Sad Girls

by Lang Leav

  She was quiet for a few moments, and then her face began to crumple.

  “Candela,” I said, putting my arm around her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just can’t do it anymore,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “Do what?” I said, feeling my stomach clench. I’ve known Candela my entire life, and I had seen her cry only a handful of times.

  “I can’t walk through those school halls or run the track or sneak a cigarette behind the bike sheds without seeing Ana’s face. I can’t keep pretending that everything is normal, not while I’m still there.” She was sobbing now, and I tried my best to comfort her, the way she always did for me. “I’m trying to be strong about it, Audrey—I really am,” she gulped. “But I let Ana down. She was like a sister to me. I just—I can’t be there anymore.” She shook her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

  “Candela,” I said, as a fresh new wave of guilt washed over me. “I don’t want you messing up your future because of what happened to Ana. It’s not fair.”

  She sighed deeply and was quiet for a while. “I don’t care about my fucking future.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  She shrugged. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “Maybe you should see someone about Ana.”

  “I don’t want to. Besides, I can’t afford a shrink, and there’s no way I’m asking Mum.”

  “Do you have to quit right now? Why don’t you think it over for a couple of weeks?”

  “Stop fretting about me, Audrey. I’ll be fine, honestly. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I don’t know if you do,” I said, still unconvinced.

  “Anyway, let’s face it,” she said with a smirk. “I’m not as brainy as you and Lucy. I was never going to ace my exams.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  She gave me her best “don’t-bullshit-me-Audrey” look. I opened my mouth to protest but closed it again. I knew my friend. I could talk until I was blue in the face, and it wouldn’t make an iota of difference. It was clear that Candela had made up her mind.

  “So how is the boy?” asked Ida, an unlit cigarette dangling between her brightly painted nails.

  We were in the middle of our third session together. It was a particularly warm day, and the fan was whirring noisily above us. The lazy drone of a plane flying overhead made me feel suddenly sleepy.

  “We’re not in touch anymore.”

  “Oh? What happened?”

  “It was a mutual thing,” I shrugged. “I suppose it was getting kind of messy. We thought it was best we keep our distance for now.”

  “That’s very mature of you both.”

  “It is?”

  She nodded.

  I leaned back into my chair and stared up at the ceiling, mesmerized by the hypnotic spin of the blades.

  “How do you feel about your decision to end the friendship with Rad?”

  I thought about it for a minute.

  “Lonely,” I said finally. “It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. I mean, it’s not like anything romantic happened between us. But I miss talking to him. Every time I come across something I think he’d like, I just wish I could call him up or send him a text. Like the other day, I saw this movie, Coherence. It was about parallel universes, and I just know he’d love it. That’s the thing; he’s the only person I know who would appreciate it the same way I do. And I wish I could watch it with him and talk to him about it. Why is that so important to me? I don’t get it. I didn’t even think about all this before I knew him.”

  “It’s human nature, I suppose. To have another person validate your own unique view of the world.”

  “I can’t even talk about it, which makes me think about it more.”

  Ida nodded. “Things tend to grow bigger in your mind if you let them sit there. It’s always better to get it off your chest. That’s why I’m here.”

  We were quiet for a few minutes.

  “My friend Candela just quit school.”

  “Really? In her final term?”

  “Yeah. It almost feels like she’s on this self-destructive path. I think Ana’s death has been really difficult on her.”

  I told Ida about the time Rad and I went to the cemetery and found Candela’s picture in Ana’s locket.

  “I don’t know exactly what their relationship was, but it obviously went deeper than I thought. Whenever I try to talk to Candela about it, she clams up. And then just like that, she switches to her old happy-go-lucky self, and I think I’m just imagining it all. It makes me uneasy. I’m worried sick about her, but I feel so helpless.”

  “I know the feeling, sweetheart. But it’s up to Candela to sort her own life out. All you can do is be a friend to her. Keep a line of communication open.”

  “I know,” I said quietly. “It feels almost like she’s a different person now. She moved away from home a few weeks ago, and she’s hanging out with a weird crowd. I met them at her housewarming, and I didn’t feel comfortable around them.” I shrugged. “But maybe it’s just me.”

  “It’s good to trust your instincts; they’re usually right.” Ida reached for a lighter and finally sparked up her cigarette. She took a long drag and looked at me. “How about your mother?”

  “She’s driving me insane. I’ve stopped seeing Rad, but she’s still not happy. I don’t know what the hell she wants from me.”

  “I see,” she said and let me continue.

  “She’s just so—I don’t know . . . miserable. I can’t seem to do anything right. There’s always a problem. It’s like walking on eggshells. When it’s just Dad and me, things are easy. I just want her to not be so crazy all the time.”

  “Have you spoken to her about how you feel?”

  “I’ve tried, but there’s no point. It’s like a monologue with her. Lucy talks to her mother all the time. It’s a two-way street with them. They’re, like, best of friends. I don’t know why mine has to be so difficult.”

