Dispatches From Paradise. Shelly Gitlow

could leave this hell hole anytime, not that you care.”

      “Of course I care, but you know how I feel, so let’s not do this again.”

      “But Mom, you’re not listening.”

      “That’s right. I called because I have something to tell you.”

      “So, what is it?”

      “Your father moved out today.”

      “Wow.”

      “Actually, I asked him to leave.”

      “You finally got the guts.”

      “Well, uh, you know he was cheating on me.”

      “Yeah, for the millionth time. I can’t believe it took you this long to kick him out. He’s my dad and all, but he’s a total dog.”

      “I’ve been planning it for a while. But I waited until you were gone, so you wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

      Am I supposed to say thanks? I always knew things were crappy between them and that Dad was a total womanizer. And I wondered why Mom put up with it. I don’t believe it was for my benefit. She can play the martyr, but I think she wasn’t ready to deal with it.

      “That’s bullshit, Mom. We both know it.”

      “How so?”

      “You were afraid.”

      “Of what?”

      “Being alone.”

      “Not true.”

      “Or maybe you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. You know how you are.”

      She’s way too nice. It gets her into trouble.

      “Wrong. I was waiting for the right time.”

      “Whatever. So where did he go?”

      “Janice’s, I guess. But I really don’t care.”

      I’ve met Janice. He’s been introducing me to his “friends” since I was little. She’s better than most of them, but still not my type. She’s one of those society-lady wannabes, always going to some charity function, and looking for her picture in the paper. Plus, she’s had way too much work done. I’m sure my dad loves her ginormous, in-your-face boobs and her tacky hair extensions.

      “So are you okay, or do you have to go back to therapy?”

      “Very funny.”

      She gets that I’m goofing on her because she’s always asking me if I need to go back to therapy.

      “Really, Mom, if you want me to come home I will.”

      Please, please, please say yes, so I can bolt right now.

      “No, sweetie. You should stay at school and concentrate on your studies. Don’t worry about me. Everything’s fine. I have to go to work, so I’ll talk to you soon.”

      “Seriously, Mom, if you get lonely, I can be home in four hours.”

      “Forget it, Darcy.”

      “But . . .”

      “I’ll see you at the end of the month, like we planned. Love you. Bye, sweetie.”

      “Bye.”

      I used to be able to play her better, but she’s on to me now, thanks to Dr. Epstein. He called me on my stuff and clued Mom in on how to handle me. I’m actually cool with the breakup. They weren’t happy, so why should they stay together? Maybe Mom has a boyfriend. That would be so weird.

      It feels amazing to get away from school, even if it’s only Orlando. Barb’s driving, with Jen riding shotgun. These girls are normal, not like my whack-job roommates. I met them in my Feminist Literature class or “Clit Lit” as it’s called. I heard it was a cool course, so I signed up, and we hit it off right away.

      We’re on the road to the Hotties Gone Crazy contest for the fiercest girl-on-girl threesome. It’s part of our project on the objectification of women, whatever that is. We’re getting credit for drinking and making out. How awesome is that? If all my classes were like this, maybe I could hack it.

      I designed our outfits: skimpy bikini tops, tight microminis that barely cover our butts, and thigh-high metallic boots. We’re going to kill. I’m in the back seat, really hyper. I light up a joint, take a toke, and pass it to Jen. Barb goes ballistic.

      “Are you serious? Put that out.”

      Barb opens the window and waves the smoke out. Jen passes the joint back to me. I’m surprised, thought they’d be down for a little weed.

      “What’s the deal, Barb?”

      “God, Darcy. This isn’t Miami. They’re really strict about drugs here.”

      Jen adds her two cents. “Yeah, you know, it’s like a family place, with all those theme parks.”

      “Okay, okay. I was just trying to chill.”

      I lean over the seat and massage Jen’s shoulders, loosening her up.

      “Ummm. That’s good. Yeah, right there.”

      Barb gives me a dirty look. She’s getting on my last nerve.

      “Would you like a massage, Barb?”

      “Hello. I’m driving.”

      “Sor-ry.”

      I sink back in my seat, close my eyes and take some deep breaths.

      The Candy Bar is crawling with super-cute girls who obviously spent beaucoup time and money getting ready for this contest. They’re all perfect: tan, in great shape, not a hair out of place, anywhere. As we walk in, I can feel chicks staring at me with daggers. I’m used to it, so I flash them my million-dollar smile. Is it my fault I was born like this?

      The crew guys give each of us a Big Gulp–sized “special drink.” It tastes like a mixture of lots of stuff, and it’s really strong. I hand mine to some girl who’s like totally loaded. She grabs on to my arm and won’t let go. Her lipstick is all over her face.

      “I love you so much. Can I lick you?”

      I’m about to ask where, but Barb steps in and pries her off. The three of us push through the crowd to the front, which is not easy. It involves stepping over a couple of passed-out hotties and some puddles of puke. While we’re waiting our turn, I make a move to kiss Jen. She pulls away and looks at me like I’m out of my mind.

      “Darcy, stop it. Wait till we’re on camera.”

      “Oh. I thought maybe we should like practice some more.”

      Barb chimes in. “Why?”

      “Duh. So we can win.”

      “You’re not serious, right? We didn’t enter this to win. It’s just so we can write about how our society reduces women to sex objects.”

      “I knew that.”

      Yeah right. The truth is that she’s here to do research for our project, and I’m here to make out with Jen. Kissing her gets me really hot. Am I a lesbian? Maybe. Who cares? Mom would. Does it bother me? I don’t think so, but I’m not totally sure. I simmer down and watch the show. Gorgeous threesomes of girls are kissing and rubbing against each other. I’m mad turned on. Finally, they call us.

      We start off like we planned. Barb is in back, Jen’s in the middle, and I’m in the front. Jen said I had the prettiest face and best body. Even though Barb was jealous, she agreed that I should go in front.