by Ryan Schow
What? Is this a joke? I realize I haven’t said anything, that I’m just staring at her. “Are you for real or—”
“I’m sooo for real. Honestly. Coolest thing ever.” We smile at each other and she says, “I need to go, but anytime you need my puke for that walking STD, or anything else, you let me know.”
I nod and she walks away and that’s when I look at the girls looking at me and I say, “Well that was unexpected.”
Suddenly I’m smiling, and it’s contagious because now the girls are smiling, too, and we’re all feeling pretty good together. Emotionally, this is the most comfortable I’ve been in years. In my heart, though, I just know something is going to come along and screw it all up.
5
My first two classes go as expected, my teachers revealing one shocking truth about the real world after another, and then third period rolls around and Brayden is wanting to know about hacking into the school records, if I got what I needed.
“Jackpot,” I tell him.
“Spill it bitch,” he says and I recoil.
“Bitch bad,” I ask, “or bitch good?”
He rolls his eyes, huffs out a sigh and says, “What do you think ding-dong?”
“Bitch good?”
He smiles, winks at me. The funny thing about Brayden is, the more I get to know him the less ugly he becomes. It’s weird how that happens sometimes. How when you become friends with someone you stop seeing what’s in front of your face and you start seeing what’s inside them, and in Brayden’s case the inside is so much better looking than the outside.
I say, “I got her general info, medical records, and school contracts. Like I said, I hit a righteous freaking jackpot.”
He makes a sigh, the kind of sigh a girl gets when she says she’s in love for the first time. Though, I can’t really say what this sigh feels like because the closest I’ve come to true love was with Damien Rhodes and that lasted about three seconds. That’s how long it took him to open his big, stupid mouth and ruin it. Then, of course, Jacob Brantley was dreamy as well, until he did what he did back in Palo Alto, so there’s that. All things being equal, I’m certain true love is for suckers.
“I’m in love with your computer. And with the internet. It’s all I thought about last night. That and how you totally turned into Charles Manson on me in the last second.”
“I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t you.”
“Yeah well, whatever the case, to be honest, I spent the better part of the night in a wash of post-hacking ecstasy. I barely even thought of you.”
I can’t help rolling my eyes and laughing. His grin is contagious. I wonder what it would be like to have my computer and internet freedoms revoked by the Federal Government, especially if hacking was my only passion in life. How handicapped I would feel.
“Don’t you do anything else for fun?” I ask.
“Like what, get drunk or high? Sleep with different girls? Masturbate? No. Hell no.”
“Don’t you read books, or watch television or anything?”
“I stopped reading for pleasure when I finished Harry Potter book seven, and now television just blows. Except for Dexter and Sons of Anarchy re-runs. And maybe Game of Thrones.”
“What about the other four, do you hang out with them at all?”
“The other four who?”
“Laura, Tyler, the skinny dude and something Cranston. You know, Janine’s—” I stop myself, but not soon enough. Damn.
“Janine’s what?”
Double damn. Now my expressions are betraying me, I can feel it happening.
“Just say it. Janine’s what?”
I take a deep breath, give an involuntary shrug, then spit it out. “Janine’s ugly six. Us. That’s my nickname for all of us. When I was feeling horrible about myself, when I first arrived at school, the lady who showed me around, Janine, she said I wasn’t the only ugly person here, that there were five more. Not including me. Ever since I got here, I’ve sort of thought of us as Janine’s ugly six.”
He looks offended. “You saying I’m ugly?”
Smoothing things over would be the prudent choice, but the new me pops her head up and says, “Not just ugly, butt ugly like me. And Cranston and Laura and Tyler and…”
“Oakley. The skinny dude. He’s anorexic, but like I said, he’s on a pretty good diet and he’s gained ten pounds since he’s been here.” I keep waiting for him to blow up, or make that lopsided grin. I can’t read his face.
