Sex

by Francine Pascal

  “I am ridiculously, amazingly wonderful,” she replied, picking a grape off Ed’s tray.

  Tatiana smiled at her. Ed turned back to his tray. “That’s good,” he muttered.

  “Ask me why,” Heather prompted him.

  “Why.” Ed sighed.

  “Because I’m head over heels in love!” she announced finally with her largest grin.

  “Coffee-in-the-lap guy?” Ed muttered with disinterest as he bit into his sandwich. This was not the response she was after.

  “Yes, but he’s so much more than that. Josh is like this…”

  Ed began to loudly unwrap his brownie. There just wasn’t an ounce of jealousy in him. He wasn’t even listening. “Oh, you’re no fun,” she said, slapping him on the shoulder. If Heather hadn’t moved on to a far superior man, she would have been deeply hurt right now. Lack of jealousy equals lack of love, respect, and admiration. But instead she just looked at her former boyfriend, wondering when he’d turned into such a sour and mopey individual. Though the answer was obvious. It was right around the time he’d begun a relationship with a certain sour and mopey blond. A mopey blond who just happened to make a rare appearance in the cafeteria at that very moment.

  “Well, there she is!” Heather squealed, pointing to Gaia at the food line, watching as she grabbed a tray and slammed it down on the counter. Perhaps Gaia would be more receptive to envy-inducing tales of Heather’s new love life. In a way, Heather almost wanted Gaia to know of her good fortune even more than Ed. Especially now that telling Ed had proved to be such a thoroughly dissatisfying experience. “Ed…” She waved her hand in Ed’s unresponsive face. “Ed, your woman has arrived,” she said, waiting for him to jump out of his chair or at least call to her…. No response.

  “Ed…?” she tried again, watching him munch on his food with no expression. “Ed—”

  “Yeah, I saw her,” Ed snapped, giving Heather a surprisingly harsh glance. “Thanks. I’ve got it. She’s here.”

  This was getting stranger by the second. And far more intriguing. “Well, I’ll go get her!” Heather volunteered enthusiastically as she shot out of her chair.

  “That’s not necessary,” Ed called to her as she headed for the food line.

  “Oh, but it is,” Heather called back. “I really think it is.”

  “GAIA!”

  Gaia slammed her eyes shut the second she heard Heather’s high-pitched squeal. Why wasn’t she at sushi with the FOHs? The coast was supposed to be clear—that was the entire point. She’d known the cafeteria would be a mistake; she’d just thought she could get in and out before she’d have to deal with anyone. Stupid. Really stupid.

  * * *

  Flashbacks

  * * *

  “Gaia!” Heather called again as she pulled up next to her in line. “What’s up, girl?”

  Gaia tried to focus on her Jell-O choices and ignore Heather. “Absolutely nothing,” she said. Translation: Please, please go away.

  “Cool,” Heather replied with the utmost obliviousness. She obviously didn’t speak Gaia. “How are you, girl?”

  When exactly had Gaia become Heather’s “girl?”

  “I’m fine,” Gaia replied, examining the rotting fruit options.

  “Ask me how I am,” Heather insisted gleefully, rocking back and forth at the counter.

  “How are you?” Gaia repeated back with the emotion of an android.

  “I’m awesome!” Heather squealed yet again. “Ask me why.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m in love, that’s why!” Heather began to perform a most unfortunate dance around Gaia as she tried to grab some soda. “I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love,” she sang quietly.

  Gaia feared she might grind her teeth down to dust if this were to continue. Two things she really couldn’t deal with right now: Heather Gannis… and love. “Congrats,” she muttered, at least trying to get Heather to stop singing. “Coffee-in-the-lap guy?”

  “Yes, but he’s got a name now.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Josh.” Heather sighed. “Isn’t that a perfect name?”

  Gaia nearly dropped her tray on a student’s head when she heard that horrific name. Acid began to painfully burn at the base of her throat.

