Boring Girls Read online

  I wandered down a hallway, past a couple of people making out, and saw the back door to the house was open. I wanted to go outside. Maybe I could even find a place to discretely dump out half my beer so it would look like I’d been drinking it.

  When I stepped onto the back deck, it seemed like the night stopped.

  There wasn’t too much snow left, and people were sitting on patio furniture, yapping away. Coloured lanterns and strings of lights hung across the deck and railings, so it looked very pretty. Beyond the deck, in the yard, a few people sat at a picnic table smoking cigarettes.

  One of them was wearing a black blouse and tight jeans. She had long blonde hair past her shoulders, but it wasn’t bitch-blonde. Something about her made me stop and stare. She wasn’t notably gorgeous, but I could not take my eyes off her.

  Of course she caught me looking at her, which made me freeze with horror. But immediately she smiled and waved at me.

  I waved back and she gestured at me to join them.

  I made my way across the deck and down the steps, then sat down. The girl was sitting with a guy and girl that I barely noticed.

  “Hey, I’m Fern,” she said, warm and friendly. She introduced her two friends, but I didn’t hear their names.

  Fern.

  NINE

  The four of us sat and talked. Fern and her two friends, Edgar and Yvonne, both went to school at Our Lady and were in my grade. I confirmed their suspicion that Glen Park was the “school of assholes” — its reputation, apparently. I took more sips of beer, trying to control my reactions of disgust. Edgar and Yvonne soon went back inside the house, leaving me with Fern.

  “So, can I ask you a question?” I said.

  “Sure.”

  “When I came out back, why did you wave to me?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess you looked familiar to me, or something.”

  “We’ve totally never met before.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She took a sip of her own beer. “So who do you know here?”

  “I came with my friend Josephine. She’s in our grade.”

  Fern nodded. “She was in a couple of my classes last year. I’m not, like, friends with her or anything, but she’s a nice chick.”

  “Yeah she is.”

  Fern lit a cigarette, offering me the pack. I declined. The beer was disgusting enough, I didn’t think I could handle that on top of it. “No thanks.”

  She grinned. “The only reason I smoke is to get the taste of the beer out of my mouth. Then the smoke tastes so bad, I have to drink the beer to get rid of that taste. It’s stupid.”

  “Why drink beer at all if you don’t like it?”

  “I don’t know. Probably because everyone else here drinks it.” She inhaled and then blew a plume of smoke across the picnic table, politely directing it away from me. A burst of obnoxious laughter came from inside, and she rolled her eyes at me. “Lots of assholes here.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I really like your dress,” she said. “It’s pretty cool.”

  “Thanks! I got it at one of those thrift places downtown,” I said.

  “Oh, I love going there. You find such cool stuff,” she said. “You and me should go sometime.”

  “Yeah, we should,” I said. Was it really this easy to make a new friend?

  “What else do you do for fun?” Fern asked.

  “Not much, really. I kinda just like to stay home. I really like writing. I’m pretty into poetry and art,” I said.

  “That’s cool. I’m trying to learn how to play guitar — it’s really fun. I’m no good at it, but I want to write my own music one day.”

  “What bands do you like?”

  “I’m into a band called DED,” she replied. “It’s, like, heavy music. They’re not on the radio or anything.”

  I felt my stomach clench with excitement. “Oh, totally. Do you like Gurgol? They’re amazing too.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Fern brightened. “Marie-Lise, their bass player? She’s amazing. I’m not too into Josh Galligan’s singing, though. Have you ever heard Surgical Carnage?”

  And so we began to talk very animatedly. I was so fucking excited. I’m sure by this point the beer I had been gagging down was doing something to me, but I can’t use that as an excuse for my giddiness.

  “I don’t know anyone else who likes metal,” I said. “I guess I don’t really have many friends.” Ugh. Yes, the beer was getting to me. No reason to let this girl know how much of a loser I was.

  “That’s because you’re smart,” Fern replied. “Most people aren’t worth knowing.”

  “That’s what I think too,” I said.

  “I know a few cool people but, yeah, nobody in this city is into anything good. If you want to meet other people in the scene, you have to go to one of the bigger cities. You know, Surgical Carnage is doing a show in St. Charles next weekend. It’s all ages. You want to go?”

  St. Charles was about two hours away. My mind spun as I tried to work it out. Would my parents let me go? I had enough allowance money if the tickets weren’t too expensive.

  “How would we get there?”

  “My buddy Craig can drive. There’ll be room in the car. And we’d come back the same night. Pretty late, though.”

  “How much are the tickets?”

  “Fifteen bucks. Surgical Carnage isn’t that big. When I saw DED last summer, the tickets were forty.” Fern lit another cigarette. “I can get you a ticket. You wanna come?”

  “Yeah, sure.” I’d deal with Mom and Dad later. Part of me was pretty sure they’d be okay with it. They always encouraged me to hang out with Josephine and go shopping and make friends and all that crap. Of course, driving two hours to a concert and coming home late was a different story than Saturday shopping downtown, but I was fifteen. Definitely old enough to start doing some cool stuff.

  “Let me grab your phone number,” Fern said, reaching into her bag for a pen.

