Not the Girls You're Looking For

by Aminah Mae Safi

  “Don’t move, okay, Lulu? I’ve almost got it.” Audrey bit her lip in concentration.

  Lulu sat on the floor of Audrey’s room with her eyes closed.

  Audrey held a pair of tweezers, which, for their part, held one set of false eyelashes. She blew a stream of air across the base of the lashes, trying to get the glue tacky, and then placed the strip along Lulu’s lash line.

  Lulu did her best not to wince. She wouldn’t usually trust Audrey so close to her eye, especially with glue and a sharp, pointy object. But Lulu wore her glasses rather than contacts that night. And Lo was taking her time doing Emma’s makeup. Lulu’s options were between her own blurred vision and Audrey’s lack of coordination. She’d picked Audrey, by a slim margin.

  “Okay. Stay like that,” Audrey commanded. “They’re both on, but don’t open your eyes yet.”

  Lulu tapped her bare foot against the floor. “Sure, sounds fine to me. Do you want me to do yours when I’m dry?”

  “Yes, please. I’ve never been able to get them on without losing half of my lashes in the process,” Audrey said.

  Across the room, Lo snorted.

  “Be nice,” said Emma.

  “Who, moi?” asked Lo.

  Lulu heard a scuffling tumble, and assumed Audrey must have chucked a pillow at Lo’s head. Lo must have retaliated with a makeup brush because she heard its distinctive thwack on the wall nearby. But, as her eyes were closed, Lulu couldn’t be sure.

  Lulu held up her arms. “Y’all. Drying over here. Please don’t cause a wardrobe malfunction.”

  “That is so not what wardrobe malfunction means,” said Lo.

  “You guys hush,” said Emma in an unusually direct way. This was not her normal appeal for peace. Her voice vibrated with too much energy. Her fingers tapped against the floor with too much urgency. “You know—”

  But Audrey was already talking over her. “Guess what? Tonight, I’m going to go for it. Clark Kelly. It’s do or die.”

  “Attagirl!!” Lulu squealed, bouncing in her cross-legged position.

  “Finally,” said Lo.

  Emma said nothing, her voice having stopped where it caught when Audrey spoke over her.

  Not that Audrey noticed this. “I know I am going to be brave. Brave like you, Lulu. Except more like me.”

  “Audrey, that makes zero sense.” Lulu squinted her eyes, testing the glue. She felt the lashes shift slightly and made her face placid again.

  “I mean you’re brave. But I’m not gonna be like how you would be brave. I don’t want to make out with, I mean, anyone.” Judgment rattled through Audrey’s voice.

  “I’m going to pretend there wasn’t a veiled insult in there somewhere, Mrs. Bachmann.” Lulu tapped her fingers at the base of her lashes. They were so close to dry.

  Lo laughed. Emma forced a chuckle.

  Audrey smacked Lulu’s arm. “Ugh, you suck. I am nothing like my mother. You can probably open now.”

  Lulu fluttered her eyes open, admiring herself in the mirror propped up against the wall. “Oh, perfect, Audrey Louise! We’re gonna look so good. I mean we already look so good, but with the costumes on, it’s gonna be epic.”

  “I know, my turn.” Audrey stepped in front of Lulu, blocking the view to the mirror.

  “And Emma is done!” said Lo, with a flourish of her makeup brush.

  Emma gave a milquetoast smile.

  “Oh, come on, it’s better than that.” Lo put her hand on her hip. Her own makeup was, of course, already complete.

  At the sight of Lo’s disbelief, Emma laughed and was more herself again. Emma finished by twisting her hair into two braids. Lulu placed Audrey’s false lashes without incident. Audrey cut the sleeves off Lulu’s sweater. She and Lulu drew matching bicep tattoos on each other, though Audrey’s drawing was slightly cleaner and more neatly done than Lulu’s. Fully composed, they all appraised themselves and one another in the mirror as they jockeyed for space.

  Lo blew an air kiss at her reflection. “Now or never.” She grabbed Emma and pulled her out of the room.

  Lulu hooked Audrey’s arm through her own. She felt ready for whatever the night would bring. “Let’s.”