“I should be embarrassed,” I say. “It’s terrible, me thinking like that, but I’m so used to people not saying the truth that honesty feels like a relief these days.”
“You really think I’m ugly?” he says, his eyes hurt.
I look away, then back at him. Keeping in character, I say: “Oh yeah, totally.”
His hurt gives way to his trademark grin and he slaps my arm and says, “Just playing with you. I know I’m ugly. At least I have character. The rest of these parasites,” he says, his voice lifting a bit, “they’re social clones. Always trying to be like someone else. Always thinking they’re more important than they really are because of their looks and their parents’ money. At least I’m not ugly on the inside. Half the people in this school don’t even have souls.”
A very good looking blonde I don’t know turns and says, “Something’s wrong with you, Brayden. Seriously.”
“Well, yeah. On a scale of one to ten, this place sucks ass.”
Frowning, the girl turns back around.
Lowering my voice, I say, “I kinda like this place, actually. With the exception of Julie, Cameron and Theresa, and maybe only half the rest of the school.”
“Yeah,” he says. “The thing about people like Julie and Cameron, though, is whatever you do to them, they’re going to do it back to you, but worse. I should’ve warned you earlier.”
6
During lunch I ask the girls if I can invite Brayden and his friends over. They look at each other for half a second and then they all nod.
I say, “For real?”
Bridget says, “Yeah, for real,” like it’s no biggie.
I excuse myself and head over to Janine’s ugly five and invite them over. Brayden stands up, delighted, but the other four are nodding their heads.
“Nope,” Sunshine says. “Not eating with the clones. Not one bite.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard the non-triplets referred to as the clones. I have to say, it’s been difficult—no it’s been downright impossible—to not think about how identical they look. Their personalities definitely differ, as do the ways they look and dress, and how they act and speak, but it’s ridiculous trying to pretend there’s not something strange going on. Deep down, it’s not exactly a dead issue with me, I just need time to earn their trust, to maybe discover the truth on my own.
“C’mon,” I say to Sunshine. “Give them a chance.”
The boys (Tyler and Oakley) remain seated, deferring to Sunshine. Brayden says, “Guys, no hottie will ever invite us anywhere. Ever. Certainly not three hotties like this. So stop acting like a bunch of pussies and let’s go already.”
“Of course,” Laura says to Brayden, clearly upset. “It’s all about looks with you.”
“I’m a man, so it’s always going to be about looks. We’re not sentimental creatures attaching ourselves to our emotions and our feelings or how many different purses and pairs of shoes we can own at once. We like good looking women. Period.”
“First off, you’re sixteen,” Sunshine says. “You’re not a man. You can’t even grow a proper mustache.”
Brayden rubs the patchy fuzz on his upper lip and chin, then says, “It’s not the hair that makes the man.”
I’m thinking, in his case, it’s the hair that makes the man ugly. Rather, it’s a contributing factor.
Tyler says, “Dude, you didn’t even get your first pubic hairs ‘till you were fourteen.”
“It was a mental decision,” Brayden says, coolly.
“Whatever,” Brayden says. “I’m going with Savannah. Who else is going?”
Tyler gets up and says, “Hot chicks are hot chicks. Sorry, girls.”
With a sour looking face just shy of pouting, Sunshine with the braces and frizzy hair says, “If you go with her, don’t come back to us.”
Tyler hesitates, looks at me and Brayden, then obviously consternated, he sits down and says, “Sorry, Brayden.”
Brayden heaves an exhausted sigh and says, “It’s crazy that a trio of ‘clones’”—here he uses finger quotes so as not to offend—“are kind enough to invite us into their circle, but the humans don’t have the heart enough to accept. It’s hypocritical if you think about it.”
“No, it’s not,” Sunshine says. “They’re clones.”
Laura says, “Sunshine,” almost as a warning. It’s hard trying to forget how nice Laura is to the non-triplets in PE. Of all the people I expected to join us, Laura would have been my best guess.
