Vicious Little Darlings (22 page)

30

I
t's noon and I'm sitting at a table in Norton Center, where the stench of beef fat and fried onions overpowers. I didn't sleep at all last night. I lay in the dark, anxious, confused. Finally, at dawn, I slipped out of the house and went for a walk.

I tried to poke a hole in Maddy's story. Female rapists are rare to begin with; female-on-female rapists even rarer. All I needed was one inconsistency to Maddy's story, one overlooked detail. I'm not sure if I wanted to find it for Agnes's sake or for my own. Maybe both: to give Agnes the benefit of the doubt and also to protect myself from the ugliness of Maddy's accusation. After all, I never asked to know about Agnes's savage side. I wanted the three of us to be happy again. Finding a flaw in Maddy's story, I thought, would get us back there.

“Hey,” Maddy says, sitting down across from me. Her eyes are clear, bright, and amazingly bagless. “Did you order?”

“No. I thought we'd go home for lunch.”

“I'm not going home. But you probably should. We don't want Agnes to get suspicious.”

Maddy tugs on a hangnail. “Sorry about the bomb I dropped on you last night.” She stops tugging. “But I had to tell you. You're my best friend, my
true
best friend.”

My cheeks burn and I hate myself for it. I know I'm betraying Agnes, but I'm strangely flattered to know that Maddy likes me best.

“So what do we do now?” I ask.

She shrugs.

Time to challenge her story.
I clear my throat and say, “Remember how I had to leave for work all of a sudden on Saturday?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I didn't actually go to work. I left because Agnes asked me to leave you two alone.”

She frowns.

“Agnes said you guys had a fight on the way to the airport, and she wanted to talk to you in private.”

Maddy rolls her eyes.

“Anyway, I went back into the house to get my CDs and I saw Agnes giving you a foot massage.”

She stiffens. “It's not what you think, Sarah. I had a cramp—”

“That's what Agnes said. But to me, it looked like … like I was interrupting something.”

“Gross.” Maddy makes a face. “You weren't interrupting anything. I had a cramp, that's all. Agnes just takes every opportunity to make things sexual. Don't you see? She set it up so we'd be alone, so she could make a move on me.”

“But my point is, you guys looked happy. And
you
looked like you were enjoying it.”

“I was repulsed! Look, here's what happened. I had a cramp in my foot. Agnes offered to get it out for me. I didn't want her touching my foot, but before I could say no, she had it in her lap. She tickled me. I started laughing. That's probably when you came in. But you didn't see what happened afterward. The massage started to get kinky. I could tell Agnes was enjoying it too much, so I pulled away. She got mad and tried to grab my foot back. I told her to stop, but she wouldn't, so I ran up to my room and locked the door. Then she followed me upstairs and started screaming at me. She accused me of being a coquette. I tried calling you, but you didn't have your phone with you that day.”

I shake my head. “But why haven't
I
ever seen this side of Agnes?”

Maddy shrugs. “She doesn't want you to see it.”

“You guys seemed fine when I got home.”

“That's because Agnes finally calmed down and apologized to me like she always does after an episode. It's her pattern. She doesn't stay mad for long; she's just so repressed that she blows up and ugly things come out of her. But afterward she's always sorry. She spent the rest of the afternoon reorganizing my closet. I know I have to get away from her, but a part of me knows she'll never let me go, so why even bother trying? But I can't go on like this. She's like a jealous boyfriend. And she's wearing me down.” Maddy covers her eyes and groans. “I don't even know why she's so obsessed with me. This school is full of lesbians. Why can't she like one of them?”

“Because they're not you,” I say. “You can't choose who you love.”

Maddy touches my hand. “You're so wise.”

I can't help but notice the way she's looking at me, sort of admiringly. It's embarrassing. I look away and, before I can censor myself, blurt, “Maybe it's not all Agnes's fault. Maybe you led her on. I mean, why else would she call you a coquette?”

Maddy's eyes tear up. “It's not my fault she's in love with me. There's nothing I could have done to prevent that. I didn't lead her on.”

