Doreen

by Ilana Manaster

  “I think,” Doreen said to Heidi, “that Biz thinks you will be a bad influence on me.”

  “Of course I will,” said Heidi. “If I am any influence at all, I will be a bad one, because that is the only kind of influence there is!”

  “What do you mean? You don’t believe in positive influence?”

  “Only when you are the influencer, then there are oodles of benefits. You see, Doreen, most people find the freedom of life to be too stressful. Choices oppress these people. To relieve them of their burden, you just make their choices for them. Of course, it’s a delicate process. Though they want to be freed from freedom, they still have an ego. As an influencer, it’s up to you to ensure that even as you deliver them from their free will, they can uphold the make-believe that they are proceeding on their own chosen path.

  “But in the meantime, you have to be vigilant in the matters of your own desires. Differentiate yourself from the sheep by loving freedom, by refusing to forsake it for any reason. You must, in other words, make yourself a fortress, barring yourself from outside influence so that you maintain the power over your own life and the lives of others.”

  Doreen’s face took on a peculiar look, as if she’d uncovered some long-buried truth and the discovery made her euphoric with recognition.

  “There is something special about you, Doreen,” Heidi continued, keeping a careful eye on the effect of her words on Doreen’s face. “I saw it as soon as you walked in here. I think it would really be something if you gave yourself the liberty to satisfy yourself. Let life work in your favor; let all that you want be delivered to you. I’ll help you.”

  “Will you, Heidi?” Doreen asked breathlessly, her eyes darting back and forth across Heidi’s face. “I would like that so much! Will you really?”

  “Heidi, what are you saying?” said Biz, her face lit blue from the glow of the computer screen. “Whatever it is, don’t listen, Doreen.”

  “Biz, don’t lecture,” said Heidi, with a conspiratorial roll of her eyes at Doreen. The girl smiled—at her cousin’s expense! Oh, this was too easy. “And aren’t you done yet? The anticipation is torturous.”

  “Almost, almost.” Having finished with Doreen’s face, Biz moved onto her body. A little smoothing, she said to herself, nobody is perfect. Anyway, she was only giving Doreen’s picture the same attention the model had received in Vogue. She trained her digital airbrush over Doreen’s arms and torso.

  “There. That’s perfect. Now I’ll just upload it to your GryphPage so you can see it in situ.”

  “No!” Doreen blurted, springing to her feet. “I mean, can I see it first? Before it goes, like, public?”

  “Oh. Sure. Of course. Here, let me print it.” Under her desk, Biz’s professional-grade printer whirred to life, a gift from her father. “I think you’re going to like how it came out.”

  “Don’t be nervous.” Heidi patted Doreen on her knee. “You looked amazing in that dress.”

  “I’m not nervous,” Doreen insisted as she cracked every single knuckle in succession.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Here we go.” Biz removed the page from the printer and gave it a satisfied nod. She laid the photo on the coffee table in front of Doreen and Heidi.

  In the picture, a stunning girl sat on a chair in the middle of a field, wearing a red strapless dress that fit her perfectly, as if she was sewn into it. The girl’s skin was flawlessly smooth and white, and her violet eyes met the camera directly, with an audacity befitting her incredible beauty. Her thin arms rested comfortably at her side while ringlets of black hair cascaded dramatically down her back. In the porcelain white of the face, Doreen identified some recognizable features. That must have been her nose, after all, and though the lips were so perfectly shaped in their light-pink stain, it was her mouth in the photo, the same mouth that gaped openly at the picture she beheld, naked and dried out from nervous chewing.

  “Why, Bizzy Bear, you’ve quite outdone yourself! Our little Doreen looks so—”

  “Unrecognizable! Oh, what have you done? No. No!” The picture shook in Doreen’s hand. “You’re making fun of me. I should have known!” Doreen buried her head in her hands.

  “Huh? Making fun of you? What would make you think that?” Biz looked mortified. “I thought you would like it. I just touched it up a tiny bit.”

  “Ha!”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I thought, I don’t know. I was trying to give you what you wanted.”

