"Peyton!" my father yelled from downstairs.
Two days had passed since Graham's party; two days without contact from the Outside World. Instead, I wrapped myself in my thick comforter — despite the overwhelming Californian heat that paraded through my open windows. My fan was turned on to its maximum speed and my hair, matted with grease, stuck up in odd angles.
"What?" I yelled, removing cookie crumbs from my bed. "Dad!" I called out. Without receiving a response, I knew this was my father's way of telling me to get my lazy butt out of bed.
"Coming!" I swung my legs over the side of my bed and sighed. The play Nathan had given me was still sitting on my bedside table — untouched and lifeless. The pyjamas I wore stuck to my skin and my feet made sweaty padding noises as I paraded down the steps of my home.
My father stood near the front entrance, wearing a black baseball cap that read Anderson's Bistro and a black top that possessed the same logo. During the year my father taught at a community college, but as soon as summer rolled around and made an appearance, he loved to do nothing more than to open his small restaurant on El Jolla beach to serve his famous Cuban style sandwiches.
His receding hairline was covered by the cap, but his greying black hair poked out from the sides. "Hey, Princess. Did you sleep well in the past, oh, I don't know, fifty or so hours?"
"Fabulously," I mumbled with a hint of sarcasm.
"What's with the major lock down, sweetheart? Should your mother and I be worried? It's summer and exams are over. Isn't this when you kids get down to business and strut your stuff? Do your shin-digs?"
"What does that even mean?"
He shrugged. "I don't speak hip." He paused. "You have two options, Peyton. Shower and come to work with me, or you can shower and get out of this house to get some vitamin D. God, you look like a hospital patient."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, father. You always know how to make your daughter feel all warm and fuzzy inside."
"You know I tease you because I love you. I am serious about that shower though. You smell like wet dog." He ambled towards me and splashed a sloppy kiss onto my forehead.
Without another word, he closed the door behind him and left me — along with my god awful stench — behind.
My older sister, Mallory, entered right on cue.
"Hey, Pepper Peyton." She was holding a water bottle in one hand and a small cloth in the other. Celeste may have scared the young kids in elementary out of calling me that nickname, but there was no one who could ever intimidate Mallory Anderson.
She was tall and brooding. With one glance, you would never be able to tell that we were siblings. She possessed dark features, like my father. The large, wide-set doe eyes, and the tanned olive skin. If you looked closer, you would see that we had the same square jaw, the same aligned teeth and the same turned up noses. Besides those very unimportant features, nothing connected us physically. Or mentally.
"Hey, Ducky the Buckie," I said in a sour tone.
Mallory stopped and narrowed her eyes. "No need for cruel names, sis. I was just tugging your leg." Ducky the Buckie was a nickname a boy named Tommy came up with when Mallory was in high school. Before her braces, her teeth were somewhat crooked and bucked. As soon as he uttered those words, Mallory came home crying for braces and got exactly that.
She always got everything she wanted. And the only problem was that no one saw a problem with this. The world could be served on a golden platter and it still wouldn't be enough for Mallory. She would ask for the galaxy or for the entire universe.
"You going somewhere?" I asked her. She was headed for the front door.
"Not like it's any of your business, but I'm meeting my friend Nadia to go work out. I need to continue my routine." Her routine consisted of an unhealthy amount of water, minimal saltine crackers, and a juice cleanse. To say the least, my parents were not pleased with her decision to completely drop proper nutrition to attempt to shrink her bones, which were naturally large.
"Nadia?" I whispered.
"Yes..." Mallory gave me a weird stare. "My friend Nadia."
"Nadia?" I asked again.
"Are you retarded? Yes, my friend Nadia. You look like you want to stab someone in the face." She turned to open the door but stopped mid step. "God, Peyton, can you please shower? You smell..." she paused, "like the mystery meat in our old cafeteria."
She slammed the door and now I knew I was alone.
The phone rang.
"Hello?" I said.
"Uh, hello?" a voice shouted on the other line. Celeste. "What is the matter with you? I called your cell thirty times and there was no answer!" Seven times. "I texted you sixty million times, too!" Fourteen. "Why have you been AWAL?"
"Hi, Celeste, how are you?"
"Cut the crap, Peyton. The night after Graham's you ran out of my house like it was a concentration camp and you were the only Jew in the world."
"Quite racist, but okay."
"Whatever. My great, great, great grandfather or something was born black by mistake so that means I'm allowed to say racist stuff."
"So being black automatically makes you a Jew?"
"I'm not here for a pep talk. Look, if you're uncomfortable about the deal we made with the girls, I can call it off. You don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. Okay? I can call Nadia —"
"Don't," I cut her off. I was sick of hearing Nadia's name. "This bet is the stupidest thing in the world. But if we back out now, it'll look like we're scared. I'm tired of not going through with what I say. What's the worst that can happen anyway? It's not like I'm going to invite hobos for a free bed and breakfast into my home. I'll screen the men, make sure they aren't pedophiles dressed up as attractive teenage boys and I will make sure they know how to spell their own names."
