Beautiful Malice by Rebecca James Page B

With Alice? I’m sorry, I know she’s your friend, but why does she have her hand on the leg of some creepy guy who is out to dinner with another girl? And why on earth would she do something like that when she has someone as lovely as Robbie with her? They are together, aren’t they? It’s hard to tell. Especially when she’s so busy flirting with Ben. But he seems really nice. Robbie, I mean, not Ben. Ben’s about as nice as a bathful of slimy toads.”
    “Robbie is nice. He’s lovely,” I agree quickly. “And I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with Alice tonight. But, honestly, she’s not usually like this. She’s not usually so horrible.” But as I say it I realize that my words feel hollow and untrue. I haven’t seen Alice behave quite this badly before but, in some way, it seems that she’s been getting progressively worse and worse since I’ve met her. The more I see of her, I suddenly realize, the more I see that I don’t like. I shrug. “I’m sorry. She’s been really unpleasant. There’s no excuse.”
    “‘Unpleasant’?” Philippa stares at me incredulously. “Unpleasant? Sorry, but that’s not unpleasant. Unpleasant is a sticky summer day, or someone in a bad mood. I wouldn’t exactly use that word to describe your friend. A better word would be cruel . Or spiteful . Or vicious . Or all three.”
    And though I’m starting to wonder if Philippa might not be right, I also feel a prick of indignation. Alice is my friend, after all. It’s not fair of Philippa to judge her so harshly, so quickly.
    “She’s not that bad,” I say. “She’s got some fantastic qualities. She can be incredibly generous and charming when she wants to. She can be a lot of fun.”
    “So could Adolf Hitler,” she retorts. “Look, I don’t want to offend you. And I shouldn’t say this stuff, I know, I get myself in trouble all the time for opening my mouth like this. You’ve heard of bigfoot? Well, I’m bigmouth. I can’t stop myself. Anyway. Your friend is a total bitch. And I don’t think it’s curable.”
    “What?” I sound a lot more surprised and offended than I feel.
    “Yep. And I absolutely know what I’m talking about. I’m studying psychology.” She shrugs. “I’m practically a psychologist, so I’m totally qualified to make a diagnosis—Alice is a bitch. In fact, I think she’s probably got mental problems. And you seem not to have figured that out yet.”
    I just stand there, silent, bewildered.
    Philippa watches my face, then bursts out laughing. “Okay. Sorry. That was just a bad joke. I mean, Alice is definitely a bitch, and I am studying psychology, but I was just kidding about being qualified to diagnose it. I mean, anyone could see that she’s not a good person. I was just trying to say it in a funny way. To cheer you up. You look so serious and upset.”
    I turn away and occupy myself looking in the mirror, fixing my hair. I am upset, Philippa is right, but I don’t want her to know how bad I feel, and I certainly don’t want to cry in front of her. I should be angry, offended, on Alice’s behalf, but Alice has behaved so horribly tonight that I can hardly blame Philippa for thinking as she does.
    “I doubt very much that you can have any kind of real understanding of a person after knowing them for just half an hour,” I say unconvincingly. “She’s just having a bad day.”
    “I’ve known her for almost an hour and a half, actually.” She leans into the mirror right next to me, forcing me to meet her eyes. “And I don’t know about you, but I’ve had lots of bad days and I’ve never behaved like that. And I’ll bet you ten million bucks that you haven’t, either.”
    I’m about to argue, to tell Philippa that she’s being ridiculous, that Alice may be eccentric and a little self-centered, but she’s not a terrible person, she isn’t sick . And Robbie and I are not a pair of gullible idiots. But then we hear the creak of the door as it