  “To look like an idiot? How can I possibly claim that this is a picture of me? It looks nothing like me! If people see it . . . It’s cruel what you’ve done. Both of you! Oh, I should have known.”

  “Doreen, calm down. Nobody is making fun of you,” said Heidi, but the girl continued to sob. “You don’t like the picture? Fine! Biz, delete the file from your computer. Give me the photo.” Heidi held a hand out to Doreen. “Really, you needn’t make such a fuss. Poor Biz was simply trying to help you.” Heidi was disappointed with the scene Doreen was making. She hadn’t thought the girl would be so gushy and unreasonable. “Give me the photograph, Doreen.”

  “Why?” Doreen asked. She pressed the picture to her chest. “What are you going to do with it?”

  “I was going to destroy it. Isn’t that what you want?” Heidi stood up and paced around the room, her hands in fists. “I cannot tolerate this inconstancy. Resolve yourself. If you don’t like the photograph, I will rip it to shreds. Otherwise get a hold of yourself so that we may discuss the issue like adults. Your cousin was trying to be kind to you. She does not deserve to be spoken to with such ugliness!”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry, Bizzy. I just—don’t you understand?” Doreen looked down at the photograph with a new tenderness. “Oh, I wish this was me in the picture.” She wiped tears from her eyes. Crying had brought out the splotchy redness of her complexion, making her look even more unlike the photo. “I would give anything to be this girl!”

  “But it is you!” said Biz softly. “All I did was clean it up a little. That’s what they do in the magazines.”

  “I really appreciate what you did, Biz. But when I see this picture, it shows me everything that I’m not. I’m not beautiful or glamorous. I could never be this girl, as much as I would want to be her. Look!” Biz and Doreen looked down at the picture together. “See how easy her life must be! How everybody must love her! That isn’t me. That isn’t how—” Doreen’s eyes welled up again. Biz gently ran a hand along her head.

  “Shh,” she said. “It’s okay.”

  “And I don’t want you to rip it to shreds, Heidi. Because it’s so—it’s beautiful. It’s the most perfect picture I’ve ever seen. I love it, in a way. Only . . . I’m jealous of it. Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous? To be jealous of a picture.” She shook her head, smiling. “I really am a piece of work.”

  “You’ve had a long day,” said Biz. “You must be exhausted.” Doreen leaned her head against her cousin’s shoulder and Biz stroked her cheek. Heidi could not remember Biz displaying so much affection for a human before.

  “That’s right, Biz. We’ve all had a long day of it.” Heidi sensed that she was losing Doreen to Biz, but she was not ready to give up yet. So the photo shoot had been a bit of a disaster, so what? She could still recover her position. After all, popularity was not something one gave up on so easily. “Listen, Doreen, why don’t you drop by here tomorrow at around eleven? We’ll get you dressed and then we can appear together at lunch. Maybe the GryphPage profile was the wrong starting point.”

  “Listen, Heidi, I think we’ve had enough of all that. Popularity is a waste of time. I’ll show you around campus tomorrow, Doreen. Wait till you see the technology at our disposal here.”

  “As your friend?” Doreen asked Heidi, unclasping Biz’s hand.

  “I’m sorry?” />
  “Will you introduce me to people at lunch—as your friend? Would you really do that?”

  “Of course!” said Heidi. She tucked an errant batch of wiry hair behind Doreen’s ear and put an arm around her shoulders. “I will introduce you as my friend as well as a representative of the midwestern branch of the Gibbons-Brown family.”

  “Oh, please,” said Biz. “Do you hear yourself? How absurd.”

  “Okay. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven.” Doreen gathered up her things to go.

  “But, Doreen, I thought, is that really—”

  “I really am tired, so I think I’ll head home. Good-bye for now. Thank you, Heidi. Thank you so much for everything. I’m sorry for my outburst. Good-bye, Biz! I’ll see you tomorrow!” With the photograph still in her hand, Doreen let herself out of their room.

  “Well!” Heidi said when she heard the door close. She sank onto the sofa beside Biz. “What a fascinating evening!”

  “Are you asleep?” Biz asked.

