Authors: Noel Merczel
"DON'T SAY IT!" Andrea shouted.
No parties
!
Andrea must have heard those words a million times before my parents left for the weekend - from her dad, not her mom.
It
wasn't like she was
some kind of wild child, either. That's why
her dad's warning was
so annoying.
Lisa was the only wild one in the
group.
Lisa was the one with all the bad ideas, like the idea to start a shoplifting club when the girls were in middle school, and the idea to cut school and go into Chicago on the train when they were in ninth grade (luckily they weren't caught!) and the idea to flash other drivers coming home from a party one time, by smashing her naked butt up against the car window
.
"I'll call Patty, and I think Lisa gets off work at ten..." Drew was saying.
"Ugh...Lisa..." Andrea groaned
. “She’s getting
so...what’s the word...”
“Bitchy? Overbearing? Stuck on herself?” Drew
supplied, crunching away.
“All of the above,” Andrea replied
. “What are you eating? Pebbles?”
“Close,” Drew said
. “Stale Alpha-bits.”
“Yummy,” Andrea said
. “I mean, she
's
always been those things, but lately, she seems to have a problem with me, I mean personally. Have you noticed?”
“Yea, but I wouldn’t let it bother me if I were you,” Drew said
. “She’s just jealous. She wants your hair. Don’t fall asleep around her.”
“No,” Andrea agreed, even though she knew Drew was only joking.
“No more sleep-overs. Those days are over. And what’s with Patty lately?”
“Whaddya mean?” Drew asked.
“I mean, she acts like she’s from another planet,” Andrea explained.
“Who knows?” Drew said
. “I think she’s just lost. Like, she doesn’t know what to do with her life.”
“I guess...” Andrea agreed. “I know the feeling.”
“I thought you wanted to go to college for art,” Drew reminded her.
“Art
teacher
,” Andrea corrected her
. “I just need a little thing called money.”
“Apply for a scholarship – or a loan,” Drew suggested.
Everything was so easy for Drew. Drew
wanted to be a veterinarian and her parents were footing the entire bill for their daughter to attend the Illinois School of Veterinary Medicine
. Not that Andrea begrudged Drew, but still...
“I can’t get the scholarship,” Andrea said
. “My grades weren’t good enough and I didn’t win the art competition.”
Andrea briefly reflected on the art project that
did
win – a so-called sculpture of garbage that looked like it took about five minutes to create (no,
assemble
was a better word, since the project wasn't really creative, at all).
"That's even too ugly for Shrek to put in his swamp," Andrea had joked maliciously at the time.
“Yea, I know,” Drew agreed
, commiserating. “Eagle
Mastropoli
and his temple of garbage. Gross. Well...maybe the loan...”
Andrea glanced at the clock on the mantle
. It
was about nine, now. She could survive
an hour and a half in this house alone until then.
Suddenly, there was
another loud thump at the window.
Andrea practically jumped
off the couch.
Damn beetles!
she thought.
"So it's a party?" Drew asked.
"Yea...I guess..." Andrea reluctantly agree
d, sort of wishing it was just Drew coming over.
"But let’s not call it a party,” Andrea added, thinking of her
dad. “Let’s call it
a casual get together
.
“Whatever,” Drew submitted. “You can call it a Blue Whale if you want.
As long as there's
something good to eat. You can tell I'm de
sperate if I consider two year old cereal a treat."
Drew's Mom was a real health nut who made entire meals out of chick peas and cauliflower
. That's why there was never anything good to eat
around Drew's house.
"I think I remember seeing a bag of Cheese Doodles in the snack cabinet," Andrea reported.
"Cheese Doodles!" Drew exclaimed. "
I
remember those. They turn your fingers
a beautiful orange color!
All those lovely chemicals...I'm in junk food heaven, already!"
After Andrea hung up, she laid her
cell phone back the coffee table. The phone provide
d some comfort since she knew she could always call 9-1-1 if she had
to.
Then she tried to turn her attention back to the TV
. Tyra
Banks was saying something about
drinking "fierce juice." Normally,
Andrea would have found that comment
really
funny. Only now,
she was too busy thinking about Lisa to even crack a smile
.
Lisa with her subtle put-downs and her superior attitude...
WHOMP!
"FUCK!" Andrea shouted
.
She could swear her heart was beating twice as fast as normal.
Can an eighteen year old have a heart attack
?
she wondered.
Andrea decided that anything was better than being alone in a house with
creepy thumping noise.
Even Lisa.
CHAPTER THREE
Lisa was so bored with her job at Maybelline’s. At least it was only temporary until she became a top model. Then she'd have so
much money she would never shop at Maybelline’s again.
She would only wear Gucci and Versace and Marc Jacobs, and
all that expensive designer stuff.
Maybe some Lilly Pulitzer, too, for when she went on vacation to her own private island getaway.
Lisa
was in the process of putting together a modeling portfolio. She had this guy, Nick, take her pictures. Naturally, Nick assumed that Lisa would repay him with sexual favors, and naturally, Lisa let him think that...despite the fact she had no intention of doing anything remotely sexual with that short weird bald-headed creep.
