cracks up.
“You are not the cool bitch I always thought you were, Angie James.”
“And you’re totally the tactless sweetheart I always thought you were, Julia Russotti.”
“Okay, you can turn around now. Is this right?” She’s trying to tie the dress, but she’s doing it all wrong. I take over. “Thanks,” she says, suddenly relaxing a tiny bit. “I’m not good with the whole fashion thing. I fear change. You won’t believe me, but I wore the same jeans every single day in high school. I washed them at night.”
“I believe you, trust me.… So who’s this Lev guy?” I ask, arranging Julia as though she were a doll.
“Lev? No one. I mean, he’s my friend, kind of. I sit next to him at work. I like him, but I don’t like like him.… Apart from him, I don’t like any of the guys I work with at all. There are twenty guys on my team, and all of them except Lev treat me like I’m invisible and don’t have a voice, like nothing I say is worth listening to.” She’s babbling now, her nerves kicking in. “Do you know what it’s like to say something and have everyone act like no one has spoken? It fucks with your mind. Um, but I like Sam, I really do. In fact, he’s the first guy I’ve liked since Mason, remember him?” I don’t, but I nod anyway. “Sam is so fucking gorgeous, don’t you think?”
I shrug. “He’s a bit … clean-cut, isn’t he? You know. Preppy. Square.”
“Classic, you mean! He’s like a Ralph Lauren model. Or Abercrombie & Fitch.”
“Julia, Abercrombie & Fitch models are like, twelve years old.”
“Well, whatever. He won’t like me, I know he won’t, they never do. I’m going to be single forever and I will never get any action ever again. My sugar is never going to see another wang.”
“First, if you call them wangs and sugars, then, fucking hell yes, you’re never going to get any action.”
“May I call them both junk? Just generically?”
“No, you may not. Let’s start with penis and vagina and take it from there. Or you can say dick and p—”
“Don’t say that word! I hate that word.”
“Fine. Second, of course he’ll like you! Just be yourself.”
Pretty rich coming from me since I’ve always found my personality at the bottom of a vodka bottle, but whatever.
“Really?” she says. “I just, ugh, it’s so weird.… Putting myself out there is totally out of my comfort zone.”
She’s never talked to me like this before. In the past I would have assumed it’s because her go-to confidante, Pia, isn’t around much, but actually, I know that’s not true anymore. Julia and I are friends now. Real friends.
“I haven’t liked anyone like this in ages. What if he doesn’t like me back?”
“Of course he’ll like you back!” I say. “Sit down. You need eyeliner. When you look tough, you’ll feel tough.”
“Is that your secret to success?” she says, sitting down and closing her eyes.
I take out my eyeliner bag. “Right on. My success.”
Julia glances down. “Whoa. You have, like, sixteen black eyeliners?”
“Yeah. It really depends on my mood. Gel, cake, liquid, pencil…”
“Just make me pretty. Prettier, anyway.”
“You have amazing eyelashes.”
“Why do chicks always say that to each other?”
For a minute or two, while I draw punk-yet-pretty eyeliner around Julia’s eyes, we sit in silence. I’m good at eyeliner. The secret is getting it right into the lashes and waterline, and if you mess it up, just smudge it a bit. Perfect eyeliner is too amateur makeup blogger, you know?
“Look up. Okay, close your eyes.”
“How’s the job stuff going?” asks Julia.
“Hashtag fail. I have officially been rejected by every fashionista in New York City. Okay, open your eyes, look up.”
“You can always get a job at the Gap.”
“Double ha,” I say.
“Madeleine was just kidding, you know,” says Julia. “She thinks you’re still pissed at her.”
“I am, a little,” I say. “That Gap
“You are not the cool bitch I always thought you were, Angie James.”
“And you’re totally the tactless sweetheart I always thought you were, Julia Russotti.”
“Okay, you can turn around now. Is this right?” She’s trying to tie the dress, but she’s doing it all wrong. I take over. “Thanks,” she says, suddenly relaxing a tiny bit. “I’m not good with the whole fashion thing. I fear change. You won’t believe me, but I wore the same jeans every single day in high school. I washed them at night.”
“I believe you, trust me.… So who’s this Lev guy?” I ask, arranging Julia as though she were a doll.
“Lev? No one. I mean, he’s my friend, kind of. I sit next to him at work. I like him, but I don’t like like him.… Apart from him, I don’t like any of the guys I work with at all. There are twenty guys on my team, and all of them except Lev treat me like I’m invisible and don’t have a voice, like nothing I say is worth listening to.” She’s babbling now, her nerves kicking in. “Do you know what it’s like to say something and have everyone act like no one has spoken? It fucks with your mind. Um, but I like Sam, I really do. In fact, he’s the first guy I’ve liked since Mason, remember him?” I don’t, but I nod anyway. “Sam is so fucking gorgeous, don’t you think?”
I shrug. “He’s a bit … clean-cut, isn’t he? You know. Preppy. Square.”
“Classic, you mean! He’s like a Ralph Lauren model. Or Abercrombie & Fitch.”
“Julia, Abercrombie & Fitch models are like, twelve years old.”
“Well, whatever. He won’t like me, I know he won’t, they never do. I’m going to be single forever and I will never get any action ever again. My sugar is never going to see another wang.”
“First, if you call them wangs and sugars, then, fucking hell yes, you’re never going to get any action.”
“May I call them both junk? Just generically?”
“No, you may not. Let’s start with penis and vagina and take it from there. Or you can say dick and p—”
“Don’t say that word! I hate that word.”
“Fine. Second, of course he’ll like you! Just be yourself.”
Pretty rich coming from me since I’ve always found my personality at the bottom of a vodka bottle, but whatever.
“Really?” she says. “I just, ugh, it’s so weird.… Putting myself out there is totally out of my comfort zone.”
She’s never talked to me like this before. In the past I would have assumed it’s because her go-to confidante, Pia, isn’t around much, but actually, I know that’s not true anymore. Julia and I are friends now. Real friends.
“I haven’t liked anyone like this in ages. What if he doesn’t like me back?”
“Of course he’ll like you back!” I say. “Sit down. You need eyeliner. When you look tough, you’ll feel tough.”
“Is that your secret to success?” she says, sitting down and closing her eyes.
I take out my eyeliner bag. “Right on. My success.”
Julia glances down. “Whoa. You have, like, sixteen black eyeliners?”
“Yeah. It really depends on my mood. Gel, cake, liquid, pencil…”
“Just make me pretty. Prettier, anyway.”
“You have amazing eyelashes.”
“Why do chicks always say that to each other?”
For a minute or two, while I draw punk-yet-pretty eyeliner around Julia’s eyes, we sit in silence. I’m good at eyeliner. The secret is getting it right into the lashes and waterline, and if you mess it up, just smudge it a bit. Perfect eyeliner is too amateur makeup blogger, you know?
“Look up. Okay, close your eyes.”
“How’s the job stuff going?” asks Julia.
“Hashtag fail. I have officially been rejected by every fashionista in New York City. Okay, open your eyes, look up.”
“You can always get a job at the Gap.”
“Double ha,” I say.
“Madeleine was just kidding, you know,” says Julia. “She thinks you’re still pissed at her.”
“I am, a little,” I say. “That Gap
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