The Girls

by Amy Goldman Koss

  I watched Candace posing in front of the mirror like a fashion model, shoving her hips way forward the way they do in magazines. She put on a sulky pout, then a beauty queen grin, then that totally bored expression some models wear.

  Suddenly she gasped and in a squeaky bimbo voice said, “I never should have eaten that grape yesterday! Now I’m completely obese!” She started fake weeping.

  “I heard some models have their lower ribs removed,” Brianna said, “so their waists will look smaller.”

  “I thought they just made themselves throw up all the time,” Darcy said, pulling on a wig with short brown, wavy hair. She took one look in the mirror, then shrieked, “Hey, guys! Who do I look like?”

  “MAYA!” Candace called out, dissolving into hoots of laughter. Darcy pulled the wig off as if it were on fire and flung it across the room.

  Then Candace said, “Maya called me this morning,” casual as can be.

  “You’re kidding!” Darcy gasped, eyes big and excited. “Did you tell her about my party?”

  Candace nodded. “I did. I said, ‘Well, Maya dear, honeycakes, sweetie pie, I’d just love to go to Magic Mountain with just about anyone else in the world besides YOU!’ Then I told her we were all celebrating her absence here today.”

  Brianna’s mouth fell open. Darcy snickered. You never know with Candace. Maybe she really did say that! But even if she didn’t say that, she probably said something. I winced. Now Maya knew why I didn’t go with her today.

  I did not tell them that Maya had called me too. I let my long black hair fall across my face to hide my squirm. What else could I do? I wanted to ask why they suddenly hated Maya, but wouldn’t that make me look stupid? Wouldn’t that make me look like I was on Maya’s side? Well, I thought, I am on her side. After all, she’s my friend.

  Candace put on the Maya wig and started nibbling on her fingers exactly the way Maya did. I felt like a traitor, watching her. She really did do a perfect imitation of Maya, even the expression on her face and her posture. I wondered how Candace would imitate me.

  “Candace, you should come to the audition with me!” Brianna squealed. “You’re an amazing actress, and we’d have a blast being in the play together.”

  “I think not,” Candace said.

  “Hard to picture Candace standing around on stage with no lines to say or anything,” Darcy said. “No offense, Brianna.”

  Brianna smiled and looked at the floor.

  Candace struck a pose and in a regal English accent said, “But of course, the chorus would simply never do. It’s the starring role or nothing for me!” She smiled as if she were kidding, but I don’t think she was.

  Darcy

  YOU’D NEVER KNOW IT if you saw her now, but years ago, my aunt was a model. After she quit, she gave all her old wigs to me and my sister, Keloryn. My mom suggested I bring out the wigs for my party, but I thought that was a lame idea. My mom is NOT an expert on parties. In fact, the only two parties my parents ever threw were their wedding, which was small and held in a judge’s chambers, and a tea when my mom graduated from law school before I was born.

  But it turned out my mom was right—my friends loved the wigs! Everyone was clowning around and having a blast. It looked like my party was a hit and I almost relaxed—but not quite. Every now and then I’d glance at the clock and my throat would close. We had so many hours left until tomorrow. What if Candace and everyone got bored? It would be my fault. My party means my fault.

  Candace looked fabulous in every single wig. She was so gorgeous, and funny too. She could do impressions of people that were absolutely astounding. Her imitation of Maya was a scream!

  Renée put on one wig and then just sat there in a trance. I didn’t worry about it, though, because Renée gets quiet that way. Brianna says it’s because of her parents’ separation, but I think Renée has always been kind of moody. When everyone but Renée got bored with the wigs, we put on our suits and went for a swim. I don’t know what Renée did. Maybe just sat up in my room wearing that witchy black wig and daydreaming. After a while she came outside and curled up in a deck chair.

  Brianna floated around on the blue raft, knocking against the side of the pool and bouncing off to float in another direction, like a leaf.

  I looked around at my friends and felt lucky. Sometimes, I secretly used our first initials to make up names for our group. It was lame, I know, but I liked to do it. Until yesterday, we’d had M for Maya, and my favorite names for us were Really Dumb But Cute Monsters, and My Big Dorky Rubber Chicken. Now it was time to drop the M, so I had to think of ones with just D for me, C for Candace, B for Brianna, and R for Renée. Dark Clouds Bring Rain?