  “Relationships are complex things. On the surface it should be simple. But it’s like an onion. So many layers there. The mother-daughter relationship seems to be a particularly tough one. But they tend to work themselves out as you get older.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, unconvinced. “It seems to get progressively worse every year.”

  She gave me a sympathetic look. “Is the rubber band still working?”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty much a requirement for me now. I carry spares with me too.”

  “That’s good to hear, honey. I think you’re coping remarkably well, considering what you’re up against. It would be a tough time for anyone, even under ordinary circumstances.”

  “I suppose,” I glanced at the clock and was surprised to see my hour was up.

  “It goes by quickly, doesn’t it?” She stubbed out her cigarette. “Well, you take care, honey.”

  I picked myself up from the chair. “I will.”

  “Just take it one step at a time, okay? Don’t beat yourself up so much.”

  I nodded.

  “Good girl. I’ll see you next week.”

  Seven

  The bell sounded, signaling the end of sixth period. I breathed a sigh of relief and began packing up my desk. Duck, who was sitting next to me, stood up and slung his bag over his shoulders.

  “Audrey,” my English teacher, Mr. Sadowski, called to me across the chatter in the classroom.

  I looked up. “Yeah?”

  “Can you come here a minute?”

  “Sure,” I said, shoving the rest of my books into my bag.

  “I’ll meet you at the front gate?” said Duck.

  “Actually, I have to stay back today to do some work on the school mag. But I’ll drop by your place afterward.”

  “Okay, want me to pick yo
u up?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’ll take the bus.”

  I swung my school bag onto my shoulder and, doing my best to avoid my jostling classmates, made my way to the front where Mr. Sadowski was waiting.

  “What’s up, Mr. Sadowski?”

  “I’ve finished reading some of the recent pieces you’ve written for the school magazine. Great work, really great. You’ve always been a strong writer, but it’s gone up a notch in the past couple of months. Well done.”

  I smiled, pleased with the compliment.

  “But I thought I should just check in with you, make sure everything is okay.”

  “Of course it is. Why would you think otherwise?”

  “You’ve been a little quiet in class lately, and your writing, well . . .” He gave me a look I couldn’t quite interpret. “It’s taken something of a dark turn.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is there a reason for this?”

  I shook my head and smiled. “No, not really.”

  “No?” He looked unconvinced.

  “Why do you ask?”

  He sighed. “Since Ana’s death, the running theme in your work seems to focus mainly on suicide, and I’ve been a little worried.”

  “It’s okay. I’m seeing someone about it. Ida has been great. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

  “I have, and from what I know, you’re in good hands.”

  “So was that all?”

  He nodded. “Yes, that was all.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mr. Sadowski. See you tomorrow.”

  I made my way over to the school library to meet up with Anton, who insisted we call him Angie. He was editor of the school magazine and the most popular kid in school, well liked by the teachers, the kids, the ladies at the school cafeteria, and even the grumpy caretaker whom everyone steered clear of.

  “Hey, Angie,” I said when I walked into our headquarters—a small study room tucked away in the back corner of the library. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Hey, Audrey,” he said, his eyes pinned to the screen of his laptop.

  I dropped my school bag down and pulled out a chair.

  “What are you working on today?” I asked.

  His fingers paused over the keys, and his eyes flickered up to meet mine.

  “I’m working on a tribute to Ana.”

  I drew in a deep breath. “Yeah?”

  Angie rubbed at his chin. His fingernails were painted with bright pink polish and finished with a smattering of rainbow glitter. Today he had rolled up the sleeves of his white polo shirt to show off his perpetual golden tan. He wore a tartan skirt over the school-issued gray tights, which he had neatly tucked into a pair of Doc Martens.

  “I thought we could interview some of her friends, share their stories. I know Candela has some wild ones to tell—the two of them were as thick as thieves.”

  I sat down and pulled my laptop from my bag.

  “You know her boyfriend, Rad, don’t you?” he continued.

  “Yeah,” I said, instantly feeling guarded. “But we’re not in touch anymore.”

  “Really?” said Angie, his perfectly shaped eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Since when?”

  “It’s been a couple weeks or so,” I said with a shrug.

  “Oh,” Angie shut the lid of his laptop and rested his chin in his hands. “I know it’s none of my business, Audrey, but I heard through the grapevine that the two of you had something going on.”

  “What? From whom?”

  “Just a few of my sources—you know.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Aren’t there more interesting things to talk about?”

  “It happens to be the trending topic at the moment.”

  “Well, it must be a slow news week.”

  “Is it true that Rad looks like River Phoenix?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “Kind of, yeah.”

  “Is he more like Mike Waters in My Own Private Idaho or Eddie Birdlace in Dogfight? Both are equally hot by the way.”

  “Mike Waters.”

  “I am so jealous right now.”

  “Don’t be. There’s nothing to be jealous about.”

