Not the Girls You're Looking For
Page 30
“I’d rather be Lydia Bennet than Meg. Meg’s insufferable.” Lo had a definite huff to her voice now.
“Fuck you guys,” said Emma. Three heads swiveled toward her.
“Fuck you guys, seriously. That makes me Beth. I am not fucking Beth. If we are the March sisters, I am not fucking Beth.”
“Beth’s good at the piano,” Audrey tried.
“Beth dies. Beth is so good that she is too good to live in this world and she dies. Of a weak heart and a love of piano. I am not Beth. If I’m anyone, I’m Jo. She’s clearly the lesbian.” Emma raised an eyebrow in pure challenge.
After a sincere silence, all four girls broke into laughter—cramp-inducing, tear-springing, near-manic laughter. It took a full ten minutes to calm down again.
“My hair is no way my one beauty,” said Lo once they had settled down. She looked Lulu dead in the eye. “Chop it off.”
“Okay,” Lulu said. “Also.”
All eyes pivoted to Lulu.
“I had sex,” Lulu said, as plainly as she might. “Last night.”
Audrey was first to chime in. “With James?”
“With James.”
“Belly-dancing James?” asked Lo.
“Belly-dancing James,” said Lulu.
“I knew it!” said Emma.
“I told you so. Didn’t I tell you so?” Audrey was positively triumphant.
Lulu loved to see her like this. “You did. You so told me so.”
“Please tell me you had an orgasm,” was Lo’s contribution to the conversation.
“None of your business.” But she winked, ruining any seriousness to her tone.
“Good on him. The white boy goes down,” said Lo.
Audrey snickered. Emma giggled.
Lulu shook her head, then brandished the scissors in her hand. She took a handful of Lo’s hair, held the scissors up to it, placed the locks between the sharp edges, and waited as decent a length of time as she could. “Here goes nothing.”
Snip went the scissors. Another bold snip. Then several, all in a row: snip, snip, snip. She worked in silence. Nobody else in the car dared breathe too loudly.
Finally, Lulu stopped cutting. “It’s done.”
Lo continued to stare straight ahead. “How’s it look?”
“Not half-bad.” Lulu shrugged. “Not good, you know, but not bad bad.”
Lo didn’t seem ready to look. She wouldn’t turn her gaze downward to see the pile of her hair now strewn across Lulu’s car.
Lulu paused. “Do you want bangs?”
“What?” Lo picked up an enormous clump of her hair out of her lap, disbelief coating her face.
“Like, while I’m at it. Do you want bangs?” asked Lulu.
Lo closed her eyes. “Why not?”
And so Lulu leaned in close and began cutting in a fringe—a bit swept off to the side that seemed more forgiving than blunt and straight across. Lulu cut upward, trying to make a softer line. She wasn’t particularly good, but she had enough skill that a professional could easily fix her mistakes.
“All right. You ready?” asked Lulu.
“As I’ll ever be,” admitted Lo.
Lulu flipped down the visor and turned on the front inside lights. “Voilà.”
Lo’s eyes went round, her mouth forming a small O and her hand quickly coming up to cover that expression. Lulu’s stomach dropped.
Then Lo let out a laugh.
“Oh my God, Lulu. I love it.” Lo ran her hands through her now-shortened hair.
Lo’s looks were still uncommon. But when Lulu looked at Lo, she saw a girl who was more pleased than pleasing. And while Lulu had seen Lo self-satisfied many times, she had never seen her in that state for no reason other than for herself.
“It’s amazing. May I?” Emma reached out and Lo leaned her head toward Emma’s hands. Emma thrummed her fingers through the short, tousled cut.
“So cool,” Emma said.
“I know,” said Lo.
“It’s almost doing that messy thing you like,” Audrey tried. She had been raised to value her long mane of hair. But she was trying, even if she didn’t get it, and that made Lulu smile more than had Audrey liked the haircut from the start.
Lo turned on a grin. She was wild-eyed—Heracles finally giving Atlas back the world. She looked free. “You’re right. Almost. My mom is going to have a conniption fit. I love it.”
Lo dug into her own purse, searching. She pulled out her eyeliner. “One last thing. Lulu, can you do that thing, with my eye makeup. The one where you look fearless?”
Lulu smiled. “Yeah. I can do that.”
And so she did.
32
The Stars at Night Are Big and Bright
Three months later
Lulu clapped. Then she whistled. James was on the dance floor with Emma at the moment. It was adorable watching them both move with awkward limbs and little sense of rhythm. Juniors were invited to prom, since the senior class was too small for a one-grade prom to be anything but an uncomfortably long night. Even Sealy Hall had its limits. Lulu smiled. James had undone his bow tie and taken off his rental jacket as soon as he was able. His sleeves were rolled up. But still, despite his many, many protests, the tux suited him.
Emma had, in an act of true bravery, lobbied to take Diana. Parents were in an uproar. Those parents on the planning committee had, initially, refused to let Emma take a student of the same gender as her date.