  With the exception of Adolf Hitler, there was no name she despised more than the name Josh. But it couldn’t possibly be the Josh. That could only be the remains of Gaia’s fearful, paranoid feelings from her uncle’s injection. After all, there were still traces of fear from whatever he’d given her; why shouldn’t there be traces of paranoia? That’s what it had to be. Because what could they possibly want with Heather Gannis? It couldn’t possibly be that Gaia had gotten “too close” to Heather, nor could Gaia imagine any particular purpose that Heather could serve Loki.

  You’re being ridiculous, she told herself. There are eight million Joshes in this naked city, and you only know one of them. Well… actually three of them would be more accurate if she counted Josh’s clones—his “qualified replicants” as it were. What were the odds it was the same one? And even if it were, what could she possibly say to Heather about it?

  I know a guy named Josh. He’s got two clones of himself, and they all work for my uncle or my father. They’ve been trying to terrorize me for months now, and they’ve already killed Sam. Oh, yeah, Heather, by the way, Sam is dead and it’s my fault. But it might not be the same Josh….

  Paranoid. Definitely paranoid. Gaia did everything in her power to shake Josh from her mind and find a place to eat her Jell-O. “Great name,” she said. The only answer was to humor Heather.

  “Well, I want to tell you all about him,” Heather said. “Come on, we’re over by the front tables.”

  Gaia followed Heather blindly until she realized exactly who was at the front tables.

  They were supposed to be at the police station. This is a goddamn ambush.

  Heather and the FOHs were supposed to be at sushi, and Ed and Tatiana were supposed to be at the police station, thus her choice of the cafeteria. A choice that was increasingly proving to be a massive error on Gaia’s part.

  “You know what?” Gaia said, beginning a slow retreat in the other direction. “I just stopped in for a quick bite, and then I’ve really got to get to a class. No real time to talk.”

  She scanned the room for another table and found a reasonably empty one to the side, where she quickly pulled in and slammed down her tray.

  Heather stayed rooted to the ground, staring with bewilderment as Gaia took a seat and spooned herself a large glob of repulsive mango Jell-O. Once Gaia had ignored Heather’s confused glances for long enough, Heather finally walked over to her table and sat down across from her. This was not what Gaia had hoped would happen.

  “Okay, what’s going on?” she whispered excitedly, as if they were on some E! Entertainment gossip show.

  “What are you talking about?” Gaia mumbled through her Jell-O, wondering how quickly she could finish it.

  “Oh, come on,” Heather said. “Do I detect some trouble in paradise or what?”

  Could she have been any more excited if she had?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gaia mumbled.

  “Gaia,” she moaned. “Here. Look at my face.” She grinned enormously from ear to ear. “That’s what a person in love looks like. Now look at your face and Ed’s face, and tell me that nothing’s wrong.”

  Gaia completely ignored Heather’s suggestion and focused entirely on the remains of her wobbly Jell-O instead.

  “Well, then, look at them,” Heather insisted, leaning in with a strained whisper. “At least tell me what that’s all about.”

  Gaia dropped her spoon into the bowl and glared at Heather. Why did she have to do this? Why did she have to throw this in Gaia’s face right now? Wasn’t it bad enough that Gaia had been ambushed? Wasn’t it bad enough that she’d had to listen to Heather call her “girl?” That she’d had to listen to her sing? About
love, no less. That she’d had to hear the name Josh tossed around, causing all kinds of horrific unnecessary flashbacks? Now Heather was going to force her to look at the one thing in this world that could still actually cause her pain?

  Fine. Fine, she was going to have to get used to it, anyway. She was going to have to get used to seeing him and feeling nothing. That was the mandatory goal, and it was never going to get any easier. Why not start today? Gaia gave Heather one last filthy look, took a deep breath, and turned around.

  Her heart broke as she watched Ed staring down at his tray, looking absolutely sullen. Tatiana reached her hand across the table and gave Ed’s forehead a little poke. When he raised his eyes to her, she gave him a sweet, sympathetic smile, and Ed mustered a kind and appreciative grin in return.

  How sweet. How very adorable. How absolutely and completely sickening and unbearable to watch. Gaia felt her heart drop out from under her as her entire body went hollow. It was even more agonizing to watch than it had been this morning. Because this time it wasn’t even for Gaia’s benefit. It was just happening. Gaia had spent the last twenty-four hours doing everything in her power to kick Ed into Tatiana’s arms, and there was Tatiana, crouched low to the ground with her net, ready and waiting to catch him. How very generous of her. How very disgustingly kind.

