Not the Girls You're Looking For

by Aminah Mae Safi

  “That is so unfair.” He sounded about twelve shades of defeated.

  “Unfair? But you won,” Lulu said coyly. She played innocent one tick too well.

  James glared.

  “Next time,” Lulu said, “particularly if I’m involved—think about the logistics of your dare.”

  Her smile was thorough. She stared unabashedly as his long, lean legs. He tried to maintain eye contact, but it couldn’t have been easy for him. Then a slightly distracted look crossed his face and he broke their gaze.

  “That’s nice.” James pointed at her throat.

  “What is?” she asked, still smirking in victory.

  He stepped closer and gingerly grabbed her necklace between his index finger and thumb. Lulu’s breath caught.

  “I didn’t notice it before,” he said.

  “I got it last Christmas.” Lulu responded automatically. She hadn’t moved.

  “You celebrate Christmas?” he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.

  “Of course I celebrate Christmas; what kind of American kid doesn’t celebrate Christmas?” Lulu said with as much annoyance in her voice as she could muster. The irony of the statement was not lost on her, considering the gifted necklace had a charm of gold in the shape of the Sword of Ali. She glared at him.

  “Some don’t.” He tilted his head.

  Lulu mirrored his movement. She’d never broken her fasting like this before. Lulu licked her lips. And then the door slammed open.

  Matt burst into the room with his leg propped on the door somehow, holding a plate in each hand and one in the crook of his elbow. He hardly looked up. “So, I made several Hot Pockets, and one of the forty-eight packs of pizza snacks in your freezer. And a couple of Pop-Tarts—” He looked up and froze, midmovement.

  James dropped the necklace.

  “I am going back downstairs.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe outside. I don’t think I can ever un-see this.”

  Lulu stood inches away from James, still wearing his pants. James, in a shirt and boxers, wore such a look of mortification that Lulu couldn’t stand it—she cracked, doubling over in laughter.

  “No,” she said, trying to respond. But she couldn’t get any other words out. She flapped her hands at Matt. She was in too much pain, her laughter having gripped her so. She bent over at the hip, but the legs were too tight to bend at the knees. She half hobbled, half fell onto the bed. This only served to worsen her state. She gripped the sides of her ribs, still unable to control her laughter.

  “Stay.” She was stuck, halfway bent across James’s bed, in pants that felt like a sports bra for her ass, laughing until tears started streaming down her face. “Stay.”

  Matt stood still in the doorway. James’s face flushed through a rainbow of colors—from pink to red to purple and back to pink again.

  “Close the door, man,” James managed.

  Matt shut the door.

  Lulu took in big gulps of air, her breathing finally steadying her. She twisted herself upward, nearly tripping on the extra seven inches or so of fabric wrapped around her feet. She hopped and shimmied out of the pants.

  “Oh my God, I’m leaving.” Matt leaped for the door again.

  “Wait up! No! I’m wearing another pair of pants! And I need a ride!”

  Matt acquiesced, still reeling from the shock of it all. He hadn’t even set down the snacks. Lulu tossed the jeans back at James, and winked. Matt exited, bounding down the stairs.

  Lulu turned to face James at the threshold of the door. “Thanks. I had fun.”

  “Okay,” James mumbled.

  “I’ll see you around, Denair.” She threw him her most winning smile, which cracked wider when he made eye contact. She left, following Matt down.

  13

  The White Rabbit

  Emma did not sit with them at lunch. The slumber party should have made everything better, soothing ruffled feathers and the like. Instead Emma sat three tables over, having mentioned something about a newspaper interview. Again.

  A newspaper interview, Lulu’s right foot.

  Emma was avoiding them. That much was plain and obvious. Nobody did an interview during lunch unless their article was due that afternoon. And not only was Emma a photographer on a voluntary writing assignment, Emma’s article wasn’t due until next week. Emma might have been a girl who liked to prepare in advance, but nobody prepared that far ahead. Not even a diligent photographer looking to switch into writing. Maybe she just needed space. Lulu watched the back of Emma’s head as her curls bounced. She was nodding animatedly and scribbling into her notebook.

