Just Like The Mean Guys In Highschool
She NEVER locks the
goddamn door! Rizzo thundered as she
slammed into her apartment, dumping a basket of dirty laundry on the
couch. Furiously, she dropped onto the
couch, stuffing a cigarette into her mouth, then searched the pockets of her
cut-offs for a lighter. A quick pat
revealed a vacancy only poverty could give.
Great. Her fucking lighter was gone. Her fucking lighter was gone and she had to
get back to the malt shop before Heller fired her.
When you get the fuck
out of here, Riz, she told herself, do anything you want - just don't make nobody any promises.
Promises were the domain of children who mooned over their
chocolate malteds after school, the ones she watched with keen envy. Her childhood had ended right after school,
with her promise to forever be friends with the rest of the Pink Ladies and
T-Birds.
Unfortunately, the promise she had made - to always be
friends to these people - grounded her in California, forever to the few square
miles surrounding Rydell. All of the T-Birds went to trade school - and
all of the Pink Ladies floundered for a purpose.
Jan went to community college - her parents could afford
it. Whenever the girls met for lunch at
the malt shop, she rattled on about what she had learned in domestic arts
class. Rizzo tried mightily not to roll
her eyes; really, what kind of idiot needed classes in vacuuming?
Marty had a job - or so she called it. Frenchy had stared
at Rizzo in amazement when she insinuated that Marty was doing more than just
showing cars at the local dealership.
She had a new boyfriend every week, so many
that none of the Ladies could never remember their names. Rizzo didn't use that as an excuse to feel
morally superior to her friend -she and Marty were the most alike, and the most
likely to call each other on their bullshit - but it was hard not to think of
those many anonymous boys whenever Marty tossed her (made-over) nose in the air
to show everyone the pearls one of her boyfriends had just brought.
Frenchy was getting along better
than any of them, but even she, in Rizzo's opinion, was living in the
past. Instead of going back to beauty
school, she had joined Marty in college - but she had a purpose. With great excitement, she had explained to
Rizzo that she wanted to be a teacher.
Rizzo was horrified.
The Pink Ladies had been all about defying authority and avoiding
learning much of anything. Now Frenchy wanted to be THE authority? Why the fuck would she want
to do that?
Frenchy had arched her perfectly
manicured eyebrows - her expression all perpetual innocence. "Gee, Riz - I
guess just kinda miss high school."
Rizzo had tried not to laugh at her. Christ - she had thought of high school every
day since they had graduated. How could
she help it? Nightly, she ran her feet
off at the malt shop and served soda to the Rydell
student body. Then she came home and was
confronted by the same people she had known since she was a freshman - Frenchy, Marty, Jan, Sandy, Danny, Kenicky
and the boys. Same people, same circle,
same gossip, same food, same air. Same Riz. Why the hell couldn't someone call her
Roxanne for a change?
She was starting to hate it.
Hate the simpering small talk. Hate Kenicky's
hangdog look as he begged her to take him back just one more time, please, Riz. Hate
that no one believed her when she strongly insisted that she would never take Kenicky back. Hate Frenchy's sweet small-mindedness. Hate Jan's showy attempts at smarts and
Marty's newly-found 'class'. Hate
knowing that this was her life, and all that had changed in three years was the
scenery.
Rizzo was even beginning to hate Rydell
itself, with its sweet summer air and perfect beaches, its cheery suburban populous. She yearned for a gritty street sidewalk,
smoggy air, and exotic lands.
As her mutinous thoughts reached a boiling point, the sound
of someone crying filled the air.
Shit. Sandy was home.
As she stomped to her friend's room, Rizzo regretted for the
umpteenth time moving in with the little blonde Australian. She liked
Be nice, Rizzo
told herself. You might just get through it without strangling her... With a
false smile, she pushed open the door.
Sandy lay on her bed, a sacrifice on the altar of her
teenage years. Lying around her on the
bed were her pom poms, a
picture of Danny, and a box of Kleenex.
"Danny, Danny..." she moaned, tears pouring down
her face and dripping onto the picture.
An oddly protective feeling overcame Rizzo - Sandy was so damn
sensitive. She wondered what the big
goof had done to her this time.
"Hey, Sand," she sat at the corner of Sandy's
mattress. "What's wrong?"
Sandy dramatically threw her arms around the brunette. "Oh, Riz, it was
horrible - simply horrible!"
"What's wrong?"
