Sad Girls

by Lang Leav

  “Fun?” I said incredulously. I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Candela, wake up! This isn’t about you popping pills or putting shit up your nose. Do you know what this kind of fun leads to?”

  “Audrey, chill out for a second.” She stepped away from me.

  “No! I’m not going to watch someone I love throw their life away.”

  “Oh God, you sound like my mum.” She looked away from me. “I can stop anytime I want.”

  “Does your mother know about this?”

  “Quit being so judgmental. This is something I would expect from Lucy, not you.”

  “Does your mother know about this?” I repeated. “Does Eve? Candela, look at me!” She wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Well, do they?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Is this about Ana?” I continued. “Is this how you’re dealing with it?”

  Her expression darkened at the mention of Ana’s name. “I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” she warned.

  “You know, there was a picture of you in her locket.”

  “And?” She put her hands on her hips, daring me to go on.

  “What was going on with the two of you?” I demanded.

  “Well, you seem to know more than me, Audrey. You’re the one who saw Ana with her dad; you’re the one who got all cozy with her boyfriend—so why are you asking me?”

  I was taken aback by the hostility in her voice. I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off.

  “Maybe you’re the one with the schoolgirl crush.”

  “Candela, I—”

  “I know what you’re implying about me and Ana, and do you know what? It’s none of your fucking business,” she said, her bright green eyes piercing mine. “Do you hear me, Audrey?” Her voice rose in anger. “So get off my back and worry about your own screwed-up life.” She turned suddenly on her heel and stormed back into the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

  Ten

  Graduation came and went with little fanfare. Laughter and relief rang through the air. People signed T-shirts with Sharpies and scrawled meaningful quotations in each others’ yearbooks. Out on the sports field, my classmates were burning their schoolbooks in large metal bins—a tradition that continued every year in spite of the oppressive heat.

  Candela didn’t show up—not that I expected her to. We hadn’t spoken since our argument, even though I tried calling several times. When I told Lucy what I saw at Candela’s house, she suggested we stage an intervention, but I knew it would be pointless. Candela had always done things on her own terms.

  I was making my way over to the English block to meet up with Lucy when Angie came and found me.

  “Hey, Audrey, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “What’s up, Angie?”

  “What are your plans for next year?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t finish my exams, so I suppose I’ll have to take them again or something.”

  “Well, my aunt Sam is the editor for See! Sydney, and they’re looking for an intern. I was meant to take the position, but my ultra-glam cousin Cecelia who lives in New York is getting married.” He mouthed the words “shotgun wedding” as if it was the most scandalous thing in the world, and I laughed. “So,” he continued, “Mum and I are going to her wedding, and I think I might stay on in New York for a while and do my own thing. You know, check out the fashion, do some gallery hopping.”

  “Sounds neat!”

  “I know!” he exclaimed, doing a short, impromptu dance. “I can’t wait!”

  “Take me with you!”

  He sighed. “I wish I could, sweetie, but I have a feeling I’m going to need the extra baggage space.”

  I laughed.

  “Anyway, I told Sam about you, and she wants to know if you want to take the intern position at See! Sydney in my place.”

  “Wow, really?”

  He nodded. “I told her you were my right-hand man with the school mag.”

  “Thanks, Angie, I would love that!”

  “Cool! I’ll pass on your number, so expect a call from her soon.”

  “Do I have to do an interview or anything? I know internships are really hard to come by.”

  “Yeah, but just between you and me, you’ve already got the position.”

  I hugged him warmly. “Angie, you’re the best!”

  I found Lucy by the English block accosting Mr. Sadowski with a Sharpie in one hand and her yearbook in the other. “Write something that will make sense to me in ten years,” she instructed. Mr. Sadowski took the Sharpie from Lucy with a sigh and scribbled in her yearbook: Youth is wasted on the young.

  Later, we met Freddy at the school gate, and the three of us stood waiting for Duck. After a few minutes, I spotted him walking in a throng of students who, I realized with a sense of relief, I would never have to see again.

  “Duck!” Lucy called. “We’re over here.”

  He looked up and waved at us. When he reached the gate, he took my hand, threading his fingers through mine.

  “What should we do now?” said Lucy as we made our way up the street.

  I shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “Did you drive this morning?” Lucy asked Duck.

  “No, we took the bus.”

  “Okay, good, we can all go in Freddy’s car then . . .”

  “It’s a gorgeous day; why don’t we head down to the beach for a swim?” I suggested.

  “Yes!” said Lucy. “What a great way to celebrate.”

  “Sounds just like another typical day for me,” said Freddy with a grin.

  “Well, your extended holiday is coming to an end soon, buddy,” said Lucy.

  “Really? Have you finally decided on something, Freddy?” I asked.

  “Business.” He put his arm around Lucy’s shoulder. “We’re going to enroll in the same course next year.”

  “Aw,” I said. “That’s cute.”

  “We’re going to be tycoons,” said Lucy happily.