  Candace is a great swimmer and her dives are perfect, even when they’re silly ones. She could probably be in the Olympics if she wanted to. She announced, “The Dive of the Shy,” and timidly minced to the edge of the board, head down, shoulders hunched, then stepped meekly into the pool without making a splash. Next she did The Dive of the Oasis, crawling to the edge of the diving board gasping, “Water! Water!” and tumbling in. She hauled herself out, sleek as a seal, and wrung the water out of her long black hair, saying, “Any requests?”

  “The Ballet Dive,” Renée said, at the same time as I said, “The Bird Dive.”

  Candace bowed, saying, “Presenting the Ballet Bird.” She flapped her arms and did a perfect pirouette off the board. I wanted to scream out to the whole world, “Eat your heart out, everyone! I’m her best friend! Me!”

  When Candace was tired of swimming, we played cards. Candace suggested dress poker instead of strip poker. So over our swimsuits, we added layers of clothes. Brianna, who doesn’t play games very well, was sweating to death in pants, socks, two shirts, and a hat.

  Everything was going great, in fact, until about nine o’clock. That’s when my sister, Keloryn, came into the kitchen to ruin my life.

  She looked around the table at us and asked, “Where’s Maya?”

  I turned to Candace. After all, it had been Candace who’d hated Maya first, and it was her idea not to invite her to my party. But Candace didn’t say a word.

  Renée spoke up, though. “Darcy didn’t, um. Darcy didn’t invite her,” she said. Renée always acted gaga around my sister, like Keloryn was God.

  “Why not?” Keloryn asked.

  No one said anything, so I said, “Because I didn’t want to. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  Keloryn looked right smack at Candace and said, “I see.” But Candace didn’t give a hoot. She made a bored face back at my sister, as if Keloryn were dust.

  If Keloryn got Candace mad, if Candace left or decided we were having a bad time, I’d kill my sister, I swear! Candace yawned and blinked like a cat. Keloryn headed out of the room. No one moved or spoke.

  I had to prove where my loyalties lay. I had to show Candace and the others whose side I was on. I had to save my party. If Candace left, everyone would leave, or at least they’d want to.

  I thought fast. The phone was lying on the counter right next to me. I could hear my parents laughing at some TV show, so I knew the coast was clear. I grabbed the phone. My heart thumped as I pressed the speaker button. I felt like I was on a climbing roller coaster as I dialed. The kitchen was electrified with a tingling charge—like that split second before the roller coaster plunges downhill, sucking the screams right out of you.

  Maya

  WE’D BROUGHT PIZZA HOME. Salt and Pepper were hyped up and giddy. Dad was beat. He’d had all the giggling he could stand. The two-hour drive to Magic Mountain had been hard, with Lena and Ann chattering in the backseat. I’d sat up front with my dad, trying to act like nothing was wrong.

  I hadn’t realized I was biting my nails until I tasted blood and saw that I’d gnawed my fingers raw. Dad probably noticed but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even complain about my radio station. Somehow, his being so extra nice made me feel extra worse.

  Waiting in line for the rides, I couldn’
t help picturing everyone at Darcy’s house, having fun without me, talking about me. But once we’d taken our places on the first really fast ride, every thought was whipped right out of my head.

  When Salt and Pepper were ready to puke and Dad said his brain was rattling loose in his skull, they stumbled off in search of snow cones. I got back in line and rode again and again, screaming myself hoarse. Roller coasters are great brain cleaners.

  The drive home was depressing, though, knowing I was headed back to a world that was just as messed up as it was when I’d left the house that morning. I’d tried to tell myself it was all a mistake and there’d be a message on the machine when I got home, saying, “Where are you, Maya? We’re all waiting at Darcy’s!” Or maybe I’d wake up and discover that this was just a really rotten dream.

  But then I’d swing back to reality with a sickening, Tilt-A-Whirl spin and realize that no, this was not a nightmare, it was my life.

