Bridget was the exact opposite of her name. She wore dirty jeans with holes right below her knee. Her auburn hair was usually matted and tangled; her eyes were dull most of the time, except in direct sunlight, only then could you see the gold flecks among the sea of brown. Bridget had a penchant for baggy 80's hair band T-shirts and grubby tennis sneakers. She rarely wore makeup and she cracked her gum from the back of class. Around her neck lay the hemp necklace her first and only boyfriend, Nick, had given her for her 14th birthday. She still wore it even though she couldn't even remember Nick's face. He moved away three weeks after they started going out. Her fingernails were bitten and dirty, her knuckles were constantly being cracked and she had a habit of looking at a nonexistent watch on her left wrist.
Bridget drove an old rust bucket and spent almost as much time on it as her sister spent in the bathroom. Bridget took classes like shop and auto mechanics with her friends, all of whom had Y-chromosomes. Her greasy friends wore leather jackets and were usually inebriated during the school hours. They knew no one cared, so they didn't care. During lunch they would slide around to the back of the school to sneak a smoke before returning to their own private hells. On the weekends they drank beer and raced around on the dirt roads on the outskirts of town. Bridget liked being the only girl; she felt at home with burping contests and porno mags.
When Bridget finally decided to come home, she did so silently. She would creep into the house after leaving her car parked down the street. She would kick off her shoes and wiggle out of her jeans and put on flannel pants and collapse onto her bed, surrounded by piles of magazines, dirty clothes and her guitar and amp while the songs of Guns N' Roses or Bruce Springsteen rang in her head.
Julia was the polar opposite. She woke up each morning promptly at 6:23, unless it was the weekend, then she allowed herself to sleep three hours later. After making her bed neatly, tucking in all the corners, she would take a shower while singing the latest single that sat atop the billboard top 40. Upon exiting the steam, she would put on her makeup and blow-dry her hair, making sure that every last strand was in it's place and that no facial "flaw" went unhidden. Julia would leave the bathroom exactly as she had found it, with the exception of the faint floral scent of her shampoo. She then would return to her room, where that day's outfit lay waiting for her, hanging on the back of her door. Her underwear always matched; she owned 17 pairs of matching bras and panties, that way she was always prepared. Her outfits varied from month to month; it depended on what was on the front page of Vogue. Perfectly dressed and groomed, Julia would waft downstairs and sit neatly at the breakfast table and eat a bowl of cereal with toast and orange juice.
About the time Julia would be halfway through the front-page article of the local newspaper, Bridget would pad downstairs, hair even more tangled and eyes squinting at the sudden exposure to the tidal wave of light in the kitchen. Grumbling in acknowledgement to her sister, Bridget would rummage through the cupboards until she found the box of breakfast bars, grab two, and then pad back upstairs to decide if her shirt smelled dirty or if she could get away with wearing it another day. Julia, once rinsing her dishes and placing them in the dishwasher, would check the thermometer outside and put on the appropriate outer ware. She would then take her house keys from the hook above the front hall table and with her backpack firmly on both shoulders, she would leave for school.
By the time Bridget was ready to go, she was late. She would slam her feet into her shoes and jump down the stairs two at a time. She usually had to pat down her legs to make sure she had her car keys, grab her jacket from the corner of the hall where she had dropped it the previous night and then run out the door.
Julia would meet her friends on various stages of her walk to school. They all lived along the route she chose, which was part of the reason why she chose it. A block and a half from home she would see Marcy, then two blocks later she would run into Patty and Daisy, then five blocks before school she would meet up with Amy. The five girls would chatter about their previous nights, assuming they hadn't spent them together. When they all got to school, the group would slowly break off as each girl found her boyfriend. Arm in arm, each Brad would take his Jennifer to her first period class.