"Danny and I had an argument!"
"So? You always
have an argument. You'll pout, he'll
feel guilty, and by tonight he'll be here on his knees going," she
affected Danny's rubbery Brooklyn accent, "Aww,
gee, Sand, will ya forgive me?' He loves you. And he knows the wedding's tomorrow."
"No - we'll never be able to forgive each other this
time."
"There's nothing you could do to Danny that would make
him stop loving you."
Sandy fervently shook her head. "Oh, Riz! What's
wrong with me?" She blubbered.
Rizzo reluctantly wrapped her arms around Sandy. As she patted her back, she noticed how nice
Sandy smelled - of White Shoulders, which she insisted on wearing no matter how
often she was told it was 'uncool' - and the more
innocent scent of baby powder. Rizzo
shook off the oddness of the moment.
"There's nothing wrong with you, Sand. You're a nice girl and a good friend."
"I know that," she said hotly. "If I only had to be Danny's friend, I'd
marry him right now! Can...can I confide something in you, Riz?"
Rizzo shrugged.
"Sure. You're my best
friend." She cringed at the confession.
"After work today, Danny and I went parking...and
we...made love."
"Well, congratulations - and here I thought you were
waiting for your wedding night."
"I was," Sandy said miserably. "Now I'm glad I didn't."
"Told you it was fun."
"Fun?! FUN? It was horrible!" Sandy said
firmly. "I didn't feel
anything!"
"Nothing?"
"Oh, Riz, you were right -
I'm a cold fish!"
Rizzo couldn't believe it.
"What did he say?"
"That I was a frigid francie
and it was my fault I didn't - climax."
She tried not to roll her eyes. "Christ, Sand - I don't you realize what
this means?"
"Yes! That I'm
-"
"No! Not you -
Danny! It's Danny's fault. I'm willing to bet he doesn't know a carburetor
from a clit-"
"Oh no no no - he knew. Danny was so patient with me," she
sighed. "But no matter what he did,
I just couldn't...it was all right, but..."
"No sizzle?"
"Yes, no sizzle."
"Hmm." Rizzo's hand
stopped stroking Sandy's back.
"Then it's no one's fault."
Sandy gave an empty gesture.
"It has to be someone's fault.
How are we ever going to have a real marriage if I can't..."
Rizzo shrugged.
"Who says you can't? Hell,
any girl can, if she just relaxes."
"How do you know?"
"Well, I can...and from what Frenchy
tells me, she can. I'm pretty sure Marty
wouldn't be able to keep her boyfriends if she couldn't. And there's an easy way to see if there's
something wrong with you, anyway."
"How?"
"Sand, don't tell me you're that naive. Haven't you ever...you know..."
Sandy squinted at Rizzo, and for a split second looked
absolutely adorable. Rizzo wondered what
was going wrong with her mind until Sandy burst out laughing.
"Oh!
That...Marty told me about...that," she blushed. "I don't think I could do that to
myself."
"Why not?"
"It's so embarrassing!
I could barely let Danny touch me there without positively dying!"
Rizzo placed her hand on Sandy's bare upper thigh, beneath
her demure pink dress. The words came
from her mouth without thought.
"Why don't you let me do it for you, then?"
"Well, gee, how could you..." Sandy's eyes
widened. "Riz! That has
to be...how could you...a girl can't do that to another girl!"
"Who says?"
Rizzo shrugged. "It's called
masturbation, Sand. It won't make you go
blind. It can't knock you up. And if I spent more time making myself go
wild, I probably wouldn't have had to worry about being pregnant back in
school" She was stroking Sandy's thigh...the entire situation was blowing
her mind. She couldn't shut up and take
it all back now - the idea would always be between them, and if she backed out
now it would probably get back to the other girls. And Rizzo sure as hell didn't want to become
the gossip of Rydell without the experience to back
it up. So quickly she added, “Me and Frenchy did it with each other, once."
Sandy kept staring, unblinking. "You and Frenchy?! My goodness me!"
Rizzo shrugged.
"It was different than with Kenicky, or
another boy...sweeter...I didn't worry as much about what I was doing - how I
looked or tasted or smelled. I just let
it happen." She patted Sandy's
peach-colored thigh, enjoying the springy softness of her virgin flesh. "Some of the best sex I ever had."
Sandy nibbled her fleshy lower lip - the last suggestion
proving too enticing. "You won't
tell the other girls? Or
Danny?"
