Vicious Little Darlings (5 page)

5

F
rom inside the closet, I hear the door open. I hope that whoever he is will go away once he realizes no one is here.

“Hello?
Hellooooo.
Anybody home?”

He definitely sounds dumb enough to be Sebastian.

“Maddy, are you here? Maddy? Baby?” He starts to whistle, and then I hear him mutter, “Oh, yeah. Uh-huh.”

I stick my head out of the closet.

Yup, it's Sebastian, and he's checking himself out in Maddy's full-length mirror. As much as I hate to admit it, he does look pretty cute today. His hair is deliberately messy and he's wearing jeans and a lime-green T-shirt. He sniffs his armpits and then looks up.

When he notices me, he takes a step back. “Whoa, you scared me. Didn't see you standing there.”

“Don't you knock?”

“I
did
knock. You didn't hear me?” He scratches the back of his neck.

“I'm trying to get dressed.”

“I'll close the door.”

“No!”

But it's too late. The door is closed, and now Sebastian is busy locking it. He turns to face me, then leans seductively against the wall.

We're alone and it's suddenly very quiet.

“There, that's better,” he says with a wink. “Now you can get dressed.”

“Do you mind?”

“No, I don't mind. I don't mind at all.” He gives me a toothy grin.

Is he flirting with me, or am I hallucinating? I feel a bit light-headed. I glare at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to surprise Maddy. Is she hiding in that closet with you?”

My face goes hot. “Maddy went out with Agnes, but they'll be back soon. Why don't you wait for them downstairs? In the Poetry Room.”

“Why don't I just wait here?”

“Because I'm changing,” I say.

“That's okay. Take your time.”

Before I can protest, he's kicking off his shoes and making himself comfortable on my bed. How am I going to get rid of him? I could yell “rape” or “misogynist,” which would surely result in a stampede of angry feminists but I don't think Sebastian deserves that harsh a punishment.
It'll be okay
, I tell myself. I just need to get out of Maddy's dress.

I close the closet door and say, “I'll be out in a sec.”

In the dark, I fumble for the zipper at the back of the dress, tugging at it vigorously. It doesn't budge. I try pulling the dress up over my head, but the narrow waist gets stuck around my chest and restrains both of my arms in a ridiculous upright position. The rest of the dress is wrapped around my head so I can't see a damn thing. Aside from cutting the dress open, I don't know how I'm going to get out of it. And now I'm starting to sweat. Fabulous.

The closet door suddenly opens and light from the room filters in through the pale pink fabric.

“Get out!” I shout.

Ignoring me, Sebastian slips inside and shuts the door behind him. My throat closes. The sound of his breath, slow and heavy, pounds in my ears. I want to die. I can only imagine how stupid I look, mummified in Maddy's dress with my ass hanging out.

“Whoa,” he says. “It's dark in here.”

“Would you please leave?”

“It looks like you need some help.” He chuckles.

“I don't need your help.”

“You know, you're not being very nice. After I drove all this way too. Here, let me help you. Why
are
you wearing Maddy's dress anyway?”

“I'm not,” I say.

“Uh, yes, you are. I was with Maddy when she bought this dress.”

Fuck.
“This isn't what it looks like,” I stammer.

I'm beyond mortified, so I don't struggle when Sebastian helps me unzip the dress, and I don't object when he lets the dress slide to the floor, leaving me in my bra and panties. And I don't cringe when his clammy hands linger on my hips.

What happens next, of course, is no surprise. Sex is practically inevitable when you're standing half-naked in front of a horny, sexually deprived guy. Even if you have cellulite. It's true—guys don't care, at least not while you're having sex. God, if I'd known sex was on today's menu, I would have shaved my legs. My psychic powers must be waning.

Ten minutes later, we're done. Sebastian is not much of a lover, but I'm relieved because if he'd lasted a minute longer, I would have been plagued by guilt too soon, ruining the whole experience. Surprisingly, not once did I think of Maddy or how wrong it was to screw her boyfriend. Until now.

The closet floor feels like a block of ice against my back. I can't believe I had sex with Maddy's boyfriend! Why did I do this? I really like Maddy, and it's not like I'm after Sebastian—God, no. Maybe I was scared that Sebastian would tell Maddy about the dress. But I wasn't
that
scared. And Maddy is not the kind of person who would stop being my friend just because I raided her closet. Maybe the act of wearing Maddy's dress was just too intimate and it made me temporarily insane. I don't know. I am a mystery to myself.