“You could've discouraged her.”

“I did. I dated Sebastian, didn't I? She raped me, Sarah. How can you take her side?”

I look down for a moment then back at her. “You're right. I'm sorry.” But then I remember the conversation from last night and Maddy's chilling words:
You owe me after what you pulled tonight.

Maddy was trying to blackmail Agnes. Why? And with what? The rape? It makes no sense.

“What's wrong?” Maddy asks suddenly.

“Nothing.”

“No, something's bothering you. I can tell. What is it?”

I shrug. “I heard you guys talking last night.”

“When?”

“When you got home. You were trying to get Agnes to do something, but she refused. You said she owed you after what she did to you.”

Maddy chews on her hangnail for a moment, then puts her hand in her lap. “Well, I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but you should know that Agnes got you fired.”

“What?”

“She called your boss and told him you had herpes.”

I laugh uneasily. “
What?
”

“I'm not kidding.”

“She told Dr. Shelby I had herpes?”

“She knew it would scare him enough to make him fire you.”

“Why the fuck would she do something like that?” I say, my voice rising. “Who
does
that?”

“She doesn't want you working. You know that.”

“But why?”

“She wants you around so she can keep an eye on you.”

“So she called my boss and told him a vicious lie about me?”

“She's trying to control you,” says Maddy. “
Both
of us.”

“No wonder Dr. Shelby told me to ‘choose abstinence.' I can't believe Agnes did that! I'm going to call her right now and—”

“You can't. I promised her I wouldn't tell you. And I asked her to find you another job. That's what you heard us talking about.”

“And she refused, right?”

“She's jealous of you, Sarah. You're her enemy now.”

“
Enemy?
”

Maddy's face darkens. “Don't worry, we'll get her back. But direct confrontation is not the way to go. Just give me some time to think about this.”

Not knowing what else to say, I mumble, “Okay,” but the menacing look on Maddy's face makes me worry.

After my classes, I decide to go home instead of avoiding Agnes.
She's
the one who got me fired. She should be avoiding
me,
not the other way around.

When I open the front door, Agnes pokes her head out of the kitchen and asks, “Where's Maddy?”

“I don't know,” I grumble. I close the door and yank off my gloves. I'm ready to let her have it, but I repress the urge for Maddy's sake.

“She's not answering her phone.”

“Maybe she's at the library.”

Agnes shoots me a look.

“We're getting close to finals,” I remind her.

“Since when does Maddy care about school?”

“People change,” I say with a shrug.

Panic flutters across Agnes's placid facade, and it sort of pleases me to see it. Still, I can't picture her as a rapist.

She steels herself, then says, “Are you hungry? I made a Cobb salad. And there's leftover paella in the freezer.”

“Thanks,” I say, confused by her niceness.

“I have a lab report to do, so …” She walks toward the basement and opens the door. “Don't you have to work today?”

I shake my head. She is unbelievable. “No,” I say, “I got canned.”

“Oh. Right.” Agnes nods.

“How did you know? I never told you.”
She is so busted!

“Well, I didn't know for sure. Maddy had a suspicion. You know how she thinks she's clairvoyant and all. Who knows … maybe she really is. Anyway, I'm sorry about the job. If you need money, let me know.” She starts down the basement stairs.

For a moment I seriously consider following her down to the basement and taking all of her cash. Or stealing her thirty-five-thousand-dollar doll and hocking it on eBay. It's ironic: after getting me fired,
she
owes
me
now. But why would she offer me money after getting me fired? Why not just let me keep my job?

Of course.
Like Maddy said, Agnes wants control.

31

M
addy and I are at the mall. Not the “dead mall” but a slightly better one we found in Connecticut. Lately we've been spending a lot of time outside of the house. Sometimes we tell Agnes we're going to the library, and then go see a movie without her. Other times, like today, we ditch class and go shopping.

But I'm sure Agnes knows something's up. Still, she pretends not to notice. It's kind of sad—like she's given up. Maybe she's accepted the fact that
I'm
Maddy's best friend now.

