by Tara Ellis
Within the train car’s lounging area was Scarlett with her heart yearning to stir a commotion. She was with her associate Celia. She sat there ridiculing others they worked with; Celia politely nodded her head and smiled as if she agreed. Scarlett removed the cigarette from her underage lips. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. She puffed out the remaining smoke in her lungs. “About that new girl. What’s her name?” She fiddled the cigarette in her hands and looked upward as if the answer was above her head. “Joyce, am I right? Of course I am. Joyce, that’s her name. She’s a total bitch.” Celia nodded her head.
Scarlett was never the one to comprehend her own jealousies. She felt that Joyce was getting more attention, which triggered her hatred to take aim. The truth is, in her career, at this point, Scarlett had secured her place in the media as America’s favorite teen queen. It fulfilled her vanity to see her face on teeny bopper magazines such as J14, Bop and Twist. She was featured on the cover of Seventeen magazine twice. Teen Vogue had her do magazine covers for the spring and winter seasons the year before. This year she was featured again for a summer issue. And GL magazine was just now vying to get her attention with a deal. She was famous; she was established in the spotlight all because of nepotism. It sure does help to be the stepdaughter of one of the world’s richest celebrities. Mr. Sebring helped get her there, but to stay in the media eye-that was up to her. She displayed her, honest to god, only talent she had that ever made her worth a damn, to breath fire. She wasn’t really the best fire breather Mr. Sebring had, but the younger fans of his show adored her otherwise. The world couldn’t resist a young girl with this ability.
“Are you listening Celia, HELLO,” said Scarlett.
“I hear you,” said Celia.
“Okay good. This Joyce girl has only been with us for a few days. She gets a little attention and now she walks around here like she’s the queen. Honestly, that annoys me. And I didn’t like the way they all were talking about you behind your back.”
“They were?” said Celia in the tone of a nervous child, with her head down; trying not to glance at Scarlett.
“Yeah, of course they were, all of them. Remember how that senseless Mexican girl stared at you? How did that make you feel?”
Celia was over 7 feet in height, but you couldn’t tell it in her voice. She talked like a lost kid in a market, pathetically looking for its mother. “Like a freak,” she said.
“And do you remember how they all whispered while looking over their shoulders at us.” Celia nodded her head.
“Speak up Celia, for the love of Christ. You are a giant trying to be a mouse.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“You know why, don’t you? It’s because of that new girl; she is a mean girl. Like in that movie that came out a few years ago with Tina Fey. Have you seen it?”
“No.”
“Well in this movie there was this bitch that was played by Lindsay Lohan. She was the new kid in school. She quickly became popular with the other students. Then this inner circle of other popular kids called the plastics, because they were pretty like dolls, wanted to let her join their clique. She does. Soon she gets jealous over the popularity of the queen bee of the school who was played by Rachel McAdams and then she does all this evil pointless shit to tear down her popularity. Are you following me?”
“Yeah.”
“Basically you’re Rachel McAdams and that bitch is Lindsay Lohan.”
“But I’m not popular around here, I’m just an eyesore.”
“Don’t you ever say that again. You are very popular. People here love you, I love you, whether you appreciate it or not.”
“I do appreciate it, and I love you back.”
Scarlett pointed her finger at Celia. “Then listen to what I have to say. We have to nip this character in the bud. Show her we won’t be ridiculed.”
“What are we going to do,” asked Celia.
Scarlett rose slowly out of her seat as she said “I think she deserves a little remedial attention.”
They devised a plot that would indefinitely send a message to the tightrope girl. They connived like a cliché action movie; were the evil villain lays out all his plans to take over the world, right before cackling as thunder came in from the background. If Scarlett had a mustache it would have been already twiddled.
There was a knock on Joyce’s door. She answered seeing the giantess with a smile. Celia held her hands together by her waist line. “Hi,” she said.
“How’s it going with you?” said Joyce.
“I’m alright. I was wondering if you would like to sit down with me in the lounging area?”
“There’s a lounging area?”
“Yeah, I can show you.”
“Maybe another time, you’re welcome to join me in my room with Jake and Andre.” Andre waved to Celia as he was lying on Joyce’s bed with Jake in the corner watching TV. “Hey Celia,” said Andre.
Celia stepped inside ducking her head. “Let me convince you all to a game of pool. It would kill the time as we wait for Atlanta.”
“You never seen the Lounge yet, Joyce?” asked Andre. She shook her head. Andre stood off the bed and stretched his arms.
“If we all go to the lounge it will help our new friend Joyce to be acquainted with her colleagues.” Joyce covered her smile, Andre’s smile was more unabashed.
“Okay Celia, you lead the way,” said Andre. Celia Ducked under the door way and they all followed her to the lounge.
Scarlett watched them all walk out the isle way. She came out the linen closet and walked towards Joyce’s door peering to her left and her right for witnesses. There were none. She shut the door behind her. She thought about it for a moment. Not knowing how to get back at her. But of course we know Joyce is guiltless of any crime. Scarlett just wanted to take her down a peg, but she wondered how. She went to her closet, thinking maybe to ruin some of her clothing. But she thought to herself that Joyce’s wardrobe was bad enough. “Who is this girl,” she said to herself. Joyce’s wardrobe was more on the tomboy side. She valued comfort over style. She had a collection of retro 90’s cartoon t shirts. Scarlett picked up a few then laughed at the nostalgia. Then she went to the place where most of us keep our dreaded secrets from the world, the bathroom. She saw birth control on the counter. “Oh you little slut.” She slipped it in her pocket. The cabinet doors were swung open and Scarlett discovered two more little secrets. The first bottle was read and it contained the word Ritalin. Scarlett laughed as she realized Joyce had ADHD. “Looks like someone has a little problem keeping up with the rest of us,” she said to an empty bathroom. She read the label on the second bottle.
“Well I wouldn’t have guessed. On another thought it would explain the wardrobe.” The second bottle contained medication to treat Bipolar Disorder. Scarlett put the brown little bottles in her pocket.
Scarlett’s emotions became aroused as she meddled in the life of a person that was hardly known to her. The dresser drawer next to Joyce’s bed was opened; there was not much that could be used against her. A King James Version of the bible was there with a pair of reading glasses and some photos of her family. She checked under the bed. Scarlett pulled a shoe box out; her eyes went wide as she opened it. She saw what she wanted to see. There was a whole row of Magnum condoms. She went from gleeful to over-enthusiastic. She took a silver bobby pin from her hair and put little holes into the packages. “If you don’t want to get pregnant then don’t screw around.”
She was pleased with herself, but she felt that her job wasn’t quite done yet. She needed icing to finish off the mayhem cake she baked. Scarlett swabbed Joyce’s toothbrush under both armpits and between the crooks of all ten toes. She almost walked away then, but she said aloud “I can do better.” The inside of the toilet bowl was cleaned with Joyce’s hairbrush. The top of her lotion bottle was uncapp
ed; she snorted over it and bombed a loogie inside. The cap was back on and the bottle was shaken nice and good.
Pride swarmed inside of Scarlett. Even after everything was put back as it was, her smile lingered afterwards. But it was a smile that held no warmth to it; this smile was as sour as the character it was beheld by. She headed back to her room rubbing her hands together, a job well done.
Night Thoughts