Bridget always drove because she was always late. Before going to school, she sometimes would have to drive to the other side of town to pick up Tucker, whose car was broken more often than not. Tucker always thanked Bridget with the other half of his cigarette. Once they got to school, they would try to slink into class unnoticed, and when they were, they would simply flash a tobacco stained smile at the teacher and promise that it would never happen again.
Things were routine like that for the girls. The school day would end and they would find their own ways home. Julia went home in the reverse of going to school; Marcy, Patty, Daisy and Amy would all leave their boyfriends and join as a group, filling each other in on the funny banal things of the day. They would then break off as they approached each one's home.
Julia would unlock the door (she was always the first one home) and shut it softly behind her. She placed her jacket in the closet and her keys on the hook and went upstairs to her room. Sitting on her bed, she would remove her shoes and put them in their places in the row of shoes under her bed. She would then remove her notebooks and textbooks from her backpack and sit down at her desk to do her homework.
Julia was a brilliant girl, though no one knew it. She got straight As without much effort, but she never told a soul. When queried about her grades, she would make up lies about Cs and Ds, but no one ever saw a test or paper. If someone wanted to see something she had graded, she would shake her head and say she was too embarrassed. After that, the subject was most likely dropped. Julia knew she was smart but knew that her friends were not; she knew her sister was not, and she knew that she was expected not to be smart. She figured that she wasn't hurting anyone, just as long as she got good grades it didn't matter. However, with college looming closer and closer on the horizon, Julia wasn't sure how much longer she could hide it.
* * *
Julia had another date tonight. I could tell by the music she played and by the smile on her face. Another jock from the football team, no doubt. Tall, dark and strong, like her coffee. Last night it was Brock, a senior with a full athletic scholarship to the Ivy League of his choice and a BMW. He was twenty minutes late picking Julia up, but she didn't dare say a word. She just sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded neatly in her lap until she heard the doorbell ring.
She was still applying her makeup when the doorbell rang. She rushed into my room and yanked the headphones off my head. She looked me straight in the eye and said with incredible seriousness: "Please. Get the door and just be nice!" Grumbling, I got up and padded downstairs. I opened the door and saw the shock in his rich eyes.
"Uhhh, I think I have the….wrong house. Is Julia here?" He asked hesitantly, obviously trying to figure out why in the hell something like me was doing in the home of his hot date. I nodded vaguely as I looked over his country club shoulder at the brand new sports car that sat in our driveway. Even his car looked uncomfortable. My eyes returned to his tanned face and perfectly fake grin. "Tell Julia I'm here?" he asked. I paused, expecting him to add "Jeeves" or "Alfred" or whatever people like him name their butlers. Rolling my eyes, I turned my back to him and shouted up the stairs,
"Hey Julia, some shmuck is here to see you." I turned back to Brock, or whatever the hell his name was, flashed him my best grin and bowed deeply before him while adding, "the madame will be with you shortly." On my way back to my room I heard him mutter "bitch." I flipped him the bird.
Julia appeared in my room before floating downstairs. "Why must you insist on being a disease? Would it hurt so much to be nice to one person who doesn't own a leather jacket and have a bucket of grease under his nails?" I rolled over to face her.
"Have a nice date with Brock--"
"His name is Daniel, Bridget."
"Oh, whatever, same damn thing. Have a nice date and remember--you don't have to fuck him, he'll still dump you once he realizes your nothing but white trash in a nice dress….or do you not plan to keep him 'round that long?"
"I don't know what made you so damn superior, but I'm trying to better myself, I'm not content to live the lowly life I was born into…." Julia turned back to me, halfway out my door. "…like you apparently seem to be." She shut the door behind her.
* * *
As I made my way down the stairs, I saw Daniel eagerly awaiting me. He smiled, that same sexy smile he had when he asked me out three days prior.
"Hey there..." I said with calculated sexiness (not too much, not too little, much like goldilocks) while casually slipping my arm through his. "Where are we going tonight? I hope that you don't have any early curfew or anything." I said, adding a little wink, to give him an idea of what might be in store for him if he was a good boy.