"Sounds like a winning bunch of candidates." I could picture her rolling her eyes over the phone. A couple moments of silence. "Okay, well, if you still are serious about this whole... whatever this is, then there is a meeting at Nadia's tonight to go over the official rules."
"What do we call this game anyway?"
Celeste chuckled, "The Virgin Wars."
*
Nadia's home was just as extravagant as she was. It was over-dramatic and over-indulgent, just like the Queen herself. It was the typical Californian Elite home. It was tall and wide, standing with might and ferocity, overlooking El Jolla beach. The balcony was the color of ebony and hugged the house.
Jealousy ebbed throughout me as Celeste drove up the long driveway.
"Peyton?"
The radio was now off and Celeste's vintage green Cadillac was parked next to a silver Honda. Celeste's eyes were wide in wonder and worry. The pink powder on her cheeks glowed in the setting sun. I watched the sky and decided that the sun looked like an etherized patient – lifeless and still. Nothing left to offer to the world; not a single drop of warmth or a ray of sunshine.
"Celeste?" I answered, tilting my head to the side in a confused fashion.
She rolled her eyes. "Try to be nice, okay? Nadia isn't that bad."
My mouth gawked opened like a dead salmon. "Not that bad? Did you see her with Josh? Did you see her with my boyfriend?"
Celeste lowered her eyes and sighed. "Ex, Peyton. Josh is no longer an important being in your life. He's like the carrots in chicken noodle soup. The broth is important. The noodles are important. The chicken is important. But, even without the carrots, there is still soup." Celeste apparently enjoyed using metaphors involving carrots, chicken broth, and ex boyfriends.
"I love you, you ditto," I told her, swinging the car door opened.
The hot air hit me like a flying fist. My hair, which was washed and still damp from my shower, seemed to have the moisture pried from its roots. My shoes scuffed the driveway tiles, which looked like they were made out of marble. There was no way that they were actually marble. I wouldn't allow Nadia to have my ex, a beautiful house, a beautiful face and body and a marble driveway. The universe couldn't be that cruel.
Ella and Ariel were walking up the driveway.
"Hey! Hey, guys!" Ella waved her thick hand viciously. Ella was a very pretty girl. She just wore very unflattering clothing. She wore a crop top that flowed down, right above her belly button, revealing a belly button piercing. Her short-shorts were two inches too short, allowing her large butt to fall right out of them.
Celeste smiled, "Hi, Ella." Ella beamed. "Ariel." They all shared some tacit secret I didn't understand.
"I brought some movies," Ariel said, her piercings glittering in the setting sun. A sudden image flashed through my mind of Ariel attempting to go through airport security, holding up the line as she removed each and every one of her many piercings.
The thought caused a smile to form over my face.
"Where ya been?" Ella asked me, bumping me with her hip. "We haven't seen you at the beach or near your dad's kiosk. The whole grain sandwiches are the best."
Ella was the kind of girl who swore she watched what she ate and went on all kinds of juice cleanses and evidently, nothing ever seemed to work. She went on and on about how kale is beneficial for one's health and how we should all stick to lean meats if we wanted to trim down our figure. But, I remember when Graham hosted a party a couple months ago, I walked in on Ella shoving raw hotdogs into her mouth in the bathroom.
I felt sorry for her and ever since then, Ella has been overtly nice to me, probably trying to make sure I wouldn't divulge what I'd seen.
"I've been binge watching Netflix, trying to catch up on all my television series, you know? I finally have time," I said.
"Oh," Ella frowned, "I get it. Being single and all."
"I meant because school was over."
She blushed and turned away.
We stood awkwardly on the stoop while Ariel rang the doorbell. The doorbell didn't chime normally – instead, there was a small tune that fluttered throughout the home, escaped through the opened windows, and entered the pitiful holes on the side of my head.
The varnished, shiny doors swung opened and Nadia stood there. She wore a sky blue summer dress and her dark hair was pulled up into a high, cheerleader style ponytail. Her dark cheeks were flushed with a peach blush and her glossed lips were pulled into a tight, calculated smile.
"Ladies!" she opened her arms as if she was parting the Red Sea. "Or should I say, Virgins! Welcome to my home." More like your castle. "Come on in! Make yourselves at home. What's mine is yours." I snorted.
Celeste shot me a warning look. It said: behave. I stuck my tongue out at her.
"Peyton, you look nice," Nadia said.
My teeth clenched. I hated her. She complimented me like you would compliment an ugly girl on her personality or a fat boy on his eyes. It was a reverse compliment. I looked down at my outfit which consisted of baggy jeans and a black v-neck, showing off a small amount of cleavage.