When the mall gets boring, Maddy and I take a cab back to Wetherly. We decide to go home separately so Agnes won't get suspicious. Maddy asks me to go home first because she's afraid to be alone with Agnes. I'm still not sure about the rape, but something must have happened between Maddy and Agnes for Maddy to be so paranoid. I just don't know what that something is.

Back at home, I find Agnes in the kitchen with her head in the oven. A violin concerto by Mozart blares in the background. If Agnes weren't wearing her green latex gloves, I'd think she was trying to pull a Sylvia Plath. But no, she's just cleaning.

“Agnes!” I shout over the music.

She pops her head out of the oven, her eyebrows arched. “What?” She brushes a lock of hair off her forehead with the back of her glove and gets up to turn down the music. “Where's Maddy?” she demands.

“I have no idea.”

“You weren't with her?”

“No, I was in class.”

“I thought you two were together. I tried calling her cell, but she's not picking up. Where do you think she is?”

Averting my eyes, I say, “I haven't seen her all day.” I drop my backpack onto the floor. “Why are you so frantic?”

She claps her gloves together. A smile creeps onto her face. “I have some news. A surprise, actually. But we have to wait until Maddy gets home because I want to tell you both at the same time.”

A surprise?

“Maybe I'll just go ahead and tell you first,” she says.

“No, I can wait. I'll text Maddy right now.”

“No, I'll just tell her later.” She peels off her gloves and drapes them over the sink. “I might burst if I don't tell someone.”

I hold my breath while Agnes digs inside her Pierre Hardy bag. She hands me a guidebook to Paris.

“What's this?” I ask. Is Agnes transferring to the Sorbonne?

“How does winter break in Paris sound to you?” she says, grinning. “I rented us an apartment in the seventh arrondissement. For an entire month. You, me, Maddy, and Paris.”

Wow.
Paris. The city of light, art, love. I've always wanted to see the Louvre, the Seine, and the cute French men. But I already have a ticket to California, and I know Maddy would never say yes to a trip with Agnes. Not now.

“That's amazing,” I say. “I wish I could go, but I'm planning to go home for the holidays.”

“Oh. That's too bad,” she says in a detached tone. “For us, I mean. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time in California.” She doesn't look at all disappointed.

The truth is I'd give both of my ovaries to go to Paris (as long as it didn't involve blood or any type of surgery), but I know that to even consider the trip is a waste of time. It's pretty obvious that the only reason Agnes is doing this is because of her rift with Maddy. Paris is a peace offering.

Agnes clucks her tongue. “I had a feeling you wouldn't be able to go. That's why I only booked two tickets.”

“Oh.” My face burns. What a nasty trick!

“But Paris will always be there. You can go some other time. Maybe on your honeymoon.”

Bitch.

“We'll send you a postcard from the Eiffel Tower.”

Double bitch.

She clears her throat. “Well, I have to return to my cleaning.”

Mozart comes back on and Agnes's head goes back into the oven. I'm tempted to shove her whole body in there. Then we could have a roasted Agnes for dinner. But who'd want to eat her?

I head up to my room and stretch out on my bed. I can't wait to see the look on Agnes's face when Maddy tells her she's not going to Paris.

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings—once, twice, three times. I run downstairs. Agnes shoots me a withering look on her way to the door. “Coming!” she yells, beating me to it. She swings open the door and Maddy glides in.

“Did you forget your keys?” I ask her.

“No. I was just too cold to look for them.”

Agnes beams. “Let's go into the kitchen. I have a surprise for you.”

32

I
'm going to kill Maddy. What the hell was she thinking saying yes to Paris? So she and Agnes are fine now? One minute she's my best friend, and the next minute she's Agnes's? One minute Agnes rapes her, and the next minute they're going to Paris together? And she was so excited about it, as if the mere mention of Paris ended the war between them. She fell right into Agnes's trap, and now they'll be in Paris for a month while I'm stuck in California with Nana. It's so unfair. I would
kill
to go to Paris. Had I known Maddy was going to say yes, I would've said yes too. I would've booked my own damn ticket, with or without Agnes's consent.

