by Ryan Schow
“Spoken like a true friend,” Theresa quipped before storming off.
“I’m not the one taunting people to death all over social media!” Julie called out. Her ex-friend ignored her as she folded into the horde of students moving through the hallway between classes, a few of whom were watching the terse interaction between them. It was no secret Julie, once the head of the Bitch Brigade, ousted herself from the group. Nor was it a secret she had taken an interest in Brayden James, an interaction which boosted his social proof while drastically lowering hers.
Whatever, she thought.
Get bent.
After exorcising herself from the Bitch Brigade, Julie managed to save face by making a few new friends. There were two girls and a boy she started hanging out with: Chastity, a pretty brunette in her junior year; Scotland, a skinny blonde with a pixie haircut from New York; and a boy named Angus who was trying to either date or screw Scotland.
Or maybe both.
Angus used to be friends with Damien. When Damien hooked up with Cameron, however, the kid could not stomach all the drama between them so he became friends with Chastity. Chastity was a girl he met in gym class and liked for about three minutes, which was long enough for him to meet her friend, this hot little model-type named Scotland. She was new to Astor Academy, and friends with Chastity, which made him friends with her by proxy. He fell hard for Scotland, not that he showed it. That was the group dynamic, and Julie had no idea how she’d fit in.
But she did.
Julie understood one thing, one very important thing: in the world of social proof (as Brayden told her time and again), if you have no friends, you’re a no one. If you are pretty and you were once popular and you have no friends, you’re worse. You’re a freaking leper.
Bad as things were, she refused to be a leper.
2
On her way to class, Julie passed Angus in the hallway, smiled at him and wondered for the umpteenth time what it would be like to have sex with him, not because he was cute or even all that interesting; it was the way she sometimes caught him looking at her. Not all the time. Just occasionally. This one time, maybe it was last week or the week before, he had that look in his eye like he would just die if he didn’t have her. It was the same way he looked at Scotland. The same way Emery looked at her.
That look, ugh…
Julie realized, and this was a profound realization, that she wasn’t attracted to guys because of how they looked, who their family was, or even their personalities; she found herself wanting the boys who had that look in their eye. Like they were starving for their favorite meal. Like she was dessert. To be lusted after, to see that want for her sitting like an insatiable need in their eyes, that was what truly wet her sandwich. Emery had it; Brayden had it; and the first time she met Angus, he had it, too.
The look.
Oh my God, she thought, I’m a total slut.
Sitting in sixth period, thinking of the boys she liked, starting to understand why she fell for one boy over another, she thought of Angus’s needy eyes and let it warm her, arouse her, make her think so many things were secondary to that deep and unrestrained carnal thirst.
Any girl who tells you she’s immune to lust is a goddamn liar. At least, that’s what she thought. But must she act on every attraction? Every whim? Oh, how she wanted to sometimes! This had Julie thinking. Angus was better looking than Brayden, and Emery was better looking than them both, yet she was with Brayden at the moment. Why? The first thought that came to mind was this: good body, great personality, lots of swag. He was easy going, like he could care less if he slept with her or not. But the way he could run her through six orgasms by working his tongue in all the best places, she couldn’t tame the fires stirring down below. With Brayden, a girl’s looks didn’t seem to command center stage. This was the same for her. In Brayden, she responded to his self-confidence. He was super sexy in a unique kind of way, and this caught her off guard. Sabrina Baldridge saw it. Now she saw it, too.
Emery was good, but not that good; Constance was better than Emery, but not nearly as good as Brayden. That’s why she couldn’t help thinking she wanted him. Brayden. That maybe it was time she invited him inside her. The warmth of that thought had her squirming in her seat. She told herself not to start thinking like this in class. To focus.
So instead of falling into her daydreams, she looked at her teacher who was not handsome but had great pitch and tone to his voice. She concentrated on what he was saying, then cleared her throat and sat up straight, willing herself to change the course of her thoughts.