  “There’s a party at Dixon’s this weekend,” said Audrey, interrupting Lulu’s thoughts. “I thought we’d all go together. Like Halloween.”

  Lo laughed. “Maybe leave the Daphne costume at home, though.”

  Audrey flushed from her neck to her hairline. “Obviously not precisely like Halloween. But the togetherness. Of before.”

  “We’re missing a key ingredient to that recipe.” Lulu pointed to where Emma sat. “Walker defected to the freshmen.”

  Lo rolled her eyes. “She did not defect. She’s writing an article.”

  Lulu raised both her eyebrows. As if Lo believed that.

  Audrey, who sat on the edge of her chair, popped up in an instant. “I’ll get her.”

  And then Audrey was gone, over to Emma. She gesticulated wildly as she caught Emma’s attention. As Audrey’s speech quickened and intensified, so too did the frown across Emma’s face. Lulu had never seen Emma’s politeness fail so spectacularly before. Emma tilted her head for a moment, and her eye caught Lulu’s. Emma’s face was so blank, so unreadable, that Lulu guessed she was turning them down. Emma looked away, back to Audrey. Untethered, Lulu stared back at the empty spot on the table where her food ought to have been. Her stomach flipped. But she’d give Emma time. Sometimes, people just needed time. Lulu had learned that from her mother, of all people.

  A scraping sounded just beside Lulu. Lo was up, her lunch tray in hand. “Gotta run.”

  Lulu held her hands up. “We’ve still got half an hour left of lunch!”

  “I know. Nearly out of time.” Lo tossed a fake kiss into the air.

  “Lo.” Lulu got up with Lo, having no food or trays to encumber her own escape from the dining hall.

  There was such a weight in that one word. And Lo’s response to Lulu’s worry—which was more like criticism, honestly—had been to scoff and say, “Whatever, Lulu. He’s smoking hot and I’m going to hit it.”

  Scumbag Luke. Lo was back to hooking up with Scumbag Luke. He didn’t even go to school here with them. How Lo managed to find time in the middle of the day to rumple his gorgeous mane of hair, well, it was not only a mystery, it was damned impressive. Lulu followed quickly on Lo’s heels. “Lo, you’re fucking a racist!”

  Lo had laughed at that. “I know.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  “His pain is. I can see it. He hates the part of himself that’s attracted to me. But he also hates the part of himself who thinks horrible, racist things. I can see that war. And maybe he’ll battle that for his entire life. Or maybe he won’t. I don’t know; I doubt I’ll be around.” Lo shrugged her annoying, lilting shrug.

  “So you’re going to go around fucking racists trying to change their minds?” Lulu grabbed Lo’s wrist. “What a volunteering spirit you have.”

  Lo snatched her wrist back from Lulu’s grip. “God, Lulu, you’re a riot. No. I’m not going to do that.”

  “Then, what?”

  “People are complicated. I’m attracted to a racist. He’s attracted to what he’s been taught to hate. Maybe we’re trying to play with power we don’t quite have or understand. Or maybe it’s a rebellion thing. I don’t know. But I can appreciate the irony of the situation. I can laugh at it, at least.”

  “You’re smarter than anyone gives you credit for,” said Lulu.

  “I know.”

  “That doesn’t bother y
ou?”

  “Sometimes,” said Lo. “I don’t mind being underestimated.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then those bastards never see me coming.” And that was Lo’s coup de grâce.

  Lulu watched as Lo exited the dining hall, leaving Lulu to stand stupefied and alone.

  * * *

  Dixon Harrison had the sort of house made for profligacy—four floors, a plot of land with a wide berth from the neighbors, a swimming pool, and winding roads that concealed the number of cars parking in the neighborhood. Dixon would have likely sat atop the social heap without such amenities. But the house helped. Even Dixon knew that.

  Lulu sat in the passenger seat of Audrey’s royal purple cabriolet, parked across the street from the Harrison house. The soft top was up, increasing the cramped feeling of the car’s interior. Emma had said she’d needed to stay home and do homework, and Lo said she’d get a ride from Scumbag Luke. So in the car were just Lulu and Audrey. Lulu stared at the house. She’d left her seatbelt on. And the heater was still running. The cozy comfort of the car was enough to satisfy Lulu for tonight. This did not bode well for an evening out.