Maybe it's Wetherly's fault. Maybe deprivation of the opposite sex results in bad, desperate behavior. That's probably it. Now if only I could figure out a way to get rid of this guilt …

Sebastian is lying on the floor, slapping his belly. I get up and open the closet door.

“Was it good for you?” he asks, sounding like a sleazebag. Who says that kind of stuff?

“Look, Sebastian, I feel horrible about this,” I say, while trying to locate my jeans. I find them on the bed and scramble into them. Then I pull a T-shirt over my head. “This was a mistake. It can't happen again. Maddy's my friend and I would never do anything to hurt her.”

“But you have to admit, it
was
pretty fun,” he says with a smirk.

“You need to get dressed. They'll be back any minute.”

He gets up. “Okay, okay. Don't get me wrong, Sarah … I'm not a bad guy. I don't go around doing stuff like this. But I am a guy. Stuff happens. It doesn't mean I don't love Maddy. She's still my girl.”

The words sting. I'm unable to speak. Then I regain my composure and say, “Good. Then you won't tell Maddy I was trying on her dress?”

“I don't know. I'll need to think about that,” he says, pulling on his black, semisheer Gucci boxers.
Ick.
“Of course, if you gave me a massage, like, on my butt—that area's very tight—I might be more agreeable …”

I look at him, not sure if he's kidding.

“Oh, relax. I won't say anything.” He steps out of the closet and finishes getting dressed.

His eyes, I notice, aren't that pretty a green. And his body is a lot softer than it looks clothed—all muscle turned to fat. He's got a gut and a ton of chest hair. But as disgusted as I am with him, and myself, and his body, and even those stupid boxers, he still is pretty cute. Cute in a cheesy boy-band way. When he's not talking. Oh, who am I kidding? He's gross.

“There she is,” Sebastian says.

I panic and lunge toward the window. “Where?”

“I meant the deer. I didn't notice her before. She's so quiet. But she reeks. At first I thought it was me. I told Maddy you guys should've just shot her.”

“That's nice. You know where the Poetry Room is, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I'll find it.”

When Sebastian finally leaves, I lock the door. If I'd just listened to Agnes and locked it in the first place, none of this would've happened.
God.
Now I have to desex this room pronto.

I throw open the windows and frantically spray Maddy's Jo Malone over everything: the beds, the rug, and especially inside the closet. My efforts are probably unnecessary, since the stench from the fawn could mask any odor.

I look at Hope: cute, innocent, curled up on Maddy's bed. Is it me or is her face a little angry, a little accusatory? Does she know I just betrayed Maddy? Either she's smarter than she looks or I'm really starting to lose it. There's an empty can of pâté on the rug and next to it, a puddle of diarrhea. I can't think of a more perfect metaphor for how I feel right now.

“Great. See what you did?” I say to Hope, pointing at the mess. She turns away. “What? You won't even look at me now? Well, fuck you!” Then, feeling slightly moronic for swearing at a fawn, I say, “Sorry.”

Hope meets my gaze. Now she looks kind of sad. The poor thing has been throwing up a lot lately, thanks to all the junk Maddy feeds her. I examine the puddle, trying to figure out the best way to attack it. A shiver runs through my body. What's wrong with me? I should be glad to be cleaning up this mess. It's the least I can do for Maddy after fucking her boyfriend. I grab the nearest magazine, an
Us Weekly
with Justin Timberlake on the cover, and scoop up the mess. I never did care much for Justin Timberlake.

6

M
addy's key slices into the lock and my two friends tumble inside. I look for traces of suspicion on Maddy's face. For a second, she seems preoccupied but then she flashes me a big smile.

“Guess what?” she says to me.

“What?” I try to stay calm.

“We just saw Sebastian. He drove all the way from Cornell just to give me a kiss. Isn't that sweet?”

“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile.

Maddy sighs dramatically. “I love him so much. I'm really lucky to have him.” She goes over to the window seat and opens it, taking out a bottle of liquor. “Vintage scotch. Fifty-five years old. That's like all of our ages combined!”

“You shouldn't drink, M,” scolds Agnes.

Maddy places the bottle on her bed and closes the window seat. “This is a special occasion. You rented a house! The three of us are going to be living together. It's going to be like one big slumber party every night,” she says, clapping her hands.