  * * *

  Lulu parked, and her carful of girls unloaded. Lo wore the ladybug costume, with a tutu that encircled her hips, creating a protective buffer between her body and the rest of the world. Emma’s hair was sweetly plaited into two French braids, her blue-checkered dress flouncing as she walked. She made a convincing Dorothy. Audrey, with her white thigh highs, combat boots, fake tattoos, and curled hair, looked the least like herself. She had a powerful aura in her disguise, though none of them were sure as to whether the effect was real or not.

  Lulu hopped out of the driver’s seat last, her body humming with excitement. Her hands moved over her hips as they tested the edge of her impossibly short shorts. Half an inch less and she’d be out of them. But she’d bought them and put them on, so there was no sense in worrying about it now. She fingered through her bobbed wig. The plastic strands snagged when she reached the bottom. She resmoothed out the edges and left the wig alone. Nothing she could do about that, either.

  At the door, Lulu took the lead, giving off the best, and most sober, first impression to the authority figures waiting there. The four were admitted without incident. Lulu scanned the scene. The music was loud, too loud for talking. The bass thumped into Lulu’s chest. The hook whined through her ears. Lo had already grabbed Emma, swooping her body to the right. Emma giggled and swayed, having the opportunity tonight to drink rather than stay sober and drive. They settled in a spot near the thick of the crowd. Audrey trailed behind them. But Lulu preferred to take a lap first. She would have preferred to take it with Audrey, but she squished through the pressing of bodies alone, giving her greetings where appropriate. Nina was there already, dressed as a disco ball in a spangley leotard.

  “Thanks for the wig!” Lulu put a hand on her hip, appraising. “Aren’t you festive.”

  “’Tis the season.” Nina gave a twirl. Not that she had anything to twirl other than the leotard. She leaned in and spoke at a serious whisper. “Don’t look now, but you’ve got a lurker right behind you.”

  Lulu, of course, had to look right now. She stopped midclap to turn. Brian Connor stood alone in the crowd—rare for a great sharer of weed—and like a flash Lulu had a plan for the night. Halloween was, after all, good for a little subterfuge. “Hold that thought.”

  Nina, who was born for mischief, winked.

  Lulu sauntered over to him, an impish thought in mind. “Hey, Brian.”

  “Hey, Lulu.” He returned her smirk, clearly hoping it looked as charming as her own did.

  Lulu’s smile broadened. “Are you going to ask Emma to dance?”

  Brian shook his head a little, like he’d misheard her. “Am I what?”

  True, Lulu couldn’t be entirely sure if Emma had been looking at Brian at the Battle of the Bands, but this ought to be the best way to find out. Lulu scanned the crowd and found Emma, who returned Lulu’s enthusiastic grin. Emma—who rarely grinned across rooms like that—must have been having a marvelous night already.

  Lulu arched her eyebrows at Brian. “Ask Emma. To dance.”

  Brian, reading meaning where he was ready to see it, smiled over Lulu’s head. “You know, I think I might.”

  Laughing, tipsy Emma swayed as Brian approached. Brian was quick to lend a hand to catch her. But he didn’t release her once she’d steadied. Confusion danced across Emma’s face. He led her onto the dance floor. Lulu could somehow hear the squeaking resistance of Emma’s shoes against the linoleum floor. Lulu took a step forward, conscious of a misstep on that front, when a hand shot out and grabbed Lulu’s forearm in a vise grip.

  Audrey, whose face had gone a bit slack, held on to Lulu as if she could not support herself. Lulu looked around until she saw Clark Kelly hanging on to that freshman girl with the fantastic bangs. And he was enthralled by her.

  Lu
lu should have learned the girl’s name by now, but instead she thought of her as Bangs. The freshman had borrowed one of her friend’s cheerleading uniforms as a costume, and every time her hips moved with the music, Lulu thought she nearly saw a flash of her underwear. Lulu pulled down her own shorts, which covered little more than underwear themselves. The grip on Lulu’s arm disappeared. Then Clark leaned down to Bangs’s mouth, and Lulu didn’t have to watch the rest to see what would happen next. Lulu turned quickly to gauge Audrey’s feelings. But Audrey had disappeared.

  Lulu spun around once in a circle, hoping Audrey was still behind her. Who she found instead was Lo, rubbing at the inside of her thigh.

  “Damn. That was my favorite flask,” Lo said. “My only flask, point of fact.”

  Lulu wiped a hand across her face. “You fit a flask in that costume?”

  Lo shrugged. She lifted up her ladybug skirt to reveal shorts underneath. “I always bring a backup. You know that.”