In her head, she was like, I can’t think like this. I can’t be like this! Then she thought, I’m going to have another baby. It isn’t Brayden’s or Angus’s kid, so perhaps it’s time to stop obsessing over them and consider things with Emery and Constance.
She almost sighed out loud at the thought of those two. The evil sex-freaks, these step-siblings of hers. This exhausting, wayward triangle of lust.
Perhaps the three of them should get an apartment together after high school. Then again, should her father discover her baby bump over Christmas break, she would be disowned. Not to mention she’d probably get a lump of coal in her stocking from Santa Claus, the big fat jolly bastard.
At dinner, Brayden, Angus, Scotland and Chastity sat together eating happily and tragedy free. This was a surreal occurrence for Julie. For her—and she’d never admit this to her friends, or even to Brayden—there was a devious joy in knocking someone down, and even greater joy when you could sneak in a kick or two. There was, however, exactly zero delight in taking someone who is rightfully eating dick in the dog house and lifting them up. That’s what Cameron needed, wasn’t it? A lift?
Well screw her. Honestly, she thought, what’s the point?
Cameron, if she wasn’t down, she was putting someone down. Now she went and shit the bed and Theresa expected her to go check on the bitch? Ha!
Not even on Sunday.
“Where are you?” Brayden said, catching her off guard. He was sitting next to her, his hand on her thigh. When did he put that there? She pushed his hand off her and he furrowed his brow. She had been sitting still, eyes empty, fork in hand, her food untouched for too long. She blinked twice, focused in on Brayden who was focused in on her.
“Theresa stopped me in the hallway and said no one has seen Cameron for days. Not since, well, you know. That thing with Abby.”
“She’ll be fine,” Scotland said from across the table.
Scotland was a wafer of a thing, with dick-thin arms, slightly angular features, and big blue eyes. Her tits were small bumps in her sweater and her shoulders were narrow, but she had curved hips and a pretty amazing ass which Julie thought made her kind of sexy.
“Like you care about Cameron O’Dell,” Angus chided.
“She’s still a person,” Scotland argued, almost absentmindedly. She was nibbling on a dinner roll and speed texting someone with just her thumb and the swipe feature, though no one really knew who this someone was. She had her secrets. Secrets she didn’t want her “friends” to know about. It bugged Julie. It bugged all of them.
“Who are you texting?” Brayden finally asked.
“No one,” she said, setting her phone down. Her generous smile (her best feature, besides her ass) and improved posture told them she was reentering the social dynamic. “Just a friend of mine in New York.”
“Secret lover, peer or potential job opportunity?” Chastity probed. “Be honest.”
Everyone knew Scotland was dieting hard and practicing her runway strut. All she wanted was to be a model, but Angus told her she wasn’t alien looking enough, and she was too smart. Julie knew several top models. They were smart as hell, though she dared not correct Angus when he was stepping on Scotland’s dreams.
Off the cuff one day, Brayden asked Scotland what problem she would solve if she was granted the financial means and reach, and instead of saying something cliché like end world hunger or feed the star
ving children in…wherever, she said, “I’d start a non-profit clothing line where one hundred percent of the profits would go to researching a cure for Parkinson’s disease. I watched my grandfather lose the use of his limbs. The disease ravaged him. It stole his mobility, his speech, his confidence and his will to live. When he finally gave up and died, his passing devastated me. So that’s what I’d do if I could. No, scratch that,” she said. “That’s what I’m going to do whether I’m a fashion model or not.”
It was hard not to like the girl after hearing something like that.
“So who was on the phone?” Julie asked, chiming in. Everyone’s eyes zeroed in on Scotland now. No way of brushing them off.
“Peer with a potential job opportunity who wants to be my lover. I’m not really attracted to him, but he has connections and I need a way in, so I’m trying to string him along long enough to get my foot in the door without having to blow him, or do blow with him.”
“Jesus,” Brayden said. “So you’re using the guy for his connections?”
