Bad Girls with Perfect Faces

by Lynn Weingarten

  Xavier had sort of assumed Sasha would come over to hang out after dinner. They hadn’t talked about it, but he’d just figured, because that’s what it had been like most of the summer so far. But then Ivy texted him around eight. Come to the woods. That’s all she said. And Xavier felt a little bit weird about it, for a couple of reasons, but Sasha and Xavier hadn’t actually had plans. So Xavier went.

  * * *

  This time, Xavier was sober on the walk there and so it was harder to squash down all the thoughts about why he maybe shouldn’t be doing this. But then Xavier stepped into the clearing, and there she was, waiting for him on top of a plaid picnic blanket wearing nothing but underwear and boots and leaning back drinking something from a bottle, which she handed to him, and all his concerns vanished. He looked at the label, it was birthday-cake-flavored vodka. He took a sip. Ivy was watching him. She didn’t say “Hi” or “Happy birthday” or anything. Just raised her eyebrows, and said “It’s cold out here,” and then, “Come warm me up.”

  And so he did.

  Afterward she took his face in her hands and she looked him straight in the eye and she said, “Can we please do this for real? Us this? I want to be your girlfriend again.”

  He wasn’t sure how to answer. He wanted to ask, What’s changed? Why now? But somehow instead he just felt his head nodding yes.

  July 23, 1:01 a.m.

  Jake: IVY. This is Jake, your brand new boyfriend who lives in your phone

  Ivy: This isn’t Ivy. Someone gave you a fake number

  Ivy: Also, how did you know my name’s Ivy?

  Jake: Good guess?

  Ivy: I already know for a fact you’re a very bad guesser. See: the whole hangman thing

  Jake: Fair. I guess I saw it in a comment someone posted on one of your photos

  Ivy: Creep.

  Jake: It’s very late. So why aren’t you sleeping? Out late with your other boyfriend?

  Ivy: HA. I’m awake because of insomnia

  Jake: plot twist…your boyfriend’s named insomnia?

  Ivy: Heh

  Jake: So what IS his name?

  Ivy: I don’t have a boyfriend

  Ivy: Why, are you surprised?

  Jake: I guess because I don’t really expect good things to happen. And to me, this is a good thing, us talking and you being single and all

  Jake: Also, I kind of assumed you did from some of your pictures. Who is the guy with the blue hair?

  Ivy: He’s nobody

  Jake: A ghost?

  Ivy: No, just nobody important

  Ivy: Besides, boys are mostly terrible

  Jake: People are mostly terrible

  Ivy: PEOPLE are mostly terrible

  Jake: jinx

  Ivy: JINX

  Jake: Well it looks like we agree on one thing, at least

  Ivy: What else do we have in common do you think?

  Jake: Let’s find out . . .

  Sasha

  The Electric Playhouse was mostly empty. Inside, the air was damp and cool. I had been at the copy shop, printing out a stack of postcards for a book launch, when my phone buzzed with a text from Xavier: Greg is back for 2 days, meeting him and the Mikes at Electric Playhouse. Come by aftr work???

  It would be the first time I had seen him since the night before his birthday, which was only four days ago, but after a full month of hanging out basically every day, it felt like years. In the last four days, he and I had only sent about a dozen texts. Meanwhile, I’d exchanged hundreds with his girlfriend. Even earlier that day. Even on the walk over. I had my new second phone shoved down in the bottom of my bag, one of those untraceable pay-as-you-go ones that TV drug dealers use. I got it at the phone store near my job, paid for it with the cash Marc gave me. I felt a little weird about the whole thing—there’s a difference between setting up a fake Instagram account drunk at night and buying an actual brand-new phone in the sober day. But I did it. And I was glad. Everything I’d thought about Ivy had so far turned out to be true. She’d take his heart and grind it into dust again, if given the chance. Except this time I’d make sure Xavier wised up before she could.

  I walked toward the back, past the snack counter that sold only soft-serve ice cream and stale popcorn, past the prize window where you could redeem your tickets for rubber spiders and plastic gemstone rings, to the section with the vintage arcade games.