  “Audrey will bring it back.” At least, Lulu hoped she would.

  “She better,” said Lo. “Or she’s gonna owe me one.”

  “That is so besides the point.” Lulu squinted, trying to scan the crowd, but Audrey was already lost to the sea of movement and the darkness of the room. Lulu looked over to Emma and Brian then. Her eyes narrowed, watching them. Something was off. For every move Brian made forward, Emma pulled back. Then Brian’s mouth was on Emma’s, and in the dark Lulu couldn’t tell if her friend had gone slack into his arms or melted into the embrace. She couldn’t remember if Emma had ever kissed a boy before.

  Lulu felt a tap at her shoulder. Hopeful it was Audrey, she whipped around. But it was only a sophomore boy. One of the more attractive ones, as far as that grade went. He asked Lulu to dance, and Lo, at the ready, declined on Lulu’s behalf. Lulu made an apologetic face. The boy, with what can only be described as a taste for masochism, stayed beside the two girls. When Lulu turned around, Emma was no longer on the dance floor. Brian, now alone, had been abandoned.

  “A sophomore, really? You could so do better.” Lo made an elongated O with her mouth, wiping some errant lip gloss off the side of her lips.

  “Lo, he’s cute. And, whatever.” Then Lulu leaned in so that only Lo could hear. “Nothing was gonna happen.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it. Besides he’s so not cute. Pasty levels of pale.”

  “He’s not deaf.” Lulu pointed to where the unsettled boy hovered.

  “Are you still standing here?” asked Lo.

  The boy jumped, like a startled woodland creature. Lo meant for him to scamper off, but he either didn’t take the hint or was too frozen in the beam of Lo’s displeasure to move.

  “We said no, thank you. You want an engraved rejection?” Lo asked.

  The boy didn’t move. Definitely frozen in fear, then.

  “These are not the girls you’re looking for.” Lo waved her hands with a beautifully executed flourish.

  The boy’s whole face flushed a deep magenta. He scuttled off. Lo turned to face Lulu. If it were a blinking contest, Lulu would have lost immediately. Lulu felt her eyelashes coming unstuck with the heat, which only made her flutter them more exaggeratedly. She pressed a finger to the ridge of her lash line. Lo twitched, watching Lulu’s makeup succumb to the inevitable. Lo’s makeup knew better than to be so disobedient.

  “I can accept and reject my own dance offers.” Lulu didn’t appreciate Lo’s interference. Sure, the boy was pale, but he had an adorable dimple on the right side of his mouth when he smiled.

  “I was giving you a taste of your own medicine. Why were you pushing Brian onto Emma?” Lo swiped her finger around her mouth again, even though her lip color hadn’t run in the slightest.

  Lulu understood Lo’s meddling now—it was of her instructive variety. “I was not pushing. Just, you know, hinting.”

  “Audrey is less subtle with a hint.” Lo dabbed the sweat under her eyes so it neatly collected into her tear ducts at the inner corner, then blinked the liquid away, creating no mess at all. Whenever life went haywire, Lo took the extra time to perfect herself. “It’s not polite to shove your leftovers on your friends.”

  “Whoa. I saw her checking him out at the concert last week. I was trying to help. But fine. Make me the asshole.”

  “I see.” Lo arched a single eyebrow. “How ’bout we find you someone other than a sophomore for tonight. I mean, really.”

  Lulu squirmed under Lo’s appraisal. “I just want to have fun.”

  “I know, lovey. I’m trying to facilitate that for you. Exactly like you did for darling Emma.” Lo’s words began to slur and her movements exaggerated into Lulu’s space. The effects of alcohol were showing.

  “Then come dance with me.” Lulu pulled Lo by one arm, before her friend could return to any further makeup inspections or personal criticisms.

  “Please.” Lo stuck her hand so into Lulu’s face that Lulu had to duck not to have a palm shoved up her nose.

  “Come on.” Lulu yanked her friend again.

  Lo protested with a delightful pout, dragging her heels until she forgot she wanted to. Lulu managed a minute of dancing before a member of the soccer team pulled Lo away. Lulu wasn’t sure which one, in costume. The best features of any of them were their legs anyway, so Lulu rarely wasted her time looking at their faces. Alone, Lulu scanned the crowd around her, hoping to spot Audrey. She turned around, several times, finding nothing. Until on her final spin, she found herself face-to-chest with Dane Anderson.