  “So nothing happened between you?” Angie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Not even a pash?”

  “Of course not,” I insisted. “I have a boyfriend —remember?”

  Angie sighed. “I love Duck. Everyone loves Duck. He’s a great guy, but he’s wrong for you, honey.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Yes, he is. You sit with a different clique. You two don’t have anything in common. Don’t get me wrong: Duck is great husband material, and he’s cute as hell. But the two of you—” he drew his hand across his neck in a cutthroat motion “—are doomed. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

  My mother was at Duck’s place when I arrived there late that afternoon, sitting at the kitchen table with Zoe, a glass of wine in her hand.

  “You look exhausted, Audrey. Have you been burning the midnight oil?” Zoe asked as I walked through the archway that separated her kitchen from the lounge room.

  I nodded, putting my bag down by my mother’s chair.

  “Poor kid. Duck has been the same.” She gave me a sympathetic smile. “The pressure they put on you is ridiculous, isn’t it? I still wake up in the middle of the night sometimes thinking I’m back at school and forgot to do my homework.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Did you hear the latest news, Zoe?” said my mother. “Candela’s dropped out of school. You know, Amita’s girl?”

  “Really? Right in the final term? What a shame.”

  Mum shook her head. “I always knew that girl was bad news.”

  “Don’t be nasty, Mum,” I said. “You don’t know the full story.”

  “I’ve been hearing all sorts of things through the grapevine about the type of people she’s hanging out with now. Poor Amita—after the whole fiasco with Jeff walking out, it’s the last thing she needs.”

  “Well, Lucy and I are going to meet up with her tomorrow,” I said.

  “You’re not going to her house, I hope?”

  “No,” I lied, “we’re going out for a coffee.”

  Duck surfaced from his room a few moments later.

  “Hi,” he said to me and turned to Zoe. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Your dad is picking up some pizza on his way home. Should be here any minute.”

  My mother glanced at her watch. “I didn’t realize how late it is. I’d best get home. Audrey, are you going to stay here for dinner?”

  “Yeah, Duck is going to talk me through calculus later on.”

  “Okay then. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “I bumped into Lucy and Freddy today while I was in town,” said Duck. “They said Rad got you a birthday gift. How come you never mentioned it to me?”

  It was shortly after dinner, and we were sitting in his dad’s study, our textbooks sprawled between us across the large desk. Duck’s dad ran a law firm in the city. His study at home was like an extension of his office, all mahogany and leather with rows and rows of intimidating legal books.

  I put my pen down and looked up. “I don’t have to tell you every single detail of my life. Anyway, why would they mention that? Were you interrogating them?”

  “No, we were just chatting about your birthday night, and Lucy asked if I saw the gift Rad got you because, in her words, it was so sweet.”

  I cringed inwardly. I didn’t want Duck to get the wrong idea. I hadn’t even spoken to Rad since that night. Though there were times when I wished I could call him—and I would have too, if I hadn’t deleted his number from my phone.

  “So, he got you a snow globe.”

  “Yeah.”

 
“Why is that sweet? What’s so damn special about a snow globe?”

  “Because I mentioned something about liking snowcapped mountains . . .”

  “Oh, great, so now he knows more about you than I do.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t invite him.”

  “I didn’t! I didn’t invite anyone—it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

  “Then how did he know to get you a gift?”

  “How am I supposed to know?”

  “Well, he’s your friend. Apparently you seem to know a lot about each other.”

  “You’re acting crazy again, Duck! It’s been weeks since I last spoke to him.”

  “Why did you stop speaking to him? Did something happen between you?”

  “No, of course not. The truth is we didn’t know each other that well, anyway, so it’s not a big deal.”

  “If it’s not a big deal, then why don’t you keep hanging out with him?”

  I didn’t have an answer.

  “Everyone is talking about how the two of you have something going on. And you seemed pretty friendly with him at your birthday party.”

  “I was friendly with everyone at my party. That’s how you behave toward your friends.”

  “I saw the way you were looking at each other. I’m not a fucking idiot.”

  “Stop it, Duck. Seriously. I’m your girlfriend, okay? Everyone knows that. I’m not going to talk to Rad anymore, especially if it upsets you this much. It’s not worth us fighting over.”

  “Don’t talk as if you’re doing me a huge favor, Audrey.”

  I felt tired all of a sudden. I couldn’t seem to do anything right. I stopped seeing Rad, and a large part of that was because of Duck, but it still wasn’t enough for him. What did he want from me? Not to talk to another boy for as long as I lived?

  “Look, I think I should just go.” I grabbed my books and shoved them roughly into my bag. “I get enough shit from my mother.” My voice quivered and tears sprung to my eyes. “I don’t need it from you too.”

  “Audrey, come on, don’t cry,” he said, his tone softening.

  “What do you want, Duck? Tell me! Rad and I were just friends, and now we’re not even that. What do you want me to say?”