  There were Greg and Xavier, playing a game called Night Knight where knights fight each other in the dark. Neither of them had seen me yet or heard my footsteps over the clanging and banging of the game. Xavier was losing badly.

  “Dad’s girlfriend thinks American parents are too overprotective, so he had to try and impress her by letting me go off and do whatever I wanted by myself,” Greg was saying.

  “What’d you do with all your freedom?” Xavier asked.

  Greg tapped his joystick quickly. “Went to a couple Italian dance clubs, smooched a fellow or two. Mostly, though, I just went to museums that Dad would have thought were too boring and pondered the great mysteries of the universe.” Greg shrugged. “It was good. I can’t believe I’m only back for two days, though. How’s your summer been so far?”

  “Oh, you know, pretty uneventful,” Xavier said.

  I knew that Xavier and Greg were not the kind of friends who told each other everything, not the kind of friends who had to, but still it was strange to hear him describe his summer as such. Uneventful because he’d never left his bed? Because he’d managed to survive? Because he was back together with a monster?

  On the screen, Greg’s knight picked Xavier’s up off his horse.

  “This is painful to watch,” I said.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Greg said.

  “He’s too good at this game,” said Xavier. They were both looking at the screen. He turned to me and our eyes met and my heart pounded. I was used to having a secret from Xavier, but this one felt different. The more secrets you have from someone, the harder it is to look them in the eye. Now, I could barely look at him at all.

  Off to the side a couple of kids were standing at the top of the Skee-Ball machine, and dropping the balls though a hole in the netting directly into the five-hundred-point hole.

  “Hey, no worries if you don’t want to discuss, but Little Mike said he and Big Mike haven’t seen you all summer. They told me about you and Ivy and the whole thing. That’s rough. You okay?”

  “Yeah, I mean . . . It was crappy there for a minute.” Xavier’s ears were turning red. “I’m fine now, though. Actually, about Ivy, we’re . . .”

  My entire body was tingling. Maybe now was going to be my chance to say the thing I needed to say. To do the thing I needed to do. On the game screen, Greg’s knight was about to knock off Xavier’s knight’s helmet.

  “Sasha, do you want to step in and save your buddy here?” Greg said. “I am crushing him.”

  I bumped Xavier out of the way and took over the controls. A few seconds later, the victory music played and the game was over.

  “Sorry,” Greg said. “You never stood a chance.” He turned toward me. We hugged hello.

  “Greg picked up an Australian accent in Europe,” Xavier said.

  “It’s true, mate,” Greg said.

  I nodded, deadpan. “Makes sense.”

  I went to the change machine and got quarters. Big Mike and Little Mike arrived. There was lots of hugging and high-fiving. Everybody was into Xavier’s blue hair and agreed I had done a very good job. These boys weren’t my friends, but I liked them. They were nice people and easy to be around. I thought of them as simple, but not in a bad way.

  We played Gauntlet and Q*bert and Tetris, and all the while I felt my new phone buzzing in my bag. Little Mike played some ten-year-old at Space Invaders and lost. Big Mike hit the jackpot on a game where you spin a wheel and won one hundred tickets, and for a minute, while excitedly watching the tickets come out, he looked like a giant kid, which was sweet.

  When we ran out of quarters, we got soft-ser
ve and sodas and sat at this one big picnic table in the back.

  We talked about random things: movies, a robotics course the Mikes were taking at a local college, a girl who Little Mike had a crush on, and whether or not the Electric Playhouse was a front for some kind of organized crime thing, because it somehow remained in business even though hardly anyone was ever in there.

  “Hey,” Greg said to Xavier. “Before—weren’t you starting to say something about Ivy?”

  I sat straight up, adrenaline buzzing.

  “About how she’s a total jerk?” Big Mike said. He turned to me. “My sister said that insults shouldn’t be related to gender. So that’s why I didn’t call her a bitch.”

  Xavier looked down. “Well, it’s just . . . we’re sort of seeing each other again. We’re back together, I guess. . . .”

  “Oh!” Greg took a sip of his soda. “How’d that happen?”

  “I bumped into her. Well, me and Sasha both did. And it just . . . y’know.”