  While she was writing it down, Josephine came into the backyard. As she walked towards the picnic table, I felt a pang of embarrassment at her long green hippie skirt and brown sweater.

  “What’s up, guys?” she said, sitting down across from us. “How are you doing, Fern?”

  “Fine,” Fern said. “How are things? You miss Our Lady?”

  “Yeah, Glen Park sucks. But I don’t miss Mass.”

  I hoped that Fern didn’t mention the concert to Josephine. I didn’t want Josephine tagging along. It made me feel sort of bad; Josephine had never been anything but a good friend to me, but I felt panicked at the thought of her hanging out with us. I knew she just wouldn’t fit in, and maybe this was going to be my chance to meet some more of my own kind of people. How was I supposed to make new friends if Josephine was there?

  “Are you having an okay time, Rachel?” Josephine said.

  “Yeah, for sure,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  She sat there for another minute, and I realized I was waiting for her to leave so that Fern and I could talk some more. No one said anything, and Josephine stood up just as it began to get awkward. “Okay, great,” she said. “I’m just going to be inside. Let me know if you want to get going.”

  “I will,” I said.

  “Okay, see you guys in a bit.” Josephine glanced at Fern and then back at me and smiled, and made her way back across the yard.

  “Josephine’s really nice,” I said to Fern. I didn’t like how I felt. Like I had snubbed Josephine, who truly was my only friend. I mean, as cool as Fern was, I didn’t know her. I knew Josephine, and I had been a shitty friend just now. At the same time, I could have gone inside with her, and I didn’t.

  “Did you want me to invite her to the concert?” Fern said, glancing at me sideways.

  “No,” I said. “It’s not really her thing.”

 
“I didn’t think she’d want to go anyway. I know she isn’t into the same things we are.”

  We smiled at each other.

  xXx

  A while later, Fern and I decided to leave the party. She said her goodbyes to Edgar and Yvonne, and I went to seek out Josephine. The party inside was truly in full swing: everybody was drunk and noisy, and the cigarette smoke was thick and stifling. It seemed like the shitty music had gotten even louder, and everyone was yelling and howling with laughter. I slipped unnoticed through the people, looking for Josephine. I found her, sitting on the couch in between Heather and Erica from earlier.

  “Hey, Rachel!” Josephine said loudly as I approached. She was obviously drunk. “You were out there a long time.”

  “Have another drink,” Erica said. “Sit down here with us. We want to get to know Jo’s new friend better.”

  “No thanks,” I said. “I think I’m going to head out.”

  “Oh,” Josephine said, “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, it’s fine, stay,” I said. “I have to get home anyway.”

  “It’s only 11. You still have an hour before your mom wants you home. Why don’t you stay?” Josephine continued. “Come on. I’d really like you to get to know Heather and Erica. You guys are all my best friends.”

  “Yeah, Rachel! Come on. You can tell us all about Jo’s boyfriend! She won’t tell us anything.” Heather laughed, sliding over on the couch to make room for me. “Sit here.”

  I almost said that Josephine didn’t have a boyfriend, then vaguely recalled something about whichever guy she thought was cute that week. The three girls smiled up at me, and I thought about sitting down with them. But then I saw Fern walk into the room, giving me the ready nod, and I shook my head at Josephine. “Sorry, I have to go. It was nice meeting you, thanks for the party. I’ll see you on Monday, Josephine.”

  I turned my back on her disappointed look, and together with Fern, walked out the front door.

  xXx

  “Let me walk home with you,” Fern said, and I told her where I lived. “I’m not too far away from there, it’ll be fine.” So we walked and chatted. It felt amazing, wandering through the night with her, feeling fearless, the two of us, talking like we’d known each other for a long time. I was totally comfortable telling her about my lyrics, and she talked more about how she was trying to learn guitar. “We should start a band,” she joked, and we both laughed, but secretly I thought that was a pretty cool idea.

  When we got to my house, we paused on the driveway. All the windows were dark.

  “My parents are probably asleep by now,” I said. “Do you want to hang out here for a bit?” We sat down on the curb out front. “So you can get me a ticket for the concert?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I’ll have to go down to the record shop next week. Why don’t you come with me? We can do some shopping too. Try to find something cool to wear to the show.”

  “Sure,” I said. “And your friend will have room in the car?”

  “Definitely. It’s just going to be me, that girl Yvonne, Craig, and maybe one of his friends. There’ll be room. You’re going to love Surgical Carnage, they’re amazing.”

  “Sounds really cool,” I said. “My parents will let me go for sure. They’re pretty laid back.”

  “I’m going to bleach my hair this week.”

  I looked at her long pale hair. “It’s pretty light already.”

  “Yeah, but I want it to be white.” She giggled self-consciously. “Like Marie-Lise, I guess.”

  I giggled too. “That’ll look awesome.”

  She lit a cigarette. “You should dye your hair too.”

  “Yeah,” I said, inspired. “I’d like to dye it black.”

  “Well, after we go shopping, why don’t you come back to my house? We can help each other do our hair,” she suggested. “I don’t think I can do a good job on mine by myself. My hair’s too long.”