But I can't change my mind now. I'd feel stupid, and besides, Maddy doesn't even seem to care that I'm not going. She's still downstairs with Agnes,
ooh
ing and
aah
ing over that stupid guidebook. But I'm on to Agnes. She must have known I was planning to go home for winter break. The only question is: how?

I open the top drawer of my nightstand. The plane ticket is sitting on top of a box of L'Oréal Feria, just as I left it. But something's off. The placement of the ticket seems too deliberate, its bottom edge flush with the bottom edge of the box. I remember throwing it in there. Now it looks too neat, like it was touched by the hand of Agnes.

That bitch! I slam the drawer shut. Then a strange thought occurs to me: what if Agnes bought me my ticket to California? After all, she got me fired. Why not send me to California too? There was no note from Nana, just her address and mine on the envelope, typed—

No, no, no. I have to stop being paranoid. Of course the ticket was from Nana. It had to be.

But I still don't understand why Maddy would say yes to Paris. And why wasn't she disappointed when I said I wasn't going? She's impossible to keep up with, a different flavor every day. She said she hated Agnes. She said she couldn't stand to be alone with her. She said she felt closest to me.

So why is she doing this?

I need a Valium. I go into Maddy's room, open the top drawer of her bureau, and steal a pill. Then, changing my mind, I put it back. The last thing I need is an addiction to pills. I have enough problems. As I'm about to shut the drawer, I notice something unusual. In the back left corner is a pink Hello Kitty diary, secured by a shiny gold lock. I didn't know Maddy kept a diary. It wasn't here the last time I stole pills from her. She doesn't seem like the kind of person who would own a diary, much less write in one. She's lazy and not very introspective and she never wants to be alone, so when would she find the time to write?
What
would she write? If the diary weren't locked, I would definitely read it. Never mind that it would be an invasion of privacy and a terrible betrayal. After all, Maddy betrayed me by saying yes to Paris. All I want to do is understand. I hate how everything's such a mystery.

It occurs to me that I could pick the lock. It's a kid's lock; it'd be easy. I scan the drawer for a bobby pin. I find a blond one and position it in the lock, and then I freeze. I can't do this. I'm scared of what I might discover, and scared that Maddy will know I invaded her privacy and decide to end our friendship. She's certifiable, but she's all I've got at this point—my only raft in this raging sea—now that Agnes is tired of me and Reed is gone.

I close the drawer and tiptoe back into my room. I think I'll skip dinner tonight and just go to bed early.

It's the middle of the night and Maddy is standing next to my bed, wearing a thin white nightgown.

“Sarah,” she whispers, caressing my hair for a moment before getting under the covers. “I have a plan.”

I turn toward her. “Huh?”

She smiles and in a feather-soft voice says, “A plan for dealing with Agnes.” She presses her palms together. “We're going to kill her.”

I rub my eyes. “Very funny.”

“I'm serious.”

I sit up and search her doll face for clues, but there are none to be found. “Please tell me you're joking.”

Maddy closes her eyes languorously, her eyelids two perfect rose petals. It's unfair, the monopoly she has on beauty. How could someone this beautiful be so diabolical?

“There's just no other way,” she says, opening her eyes. “If we don't kill her, she'll kill me first.”

“She would never—”

“She's sucking the life out of me, Sarah. You saw her earlier, how excited she was about Paris. Don't you know what she's trying to do? She's trying to win me back, because she can't stand the fact that you and I are best friends now. Obviously, she knows she really messed things up when she … violated me, and now she's going to do whatever it takes to get me back. I only said yes to Paris to throw her off. I've thought it over, and this is the only way. We just have to get rid of her. But we can't have her suspecting anything. She has to think everything's normal for our plan to work.”

I snap my fingers in front of her face. “Get a grip, Maddy. We can't kill her. That's insane. And you're insane for suggesting it.”