  “Whoa,” Big Mike said. “Sorry I called your girlfriend a jerk.”

  Little Mike said, “Are you happy?”

  “Yeah, I think I am.”

  “Well, then,” Greg said, “if you’re happy, we’re happy.” He smiled. They were all smiling. I wondered how many details Xavier had told them about his and Ivy’s relationship the first time around. None of them had really spent any time with her.

  “Yes, that’s right,” said Big Mike. “As our only son, your happiness is paramount.”

  Little Mike turned to me, and stage-whispered, “He’s not actually my only son. But don’t tell his mom.” Then he winked. And that was that.

  Big Mike stood up. “I’m going to get more quarters,” he said. “Tetris time?”

  “You should check her phone,” I blurted out. They all looked up at me.

  “Whose?” said Greg.

  “Ivy’s,” I said. “Xavier should.” I turned toward him. “If you’re going to be back together with her, then you shouldn’t blindly trust her. You should look at her phone.”

  “You mean like spy on her?” Big Mike said.

  “Not spy,” I said. I felt my face turning red. I had meant to sound casual. This was so important, and I was fucking it up. “Just look at her phone to see if she’s up to anything with other guys.”

  “Isn’t that messed up, though?” Little Mike said.

  They were all staring at me, except Xavier, who was looking at the bottom of his empty soft-serve ice-cream cup.

  “So is cheating,” I said. “If you’re going be with her, you have to at least make sure that . . . Well, you just have to look at her phone. To see what she’s doing. I mean, considering everything from before . . . Because didn’t you say that with the other guy, that they’d been texting? Right?” My words were jumbling themselves up inside my mouth. I felt weird even revealing those details in front of his other friends, maybe he hadn’t even told them. But I had to keep going. He had to hear this. “Because the guy said something to her about the texts? So if she’s going to do it again, her phone would be a good place to look. . . .”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Xavier said to me. His face was red, too. “Maybe I will. Okay?” But I wasn’t sure if he even meant it or if he was just trying to get me to stop.

  Greg went and got three more dollars in quarters and they played a few more games. When the quarters ran out, we all said our goodbyes. Xavier’s phone buzzed, and I figured he must be going to meet Ivy from the way he was not quite looking at me as he left.

  July 26, 1:48 a.m.

  Ivy: CAN’T

  Ivy: SLEEP

  Ivy: PPPP

  Ivy: PP

  Ivy: PPPPPP

  Ivy: And yes I sent so many texts in a row, because I am VERY SELFISH and was hoping all the text bings would WAKE YOU UP

  Ivy: Did it work!?!?

  Jake: Ha. HA! Ha ha. It didn’t work

  Jake: Because I was already awake

  Jake: And I keep my phone on vibrate

  Jake: Hi

  Ivy: HI

  Ivy: I have a question for you . . . remember the other day when you asked me if I have a boyfriend? I realized I didn’t ask you: Do YOU have a GIRLFRIEND?

  Jake: No

  Jake: Would you mind if I did?

  Ivy: Honestly?

  Jake: Of course honestly. There’s no reason to lie

  Ivy: Then yes. I would mind. Does that sound stupid?

  Jake: No. I wouldn’t want you to have a boyfriend either

  Ivy: So why DON’T you have a girlfriend?

  Jake: Honestly?

  Ivy:

  Jake: I don’t do relationships

  Ivy: Why not?

  Jake: Mostly I just like to make out with people and then . . . not date them

  Ivy: How come?

  Jake: I guess because I pretty much never like anyone

  Ivy: . . . because most people are IDIOTS. I get that. I AGREE

  Ivy: But not everyone is

  Jake: no, not everyone

  Ivy: Have you ever been in love?

  Ivy: Am I allowed to ask that?

  Jake: You can ask me anything

  Jake: And . . . yes, I have been. Once

  Ivy: what was it like?

  Jake: It was like someone stuck a fist into my chest and just kept grabbing around in there until my heart got caught. Pretty fucking painful mostly

  Ivy: I thought falling in love was supposed to be MAGICAL

  Jake: I guess it depends on the details

  Jake: Have you been?

  Ivy: No

  Jake: Really? Never?