  Anyway, we were just sitting down to pizza. Momma was telling us about her day. She worked in the emergency room mostly, but sometimes in other parts of the hospital, helping the new Russian immigrants explain their pains to the doctors and nurses, and translating what the doctors and nurses said back. My mother came here from Russia seventeen years ago and remembered how hard it all was in the beginning, so now she tried to make it easier for the newer newcomers. I was proud of the work she did and liked hearing her hospital stories, even though they were often really sad.

  That day a woman had brought in her little boy, who’d crashed through a glass window and was all cut up. The woman was hysterical. When Momma tried to explain to her that no one would help her son until she’d filled out a bunch of paperwork, the woman went wild blaming my mother! But later, when the surgeon came to say the boy would be okay, Momma and the woman hugged.

  Just as my mother told us that, the phone rang and I answered it, half expecting it to be that woman from the hospital. A muffled voice said something I couldn’t make out, and I heard laughing in the background.

  I said, “What?”

  The voice said something else unclear. The words didn’t matter; I suddenly knew who it was. Then Darcy’s voice said, “I just wondered if your mother knew that here in America, dentists can put white caps on teeth instead of gold. You might want to mention that to her. And on the subject of dental hygiene, we were all wondering if you know what mouthwash is. It comes in bottles, usually it’s green . . .”

  I dropped the phone onto the cradle. Momma was looking at me. “It was just a crank call,” I mumbled, trying my best to sound casual. “Just some kids.”

  The phone immediately rang again. None of us moved until it rang a second time. My sister, Lena, grabbed it and said, “Hello?” Then she said, “Okay, I’ll tell her. Bye.”

  Lena turned to me and said, “Someone said to tell you it’s not nice to hang up on people.”

  “Who was that?” my mom asked.

  Lena shrugged. “She didn’t say her name.”

  Ann tapped my arm. “It’s true, you know. It is rude to hang up on people.”

  “What happened here?” my mom asked me. “Who was that calling?”

  I wanted to say, “No one.” Or, “Don’t worry about it, Momma.” Or, “It was a wrong number.” But nothing came out of my mouth.

  “This was someone you know?” Momma asked.

  I couldn’t answer. My mom grabbed the phone and dialed the number that reconnects you with the person who just called. I put my head down on the table and died, wondering if I had stinky breath for real.

  “This is Mrs. Koptiev,” Momma barked. “Who is this? . . . Who? . . . Well, a call came from you, a mean call.” Then there was silence while she listened.

  I looked up to watch her face. It was pale with anger. “Well, you tell your sister and those girls that next time, I call the police!”

  “Keloryn Griffin, sister of Darcy,” Momma said, hanging up. She peered at me. I didn’t look at my dad.

  “I don’t get it,” Lena said.

  “Me neither,” said Ann.

  Mom reached for my hand. “These are horrible girls to hurt you.” She shook her head in disbelief. “My Maya they chose for their cruelty?”

  There was no stopping my tears then. They gushed out and I ran to my room. Behind me I heard Lena whine, “But I don’t GET IT!” Dad told her to hush and eat her pizza.

  Momma followed me. “They hate me,” I told her.

  “Hate,” she spat. “Hate from such people means less than nothing.”

  “I don’t even know what I DID!” I wailed.

  “Did? You did nothing. This isn’t about did. This is about bad girls being stupid. I would only love to go wring all their stupid necks!”

  “How am I ever going to go back to school?” I cried, feeling like I was going to throw up.

  “How? You just go. You ignore those girls and you’re better without them. This isn’t friends, this is dirt. This is less than dirt.” Momma kept patting my back and trying to rock me. She didn’t understand. Maybe things like this didn’t happen in Russia.

  Brianna

  CANDACE PUT HER sleeping bag right smack in front of the fireplace. I’d wanted to sleep next to her, but it wasn’t meant to be. It was Darcy’s party and she got there first, and Renée, who usually moved like a snail, beat me to Candace’s other side. No big deal, no big deal.

  I said, “I don’t think boys have slumber parties.”