“They’re people,” I say, getting upset. “And if you call them clones again, then we’re not friends. Any of you.”
“How do you know they aren’t clones?” Oakley says. It’s like a mouse speaking.
“Who cares what they are? We all know what it’s like to be excluded, unpopular and ugly, but with them you don’t have to feel any of that. So go ahead and criticize them while you sit here in isolation with your own bitter selves for company. But realize you’re doing to them what everyone else does to us, and that makes you worse than hypocritical. That makes you freaking stupid. Let’s go, Brayden.”
Brayden joins us for lunch, but instead of eating his food, he just stares at us as we talk amongst each other. Finally Bridget says, “Aren’t you supposed to be all outspoken and talkative and all that?”
“I’m stuck,” he says, and it doesn’t sound like him. He sounds…nervous.
“How so?” Victoria asks.
“Don’t know who to be in love with most.” We all start laughing. “Serious. All of you…are…you’re like…perfect.”
Georgia says, “We’re not without our flaws. But that’ll take time for you to see. Once you get to know us, you’ll probably end up falling in love with Savannah.”
“No, I don’t think so,” he says. “I mean—”
“He thinks I’m ugly,” I say, matter of fact. Brayden nods his head, like those bobble heads you see in the windows of mini-vans. I’m still angry at Sunshine, at what has now become Janine’s ugly four, and it’s showing in my voice.
“She’s not ugly,” Georgia says, quick to my defense.
Brayden says, “Inside, no. Not by a mile. But outside? Totally ugly, but not as much as I first thought. Or maybe it’s the weight loss. Who knows, maybe I’ll fall in love with her personality. But I won’t date her. We can’t date.”
“Why not?” Victoria says. “And for the record, I don’t think she’s ugly either.”
“Yeah,” Bridget agrees.
“What makes any of you think I’d date him?” I ask. “The fact that we both have standards higher than our stations in life makes dating each other impossible.”
“Yeah,” Brayden says. “What she said.”
“Well I totally disagree,” Georgia says.
“It’s not because I’m shallow, or narcissistic,” he says. “It’s my childhood conditioning. My father’s ugly like me, but my mom—I mean my step-mom—is beautiful. My dad says success is a better magnet than good looks.”
“It’s different,” Georgia says.
“Your dad’s full of crap,” Bridget says. “People can hide behind money the same as they can hide behind their good looks. You can’t fall in love with someone until you really know them.”
“Says the girl who’s made cookies twice,” Victoria teases. Now I’m certain making cookies is code for getting laid. By the confusion on Brayden’s face, I don’t think he gets it.
We carry on with the discussion until it’s time for fourth period and, all in all, Brayden’s introduction into the fold goes well. Before leaving, he still swears he’s in love with all three of them.
Victoria says, “You keep talking like that and you can eat with us anytime you want.”
Brayden says, “Is everyday okay? Because I think I’m now an outcast in my homeland.”
Let’s Get Naked…Hello Alaska
1
Fourth period Investigative Journalism goes much like the rest of my classes, except for one crucial element that has me perking up. Today we’re learning the basics of conducting critical witness interviews. The whole time I’m listening, in my mind I’m deciding to visit Kaitlyn’s parents’ home up in Auburn. Already I’m thinking today is the day. I’m nervous about the whole interview, especially since it involves their dead daughter and I won’t be calling ahead. When it comes to protocol, especially with sensitive subjects like whistleblowers or grieving spouses, Professor Rhonimus says, “You should always call first and set something up ahead of time, unless you want the element of surprise working in your favor.”
Maybe I’ll call on the way there. I can’t exactly tell them about my assignment, and my creative juices are flat dry right now. I’m not sure what I’m going to say yet, but I still have a couple hours to figure it out. Or maybe I won’t call at all.