“Everyone in either New York or L.A. is just a means to an end. I used to feel bad about it, and maybe part of me still does, but I’m over it. No one gets a break anymore. Multimillion dollar contracts are no longer handed out on merit alone. It’s usually who you’re related to, or who you’re screwing that gets you your first break, but I want to be a virgin a little while longer.”
“You’re no virgin,” Chastity said.
“How long?” Brayden asked.
“First off, I am still a virgin, and second, I’ll stay a virgin for as long as it takes to fall head over heels in love,” she said all sweet and mushy. Julie tried not to gag, but her distaste came out in a look that wasn’t kind. “What?” Scotland asked.
“God, that’s so nineteen-fifties. Sex for love? Who even tries that anymore but Mormons and chicks who can’t pull dicks?”
“I can get plenty of dicks,” Scotland argued, pushing her tray of food aside.
“It’s not the quantity of cocks that count, love,” Brayden waxed, more for Julie’s benefit than Scotland’s, “it’s the quality that matters. For a girl like Scotland, not any dick will do, only the right dick, at the right time and under the right conditions.”
Julie said, “True love is as much an invention of fiction as interdimensional space travel or little green men on Mars. Love is just sustained lust, and guess what? Lust fades eventually. The difference between you and me,” she said to Scotland, who wasn’t having any part of Julie’s argument, “is you’ll need divorce proceedings to move on and I’ll just need a new place and a new guy.”
Looking back and forth between Julie and Brayden, Angus said, “Brayden, you look like you want in on this conversation.”
“I’m an innocent bystander,” Brayden quipped.
She could see in Brayden’s eyes he didn’t share her sentiment. “Like you’ve ever been in love,” Julie said.
“What if I have?” Brayden challenged.
She laughed, and said, “Right. With Abby? That fraud? Abby the girl who tried to hang herself a few days back? That’s the Abby you were head-over-heels for?”
“Yes,” he said, staring at her like she suddenly started speaking in tongues, “that Abby.”
“The same Abby who opened her gash for both Damien and Cayden in the same semester? You and I, we’re talking about the same girl, right? That’s the little hooker you’re talking about?”
“Don’t start pulling skeletons out of peoples’ closets unless you want the same treatment turned on you,” Brayden said patiently, even though color was rising fast in his neck. “This is the kind of shit people who care about each other don’t do.”
“You two really do make a fucked up couple,” Angus said.
“Don’t mind her,” Brayden replied, “she’s an acquired taste.”
Brayden’s gaze bored into Julie for a long time before she realized this was the old Julie talking, the Julie normal people couldn’t stand. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile, pushed her shoulders back, then looked at Angus and said, “There it is, ladies and gents, apparently I taste good.”
Looking at Brayden she smiled and winked. Chastity said, “Ew.” Scotland picked up her cell phone again, shaking her head. Brayden blanched so hard in the face he looked colorless. It wasn’t a perfect social play by any stretch, but it did put the kibosh on the argument.
“I’m so jealous,” Angus finally said, completely shameless.
“I know,” Julie replied with a slow wink.
Leaning into Brayden’s ear, she started to apologize, but then she felt someone standing behind her, so she turned and looked up.
Raven.
The black-haired girl with hypnotic eyes and impossibly balanced features she’d seen before and barely remembered. Raven stood over her and Brayden glaring at them both. Okay, mostly the girl was glaring at Julie.
Raven took her eyes off Julie, put them on Brayden. “This bitch, Brayden?” Raven snarled. “Of all the skanks you could’ve chosen, you choose her? Really?”
Julie’s eyes flashed wide with surprise and anger. Brayden started to speak, but couldn’t find the words.
Still glaring at Julie, Raven said to Brayden, “Yeah, you heard me. This fucking stain doesn’t deserve a hello, a kiss or even your friendship. What she deserves is a memorable ending.”