The house—I completely forgot. “You already rented it? How?” I ask. “It's Sunday night.”

“I called the owner. He met us there, gave us a tour, and now he's reviewing our application. He'll let us know tomorrow.”

“Oh, it's definitely ours,” says Maddy, filling three shot glasses. She hands me one and I down the scotch, determined to erase Sebastian from my system.

Agnes warns Maddy, “You know what alcohol does to you.”

“Don't be such a downer, Agnes. I feel like celebrating!” Maddy hands Agnes a glass and refills mine.

I start to feel warm, relaxed:
Sebastian who?
I sit down next to Maddy on the floor. Agnes places several magazines on the rug and sits on them. She doesn't touch her scotch. For a while, we sit in silence.

“I know what we can do!” exclaims Maddy. “Let's play Skeletons in the Closet!”

I know the game, although I've never played it. It's the one where you tell all your dirty secrets. I've heard that it can get pretty intense, and I have absolutely no desire to play, especially after what just happened in
our
closet. Lucky for me, Agnes doesn't seem interested in playing either.

But Maddy insists. “I'll start,” she says. “Sebastian has a really big penis. I'm talking eight inches, ladies.”

Agnes scowls. “That's great, Maddy. Congratulations. Can you tell us something less revolting next time?”

Wait. Maddy's lying. Sebastian's penis is nowhere near eight inches. It's average, maybe even on the small side. Why would Maddy lie about something so stupid?

“Sarah, it's your turn,” Maddy says.

I hesitate before taking another shot. I'm already giddy and light-headed and if I get too relaxed, I might end up confessing what I just did with Sebastian. I try to think of a truth that won't reveal too much, but my brain feels like mush.

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “I've slept with fifteen guys.” It's only half-true. I've actually slept with more, but I stopped counting after twenty. It's good I lost count, otherwise I'd be too ashamed. At least I've always practiced safe sex, except with Sebastian—which happened so fast, so unexpectedly, that I didn't have time to think about protection. Suddenly a very scary thought enters my mind: what if Sebastian gave me an STD? I've seen pictures of gonorrhea and it is
not
pretty. Looking at those pictures could turn a person off sex for life—this one
and
the next.

But Sebastian can't have gonorrhea. He's Maddy's boyfriend and she would never date a guy with VD.

“You slut!” Maddy exclaims, laughing. “All this time, I thought you were a virgin like me. I guess I'm the only chaste one here.”

Agnes shoots Maddy a dirty look while clenching her untouched glass of scotch. I'm stunned. Agnes isn't a virgin? Since when? I can't imagine her having sex with anyone.

“It's your turn, Agnes,” says Maddy.

“This game is stupid,” Agnes grumbles.

Maddy nudges Agnes with the back of her hand. “Come on, we both went. You have to go too.”

“Fine.” Agnes takes a sip of her scotch. “I don't know … What do you want to hear? That I'm a hermaphrodite?” She snorts.

I laugh too, but Maddy just pouts. “Be serious.”

“What should I say? That I'm adopted? You already know everything about me, M. There are no secrets between us.” She gazes intently at Maddy before turning to me. “So, yes, I'm adopted. It's no big deal. In fact, I really lucked out because my parents are great. I'm not scarred or the least bit curious about my biological parents. I'm perfectly fine.” The way she says it makes me think otherwise, and the tiny red hives crawling up her neck confirm it. But the fact that Agnes is adopted doesn't surprise me. I suspected there was more to her; I knew there had to be a flaw to her seemingly perfect life.

“Okay, my turn,” Maddy says. “Now this one shouldn't be much of a surprise.” She licks her lips. “I want to marry Sebastian and have his babies.”

“Not this again,” sputters Agnes. “Stop lying to yourself, Maddy.”

“I'm not. I really love Sebastian.”

“You're in denial,” Agnes says. “You're only with him because you think he's the kind of guy you're
supposed
to be with. You don't even really like him—”

“Oh, really? Are you me? How would you know how I feel?”

Agnes puts a finger to her lips. “I don't think the whole quad needs to hear this.” She gets up to close the window. “I know you, Maddy. I know you're afraid—and that's okay—but don't fool yourself. You need to start thinking about what you really want, what's good for you.
He
i
s
not good for you.”