"Thanks, your house looks nice," I told her. Nadia scrunched her nose and shrugged her shoulders. She led us through two or three hallways lined with family photos of posed members lying on the beaches in the Caribbean and school pictures of when Nadia was younger. I passed by a photo of Nadia in fifth or sixth grade, still perfectly styled and beautiful.
"Oh, don't look at those old things," Nadia scoffed. "I was hideous back then."
The girls gasped in unison. "No!" one of them exclaimed.
"You're beautiful."
"You were so pretty."
"Your hair was so sleek and nice!"
"I was so much uglier."
"Oh," Nadia blushed, "stop it!"
She rounded a corner with Ella and Ariel, talking about the new trend of dyeing your hair odd colours.
"Bitch likes to dig for compliments," I whispered to Celeste.
"Enough, Peyton. Everything Nadia says or does is wrong in your eyes. Let. It. Go." Celeste gave me a gentle squeeze. "Evil is in the eye of the beholder."
"I thought that was beauty."
"Everything is subjective."
Celeste followed them into the living room.
"Everything is subjective," I mimicked, tossing my hair the same way Celeste always did.
"They say that talking to yourself is a sign of a healthy mind." Nadia stood at the entrance of the living room. "Will you come join us?" She sounded like the leader of a daft cult I didn't want to partake in.
My cheeks were probably as red as a pepper. "I wasn't talking to myself. I was, I was on the phone. My mom is so annoying sometimes, she just goes on these rampages and tells me to be accepting of everyone and all those Republi—"
Nadia cut me off, "Well, I think we can put your mother's lectures and political views behind us for now..." she smiled. "We want your input on the rules."
My smile was tense. I nodded, still embarrassed.
Ella was sprawled on the floor, attempting to do to worm. Celeste was sitting on a green ottoman and Ariel was sitting in a love seat, her knees tucked to her small chest. The whole living room possessed a retro theme, colours bursting from every corner. It blinded me.
I sat down on the carpet next to the wiggling Ella.
"Alright, girls," Nadia spoke, initiating the meeting. "Virgin meeting is now in session." It sounded so ridiculous. "There aren't many rules," she continued. "Briefly, a kiss is worth one point. Second base is worth five. Third is worth ten. And sex is worth twenty-five. The person with the most points at the end of the summer wins. Peyton and Celeste are in the lead because of their hookups at Graham's party."
"What does the winner get?" Celeste asked.
"Well, my father pulled a couple strings. You get two things: firstly, you and a person of your choice will get an all inclusive trip to Aruba. And secondly, my father is a coordinator at Harvard. If you have good grades, I can shoo you guys right on in to Harvard next fall."
My jaw dropped. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."
Nadia looked slightly taken aback. "What?"
"Your daddy is paying for an all inclusive vacation to fucking Aruba and a scholarship to one of the most prestigious colleges in the entire freaking world for us to lose our virginity? Is he some sort of high class pimp of something?" I paused. "Does this sound fucked up to anyone here?"
"Oh, please," Nadia waved a manicured hand, "you make it sound so awful. I need something to make this game real. Something of substance. So why not throw in a beautiful vacation for two and a scholarship?"
"I don't know, why don't you throw in a Monet painting while you're at it and five million dollars."
"Peyton!" Celeste threw a pillow at me. "Hallway! Now!"
"It would be my pleasure."
We exited the living room.
"What the hell was that?" Celeste hissed. "Are you out of your mind? Do you know generous those offers are? I asked you earlier if you didn't want to do this. You said you wanted to."
"I do."
"Stop, Peyton. I texted Nathan. He's coming to pick you up to bring you home. You might not want to be here, but everyone else does. So, I'm going to stay and watch movies with the girls and talk boys while my brother escorts you home. Deal?"
I frowned and stared at the ground. "Whatever."
"He'll be here in five."
I walked into the living room. "Looks like my ride is almost here, ladies," I saluted them with two fingers to my forehead. "I'll see you guys on the playing field, if ya know what I mean." I winked but received no response. "Alright," I whispered awkwardly, marching through the hallways and opened the door, sitting on the stood.
The door opened behind me. Nadia sat down on the stoop.
"Look, P," she gave me a nickname, "we're all friends here, okay? I think we got off on the wrong foot." Wrong foot? I was legless and waddling on the sidewalk while she was high in her castle wearing Jimmy Chu's, designed for her perfect, pedicured feet.
"I guess so."
"Can we start fresh?" As fresh as rotten fish.
I half smiled. "Sure thing, girl."
Nathan O'Connor pulled up in his parents old, grey Sudan. He got out of the driver's seat and motioned towards me. "Hey, Peyton!" he waved.
"Now, that's a hunk of meat I'd chew." Nadia smiled wickedly. "Have fun," she whispered before crawling back into her dungeon.
Oh, I will, I thought.