However, when Lulu had gone into Dean Knight’s office asking for a quote on homophobic prom policies for an article in The Sealy Examiner, the administration’s tune changed rather dramatically. Sealy Hall didn’t want the smirch on their public record. One didn’t build a lasting relationship with universities around the country only to squander it when it came to public affairs. No need to air that dirty laundry in public. It wasn’t quite tolerance, but it was something.
Student-run journalism, it turned out, had its perks.
Emma had been given a grudging pass. The grudging nature of the pass annoyed Diana, but Emma counted all her victories. Audrey, in what can only be termed a flash of stupidity, had asked the sophomore in her music theory class. The one whose name she still had trouble remembering. It definitely wasn’t Alex. The boy had been so shocked that he had agreed on the spot. That pairing for the night was already a tremendous disaster, but it was the kind of disaster even Audrey could appreciate. It was a funny tale in the making. Audrey wouldn’t have any what-ifs left on that score. Nina danced with Brian Connor, and Lulu didn’t know who looked more triumphant in that moment. She wasn’t sure it mattered anymore.
Dane Anderson was on the far side of the room, giving Lulu a wide berth. He’d brought a sophomore, and Lulu felt a distinct pang for the girl. He’d received his diploma days before, but Lulu decided she must have finally shocked him into maintaining his distance.
Lo went stag and possibly enjoyed herself more than anyone. She made it seem like everyone else should have gone alone as well. And maybe they should have. Most of the boys and several girls were giving her longing looks. Lo ignored them all.
“Do you think we’ll be old ladies one day, sitting around and still bitching?” asked Lo, collapsing into a chair next to Lulu. Lo glistened with sweat, her breath coming out in spurts and puffs.
“We can’t know that,” admitted Lulu.
“Okay, you can’t know. But do you think it?”
Lulu looked at Lo. She looked over at the dance floor. At Audrey and Emma and Diana and James. At the mass of everyone, dressed up and smushed together in a sweaty, elegant jumble.
“Yeah. I do,” said Lulu.
“Me too.” Lo smiled.
“How long do you think we’ll feel like this?” Lulu asked.
“Like what?” asked Lo.
“Like sisters,” said Lulu.
“Forever, Lulu. Forever.”
Acknowledgments
When I was a little girl, my favorite fairy tale was Cinderella. It felt s
o real, so true to me. The world could often be a cruel, vicious place. You could work hard and scrub and toil tirelessly and so many forces would try to hold you back. But others, with a touch of love, could notice you and spread their own magic your way.
Reader, those who share their magic are the best kind of people.
My agent, Lauren MacLeod, understood this book from the very beginning. She knew Lulu and she loved Lo and she made me pull Emma forward and kept Audrey from slipping through the cracks. She was the greatest advocate for these girls and their story. She never asked me to temper their anger or soften their wildness. Her faith in this story still blows me away. Thank you, Lauren, you poetic, noble land mermaid.
And then there is my brilliant editor, Kat Brzozowski, who saw the potential for a horse-drawn carriage out of a pumpkin and several unruly mice. I’m beyond proud of this book and so much of that is because of her work. She pulled the best, realest, truest version of this story out of me. Thank you. You have been an amazing champion for this book and a sheer joy to work with. Long story short: Kat’s a genius editor with an impeccable eye. There are not enough superlatives for her. Feel free to @ me on that.
An enormous thank-you goes to the entire team at Feiwel and Friends/Macmillan: Kim Waymer, Jean Feiwel, Alexei Esikoff, Patricia McHugh, Nancee Adams, and Khalid Zaid Abdel-Hafeez. My amazing publicist, Morgan Rath. You all helped bring Lulu to life. Special thank you to Hadeel al-Massari and Sharmeen Browarek for their wonderful sensitivity reads. Also, this cover. Michael Frost photographed, Tanya Frost styled. Liz Dresner did the cover direction and design. Thank you for giving the world the best cover to judge this book on. You h*cking nailed it.
With her fabulous #DVpit event, Beth Phelan still feels like my fairy godmother. Thank you. You’ve made a world of difference to me. You’ve made a world of difference to so many readers.
And while I may have loved Cinderella, I am nothing like her: neither sweet-tempered nor able to pull all my hair back with the tug of a single, well-pressed ribbon. Steven has been my cheerleader through all of this. He never let me give up and for that I will be eternally grateful. He also dealt with more grumping and moping than any single human should. If y’all see him in the wild, buy him a donut. He likes the maple-glazed kind.
Shout-out to my family and friends, who have all been amazingly supportive of my being a writer from the get-go, despite being thoroughly and practically employed themselves. My baba, Hazim; my mom, Deborah; and my brother, Joe. Rachel Stoll, who read half of this book in iMessage form and totally out of order. My best friends and adoptive sisters, Selina Singh Hamill and Leslie Pfeiffer. Thank you for your faith in me. Y’all’s belief is the wind beneath my wings. I don’t care how cheesy that sounds.
