoyt turns to Agnes and shouts above the music, “Can I talk to you?”

Agnes looks at us briefly, a look that says she's annoyed (as if we couldn't tell) and also taken aback. She thought she could scare Hoyt away, but he's quite persistent. “Fine,” she says, biting her lip.

“Excuse us, ladies.” Hoyt nods politely at Maddy and me before following Agnes out into the hallway.

“I wonder what that's all about,” I say to Maddy.

“Who cares? I'm gonna lose my virginity tonight.”

“
What?
”

“I said, I'm gonna lose my virginity tonight!” Maddy scans the room with that same hungry look she got earlier when she was eyeing Louboutins on sale.

“No, I heard you … but why tonight?” I ask.

“Because I feel like it.”

“I thought you were waiting.”

“I was, but now I want to get it over with. I've been waiting my whole life. I thought it was going to be with Sebastian, but since that's never going to happen, I might as well just do it with a Harvard guy. I know the first time's supposed to be special and all, but, whatever. The next hot guy I see will be the one. Hey, how about him?” She points at a dark-haired guy who eerily resembles Sebastian, except that he's wearing glasses and a white
Miami Vice
blazer that Sebastian wouldn't be caught dead in. “What do you think?”

“I don't think so, Maddy.”

“Why? What's wrong with him?”

“Nothing, it's just that …” I trail off.

“What?”

I pause. “Nothing,” I say. What
can
I say? If I tell her not to lose her virginity tonight, she'll never let me live down the Sebastian incident. Besides, it's her virginity; she can do whatever she wants with it. And since the guy she's ogling looks a lot like Sebastian, it'll kind of be like she's doing it with him. After all, any guy—even a Sebastian look-alike—would be better than the real thing. And who knows? Maybe Maddy will become nicer after she gets laid.

She smiles coyly at the Sebastian twin and twirls her extensions around her index finger. After a few minutes of this, the guy finally notices her. He gives her a stiff smile, then turns away and starts talking to a guy in acid-washed jeans who's standing next to him. Maddy continues to stare at him, but he doesn't look back. For some bizarre reason, all the guys here are ignoring Maddy and I can't figure out why. Is her beauty too intimidating? Or can they smell her desperation?

“Wanna dance?” asks a chubby guy dressed as Billy Idol. It takes me a second to realize he's talking to me.

“No, thanks,” I say. The guy looks a little disappointed, and I start to feel bad. And then I feel pissed for feeling bad. It's the Hunchback of Notre Dame syndrome—the assumption that all chubby, unattractive guys have hearts of gold—and I'm a sucker for it, even though I know it isn't true.

“I'll dance with you,” Maddy says to Billy Idol. She clutches his hand and whisks him off to the dance floor. They disappear into the crowd.

I stand by myself for what feels like twenty minutes, shifting my weight from my left leg to my right leg and back again. I check my phone to see if it was Reed who left me that voice mail, but no, the message is in Spanish and it's for a guy named Paco. Soon a slow song comes on—Crowded House's “Don't Dream It's Over”—and people start scurrying away from the dance floor.

Maddy comes back with a big smile on her face. “Whew,” she says, fanning her cheeks with her hand, “that was fun. You should've danced with him. He was sweet.”

I just nod and hope he's not the guy she's chosen for her deflowering.

Agnes and Hoyt come back inside and head straight for the dance floor. Then they start dancing. I turn toward Maddy, whose eyes are bugging out.

There are only a handful of couples on the dance floor. Agnes avoids looking at us. There's a constipated expression on her face, but it seems like Hoyt is enjoying himself.

“I can't watch this,” I say. “It's too painful. Let's get out of here.”

Maddy and I find the restroom, where I wash my hands three times.

Minutes later, Agnes joins us. “I was looking all over for you guys.”