  “No,” said Heidi. “And apparently neither are you.”

  Biz sat up in her bed and flicked on the lamp on the nightstand. “Can I ask you something then?” Without her glasses, Biz looked like a mole person.

  “What? Oh, sure. Shoot. What is it?”

  “Why are you so interested in Doreen? She’s not exactly made of the same stuff as the girls you normally associate with.” Biz clasped her legs over the covers and nuzzled her chin between her knees.

  “I can’t help but point out that she’s your cousin. Which means she’s made of precisely the same stuff of someone I normally associate with—you.”

  “Yeah, but, I mean . . .”

  “What is it?” Heidi could see that Biz was having a hard time getting out whatever it was that she needed to say.

  “That’s about my brother, right? Isn’t that why you became friends with me? I thought it was some sort of revenge thing against Ad-rock.”

  “No. Maybe a little, at first. Anyway, I knew you before I knew him.”

  “At the campus tour? You were hardly interested in being my friend.”

  “You don’t know that. Plus, Ad-rock and I are ancient history. If I only wanted to be friends with you to get back at him, I would have cut off ties after he graduated.”

  “I guess.”

  “Biz, I have to associate with those other girls, the Chandler types. Otherwise I wouldn’t . . . it’s hard to explain, I just have to. But I don’t hang out with you because I have to, I do it because I want to.”

  “Why? We have nothing in common.”

  Heidi could not understand why Biz was bringing all this up now. “Let me ask you this, why do you hang out with me?”

  Biz looked over at Heidi. “I don’t know. I guess because you’re here.” Heidi laughed. “What? What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing, nothing. Look, Biz, you’re smart and I’m smart. Intelligence makes a person interesting. You are incapable of being manipulated, you are malice-free, and most importantly, you are not boring. Which, I may add, gives you a giant lead over your dimwitted brother, who is about as fascinating as oatmeal. Okay?”

  “Yeah. Okay. You’re not boring, either,” Biz said. She yawned and lay back on her pillow.

  “Stop it. I’m gonna cry.”

  “And Doreen? What about her?”

  Heidi looked up at the white ceiling. “Doreen is a blank canvas. What could be less boring than that? Anyway, there’s something about her I can’t quite put my finger on.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Biz. “She’s always had it. A kind of quality, like she understands what you’re thinking and feeling. She’s really sensitive, I think. It probably accounts for the bullying.”

  “Huh,” said Heidi. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “Of course I am. Anyway . . .” Soon enough, Biz was snoring.

  Heidi still couldn’t sleep. In the common room, she wrapped herself in a cashmere throw and looked out onto the empty quad. She thought about her own first day at Chandler Academy. Heidi had not been so different from Doreen then. She was prettier, better groomed, but she was a transfer student, too. And even though she grew up a few miles from the private elementary schools where the Manhattan contingent of Chandler had learned their ABCs, it may as well have been another planet. She remembered distinctly the feeling of being lost, like she’d gotten off the bus a stop too early.

  But unlike Doreen, she had prepared for the moment. He’d groomed her for it. He taught her how to talk, how to walk, how to present herself as a person who belonged. And after everything she’d risked to get into the school, she made sure to appear perfectly at home from day one. She thought of herself at the campus tour on her first day, how nervous she was in her painstakingly chosen outfit, a slight smile on her face that she hoped made her appear dignified and at ease. She stood tall. She moved with grace.

  All of this was lost on Biz. Charged with leading Heidi on a fifteen-minute tour of the campus, Biz had been too full of information and enthusiasm about the wonderful academic resources at Chandler to keep it under forty-five.

  But Heidi had more pressing items on her agenda than rare book collections and jazz ensembles. So when the tour was finally over and Biz asked at last if she had any questions, Heidi found herself asking if she happened to know Addison Gibbons. They stood at the edge of campus, near the field house. It was an innocuous question, Heidi thought, and she did a decent job of asking it without betraying the stakes involved.

  Biz, who had been introduced only as Elizabeth when they met at student services, stopped her forward progress and flipped to face Heidi. “Gibbons-Brown, you mean?” she asked.