  Gaia could feel her entire body flooding with a deep, primal hatred for Tatiana. Suddenly every single aspect of her was infuriating, from her ludicrously silky blond hair, to her slim little nose, down to her elegant little waifish body, culminating in her coy and cuddly little you’ve-got-a-friend smile. Gen had really hit it on the nose. She’d gotten the whole picture in one two-minute meeting. Princess Prissy Bitch. All hail.

  Ed suddenly turned toward Gaia. He had caught her completely off guard, leaving her no chance to cast the appropriate coldness over her face. He must have caught a glimpse of every ounce of pain, resentment, and loss in her eyes, because she could sense his eyes begin to search hers for their connection again. And if she didn’t look away immediately, he was going to find it—he would have looked at just the right moment to see the truth: that shunning him felt like a slow suicide and losing him to Princess Prissy Bitch was like medieval torture.

  Turn away, Gaia. Turn away and get out. Think about Sam. Think about what happened to Sam.

  With every ounce of her will, Gaia dropped an ax on their near reconnection, turning back around to Heather and leaving Ed nothing but the back of her head to look at. But Heather’s idiot grin was no better a sight, and it became immediately apparent to Gaia that school, and all the people in it, posed an entirely untenable situation, at least for today.

  Without a word or even another glance in anyone’s direction, Gaia shot out of her chair, launched herself through the rusty swinging doors of the cafeteria, and stumbled her way to the pay phone at the end of the hall. As she reached for the dial pad, she was able to recall Gen’s pager number instantly. At least whatever Oliver had put in that crazy injection hadn’t messed with her photographic memory.

  Gaia was in dire need of an escape. An escape from this world of BS artists, herself now very much included. An escape from the whole two-faced world of girls like Tatiana and Heather. And Natasha, too. Makeup and pretty faces to cover their scheming little eyes. She had to see Gen. The one girl she knew who wasn’t full of crap—the one girl who, near as she could tell, didn’t have a hidden agenda.

  Memo

  From: G

  To: L

  Subject is approaching abandoned boathouse near the pond in Central Park. Awaiting instructions.

  Memo

  From: L

  To: G

  Stick to the prime directives. Get as close as possible. Gather as much info as possible. Report all pertinent details.

  “WAIT, I’M CONFUSED,” GEN COMPLAINED. “Joe Crutches is your boyfriend, or he isn’t? Which one is it?”

  * * *

  In Cold Blood

  * * *

  Gen and Gaia were lying on either side of a dusty wooden rowboat in the old abandoned boathouse next to the Central Park pond. It was a wide, spacious shack There were a couple more dead wooden boats stacked on the ground, and there was one large old sailboat hanging by thick braided ropes from the ceiling. Piles of dusty, splintered oars littered the corner, and a few cases of obsolete life jackets sat under the window. Everything was covered either in rust or in thick green paint, but you couldn’t beat it for privacy. Of course, Gen had known how to shove open one of the old windows so they could climb in and step down off the piles of life jackets.

  Gaia had been looking forward to some confessional conversation, but she’d neglected to consider just how complicated any honest explanation of her life would be. She kept trying to give Gen the short version, but it wasn’t translating very well.

  “Well, he isn’t my boyfriend, but even if he isn’t my boyfriend…”

  “Princess Prissy Bitch is still a bitch,” Gen said, finishing Gaia’s sentence.

  “Exactly.” Gaia laughed. “I mean, even if Ed and I—and his name is Ed, by the way. Not Joe Crutches. I’m all for ‘Princess Prissy Bitch,’ but that ‘Joe Crutches’ thing has got to go.”

  “That’s cool,” Gen agreed.

  “Anyway,” Gaia went on, staring up at the cobwebs on the hanging sailboat, “I swear, even if Ed were my boyfriend, I think she’d be trying to move in on him. I mean, she’s just shady. I don’t trust her. I wouldn’t trust her any further than I could throw… Well, actually I could throw her pretty far.”