Julie started to say something, then she stopped. Her chest was fluttering with too much outrage. And there were too many insults swirling around in her head. These insults were so plentiful in fact, that she couldn’t put a single one together because everything she thought to say felt too perfect and too vicious to choose from. So in her infinite humility she just sat there, wordless, quiet and indecisive and looking weak. This was where the old Julie would throw something, food maybe or a drink. Or perhaps even a punch.
“That’s right,” Raven scowled at her. “Do nothing, new Julie. Just sit there trying to act like a good person, trying not to be the sour human wreck you are, and it will literally save your life. Maybe. But this won’t last. You can’t sit there and take it, can you? Even though you deserve this and so much worse.” Dark eyes back on Brayden, Raven said, “Time to pick, Brayden. Her or me, because reformed or not, impregnated or not, you’ll never fit with her. Ever. So just do what you started out to do and get it over with.”
Julie couldn’t help wondering what Raven was talking about, or why she was so mean. What did he start out to do? And how did she know Julie was pregnant? Did Brayden betray her confidence with this psychotic, nasty girl?
“I kind of like her,” Brayden said, meek and totally uncharacteristic of him. “She’s evolving, I guess. Changing.”
“She a for-the-moment fix. A Band-Aid over a bullet hole. Before long she’ll go back to being herself because she won’t be able to help it. Tyrants like her never can. So pick, Brayden. Right now. Me or her?”
He looked at Raven, then at Julie, and then at the others. Finally he stood and said to Julie, “I’m sorry. I really did like being with you.”
“Whatever,” Julie said with the dismissive wave of a hand. In that second, the first thought that came to mind was: I left my friends for you? You spineless prick? “You always were a member of the freak parade. Besides, I’m done slumming anyway.”
Brayden frowned, then said, “Don’t be mean, Jules.”
“Don’t call me that, Seal.” As in his obvious scars.
Apparently this sparked a nerve in Raven, because everything about her demeanor made a mean shift south. Julie glared up at her, steadfast. Raven chewed on her anger, her teeth grinding, something black and smoky changing the color of her eyes. The minute that Julie blinked, Raven did it: she spit a righteous loogie right in Julie’s face.
Whatever changes she made for the better since leaving her friends, that glob of spit undid. It was time to ditch these three nobodies. Even Angus. Her time away from the Bitch Brigade was now over. It was time to get back to herself, to reenter the fold.
“Do that again,” Julie hissed, “and I’ll shove my fist down your throat and pull your asshole out your mouth.”
“Let’s go, Brayden,” Raven said, unmoved.
Julie stood to face Raven, but the girl turned and leveled her with a look that had Julie slamming back down in her seat so hard she felt crammed down by invisible hands. The impact popped something in her neck and spine, sent a sharp pain down the middle of her back.
It was the same way a Chiropractor adjusted your spine, but violently and against her will. And now a nerve was flaring just outside her left shoulder blade.
Jesus God, what the hell was that?! she thought. Hands shoved her down even though no one had touched her. Raven…she just looked at her and…it happened. With that, Brayden and the black haired power-freak left the cafeteria together.
And thank God, because…for real…WTF?!
Capped Stumps
1
I’ve become the mean girl. Which is maybe how I turn out considering the way my future self was imprisoned and then hacked apart, blinded and turned from a meat into a vegetable. Brayden trails behind me, sullen, and when we’re about to sit down at a different table, he says, “No, follow me.”
So I do.
He’s so not happy right now I feel it in my bones. We walk outside in the courtyard and he reads me the freaking riot act. Staring straight into his eyes, not blinking, barely moving, I listen.
What he has to say, my best friend, he insists…yep, he freaking insists…that I apologize to Julie, which I swear on the name of Jesus H. Christ I will not do, but then he convinces me that I’m the asshole here, so I relent. Because he’s right.
“If that’s all,” he says, “I’m going to try to be friends again with the non-triplets since you made me end things with Jules and her new, not-so-bad group of besties.”
“Jules?” she said.