  “Uh, yes, of course. I’m, uh, our mothers know each other and I was told to look him up.” Heidi’s was the smile of a cartoon doe.

  “Who is your mother?” the girl demanded. She squinted at Heidi through her filthy wire frames like her lie was written on her face.

  “Oh! Uh, it’s just . . .”

  “Because Addison is my brother,” said Biz. “So his mother is also, goes without saying—”

  “Your mother! Of course. I didn’t, I mean, you probably haven’t heard . . . They know each other very . . . well, she probably wouldn’t even remember. A charity function. In the Hamptons over the summer, I guess they got to talking.” In fact, there had been a party. A beautiful party in a mansion. Gloria had gone on and on about Addison. Not to Heidi’s mother—who had never stepped foot in the Hamptons and only gave money to the Catholic Church—but to Heidi herself. Oh, how I wish Addison were here so I could introduce you! He would adore you, wouldn’t he, Roland? Oh, you’re cute as a button. It would be nice for him to bring home a girl with a little intelligence. Roland, why didn’t you insist that I bring him here to meet her? Well, you’ll meet. Of course you’ll meet.

  “Talking?” Biz sniffed. “She certainly has been known to do that.” Her lips spread into a contemptuous grin. “And she mentioned Addison, but not me? Elizabeth? Because you and I are the same age.”

  “Oh. Maybe she mentioned you. I’m sure she did, so, great to, I mean, it works out that, and everything,” Heidi said. She should have waited to establish herself on campus before digging around for his nephew. But she couldn’t stop herself. She’d gotten away scot-free and still it wasn’t enough.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” said Biz. “And Addison is right over there.” She pointed to a field where boys were kicking around a soccer ball. “He’ll be the one not wearing a shirt. He rarely does.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Here, I’ll introduce you. Addison! There’s a pretty girl here that Mom wants you to meet!” Biz screamed across the quad. The kid looked up from his game and smiled before slow-jogging over in nothing but a pair of faded sweats and sneakers.

  “Thanks, Elizabeth,” Heidi whispered.

  “
Biz,” she said. And she walked away.

  As it turned out, Ad-rock was as dumb as the mineral deposits in his moniker, and so full of himself that a few delighted squeezes of his bicep were enough to win his heart. Make them feel like you’re giving them what they want, like they are the ones coming out ahead. That’s what she’d been taught, and it worked like a charm. She fed Addison a never-ending stream of compliments and assurances that his insecurities were unfounded. He, in turn, brought her into the fold of the leading cliques on campus. Once she felt sufficiently entrenched, and when it became too exhausting to maintain the appearance of interest in the inane things that occupied Addison’s feeble mind—workouts, video games, golf, eating large quantities of meat—she dumped him. Hard. Which broke his silly little heart and took her from unknown transfer student to fascinating object of desire, practically overnight.

  Win-win. Looking back now, it remained one of her most effective social strategies. But she had to admit that choosing Addison was stupid. With so many worthy older boys on campus, getting involved with Roland’s nephew put her in danger of exposing their arrangement. She could have lost everything. So why did she do it? And why, when it ended, did she immediately befriend the niece?

  But Heidi only needed to look at Biz’s cluttered gallery of a desk to find the answer. What she’d told her before was true: Biz was interesting. She remained one of the only souls on the Chandler campus who did not bore Heidi to tears. So she happened to be Roland’s niece, what of it? In their two years of roommatehood, Roland had hardly ever come up in conversation. Biz didn’t like her uncle, rarely spoke of him.

  And wouldn’t the same be true of Doreen? She obviously had little to do with her father. After all, Roland rejected Doreen, too, hadn’t he? And the poor thing, she seemed so friendless and alone. Heidi had every confidence she could help her. And if she could, wouldn’t it be cruel, immoral even, not to do everything in her power to turn it around for the poor sucker? What better way for Heidi to spend her last year at Chandler than to use the power she’d accrued to help someone less fortunate than she was? There were many other ways for Heidi to relieve herself of boredom, but maybe she could take the high road this time, use her gifts to create something great, the way Biz did with her photography.