Nick was thirty-something years old and lived in his mom's basement across the street. He was one of those photography geeks with no real job. He didn't even have a car.
Yet somehow, he managed to buy all that expensive photography equipment, which Lisa always thought was such a mystery.
She assumed he got money from his mom, unless he secretly robbed banks at night.
The last time Nick took pictures of Lisa, she had done something a little skanky. They were in Nick's backyard, and he kept insisting that
Lisa
lift up her dress. At first, Lisa
just said, "Dream on!"
But Nick got a little pissed off at that, and hell, Lisa
needed him. So she thought,
Let me turn the geek on. It could be fun
.
So, she’d done it. Lisa
lifted up the hem of the blue and white cotton sundress and exposed her light pink Victoria's Secret panties
to his hungry horny eyes.
Let the poor geek have a stroke
, she thought.
She
could see his erection from a mile away, and honestly, he didn't look like he was lacking down there. But Lisa
pretended not to notice, closing her eyes to the warmth of the sun so Nick could get the perfect shot of her face.
A
nd truthfully, it had been a really good shot.
Now if only Tyra and her gang would get in gear a
nd post applications for the next America's Next Top Model. She was going to do it, damn it. She was going to apply.
And then...she was going to
win
!
Lisa pictured herself standing with one other girl on stage in front of Tyra and the other judges. The mood was tense. Tyra was just about to announce the winner of America's Next Top Model. Everyone waited....the moment stretched on into eternity...
Suddenly, Tyra was saying, "Excuse me! Can you hear me?"
What? Why would Tyra say that
?
Because it wasn't Tyra, that's why
. It was a stupid annoying customer trying to get Lisa's attention
.
"Oh, yea, sorry," Lisa said, not sounding sorry at all.
The woman just stared at Lisa with a bitchy sneer on her face, snapping her gum.
"I was just remembering something for a test I have to take," Lisa lied.
Lisa used that same old excuse
even though it was summer and she was out of school. B
ut hey, she could be talking about a test for college or summer school, right?
This woman, however, did not soften up at the mention of a school related excuse
. Her overly made-up eyes continued shooting daggers at Lisa.
Too much eyeliner, bitch
! Lisa thought.
It actually makes your eyes look smaller!
The woman standing in front of Lisa was one of those smug moms who strides into Maybelline’s wielding a credit card of her hubby's money, expecting to be treated like a frickin’ diva.
The bitch had a blonde ponytail, pinched lips, tight purple tank top and boring shorts. They all wore the same boring shorts. The shorts always made their asses look saggy.
Or maybe their asses really were saggy.
Her face wasn't old...yet...but was quickly heading towards its expiration date, which always caused a sort of manic desperation in these women, Lisa thought.
A desire to hang on to their rapidly evaporating youth.
This particular woman, for example, had dipped the ends of her raggedy blonde ponytail in magenta hair color, which Lisa thought looked absolutely ridiculous on a woman her age.
L
isa addressed the woman with a rant inside her head.
Stop being so damn delusional and cut off that stupid purple hair.
Look in the mirror, bitch! You're not twelve
!
"Excuse me!" the woman snarled.
She had a mini version of herself in her cart... a toddler with a blonde ponytail (minus the magenta ends) purple star shaped sunglasses, a purple tank top, and the same smug expression.
"Can I have a ticket, please?" the woman demanded.
"Oh, yea...sure..." Lisa said, handing the woman a "3" ticket for the three pairs of boring shorts she was holding.
The woman grabbed the ticket and sighed noisily. Then she angrily removed her toddler from the cart filled with garden accessories and Teddy Grahams.
"Where do they get these people?" Lisa heard the woman complain as she dragged her mini-me into the dressing room.
O
h shut up, bitch
! Lisa responded, in her head.
You look so boring you make me want to puke
!
L
isa couldn't imagine being anything but young, tall, and pretty, with a career in modeling looming on the horizon. Any other life than that just would not be worth living.
T
he fitting room was so dull, but at least it allowed Lisa to daydream all she wanted. It was better than being out on the floor, where you were actually expected to work. Lisa even had time to watch a whole Gucci fashion show on her phone, analyzing all the models while thinking how incredibly zombie-like they looked.
Lisa never understood why high fashion models acted
so stiff and wooden.
Lisa's
plan was to bring excitement and sexiness to the catwalk. The days of boring zombie-like models were over!
Who says models can’t be sexy
?
She had even set up an account online at Model Mayhem, feeling far superior to the other would-be models on the site. In Lisa’s opinion, some of them were an out and out disaster, looking like they were at least thirty
frickin
’ years old!
Sometimes Lisa liked to daydream about her life as a supermodel
. And she always saw herself as a supermodel... never just a regular model doing catalogue work.
She would travel all over the globe.... Japan, Italy, Africa, and especially, the south of France...and what was that cool island with all the statues? Bali. She wanted to go to Bali!
There would be endless parties on expensive yachts...and fabulous dinners, always with the best champagne...and gorgeous swimming pools with fountains and grottos....
God, she loved grottos! Only cool rich people hung out in grottos.
And tons of hot guys to choose from instead of these boring rednecks and geeks and losers from the Midwest…