In fifth period Miss Hunnicut asks about my diet and I tell her healthy food sucks but I’m giving it a try and she says, “Good, because the way you’re on a strict diet is the way you’re about to be on a structured workout.” She hands me a sheet and says, “Ten minutes on the treadmill, fifteen on the weights—I’ll help you on that—then a final fifteen on the treadmill. Starting now.” I stare at her like she’s in deep space, and she says, “When I say now, I mean this very second.”
I get on the treadmill next to Laura and say, “Hi.”
She mutters a hello, then says, “Are you mad about yesterday? At lunch?”
“Sort of.”
“Sunshine’s boyfriend left her for a prettier girl at her last school, so now Sunshine hates everyone pretty. She thinks they’re all fake, and I’m afraid there’s no changing her mind.”
“Well, her prejudice is hurting all of you.”
She slows her run to a jog, takes a sip of water and says, “I know.” She looks around, then says, “I know they’re your friends, but there’s something…unnatural…about them. I mean three different girls from three different sets of parents who look exactly alike?”
“They don’t look exactly alike,” I say, uncomfortable with the lie. After all, they’re freaking identical. “Plus, you act really friendly towards them. Is that just an act?”
“No, I do like them. But you of all people should be able to see through the hair and makeup and clothes. Haven’t you ever looked at them in the shower? Haven’t you ever seen them from behind? It’s why they’re so unpopular.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re clones, Savannah.”
“I hate that word. And I can’t believe you’re talking like this.”
Whatever the case, my point isn’t worth arguing. For the next forty minutes I practically die in silence in the gym, sweating buckets, panting, holding down lunch, until finally I collapse on the floor and Miss Hunnicut has to put a cool washcloth on my face. I might have passed out. The next thing I know Georgia and Bridget and Miss Hunnicut are carrying me to the locker room with Victoria in tow. The girls are as sweaty as me, and just like me, they stink.
“Whew, you need a shower!” Georgia says. Dread surges through me like adrenaline. We get into the locker room, they set me down, and Miss Hunnicut says a cool shower will do me good. The girls strip out of their gym clothes. Miss Hunnicut leaves. I’m still not used to seeing other girls naked. It’s uncomfortable. The non-triplets head into the showers, the three of them sharing a single, circular six head column. I’m slow t
o undress, my stomach seizing at the thought of being naked in the showers with all my grotesqueness revealed. That’s when I see Victoria’s leg. Just below her left butt cheek, high on the back of her thigh, is a birthmark the shape of Alaska. Georgia and Bridget have the same birthmark in exactly the same place, and now I know why people call them the clones. Something in me feels like a flushed toilet. It’s like vertigo. A sickness of doubt.
Rather than showering, I pull my clothes on and leave as fast as possible. In my head, I’m wondering if they’re even real. If they have souls. For the first time since taking Gerhard’s shots, I really want to cry.
My friends, are they even human?
In sixth period Psychology, I ignore Bridget and Georgia as they come in. In my peripheral vision I see them looking at me. My eyes stare straight ahead.
Julie and Cameron breeze into class looking like they just won the lottery. The way they sneer at me when they walk past, it has me concerned. I know there will be retaliation for the bucket of barf, I just don’t know how bad it’s going to be. Or when. The waiting is agonizing! And the way Brayden makes it sound?—according to him, I’ll be dead before the weekend.
Me dead?
Oh sweet Jesus, a girl can dream.
They sit down, then both of them look at me and snicker. Cameron says to Julie, “You’re so bad,” and the two of them giggle some more.
When Professor Teller walks in everyone goes quiet and class begins. The first couple of days of this unusually good behavior was unsettling, but I’m getting used to it. I wonder if they all know how much their schooling costs, if maybe that’s why they’re more interested in paying attention during class than socializing.
Today Professor Teller talks about the mirroring principle. How ironic. I’ve been thinking about Georgia being a mirror image of Victoria who is a mirror image of Bridget who is a mirror image of Georgia. I know it’s not the same thing, but it has me thinking about how the non-triplets won’t tell me their secret. When class is over I try to escape, but Georgia cuts me off at the door.