  “Well, hello,” he said, smiling down at her. “What do we have here?”

  “Velma Dinkley. And you are?” Lulu asked, partly out of obligation but mostly out of a need to have anything intelligible to say to such a distracting version of him. She knew it didn’t matter what Dane’s costume was meant to be, as the whole point of his attire was to walk around shirtless, exposing his perfect abs all night, inflicting them on an unsuspecting populace. She hated the sight of them, particularly as they incited her to reach out and rest her hand carelessly across his stomach.

  Half-dressed as he was, Lulu could hardly pretend not to appreciate his bared body. But neither could she pretend she wasn’t disgusted by his sense of total self-assurance. He was a boy, weaponized. Worse, she knew he’d done it on purpose. And worse still, she keenly felt how well his tactics were working. She was glad to be sober tonight, after all. She didn’t think about how woozy an entire day of hunger had made her, sated as she had been by her large, but not quite large enough dinner. She especially didn’t think on how depleted her willpower had been from a day already spent in physical denial.

  “Hmmm, I could be Freddie if you like.” His words were slurred and his voice purred with a purposeful aggression.

  “I don’t like.” Lulu spoke her mind, though her body moved to disagree. She blinked one too many times to be convincing. “Besides, you’d need to find Daphne if you’re going to be Freddie.”

  Lulu, trying to focus anywhere but on his perfect stomach, looked up. He tossed his hair with a beautiful flip. She was reminded of the one time she’d played basketball and had caught the ball squarely with her face. She tried to remember what she’d been doing only a moment before, how to get away from temptation incarnate. But Dane quickly intruded in on her space, stepping right in front of her and continuing the conversation he meant to have with her.

  “Nah, I think Freddie always secretly harbored a crush on Velma. He was just too manly and in need of a trophy girlfriend to admit it.” Dane brushed his elbow up against Lulu’s. His skin was already damp with sweat.

  “If he was so manly, then why did he wear an ascot?” Unfortunately, her own mention of neckwear made her stare in the hollow at the base of Dane’s throat, right where his collarbone started. She couldn’t trust what her hands would do anymore. Lulu crossed her arms.

  “Come on, Dinkley, dance with me.” He tugged until her arms uncrossed.

  “Anderson, that’s not my name.” She wa
nted to roll her eyes at him, but all her energy was reserved for continuing to look him in the face.

  “You can pretend you don’t hate me for one dance.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him. “You won’t regret it.”

  Lulu allowed herself to be led back into the throng of the dance floor. She winced as her body slammed into his. “Wanna bet?”

  Pressed up against him, Lulu could smell the peppermint and gin on his breath again. She could feel his stomach up against hers, while his hand slowly slid down her back. But she looked up into his eyes and they were hazy and vacant. She turned around so he was mashed up against her back. He waited a few beats and pivoted her so she faced him directly. Avoiding eye contact, Lulu pressed herself closer into his frame so her head sat against his shoulder, using his body as a makeshift shield against his lure. Dane didn’t do anything to move her from this position.

  His momentary patience would be her undoing.

  Lulu lost herself in the music, the rhythm of it. His body moved and hers responded. If she was in control of herself at this moment, she didn’t know it. Her fingers gripped into his bare back reflexively. In that instant, everything shifted. He pressed his tongue clumsily into her mouth as his lips crashed up against hers. Lulu felt her sobriety then—too alert to disconnect from what was happening, too capable of feeling every brush of skin up against skin to not keep going. Her thoughts were a panicked blur—trying to figure out how she could pull out of this position, trying to figure out how she could pull him deeper into the corner of the room.

  Lulu’s hand grazed Dane’s flexed stomach. Immediately responding, Dane’s hand snaked up the front of her shirt, grabbing for her chest. She pushed it down, but he continued unabated. She didn’t know how to make his hands stop so she pressed her mouth onto his more firmly and pulled his body toward her, forcing their chests flush against each other. But his strong arms maintained control of the situation in a way Lulu was unprepared to deal with. His other hand groped her mostly bare thighs, finding their way under the edge of her minuscule shorts. His fingers prodded along slender muscle that joined her thigh to her groin. This had to stop. She didn’t know how to make him stop. He would go where he wanted. One yes had become a surrogate for all yeses. Lulu had to get out. Nothing else was working; she shoved her hands hard up against Dane’s chest.