Thank you to Jodi Meadows, who took me under her wing and answered every question I could ask about authordom. Your generosity is unparalleled and your taste in pens is exceptional. There’s nobody I’d rather DM about the optimal writing paper.
Karuna Riazi has been a light in dark places. May the love you put out into the world come back to you tenfold. You have been the hero we all need.
The #DVSquad that came out of #DVpit has been the Dream Team of support groups. I am in forever awe of y’all’s ability to rally and advocate. Karen Strong, Kat Cho, Meredith Ireland, Jennifer Zeynab Joukhadar, J.S. Fields, Cam Montgomery, J.A. Reynolds, Sarena Nanua, Sasha Nanua, Cindy Baldwin, Isabel Sterling, S.A. Chakraborty. My apologies if I did not name you. I love and see all the work y’all are doing. Your words will change the world. Never stop gif-ing on.
To my first readers, who read the whole way through this manuscript all those years ago, when it was certifiably unpublishable—Leigh Cooper, Alex Massengale, and Katie French. You are True American Heroes.
And finally—thank you to Ms. Gara Johnson-West, who taught my first women’s studies class way back in the day. I wouldn’t be the feminist I am without you, your wisdom, and your encouragement. Also—I’m still really sorry about that French Revolution paper.
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PRAISE FOR Not the girls you’re looking for
“Engaging and unexpected, voice-y and full of verve, this a whip-smart swan dive into all the messiness of best friendships and new romance, fitting in and growing up.”
—Katie Cotugno, New York Times–bestselling author of How to Love
“As hilarious as it is heartwarming, this beautiful story about family, friendships, and one amazingly complex teenage girl will leave you begging for more.”
—Sandhya Menon, New York Times–bestselling author of When Dimple Met Rishi
“An intense, emotional debut about finding one’s place in the world and throwing off labels applied by other people.”
—Jodi Meadows, author of Before She Ignites
“Lulu Saad is exactly the girl YA fiction has been looking for: a fearless and beautiful Arab-American Muslim ready to take the world by storm. Sparkling with humor, wit, and vulnerability, Safi’s debut will make you laugh and cry.”
—Tanaz Bhathena, author of A Girl Like That
“Deftly written and darkly funny, Not the Girls You’re Looking For is an unflinching portrayal of what it’s like to be a girl who refuses to be boxed in. Lulu and her friends are fierce, flawed, feminist, and full of heart—not to mention utterly unforgettable.”
—Katy Upperman, author of Kissing Max Holden
“Fiercely unapologetic and unapologetically fierce. This is exactly the kind of bold, messy, girl-driven, friendship-centric narrative that I have indeed been looking for.”
—Laurie Elizabeth Flynn, author of Firsts
“A sexy, multifaceted, and beautifully complicated debut for anyone who has ever struggled with friendships, religion, and love. A must-read!”
—Nisha Sharma, author of The Perfect Ending
“Not the Girls You’re Looking For are exactly the girls you’re rooting for. Lulu is fierce, loyal, and a main character you won’t soon forget. An honest slice of teen life from a teen character you need to know.”
—Sara Farizan, author of If You Could Be Mine
About the Author
Aminah Mae Safi is a writer who explores art, fiction, feminism, and film. She loves Sofia Coppola movies, Bollywood endings, and the Fast and the Furious franchise. She lives in Los Angeles with her partner and her cat bent on world domination. Her 2016 We Need Diverse Books–winning story will appear in their forthcoming anthology, Lift Off. Not the Girls You’re Looking For is her first novel. Find her on Instagram @aminahmae and her website, www.aminahmae.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE: Rakish
CHAPTER TWO: Sins of Omission
CHAPTER THREE: Somebody’s Yoda
CHAPTER FOUR: Tolerable, We Suppose
CHAPTER FIVE: Hunger Pangs
CHAPTER SIX: You Can’t Just Ask People Why They’re White
CHAPTER SEVEN: Costumed Drama
CHAPTER EIGHT: Woke Up Like This
CHAPTER NINE: Collateral Damage
CHAPTER TEN: Love Notes from the Edge
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Ben Saad’s Little Sister
CHAPTER TWELVE: Drop Trou
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The White Rabbit
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Queens of the Wild
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: The Airspeed Velocity of an Unladen Swallow
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Eidia
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Spectacular, Spectacular
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: And He
ll Is Just a Sauna
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Les Quatre Cents Coups
CHAPTER TWENTY: Hard to Get
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: The Price of Freedom
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: The Legend of Billie Jean
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Midnight Madness
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Khalas
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Goddess of the Hunt
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: The Tenth Day
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Mess with the Bull, You Get Bit by a Shark
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: Tanya the Wife
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Seventeen Candles
CHAPTER THIRTY: Bulletproof
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: The Sisterhood of the Uniform Pants
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: The Stars at Night Are Big and Bright
Acknowledgments
Praise for Not the Girls You’re Looking For
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2018 by Aminah Mae Safi
A Feiwel and Friends Book
An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
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First hardcover edition, 2018
eISBN 9781250151803