  “That’s great, totally,” I said. Going shopping, dying hair, going to a concert, with Fern, my new friend. It was like a whole bunch of opportunities were opening up in front of me. Black hair! A metal concert! Things were definitely looking up.

  As we continued talking, I was horrified to hear the side door of my house open and close. I looked up the driveway and saw Mom, wrapped in a sweater, her feet shoved into sneakers, approaching us.

  “Er, I thought I heard voices,” she said.

  “Hello!” Fern said and, in one fluid motion, quickly discarded her cigarette by the curb and stood up.

  “This is Fern,” I said. “Fern, this is my mom.”

  My mother smiled politely at Fern. “Nice to meet you. Rachel, it’s after midnight. It’s quarter past.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “We were just walking home and we stopped to talk for a few minutes. I was about to come in.”

  “Fern, do you need a ride home? I could go get Rachel’s dad and he’d be happy to drive you.”

  “Oh, no thank you. I don’t live far, and I can walk from here. That’s okay.”

  “Don’t you have a curfew as well?” Mom said.

  “Yes, one o’clock. So I should probably get going. It was nice to meet you,” she said to my mother, and to me, she said, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Bye,” I said, feeling stupid that my mother had come shuffling out of the house and ruined our talk.

  I watched as Fern proceeded back the way we’d walked. I wanted to watch her until she disappeared into the darkness, but my stupid mother was right there and completely ruined the moment.

  “Rachel, come inside right now,” my mother said.

  I followed her up the driveway and inside, where I saw my dad sitting at the kitchen table in his pyjamas.

  “Were you guys waiting up for me?” I asked, incredulous. “I was hardly late. And technically I was home. I was right outside the house.”

  “You’ve never gone to a party before or stayed out late,” Dad said. “Of course we waited up for you.”

  “Well, I’m fine. I’m here. Everything is okay.”

  “You smell like cigarette smoke,” Dad said.

  “She was outside with a girl who was smoking,” Mom informed him.

  “Oh, Rachel.”

  “Listen,” I said irritably. “At the party, a lot of people were smoking. And yeah, so what? Fern had a cigarette outside.”

  “Fern?” Dad asked.

  “Fern’s a friend of mine. But I didn’t smoke. I didn’t drink. Everything is fine. I’d like to just go to bed now, if that’s okay with you.”

  My dad started in with another of his teacher speeches and began to list off the dangers of smoking, of drinking, reminding me that I was only fifteen years old. He warned me about hanging out with a bad crowd, and started talking about how marijuana is a gateway drug, even though there hadn’t been any marijuana involved in the evening. As he rambled, I wanted to scream. I wanted to slam my fists on the table, and I imagined that would scare him and Mom pretty good. I pictured myself opening my mouth and just screaming into his face. He didn’t understand at all. Neither one of them did. I wasn’t drunk. I hadn’t smoked. I had been home on time, as far as I was concerned. But they couldn’t see that everything was fine. They thought I was stupid. Mom had to come outside and embarrass me, and now Dad was treating me like I was an idiot. Both of them staring at me with wide, concerned eyes, like stupid cows. I wanted to shriek at them and scare them and shut them right up. I would scream so hard that my eyes would bulge out of their sockets. My fists clenched as I fought this urge, as I tried to swallow the anger building rapidly inside of me.

  Because common sense must always prevail. If I started screaming at them, they would punish me. And I was on the verge of some really cool stuff. They’d ground me, and I wouldn’t get to hang out with Fern next week and go shopping. They certainly wouldn’t
let me go to the concert. I couldn’t risk any of that happening. And so, I bore my father’s stupid lecture like a champion. I kept my mouth shut and nodded at all the right times, agreeing with him. Pretending I was stupid like they were. I would have to play nice and wait for the dust to settle a bit, and then let them know about the concert. If they couldn’t see that I was smart enough to make the right decisions, well, that was their fault. In the end, they were only discrediting themselves as parents. Didn’t they understand that I knew right from wrong? That they had taught me that from when I was a little kid? How insecure of them to doubt themselves. Didn’t they think they’d done a good enough job as parents? And if they didn’t think so, why punish me for their own weakness? It was almost comical.

  In the end, they conceded that I had technically been “home” at my curfew, but next time I should actually be in the door. I agreed. They said that smoking and drinking are not good ideas, and I agreed. I agreed and agreed, nodding so much that I started feeling dizzy.

  TEN

  On Monday in art class, Josephine was quiet. I knew why, but for some reason I decided to play dumb. She was hurt by the way I had acted at the party. She had asked me for months to go with her, and I always said no, and the time I did accept, I ignored her the whole time. And this was after she’d assured me that she’d look after me. She was a good friend, and I did feel bad. Which sucked. I should have been on top of the world, excited about the week ahead, planning ways to ask my parents about the concert, but no. All because Josephine was making me feel guilty, sitting next to me quietly, with only a cold little “Hi.” It was irritating. I didn’t want to talk to her about it, because I didn’t want to have to apologize for it. It wasn’t my fault that I’d met someone I had more in common with than her.

  After working for quite a while in silence, she finally said, “Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?”