  Ivy: Never not ever

  Jake: Do you want to be?

  Ivy: Are you PROPOSITIONING me?

  Jake: I’m DARING you

  Jake: What are you so scared of?

  Ivy: I’m not scared of anything

  Jake: liar

  Ivy: Um . . . did you just call me a liar?

  Jake: Oh shoot, sorry that was a typo

  Jake: What I meant was . . .

  Jake: REALLY BIG LIAR

  Ivy: wtf!

  Jake: Either you’re lying to me or you’re lying to yourself, or you’re lying to both of us

  Ivy: Dude, you barely know me

  Jake: I bet I know you better than you think

  Jake: Look, all I’m saying is everyone is scared of something, and the people who claim not to be are usually the most scared of all

  Ivy: All right smartass, what am I so scared of?

  Jake: Oh I dunno. Well like you said, I don’t REALLY know you . . . but if I had to guess I’d guess you’re scared of

  Jake: losing control

  Jake: or being out of control

  Jake: of people knowing who you really are

  Jake: And maybe you’re scared that nothing matters and maybe you’re equally scared that everything does, and you just want to tell yourself nothing matters so you don’t have to take responsibility for your own actions and life

  Jake: like sure it sucks if nothing matters . . . but at least then you’re free from having to try and DO anything . . .

  Jake: Yknow, or something

  Jake: you still there??

  Ivy: I can’t decide if I’m mad at you for being such a cocky asshole . . . or if I love you now

  Jake: probably a little of both

  Jake: Does that mean you think I’m right?

  Ivy: I don’t know what it means

  Jake: In your regular life, no one ever contradicts you, huh. You have everyone convinced you’re really a tough fearless badass

  Ivy: Something like that. How did you know?

  Jake: Just a feeling I guess

  Ivy: So what are YOU scared of??

  Ivy: . . .

  Ivy:. . .

  Ivy: Jake?

  Sasha

  The truth was, back at the very beginning, before I learned enough about Ivy to hate her, before I felt how I later would about Xavier, I actually thought she and I might become friend
s.

  It was early February. Xavier and Ivy had been hooking up for only a few weeks. “I think you’ll really like each other” is what Xavier had said. And then he suggested the three of us hang out. “You’ll probably like each other better than you both like me!”

  It had been a bright, cold afternoon when we went to get nachos at a place you could walk to from school. Xavier was talking fast and kept making cringey nacho jokes the whole way over. “Na-cho nachos! My nachos!” I knew he was just nervous because he really wanted it to go well. I laughed at his jokes, tried to make him relax. Ivy was irritated and made no effort to hide it. “Dude, cut back on the coffee,” she’d said, but without even a hint of a smirk.

  After that, Ivy barely spoke. She rolled her eyes at everything Xavier said, and ignored me entirely. Halfway through the nachos, which only I was eating, Ivy got up to say hi to some people she knew. A few minutes later, Xavier got a funny look on his face, and I turned around and saw that Ivy was sitting on some guy’s lap. Xavier had tried to shrug it off. “Oh, that’s just a friend of hers,” he said quickly. But his face was pink and he looked away.

  Later, Xavier had said maybe things were weird when we all hung out because Ivy and I were too similar. “You’re both tough and no-bullshit kind of people,” he’d said. “So it makes sense you wouldn’t click at first. Guess you need a softie like me to glue you together.” He smiled. And then explained that apart from her best friend, Gwen, Ivy wasn’t usually friends with girls. “You realize how messed up that is,” I said to him. “You’re not friends with girls, either,” he said. “But that’s because I’m not friends with anyone,” I said, then paused. “Except for you.” Xavier said he was sure it would be less awkward the next time. Only there never really was a next time.

  My feelings started to change soon after, but still, if Ivy had been nice to Xavier, been kind to him, I would have put my own feelings aside. I would have put my own feelings aside and been happy that my friend was happy, even if seeing him with someone else made me feel like I’d been kicked in the stomach.

  But Ivy wasn’t good.

  She would get drunk and say mean things. Or she would flirt outrageously in front of him, pretend he was imagining it, and somehow convince him he was.