  “I don’t doubt it,” said Duck.

  When we got to the end of the street, Lucy stopped suddenly and licked at the air.

  “Mmmm . . .” she said. “Freedom.”

  “Weirdo,” said Freddy.

  “Where did you park, anyway, babe?”

  “About two streets down, over by the corner store.”

  Lucy pouted. “But that’s miles away!”

  “Do you want a piggyback?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He hoisted her onto his back, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “So Candela didn’t turn up today,” said Duck.

  “Nope,” said Lucy, a trace of annoyance in her voice. “So much for sticking to her word.”

  “I didn’t think she’d come,” I said.

  “Honestly, I’ve washed my hands of her,” said Lucy. “I’m sick of working so damn hard for crumbs.”

  “Don’t say that, Lucy,” I said quietly. “It’s been the three of us forever. She’s just going through stuff at the moment.”

  I knew Candela didn’t mean to alienate us. She was just sad about losing Ana, and even though she would never say it out loud, she blamed me for what happened. Maybe she sensed it was my fault, that I was responsible for Ana’s death. And the awful thing was she was right. I took a deep breath and pulled my hand free from Duck’s, reaching quickly for my rubber band.

  “That doesn’t give her the right to treat us like shit,” said Lucy. “And I don’t like the crowd she’s hanging out with.” She swung her head back to face me. “I don’t mean to sound like your mum, Audrey, but I think it’s best you keep your distance.”

  Eleven

  After school broke, each day seemed to blur into the next. I had no structure or purpose, no reason to get up in the morning. I was goin
g to bed late every night, and I spent the hours reading penny dreadfuls, surfing the web, or watching reruns of Doctor Who. My mind kept ricocheting between Ana, Rad, and Candela. Like an unofficial tally of the lives I had inadvertently wrecked when I told that lie.

  One morning, my phone buzzed loudly, waking me from a restless sleep. I reached for it blindly, knocking it from the nightstand. It fell to the floor with a clatter.

  “Shit,” I swore, hanging over the edge of my bed and grabbing it at lightning speed.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Audrey?” spoke a woman’s voice that I didn’t recognize.

  “Yes.”

  “Hi, it’s Sam, Angie’s aunt. I’m the editor at See! Sydney.”

  “Hi,” I said, suddenly feeling wide awake. “I’ve been expecting your call.”

  “Great! Angie mentioned that you were interested in taking the intern position here. Are you free to come at ten tomorrow morning for an interview?”

  “Absolutely! I’ll see you then.”

  I arrived at a gray nondescript building half an hour before my meeting time. I sat downstairs at a coffee shop and grabbed a copy of the latest paper. I was absorbed in a story about taxi drivers claiming to have picked up ghost passengers when my phone began buzzing. I peered at the screen. It was Lucy.

  “Hey, Lucy. What’s up?”

  “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Guess!” Lucy always got a perverse joy from holding back exciting news and making you work for it.

  I sighed. “Lucy, I have, like, fifteen minutes before my meeting starts, so let’s not do the guessing game today.”

  “Fine then, you killjoy. You know my uncle Harry? The one who works in advertising?”

  “Mr. Fancy Pants?” I said, with a smile. Lucy’s uncle Harry was a flamboyant man who had a ruddy nose and perpetually flushed cheeks. He had no children of his own and had always doted on Lucy. I remember him at their family gatherings when we were kids—often performing magic tricks and taking great delight in our astonished faces.

  “Yes, Mr. Fancy Pants. He just got a job offer to work in Paris for a couple of years. Anyway, he asked me to housesit for him while he’s away. Which is fantastic because Freddy and I are starting our course at Sydney U next year, and his house is nice and close. He says you can move in too, if you want. As long as we take good care of the place.”

  I let my mind play catch-up with her words. Move out. My brain seemed to single out the phrase from the jumble of sentences.

  “Us, move out?” I asked dumbly.

  “Yes! If you get the internship with See! Sydney, we can room together in his house.”

  “But what about rent and stuff? I’m not getting paid for my internship.”

  “We don’t have to pay rent. We just have to take care of the place.”

  “Seriously?” I said.

  “Yeah, isn’t it great?”

  “Oh my God!” I was suddenly jubilant. “I can get away from my mother!”

  “Exactly,” said Lucy happily.

  “Like, I don’t have to see her every single day.” The thought was almost too wonderful to process.

  “And our boyfriends can stay over too! Duck’s starting his course next year, so it’s perfect. Audrey, we’re going to have a blast!”

  “We’ll have to get part-time jobs, for groceries and stuff,” I said happily.

  “We can figure all that out. I think we can get some government grants or whatever, and I get access to my trust once I start university. We can do this, Audrey!”

  “We totally can!” I answered, feeling exuberant.

  “Are you doing anything after your meeting?” she asked.

  “No, I’ll text you when I’m done.”

  “Okay, I’ll pick you up afterward; we can go and check out the house together.”