  “Here.” Audrey dug a pair of dirty sweatpants out from behind her seat at the wheel. She unwrapped them to reveal a bottle of sun-warmed tequila. “Take a swig.”

  “I can’t.” Lulu wanted the sip, but she couldn’t. She was tired of having a good humor about it. She thought about the sound the bottle might make if she smashed it against the pavement. It was a satisfying noise to envision. There was a small relief in that.

  “It’s after sundown.” Audrey uncapped the bottle.

  Lulu could smell its astringent pungency from across the car. She wrinkled her nose. “I know.”

  “So?” Audrey took a generous swig, winced, then sloshed the bottle over to Lulu, who shook her head and clamped her lips.

  “So I’m not drinking. All of Ramadan. Not even at night. Like always.” It was fine, really, that Audrey conveniently forgot the rules of Ramadan tonight. She forgot every year, at some point. Audrey had lasted longer this year than she had every other, before suffering a lapse of memory as to the rules Lulu followed during the month. The pattern was trending in the right direction.

  Like clockwork, Audrey would grow bored of Lulu’s fasting. And she would do her best to get Lulu to blur the rules. Lulu didn’t budge. Neither would Audrey. Tonight was apparently the night this year for the rhythmic conflict.

  “But you drink the rest of the time?” Audrey said, a hint of a whine on the edge of her throat. She must have needed Lulu to join her tonight. She shoved the warm bottle at Lulu one last time.

  “Them’s the breaks.” Lulu shrugged, refusing to take the offered bottle.

  Audrey returned the tequila to her lips and took a larger-than-average swill. She somehow produced a handkerchief to dab her mouth with when she finished. “You are so inconsistent.”

  “All religion is inconsistent. Think of me as accurately performing the human condition.” Lulu raised an eyebrow. She’d been practicing that sardonic expression in the mirror. She thought she pulled it off rather magnificently. “Also what are you doing with a bottle of tequila under your passenger seat? What if you get an open container charge? You could lose your license.”

  Audrey snorted. “Doubtful. What cop is going to search in my car under my seat inside dirty sweatpants?”

  Lulu took a clear look at her friend. There probably was a cop somewhere out there who would thoroughly search Audrey’s car. The real odds of that happening in this neighborhood, or the one Audrey lived in, were so slim that Lulu had to laugh. Audrey had the air of a docile, white bunny rabbit. Lulu knew better than to fall for Audrey’s resting expression of confusion. But other people, they saw that harmless white rabbit.

  “Where’d you get the bottle anyway?” Lulu asked, switching the direction of the conversation.

  “Sophomore in my music theory class.” Audrey took a hulking swig out of the bottle.

  “Which sophomore?”

  “John? Alex?” Audrey tilted her head. “No, maybe it’s David. It’s a biblical name.”

  “Alex is definitely not biblical.” Lulu gave Audrey a side-eyed glance. “Koranic, maybe, if you count Dhul-Qarnayn as Iskandar. And Iskandar is Alexander, obviously.”

  Audrey snorted. “You and your biblical knowledge of boys.”

  “That was low.” Lulu flipped down the visor mirror in front of her. “Even for you.”

  “Sorry.” Audrey shrugged. “I just don’t even know how you keep track of them.”

  Lulu barked a laugh to keep her temper tamped down. “I keep a list of the boys I’ve hooked up with written down. So I don’t lose ‘track of them.’ And I’m not telling you where I keep it. So don’t ask. It’s bad enough you know the list is out there.”

  Unfortunately, Audrey’s expression grew sharp. “Who have you hooked up with that I don’t know about?”

  Lulu noticed her misstep immediately. She went coy. She hadn’t told Audrey what had happened with Dane. She never meant to tell anyone else what had happened with him. “And why wouldn’t you know someone I’ve hooked up with?”

  “The only reason you’d keep the list from me is if someone was on it I didn’t know! Spill!” Audrey swatted at Lulu’s arm. Audrey was tenacious when she’d caught hold of a real truth.