She turns away.

“Listen, I have to ask you something … Did you ever attempt suicide?”

She turns back and murmurs, “I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills a week after my parents died.” A pause. “Why? Do you think that makes me crazy?”

“No. I'm sure you were in a lot of pain.”

Maddy nods. “I didn't think I wanted to live. But then I got a second chance—the doctors revived me—and after that, I felt more alive than ever. Now I just want to live forever.”

“Committing murder is
not
living.”

“No. But if I don't do it, I won't be able to live. Don't you see?”

“You can't just kill someone because they—”

“Raped you?” she says. “Yes, you can.”

“Two wrongs don't make a right.”

“What if murder was the only way out of a horrible situation?”

“But it's not the only way.”

“She's going to kill me. The Gypsy said I was going to die before my birth—”

“She never said that. Be rational, Maddy.”

She's quiet for a while and then I realize she's sobbing. “I hate her for what she did to me,” she cries. “I'd rather kill myself than just sit here and be a victim.”

“Don't say that.”

“It's true. Help me, Sarah. You're my best friend.” She pauses, touches my wrist. “Agnes is not a good person. She's not who you think she is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I shouldn't even be telling you this, but you need to know. She told me she was getting tired of you and that she didn't want you to go to Paris with us. She's trying to get rid of you.”

“How?”

Maddy shrugs. “Slowly. You don't even want to know the mean things she's said about you.”

“Tell me.”

“Well … she called you a freeloader. Loser. Liar. Whore. She said the only reason Reed liked you was because you were having sex with him—that sex is the only thing you have to entice a guy with. She called you weak, boring, selfish, useless, and she said you were ugly inside and out—”

“Jesus.” I shudder.

“There's more. She wants you to move back into Haven House next semester. She told me she was going to talk to you about it.”

My body turns cold. “When?”

“I don't know.”

“But why? What did I ever do to her?”

“Nothing. That's just the way Agnes is. She throws people away when she's tired of them.”

“So she doesn't want to be my friend anymore?”

Maddy shakes her head. “No.”

Agnes wants to get rid of me. I never thought she would stoop so low. But I can't move back to Haven House. I don't belong there. What am I going to do? I feel like I'm five years old again, desperate and helpless, clinging to my mother's ankles, begging her not to leave.

And then, strangely, the feeling goes away, and I become mesmerized by Maddy's eyes. Even though I've probably looked into them a thousand times before, they appear different tonight, brighter, more powerful. I can't seem to look away. I hear her say, “Will you help me?” And I hear myself say, “Yes.” And it's not until much later, after Maddy has left the room and I'm alone in my cold, white space that I realize just what I've agreed to.

The next morning I wake up at seven, exhausted and jittery. Trying hard not to think about last night, I get dressed and tiptoe down to the deserted kitchen. I snatch my keys from the counter and slip them into my backpack.

“What are you doing up so early?”

I turn. Standing in the basement doorway is Agnes, a hateful look carved onto her face. It suddenly hits me why Maddy would want her dead.

But can I imagine killing Agnes?

No. I'm not a murderer. I don't know what I was thinking last night. Maybe I was possessed. Something took hold of me; it made me say yes to Maddy.

“Well?”

I don't answer her. She wants me out of her house and out of her life. There's no point in making small talk. I grab my backpack and bolt out the door.

Days pass. Maddy and I spend most of our time away from home. We don't speak of killing Agnes again. I guess Maddy came to her senses, and I'm relieved. She probably said those things out of anger. Like me, she's no murderer.

The weird thing is that I'm exhausted all the time and I don't know why. Is it my diet? Lately I've been eating all of my meals out. I've also been eating straight out of the vending machines on campus. Maddy usually has lunch with me, but then she goes home to eat dinner with Agnes. It's incomprehensible to me why she would spend any more time with Agnes than she has to. How can she stand being friends with someone she wanted to
kill
just a few days ago? Their bond is simply too complex for me to understand.