My Best Friend's Exorcism(32)

“I’m so sick of my stupid hair,” Gretchen said. “I’m so sick of it just hanging down, making me look like Pony and Grace’s perfect daughter. ‘Hello, I am the Gretchen Robot. Would you like to have two-point-five babies and move to the suburbs?’”

“Your parents aren’t evil or anything,” Abby said. “They’re doing the best they can.”

“You’re so naive,” Gretchen said. “Did you know Molly Ravenel was sacrificed to Satan?”

The abrupt change in conversation left Abby confused.

“I think she went to Davidson,” she said. “Like, years ago. Isn’t her brother in student vestry?”

Gretchen ignored the question. “When we were in seventh grade, a bunch of seniors were in a cult and Molly was spying on them in the woods. They caught her and cut out her tongue and her heart.”

“That story’s been around for ages,” Abby said. “The first time I heard it was back in fourth grade. They used to say it about anyone who transferred senior year.”

“It’s not a joke,” Gretchen said. “Even Andy knew about it. The school hushed it up because they didn’t want enrollment to drop, and her parents got paid off to keep quiet. So Molly’s body is buried out there in the woods and everyone acts like it’s normal. Our parents don’t actually care what happens to us unless it makes them look bad, and then they send us to Southern Pines to get reprogrammed.”

Gretchen lifted another hank of hair and placed it in the crimping iron.

“That’s unicorns,” Abby said, moving her foot to the lever that switched from tub to shower.

“Like Glee was talking about Procter and Gamble,” Gretchen said, not even listening. “They give money to satanic churches. And there was that preschool in California that was molesting little kids in tunnels underneath the classrooms. Everyone pretended it was normal for years. No one cares about their kids. They go to church and smile, but there’s this dark evil inside of them. You really don’t like it?”

Gretchen braced her hands on the sink and struck a dramatic pose, peering at her reflection through crimped bangs. Abby didn’t like the way it looked at all. It made Gretchen look older, like she could get into clubs.

“It’s okay.” Abby shrugged, trying to mash the shower/tub

lever with her toe.

Abby liked Gretchen’s hair because it was thick and blond and full. Abby had bleached her hair so many times that it was wispy and thin, swirling around her head in a cotton candy cloud. Gretchen didn’t know what she had, and when it was gone she was going to miss it.

“You shouldn’t be obsessed with all this dark stuff,” Abby said. She repositioned the ball of her sneaker on the shower/bath switch and started pressing it to the right.

“This stuff is important,” Gretchen said, releasing the crimping iron and examining her hair from another angle. “You think all these shallow things matter? My mom’s stupid book club, and good grades, and Glee having the hots for Father Morgan, and whether Margaret should break up with Wallace Stoney? Those are all distractions.”

“From what?” Abby asked.

“From what’s really going on,” Gretchen said.

“DBNQ,” Abby said. “But you used to think unicorns were real.”

Gretchen turned around.

“Extinct,” she said. “I thought they were extinct.”

“They had to be real to become extinct,” Abby said.

A foul odor rolled through the room. It was hot and squalid, sharp and bitter, worse than anything Abby had ever smelled.

“Max!” Gretchen said, hauling him out of the doorway by his collar.

As she did, he cut another dog fart. This one squeaked.

“That’s what Max thinks!” Abby laughed, fanning a hand in front of her face.

Gretchen shut the door against Max and sprayed United Colors of Benetton perfume around the room. They were both cracking up.

“No,” Gretchen said. “That’s how he agrees with me.”

“Max?” Abby called to the door, putting her toe on the shower lever again. “Does your air biscuit signify agreement or—wah!”

The lever moved unexpectedly and the shower head dumped cold water on Abby’s crotch. Gretchen burst out laughing.

“Damn Sam!” she howled, then did Coach Greene’s voice. “You must learn to protect your . . . Most . . . Precious . . . Gift.”

Abby looked down at the wet spot on her uniform pants, then checked her Swatch.

“I should go,” she said.

Gretchen grabbed her hair dryer and started hunting through the counter clutter for the plug. “Hold on,” she said. “You’re going to run the gauntlet down there. They’ll think you wet your pants.”

It took them almost half an hour to blow-dry Abby’s crotch because they were laughing so hard, and by then it was after ten thirty and book club was breaking up. As Abby and Gretchen hugged, Abby caught another whiff of sour stink.

“Call me,” Abby said, but she had a feeling Andy would get top priority.

As Abby walked down the steps, a crowd of tiny women with big blond hair clustered in the front hall, pecking at one another’s cheeks and chirping like chickens.

“Abby Rivers!” a very tipsy and delighted Mrs. Lang said, spotting her. “You look adorable in your waitress uniform!”