He leaned over and kissed me on my forehead. "You'll see. It's all a surprise."
I giggled a little, stupid giggle, to make him think that I didn't know what that meant. But I knew exactly what he was thinking. He would take me to a movie and buy me a ticket and then sit me in the back of the theatre while he groped and fondled me and then everything would eventually end up with sex that he would think was great, but in reality I would be a million miles away, trying not to think about what he was doing to me. I would make myself be in another place, another time, where I wouldn't have to be dealing with his masculinity, with his sensitive ego that I wouldn't dare bruise.
We weren't even out of the driveway before he succumbed to his animal instincts. One moment he was shutting my door and the next our clothes were coming off faster than Britney Spears' tits were growing. My mind was reeling. His gentle murmurs of "oh yeah bitch, you want my big cock? Yeah suck it. Uuhh…" were drowning out my worries. When he kissed me, I bit his tongue; it was the only way to stop him.
"What? You're not some kinda kinky chick, are you?" He said, peering at me through the rearview mirror while examining his wound.
"No, I'm not. I just wanted to get your attention. Look…I'm on this date with you because I like you, not because I want to get fucked in your car while it sits in my driveway ten minutes into the date!" I said, sticking out my lower lip slightly, to give him that innocent puppy dog look. Daniel looked hurt, but zipped up his pants and started the car. I counted to seven and then leaned over and kissed him briefly while giving his crotch a gentle push. He started to grab for me and I pulled back, hovering above his lips. "Only if you're a good boy…" I whispered seductively.
The doorbell rang. Julia, as usual, was in the bathroom. I trotted downstairs and opened the door, while saying in a deep voice. "Gooood eeevening. How may I help your sliver spoon fed self tonight?" I looked up at smiling eyes. He laughed.
"Nice to meet you, you must be July's sister. I'm Chris Rigdale." He said, extending a hand towards me. I looked at it in shock. Wait, he actually wanted to touch Julia's diseased sister? Something had to be wrong. I looked again at his eyes. They were smiling, but not in a mocking way. "I didn't just scratch my ass with it or something, it's clean, I promise." Chris said, smiling. No, this wasn't allowed to be happening. He was supposed to be a pompous asshole like all the rest of them. I cautiously lifted my hand to reach his and faintly shook it. After what seemed to be too long, he broke eye contact with me and dropped my hand. "Uh, is July around?" He asked. I could feel my heart sink.
"Oh, right, Julia....hold on." I turned to yell upstairs. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to insult him, for the first time ever I could feel myself wanting to like him. Instead, I went upstairs and walked into the bathroom. "Chris is here." I told Julia, who was smoothing her shirt in front of her mirror. She turned, surprised to see me.
"Yeah? Oh, I'll make him wait a little. Ugh, I hate this shirt. Oh well, I'll just have to bear it. It's not like I'm trying to impress him." That peeked my interest.
"What do you mean?" I asked, pretending as hard as I could not to care.
"I'm only going on this date because he bailed me out of Chemistry, which I was about to fail. So, I told him I would go out with him. But whatever, it's only one date. Then I'll just tell him that it was fun, yada yada, but not the right time. Some bullshit like that. They always fall for it. He'll get over it eventually."
"That's so rude! What if you hurt him?" I asked, but quickly added, "I mean, dickheads like that have huge egos that need to be stroked. You don't wanna get a rep of being a bitch....oh, wait, too late."
Julia threw me a nasty glance. "Oh come on Bridget!"
I didn't want to look at her anymore. I went back downstairs, feeling bad that Julia was making him wait. "She's..." I made an exaggerated gesture of putting on makeup. "...powdering her nose. It could take a while, you know how big that thing is." Chris laughed appreciatively.
"S'all right. I don't mind waiting. Frankly, I'm surprised that she even agreed to go out with me. Although it probably didn't hurt that I was tutoring her...." Chris' voice trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders. He saw right through her. That made me feel even worse.
