Dispatches From Paradise. Shelly Gitlow

gapes at me.

      “You don’t even remember, do you? I never went to any of those.”

      That’s right. She never liked pajama parties. Probably too intimate for her. That’s where I learned to french kiss. And I gave my friend Susan a hickey by accident. I never lived that down. Junior High kids can be so cruel.

      I really need a smoke; I pull out my ciggies and lighter from my gorgeous new purse.

      “Not in the house. If you’re going to stay here, you’ll have to follow the rules. You can only smoke outside, and don’t leave any butts on the walkway or in the bushes, please.”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      I can deal with it. I kid around and salute her. This totally backfires.

      “Don’t you dare mock me in my house. I won’t have it, Mother.”

      Guess I shouldn’t have done that. She hates me and everything I do.

      “Sorry. We’ve both been through the wringer. I was just trying to lighten things up a little.”

      “I don’t have much of a sense of humor at the moment.”

      Does she ever?

      –THREE–

       Darcy

      ADVENTURES IN SICKOLAND

      My room is filled with freakazoids who stare at me like I’m abnormal. Everyone says college is supposed to be so much fun, but I’m not having any. Mom and Dad are making me stick it out, but they just want me out of their way.

      And this room assignment is like some kind of warped experiment. I asked for girls from Miami, New York, or L.A. but the twisted dormitory people stuck me in here. OMG, I am so stupid. My mom must have requested this room. The R.A. is right next door, so she can spy on us.

      Jewel’s humming and rubbing her hands with antibacterial stuff. Now she’s covering her nose and mouth with that dumb mask. This girl is psycho-paranoid about germs. She’s like Chinese or Japanese, so I don’t think her name is really Jewel. All of a sudden, she’s in my face.

      “You have grass.”

      “I do not.”

      I can’t understand her when she has that thing on. I think she’s busting me for weed, but she could be reminding me that I have class. I actually did score some. It helps me sleep.

      Jewel flips her mattress, disinfects it, and makes her bed in less than two minutes. She’s a machine. I’ll never get back to sleep in this nut house. Sofia and Gus are doing it and not trying to hide the fact. Rebecca’s eyes are open, but she’s snoring loudly. That’s how you know she’s sleeping. It totally creeps me out.

      And why am I in here? I had a minor drug problem. Mom made this humongous thing out of it. I was only doing pot, coke and x, but she blew it up and made me go to rehab. We went to therapy, so she should be cool. It pisses me off that she didn’t trust me enough to be in a normal room. There’s no way I just ended up in here. Thanks, Mom.

      When I get out of my bed, Jewel starts stripping it.

      “I bake bread.”

      “You’re making my bed?”

      She nods and bows. As I drag myself to the bathroom, Jewel runs ahead of me and sprays Lysol on everything. She backs out bowing.

      “Queen Darcy.”

      I’m clueless. Did she call me Queen Darcy or is she telling me that it’s clean? Either way’s cool with me.

      “That’s great, Jewel. After you make my bed, can you iron my blouse?”

      She nods excitedly and hugs me. I highly recommend having a roommate with OCD. I wouldn’t hang out with her, but if she wants to be my maid, that’s pretty awesome.

      While I’m on the toilet, Sofia, the biker babe, bangs on the door.

      “Open up. It’s an emergency.”

      “Can’t. I’m in the middle of something.”

      I thought Sofia was going to be cool, and that we could be friends. She’s Hispanic, from New Jersey, and I consider myself an honorary Latina because I grew up in Miami. But right after she moved in, her thug boyfriend Gus showed up, and they’ve been hanging out in her bed ever since.

      “Come on, Darcy. The jiz is dripping down my leg. I only need the sink.”

      The thought of that makes me throw up a little in my mouth. But too bad. I’m used to having my own bathroom, and I need my privacy.

      “Try the kitchen.”

      A heavier hand pounds on the door.

      “Let her the fuck in there, you stupid cunt!”

      I wipe quickly, and as I’m pulling up my panties, Gus flings the door open, scowls at me, and pushes me out.

      “There you go, baby. It’s all yours.”

      I get out of Sofia’s way. Gus is wearing a wife-beater and briefs, showing off his fat, ugly, tatted body. When I walk by him, he hocks up a phlegm ball and pretends he’s going to spit it on me.

      “You do that, and I’ll . . .”

      “You’ll what? Get your mommy?”

      He lurches forward like he’s going to pop me in the face. I don’t flinch.

      “Fuck off, before I get your ass kicked out of here.”

      My hands start to shake. I squeeze them tightly so he can’t see. Gus swallows his pride and clomps back to their little love nest. Meanwhile, Jewel’s hyperventilating, and Rebecca’s holding a paper bag for her to breathe into. Jewel chills out and puts her mask back over her mouth.

      “Frank who.”

      Translation: “thank you.” Rebecca and I look at each other and crack up. She’s kind of okay, especially for an Amish chick. But she’s pretty strange too. She has cuts all over her arms. And whenever she drinks, she cries and says she wants to go home. I think she’s on some kind of meds for depression.

      “Are you all right, Darcy?”

      She strokes my hair. I pull away.

      “Yeah, sure.”

      “I made coffee. Want some?”

      “Sounds good.”

      Rebecca came to college after Rumspringa. I never heard of that, but she told me that when Amish kids are like 16, they can leave their community for a year. Most of them drink, do drugs, have sex, and then go back home. But a few decide to ditch the whole Amish thing. That’s what she did.

      We get our coffee and plop down on the ripped, dirty couch.

      “I can’t believe you said that stuff to Gus.”

      How did I have the balls to say that? Maybe I’m not brave, just stupid. Or maybe I’m self-destructive, like that know-it-all shrink said. Whatever.

      “No big deal.”

      “I could never do anything like that. I wish I could be more like you.”

      She puts her hands together like she’s praying and stares at me. Awkward!

      “Me? Why would you want to be like me?’

      “You’re beautiful and so sure of yourself.”

      “No way. I know I have the looks, but that’s about it. And if you want, I could help you and like give you a makeover.”

      “Would you really? “

      “Sure.”

      My phone rings. I jump