  “My bother’s afraid to sleep out,” Candace said. “But he’s not normal.” Candace always called her brother, her “bother.” And her baby sisters “the twerps,” instead of the twins. I thought she pretended not to like them so we wouldn’t be totally jealous every second—she didn’t want to sound smug about her perfect family, or for that matter, her perfect everything.

  I asked, “Anyone met that new boy, Eric? He’s in my art class. He’s really, really cute.” Candace looked interested. I wanted to call dibs on Eric, finders keepers, but that was dumb.

  I pictured myself getting him to talk to me at school. Then the girls would waltz up and I’d have to introduce them. First he’d see how cute Darcy is, then how blond and feminine Renée is. But when he saw Candace, his eyes would pop out and he’d get that drooly look that boys get at the sight of her. By then he’d have totally forgotten the big-nosed girl he’d been talking to—me.

  I sighed, but no one noticed. They were all staring into the flames. I heard Candace say, “Darcy, if you were an animal, you’d be a—let me think.”

  “You mean what animal she looks like or acts like?” I asked.

  “Both,” Candace said. “How about a whippet? You know, those pointy little dogs with rat tails and ribs showing?” Candace sucked her cheeks in. The firelight and shadows made her face look like a skull. “Skinny and fast!” she said.

  Everyone laughed, especially Darcy. We always, always laughed, no matter what. I didn’t know how everyone else felt about Candace’s games, but I thought they were tests, like walking on hot coals or something, to prove how tough we were.

  A few days before, we’d all been sprawled under a tree at the park when Candace told me that if I were a color, it would be blue. I hadn’t been offended, praying that she’d meant a bright, interesting blue. But then a washed-out, blah-blue car drove by and Darcy said, “There goes Brianna!” and no one contradicted her. I probably just smiled.

  That was colors. We’d done foods too, and I was a sandwich. Now it was animals. I knew they’d say something about my nose when it was time to do me. I hate, hate, hate my nose. I bet they were gong to say I was an anteater.

  “How about Renée?” Candace asked.

  Well, if it was how Renée looked, it would have to be a white animal. She looked like a picture that had been mostly erased, or hadn’t been colored in in the first place. She was like a glass sculpture of a girl. Everything about Renée was hard to see. Pale blue eyes; hair and lashes so blond, they were almost see-through. I thought of those clear, mi
lky jellyfish, but just as I was about to say that, Darcy said, “A sloth.”

  No, I thought, that’s not right. Renée was slow, but not stupid or lazy like sloths are supposed to be. You could die of old age before she got to the end of a sentence, but not because she was dumb. Renée was careful, watchful. “Not a sloth,” I said. “A white owl. Minus the flying and mouse hunting,” because Renée’s a vegetarian.

  Candace laughed. “A starving owl with a broken wing?”

  “No, no, no!” I said. “An elephant, maybe?”

  “She’s not that fat!” Candace said.

  “I don’t mean fat!” I smiled apologetically at Renée.

  “A tortoise,” Candace decided. “And if Renée’s a tortoise, who’s the hare? You, Darcy?”

  “I thought I was a whippet!” Darcy said.

  I was next. I secretly prayed for strength and pretended to watch the fire while they decided about me, reminding myself that it was all about being a good sport.

  Candace said I was some kind of a bird. The others agreed, probably because of my beak. “Not an eagle, though,” Candace said.

  “No, a sparrow!” Darcy offered.

  I pictured myself pecking around, peck, peck, hop, hop, hop. A sparrow: plain, common, boring. But I laughed on cue when the others did.

  “Sparrows are amazing,” Renée said.

  “Yeah, right,” Darcy scoffed.

  “No, really!” Renée said. “Remember when I had that ear infection? Well I, um, sat on the balcony watching this sparrow fly back and forth to her nest. Thirty-something trips in an hour! Her babies cheeped their heads off every time, as if they were, as if they were starving to death.”

  Candace said, “She should have pointed her beak south and kept on flying.”

  Renée stared into the firelight. “Well, I, um, I thought she was remarkable.”

  “Remarkably stupid, you mean,” Candace said. Then she said, “Okay, guys, time to do me.”off