  An immaculately dressed woman in her midthirties was standing in the elevator when I walked through its heavy doors. I gave her a half-smile.

  “Which floor?” she asked.

  “Uh, seven,” I said, as she reached for the set of buttons to the side.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be Audrey, would you?”

  I turned to look at her. “Sam?”

  She nodded, sticking out her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said with a warm smile.

  I smiled back as we shook hands. I liked her immediately.

  “Angie has told me so much about you,” she said.

  “He has?”

  She nodded. “He gave me the latest copy of your school magazine. Outstanding work.”

  “Thank you. It was his baby.”

  There was a ding sound and the elevator doors slid open.

  “Yours too, apparently,” she said, as we stepped out of the lift. “Your articles were great to read. A little dark perhaps—but I do like your style.”

  She led me down the narrow hallway and through a frosted glass door with the words See! Sydney imprinted in bold black lettering.

  “Hi, April,” Sam said to a twenty-something girl sitting behind a simple white desk.

  “Hi, Sam,” said April. “Is this your ten o’clock?” She motioned to me.

  Sam nodded.

  “You must be Audrey, then,” she said with a smile. “Welcome to our little office.”

  Behind her was a small open-plan office with an exposed brick wall at the back and large block windows throughout the length of the airy, bright room. There were steel pipes and wood beams across the ceiling from which terrariums hung on thin metal wires. A handful of desks, most of them empty, were scattered in a random formation with only a couple of journalists milling about, and there was a waiting area with a lounge and coffee bar. Overstuffed beanbags sat in the corners atop gray rustic floorboards. A track by Pink Floyd was playing softly.

  “We have a very lax work ethic here,” said Sam. “Most of our writers don’t get in until after eleven. They can come and go as they please, as long as they hand in their articles on time.”

  “It’s a good system,” said April. “Everyone’s happy, and the work is better as a result.”

  I had spent a great deal of time researching this publication. It was established five years ago and had already won a slew of awards.

  “Although when we have a deadline, this place can be a madhouse,” said Sam.

  “Oh yeah,” said April. “It can get pretty crazy.” She gestured behind her. “But, usually, this is the kind of vibe you’ll get here.”

  I followed Sam to her desk, and we sat facing each other. A picture of Angie in a silver frame caught my eye. It looked like a recent one, taken with him standing in a canoe, wearing a large sombrero hat and red heart-shaped sunglasses and brandishing a paddle like a sword. “That picture always makes me laugh,” she said, following my gaze.

  “Angie is probably the most photogenic person in the world.”

  “Isn’t he?” Her voice was full of affection. “He is the light of my life, you know. I still remember the first time I held him. He looked like a bean sprout. I tell him that all the time.”

  I laughed.

  “So, Audrey,” Sam put her palms flat on the table, “tell me about yourself. What are your ambitions?”

  I considered her question for a few moments. “I love writing; I always have. I suppose my ultimate goal is to write a book one day.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose this position will be a good start. You’ll get to cut your teeth on an award-winning publication and mix with like-minded professionals.” She smiled at me. “Are you thinking of taking any courses next year?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t finish my exams, so I might have to at some stage.”

  “Interesting. I know most publications only hire kids with degrees. But I’m a bit of a maverick, and it’s worked well fo
r me so far. When I’m hiring, I always look for something very particular. It’s hard to explain. I suppose, in a way, it’s instinctive. I seem to have a knack for knowing whether a writer is capable or not.”

  I nodded and waited for her to continue.

  “And I definitely see potential in you. I think with a little guidance you’ll brush up great in no time. I’m not sure what Angie has told you about the intern position, but I’ll go through it with you now. Have you had any prior work experience?”

  “I did a short internship at my dad’s office about a year ago. He works in finance.”

  “Basic office duties?”

  “Yeah, answering the phone, getting coffees, lots of filing.”

  She smiled. “Well, you’ll have a similar role here. You’ll be doing research and accompanying our senior journalists on interviews. And you’ll have the opportunity to pitch story ideas at our meetings. Our brainstorming sessions are always great fun.”

  “Sounds perfect!”

  “Good. The length of the internship is three months. I am looking to add a new writer to our team, so if it all goes well, there could be a paid position made available in mid-March.”

  I felt a jolt of excitement. “Really?” I could hardly believe my luck.

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes, really.”

  “That would be wonderful! Truly.”

  “Well, then I guess you start Monday.” She stood up and stuck out her hand at me from across the desk.

  I got up from my chair and shook her hand, a grin plastered across my face.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “No problem at all. Welcome to the team, Audrey. I think you’re going to love it here.”

  Lucy came to pick me up after my meeting.

  “How did it go?” she asked, as I slid into the passenger seat of Octopus One.

  “Fantastic!” I said, beaming at her.

  “So tell me all about it.”

  “The internship is three months, and then I might get a paid job after that.”

  “No way!” said Lucy. “Even lit graduates are having a super hard time getting a position.”