  Lulu dodged the hit and giggled nervously. She wasn’t going to talk about Dane. She didn’t have to talk about Dane. “Come on, Audrey Louise. It was ages ago. I don’t ask you about your embarrassing middle school crushes.”

  “Because those are crushes! I can’t believe you’re hiding someone from me! I’m your best friend!”

  Let it not be forgotten that Audrey had a spectacular pout. It was a true glower, ready to teeter over the brink into a tantrum at any moment. Lulu admired that pout. Her own had been tainted by too many French movies. The vedettes had ruined her; her pout wasn’t the least bit threatening. When Audrey pursed her lips, she was pure menace.

  Another voice was muffled in the background. Must have been someone outside. Taking one last swipe at the edge of her lip with her finger, Lulu closed the visor up with a click. “Did I tell you, I invited James and his friend Matt to the party?”

  “Don’t you dare distract me—wait, James? From the belly dancing, James?”

  “Yes. That one.” One side of Lulu’s mouth twitched upward.

  “I knew it!” Audrey punched at Lulu’s arm, but Lulu didn’t dodge the blow. Audrey had never been taught to punch. “And since you now see how brilliant I am, I am going to let you know that I’ve an equally amazing plan for tonight.”

  “What is this amazingly brilliant plan?”

  “Not telling. Looks like we all get secrets, don’t we, Saad?” Audrey’s voice taunted.

  Lulu had no rebuttal to offer.

  And Audrey, finally having drunk her fill, swung out of the driver’s seat. Lulu got out of the car as well. The sound of their footsteps echoed onto the neighborhood street. Lulu thought she heard something behind her, but she didn’t bother to turn around. Then Lulu heard a voice. A familiar voice.

  “Should be fun tonight, don’t you think?”

  But Audrey hadn’t said anything. Lulu stared at her. Audrey looked as confused as Lulu felt. To her eternal regret, Lulu looked to her right.

  There, leaning out the passenger side window of a baby-blue Bronco with one hand still on the wheel, was Dane Anderson. Lulu examined the enormity before her—a hunk of steel and chrome. He hadn’t bothered to park in a discreet location. Or facing the direction of traffic. He was a wonder to behold, Dane Anderson. Perhaps like gazing upon a circle of hell.

  “Seriously?” Lulu said. “You’re like a caricature of yourself.”

  Dane’s smile was crooked, but its slope only made it all the more devastating. “Oh, Saad. How cute of you to notice.”

  Lulu, fuming, looked over to Audrey, who shrugged with overly practiced nonchalance.

&
nbsp; Dane propelled himself out of the driver’s side seat and edged his body in between the two girls so quickly that Lulu could still hear the car door’s slam echoing into the night.

  He looked Lulu directly in the eye as he slung his arm around Audrey. “Saad, you’re adorable when you’re angry.”

  Lulu watched Audrey’s shoulders stiffen. Lulu opened her mouth, but she wasn’t quick enough. Audrey had clearly had enough of being a bystander in this exchange. She looked prepared to do right by her friend.

  “Why on earth would Lulu be angry?” Audrey raised a practiced eyebrow. Her defensive posture and the attack in her voice was obvious. Audrey meant to help. But she lacked critical information. Information Lulu had refused to give.

  Lulu stood transfixed, the way she might watch a car stuck on a train track, a train rolling toward it with electrifying speed. Dane smiled a swift, malicious grin. And then Lulu knew what was going to happen before it did. She would have to put her body between the train and the car. She couldn’t stop the train. She couldn’t stop Dane Anderson. But Audrey would sit in that doomed car to the last. There was no shifting Audrey off her course.

  Lulu threw herself in front of the train. She talked through Anderson, to Audrey. “Do you know if Lo is coming tonight?”

  Audrey blinked. “Sure. She’ll be here. She said she was getting ready when we left.”

  “Lo’s got no personality.” Dane interjected himself into a discussion obviously and inelegantly meant to exclude him and him alone. “I don’t know why you’re friends with her.”

  Lulu clamped her lips together, taking a deep breath through her nose. She would get through this, without Audrey the wiser. She was determined.

  But Dane kept rolling right along. “She’s all body. And face. Don’t worry, Saad—no need to be jealous,” Dane said with a surreptitious wink.