  “I know, right?” Gen howled with laughter. “That chick’s like a little blond javelin or something. That should be some kind of Olympic event. The Princess Prissy Bitch toss. I think I could capture the silver on that one.” They gave in to a contagious laughing fit until the laughs finally began to die down.

  Gaia was extremely glad she’d called Gen. It had definitely been the right choice. She hadn’t felt this comfortable bitching with someone since Mary, and bitching was, of course, a natural and necessary part of human existence. Ed had always tried to be a decent bitching partner (a memory Gaia quickly had to block from her head), but there was still a kind of communication that could really only take place between two girls. Gaia hadn’t even realized how much she’d missed it until she’d met Gen.

  Unfortunately, the more Gaia’s thoughts swayed toward memories of Mary, the more she began to focus again on the problems Mary and Gen shared. The problems that Gaia had committed herself to solving.

  “So here’s what I was thinking…,” Gaia announced.

  “Uh-oh,” Gen complained. “Here we go.”

  “No, come on, just hear me out. My friend Mary once told me about this… you know… some program that she went to somewhere upstate. She said it was like living in a goddamn country club. Three meals a day, sauna, gym. It was like—”

  “Gaia,” Gen interrupted. “Come on, now. I already asked you to be my bodyguard. You don’t need to be my drug counselor, too.”

  “Well, as your bodyguard,” Gaia said, “your safety and well-being are my prime directives. And I happen to believe that if you were off the stuff, then you wouldn’t have to deal with scumbags like Casper, that’s all.”

  “We really don’t have to worry about Casper,” Gen reiterated. “The guy’s a punk.”

  Gaia could literally hear Mary’s voice in her head, saying the exact same thing about Skizz. “Don’t worry about Skizz. The guy’s a punk. I can handle Skizz.” That was the one drawback to being a ballsy girl with attitude like Mary or Gen. They were so confident, they never even knew when they were in over their heads. It was a problem Gaia knew a little something about.

  She sat up in the dusty boat and looked down at Gen. “Look, you’re obviously very smart,” she said with a sudden shift to extreme seriousness, “but on this Casper issue… you don’t know what you’re talking about Trust me, I’ve seen this go down before.”

  “Okay, chill.” Gen smiled, basically blowing
her off again.

  “No, I’m serious!” Gaia snapped. “I’m telling you. This Casper guy is going to do something bad, Gen. I can feel it.”

  “Boo!” a voice hollered from the window.

  Gaia shut her eyes in frustration, knowing instantly who it was before he’d even pushed his greasy, platinum-streaked head through the window. He’d probably been outside listening to Gaia’s warning, just waiting to make the most dramatic entrance he could. Though “boo” didn’t exactly qualify as dramatic in Gaia’s book. And while she might be having some confusing issues with fear and paranoia, she was, thankfully, still quite impervious to “boo” as an effective means of terror. It could, however, elicit quick and overwhelming amounts of hatred.

  One by one, Casper and his two thick, leather-clad thugs climbed through the boathouse window and landed their feet on the floor with a thud. This secluded spot was obviously a hideaway for both Gen and Casper. As Gaia’s eyes drifted down to the rowboat she was sitting in, she wondered what Gen and Casper might have done in there. She leaped out of it with disgust, wiping the dust off her clothes. Gen just let out a frustrated sigh. She and Gaia both knew there was no other way out but that window.

  “Don’t be scared.” Casper smiled as he approached them. “It’s just the friendly ghost.”

  “He loves the whole friendly ghost thing.” Gen groaned, rolling her eyes as she climbed out of the boat. “He thinks it’s real clever.”

  “For him, it probably is,” Gaia replied, crossing her arms. She fixed her eyes on Casper. “Don’t worry,” she said, staring him down, “in spite of your hair, we’re still not afraid.”

  Casper let out a loud fake laugh, attempting to indicate that he could take a joke. He stepped much closer to Gaia, looked her up and down, and then breathed out a faint insulting laugh. “You know they make this shit that can make you look like a girl now? It’s called makeup—look into it.”