The Girls (2 page)

“Life is squirmy, Renée. It's just one long squirm, birth to death.” She wiggled behind the steering wheel and laughed. Then she said, “You're not responsible for someone else's guest list. Save your squirms for your own embarrassing mistakes.”

“But I didn't know what to say when she—”

“Don't go borrowing squirms,” Mom said. “That one's not yours. I suppose you could have boycotted the party, said, ‘I ain't comin' unless Maya comes.' But what would that get you—besides uninvited to parties?”

“But—”

“But what?”

It didn't
feel
right, but I couldn't put it in words. When Darcy had called the night before to invite me to her sleep-over, and told me she wasn't inviting Maya, it gave me a stomachache. I'd hung up and called Brianna, but Brianna was like my mom—she didn't think it was my problem or hers either.

We pulled up to Darcy's driveway. “Have fun!” Mom said. “See you tomorrow night. Be ready!”

I got out of the car and lugged my stuff to Darcy's front porch. My mom honked as she drove off. I wished she wouldn't do that. The other mothers didn't
honk.

Darcy's big sister, Keloryn, let me in. Whenever I wished I had a sister, it was always Keloryn I imagined. She was nothing like Darcy. Not that I didn't like Darcy, but Darcy had a sort of sneaky way about her. Well, not
sneaky
exactly, but kind of prickly. No, that's not the right word. Well, whatever Darcy was, Keloryn was the opposite.

She wasn't like other big sisters who always tried to embarrass everyone and act cooler than cool. “Hi, Renée!” she said, smiling her big, friendly smile. “Everyone's upstairs.”

I dropped my sleeping bag and stuff on the pile and went upstairs. Darcy's staircase was wider than the stairs of my apartment building. I loved her stairs. I know it sounds silly, but I pictured myself dressed fancy, floating up those wide stairs, like in a scene from a romantic movie.

I followed the giggles to Darcy's room and opened the door. For a second I was confused, but then I realized everyone was wearing wigs! There was Darcy with long blond corkscrew curls boinging down her back instead of her own straight brown hair. Darcy is so small and thin that the big loopy curls looked like an octopus swallowing her headfirst.

Everyone was laughing and shoving to get to the mirror. “Better late than never!” Darcy said, seeing me at the door. She tossed me a black wig but I missed it. It looked like a shaggy dog at my feet. As I stooped to pick it up, I said, “My mom, she . . .”

“Let me guess,” Candace said, stuffing her long dark hair into a strawberry blond wig. “Your mom went into slow motion, right?”

I smiled. “Right.”

“It's worth it,” Candace said. “She always looks like a million bucks.” Then Candace looked in the mirror and said, “Yikes!
My
mom wore her hair like this as a teenager.”

“You look like her,” Brianna said.

Candace rolled her eyes. I knew she didn't like hearing that, because once when we were looking at old photos at her house, I'd said the same thing and she'd said, “But look at my mom now! She just let herself go full-bloat frump!”

I'd figured Mrs. Newman couldn't help getting older, and I still thought she was pretty, but I hadn't said anything.

Then Candace had showed me another picture of her parents, one taken before she was born. Mr. Newman had his arm around Mrs. Newman's teeny tiny waist, and they were both smiling their hearts out. They obviously adored each other. There were no photos in the world of my parents looking so in love, but I didn't mention that. Instead I'd said, “They look like movie stars. Look at your mom's waist!”

“Yeah, I wonder what my dad thinks of her waist now.” Candace had squinted at me then and said, “What do you suppose made two good-looking people like that have so many kids?”

I'd shrugged. “That's what people do!”

“Yeah, well, your parents just had
you.
Even Brianna's parents thought they got it right the first time, thought Brianna was enough.
Mine
had to go on after me, and have not one, not two,” Candace ticked them off on her fingers, “but THREE more kids! I'm not going to throw
my
life away like that.”

“Your mom seems happy to me,” I'd said.

“That makes it even sadder,” Candace said.

“It's sad that she's—that she's happy?” I'd asked.

“Her life is diapers and bottles and Nick's soccer games.” Candace shivered. “What in the world has she got to be happy about?”

“I don't know about Brianna's parents,” I'd said. “But my parents stopped at one kid because they . . . they didn't
like
each other!” Candace knew my parents were separated. But I'd never told her, or anyone, that the only reason they got married in the first place was because of me—because Mom was pregnant with me.

I put on the wig. It felt strange, tight. I wondered how women could stand that feeling. But looking down at the long black hair falling all the way to my lap, I figured it was worth the discomfort to suddenly be someone new.

Brianna pulled a red mass of curls over her own dark blond hair.

“There's a kid in our homeroom with hair that color,” Candace said. “Darcy, what's that girl's name who sits next to me? Is it Nicole?”

Darcy shrugged.

“But she wears it in a fabulous, thick braid. Not a poodle-do,” Candace said.

“Maybe I should wear this mop to the audition,” Brianna said. “It's a comedy, after all.”

“Audition?” Candace whipped her wigged head around.

“Yeah,” Brianna said. “That group at the college that did that play last year? Tryouts are coming up again.”

“Wow!” I said. “I hope you get a part. We all loved it last year.”

“I suppose it's
possible
that lightning can strike the same place twice,” Candace said. I wondered what she meant by that. I looked over at her. She was pulling on a platinum blond wig. That's my hair color! It was so weird seeing Candace in disguise, and weirder still to see her disguised as
me
! Her dark eyebrows and long black lashes looked strange with my nearly white hair. The whole thing was like a bizarre dream.

All the girls were themselves, but not—they looked so different in the wigs. Me too. I kept peeking in the mirror, wondering how my life would be if I really looked like that. I tossed my head, feeling the waves ripple down my back—longer, thicker, and even blacker than Candace's.

Darcy took off the blond corkscrew curls and was herself for a minute while she hunted through the wig pile. I didn't want to try on a different one. Mine felt perfect.

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.

Y
OU'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.