Blood rushes to Maddy's cheeks. “You don't understand what we have together. You're jealous because you don't have someone who loves you as much as he loves me.”

Agnes winces.

“What do
you
know about love anyway? You've never experienced it. You're the last person who should be giving me advice.” Maddy shakily pours herself another glass of scotch. “You already know I'm going to die young, so why can't you just let me be happy?”

Die young?
What is Maddy talking about? I feel dizzy all of a sudden, disoriented. I shouldn't have drunk the scotch so fast. Maybe old scotch is more potent than young scotch, because all I seem to want to do right now is lie down.

Maddy drains her glass. “Do you think it's fun worrying about death all the time? At least Sebastian makes me laugh.”

Agnes rolls her eyes. “Sebastian's a loser. And you're not going to die young, so stop saying that—”

“Wait!” I exclaim. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Nothing,” snaps Agnes. “It's none of your business.”

“You're so rude, Agnes.” Maddy turns to me. “I'm sorry. I should've told you earlier, but I didn't want you to think I was a freak.” She looks down and swallows. “Ever since my parents died, I've had the feeling that my life would be cut short and I would be joining my mom and dad in the afterlife sooner rather than later. I just feel it in my bones. It's like I gained a sixth sense after they died. I get feelings about things, and I'm usually right. Like, I had a good feeling about you when we met, and that turned out to be true. And tonight, when we were at the house, I felt a sense of peace. But the night we ran over Hope, I knew something bad was going to happen.” She shudders. “This must sound really weird to you.”

“No,” I say quietly. I don't know what else to say. I'm skeptical and curious at the same time.

“Don't listen to her, Sarah,” Agnes says, finally gulping her scotch. “Maddy's just paranoid. I mean, it's natural to feel uncertain about life after something as traumatic as your parents' death, but the truth is, no one knows what the future holds.”

“I know I'm going to die young. It even says so on my palm.” Maddy thrusts her hand toward Agnes's face. “See my short lifeline?”

Agnes glances at her hand, then looks away. “I've told you a million times, palm reading is not a science.”

“That's easy for you to say. You have a long lifeline.” Maddy turns to me. “Sarah, let me see your hand.”

“Which one?” I ask.

Maddy grasps my left hand and traces her finger over my palm. “You have a long one too. You're lucky.” She drops my hand and, with a wistful look in her eye, says, “I'm just glad I have Sebastian. Sometimes I think he's the only thing keeping me going.”

“You don't love him!” Agnes snaps back. “You don't even know what love is. Love isn't pretty, Maddy. It's complicated and messy and sometimes not so desirable, but that doesn't mean it's inferior or any less real. You can't deny love just because it doesn't fit perfectly into your life.”

Maddy gets up. “I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“Fine,” says Agnes, sighing.

Maddy turns toward her. “I'm sick of you breathing down my neck. You drain me, you know that? Sometimes I wonder why I'm still friends with you.”

“That's nice,” Agnes says, looking away.

Maddy crosses her arms over her chest.

A heaviness fills the room. I don't know what I could say to make the situation better. This sure isn't what I had in mind when I applied to Wetherly. The brochure said nothing about angst-filled dorms or psychic roommates. I feel a bit overwhelmed.

“I'm sorry, M,” Agnes says in a low voice.

Maddy heads toward the closet, then stops and turns around. “It's … too … late,” she stammers. Tears spill down her red cheeks, leaving behind stark white lines. She sways from side to side, struggling to regain her balance. Then she grabs her jacket and bolts out of the room.

Agnes and I try not to look at each other. After a while, she gets up and leaves without saying a word.

The next morning I wake up with the biggest hangover of my life. It feels like there's a truck parked on my head. I keep my eyes closed for another minute, trying to ignore the irritating stabs of sunlight coming through the window.

Last night suddenly returns—and with it, an asphyxiating sense of dread. The last thing I remember is Agnes chasing after Maddy. I must have passed out after that. And then I had a disturbing dream. We were in a forest: Maddy, Agnes, and I. We were walking in the dark, single file, with Maddy leading us. There were dead swans everywhere. “Where are we, Maddy? What are we doing here?” I kept asking over and over, but she wouldn't answer me. We came to a tunnel. We had to swim through it to get to the other side. At the end of the tunnel, on a patch of dry land, was Hope, lying in a coffin. And then I woke up.

I open my eyes and turn toward Maddy's untouched bed.