The Nowhere Girls(49)

“You’re even bitchier than usual,” Erin says.

“You do seem kind of down,” Grace says. “Are you still upset about your meeting with Principal Slatterly on Thursday?”

“Fuck Principal Slatterly,” Rosina says, but without her usual enthusiasm. She touches her red and slightly swollen left cheek. “My mom told me I had to come into the restaurant today,” she says. “Even though it’s my day off. Seriously, it’s like third world conditions. Being in my family is like living in a sweatshop.”

“Is that racist?” says Erin. “Are you being racist against yourself?”

“But you’re not at the restaurant,” Grace says, still standing in front of her two seated friends.

“Yeah, well, that’s because I said no.”

“That’s good, right?” Grace says.

“Not when it sets off a fight that’s so bad we don’t notice my grandmother leaving the house until she’s already made it five blocks away and is about to get herself killed trying to cross the six-lane street by the highway. And then when we try to get her in the car, she thinks I’m a demon impersonating her dead daughter and punches me in the face.”

“Oh no,” Grace says. “I’m so sorry.”

Rosina shrugs her best I-don’t-care shrug, but it is not convincing. She looks around at the growing crowd of girls cramming themselves into the pristine, empty living room, trying to maneuver for prime spots near their friends. Even here, where everyone’s supposed to be on the same side, social cliques and hierarchy still reign.

“Why don’t you just quit?” Erin asks.

“What, quit my family?” Rosina says. “I wish.”

“Quit your job.”

“I need the money.”

“Could you at least quit babysitting like you were talking about?” Grace says. “Get your cousin to start doing it?”

“My family doesn’t exactly understand the word ‘no.’?”

“Margot’s talking,” Erin says.

“When is she not?” Rosina says.

“It’s time to be quiet,” Erin says.

Someone has turned on the gas flames of the model home’s fake fireplace, and Margot Dillard, student body president, is standing in front of it trying to get everyone’s attention.

“Grace, are you going to sit down?” Rosina says. “You’re making me nervous.”

Grace looks at her feet, then at Margot, then back at her friends sitting in the corner. “I think I’m going to sit closer to the middle?” she says. “So I can hear better?”

“Whatever,” Rosina says. “Knock yourself out.”

“There are thirty-one people here,” Erin says, her hands in knots. “That’s too many for this room. It’s too crowded. It’s just a matter of time before the meeting descends into total chaos.”

“Descends into total chaos,” Rosina sings in a growly heavy-metal voice. “Duh duh duh.” But Rosina’s teasing of Erin is interrupted as Melissa the cheerleader sits in the empty spot right next to her.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” Melissa says, smiling.

“Um, okay?” Rosina says, immediately hating herself for the question in her voice.

“I am not comfortable with this at all,” says Erin, to no one in particular.

“Does anyone have topics they would like to propose for today’s discussion?” Margot says from the fake fireplace.

“Can we talk about how all the boys are being big babies?” someone says, which makes people laugh.

“I’m curious how things feel different for people,” Melissa says. “Like if anyone feels like things are changing with how guys are treating them, or how we’re treating one another. Or even how we feel about ourselves.”

“Yes,” Margot says. “Does anyone want to speak on what Melissa brought up? How things are changing?”

“I feel more confident,” says Elise Powell. “Like, less insecure around other girls. Not as worried about everyone judging me all the time. Because it feels like we’re all on the same side for once.”

“I feel braver,” says another girl.

“Yeah,” says Elise. “I feel like we’re different. The girls are. But the guys seem exactly the same.”

“If not worse,” someone says.

“We’re forcing them to show who they really are,” says Sam Robeson. “Nothing like a little obstacle to bring out someone’s true character. It’s basic dramatic theory.”

“What are we supposed to do now?” says another girl. “Just sit around and wait for the guys to get their shit together?”

“Basically, yes,” says Elise. “They know what we want. It’s up to them to figure out how to change.”

“They can always ask us for pointers,” Rosina says. “Like here are the top ten ways to not be a douche bag. Number one: Don’t rape girls.”

“Number two,” says Melissa. “Don’t let your friends rape girls.”

“Number three,” someone says. “Have girls as friends, not just girlfriends.”

“Number four,” says Margot. “Don’t call us ‘fucksocks.’?” The room erupts in laughter.