Rizzo laughed.
"You think I want them to know I'm a semi-dyke?"
"What's a dyke?"
"I'll teach you." Rizzo grinned. "Take your shoes off."
***
The sun was bright pink that morning - Rizzo puffed on her cigarette as she
watched it rise, shivering in the pre-dawn chill. She was freezing by the open window, but for
once in her life, Rizzo was chicken - she couldn't make herself turn around and
confront Sandy's sleeping, pearly, nude body.
Christ. She had spent
all of last night fucked her best friend.
Her soon-to-be-married best friend. Rizzo scratched her dark head, puffing away
at her dying Marlboro, refusing to confront the situation.
Rizzo hated attachments - ever since Kenicky
had ended theirs she hadn't considered falling in love an issue. It was an issue now - there was something
between her and Sandy bigger than the summer sun
Sandy had been gorgeous but innocent - needed a little time
to warm up. Rizzo remembered what to do
- had done what worked best on her own body - and
Sandy reached her first orgasm quickly.
Rizzo wanted to laugh aloud, because once little Sandra Dee had a hand
between her legs, she became another woman.
When
"Oh
my goodness, Riz! Oh my
goodness!" She exulted.
Rizzo lapped her salty fingers. "Well,
the good news is you aren't a frigid francie,
Sand."
"What did you do
to me? I never...my
goodness!"
"It's called
coming. That was what Danny wanted you
to do."
"But he did the
same thing...why didn't I?"
"There's the bad
news...bad for Danny. I'd test it out a
little more - but if you really didn't feel anything with Danny, you might like
chicks."
"What? That's not..that's impossible!"
"Don't like to
yourself, Sand." She had turned
from Sandy's warm body, searching for a cigarette.
"What will
I...the wedding...oh, Riz! You can't leave me!"
The memory of her soft body caused Rizzo to tremble.
"Sand...you
can't..."
"'Sand, you
can't,'" Sandy mocked. "It's not at all like you to tell me I
can't do things, Riz."
"Honey, you can't
be ready to..."
"I believe what
you told me before applies," the girl smiled. "I'm
ready for something softer."
The sex had been phenomenal - considering Sandy's
virginity. Sandy was much more adaptable
than Frenchy.
Her pink-haired friend had been satisfied with lying still while Rizzo
examined her sex - but Sandy was a scrappy little gamer, and wasn't satisfied
until she discovered Rizzo's every quirk.
They ended up tangled in Sandy's bed, among the pom poms, sharing secrets like
the high school girls they eternally were.
"You ever wanted
to get out of here?"
"I wanted to be
where Danny was, but now..."
"You miss
Australia?"
"I have, for the
longest time. It was so hard for me to
adjust to America."
"I didn't make it
easy on you."
"You and the
girls were the only thing that got me through that awful time when Danny was
pressuring me..."
"You mean the
past three years?"
"Truly,
Riz...Golly. I just don't know what to
do..."
"I know. I'm sorry you had to find out like
this."
Rizzo lit a fresh cigarette.
They had been speaking two different languages - not unusual for the two
of them.
Rationality, dawn, revealed the truth in its harshest forms,
for Rizzo knew
It would never work for them.
Rizzo wanted to laugh at herself for falling so hard after
one good night. She, who loved so little
- who loved the flesh but hated the spirit - had fallen for the blush of a
peach cheek, the scent of White Shoulders and baby powder, the taste of an
unspoiled woman running salty over her tongue.
The sheets moved. "Riz?"
She became motionless.
"Riz? Have you seen my bra?"
Rizzo pointed blindly to the corner of the room - where the
little white scrap partially covered the eyes of Ricky Nelson on Sandy's favorite
poster.
A delicate hand took her arm. Soft eyes rested trustingly upon her.
"Please come to the wedding, Riz."
Sandy couldn't have hurt her more. "I don't go to hangings. They don't let you smoke there."
"Why can't you understand - my folks came all the way
from Australia. Danny gave up vocational
school and got a job just to support me!"
"Right. It's okay to cut a part of yourself out, deny
how you feel, as long as you don't got to tell the people you love,
right?"
"Riz - I can't be a..."
"Dyke. You're a dyke, Sand."
"I know!" The words were scraped from her
throat. "I'm not blind, Rizzo - I
never will be again!"
"Then come with me!"
"Where? Where are we going to go, Riz?"
Sandy turned her palms upward, open, begging. "Is there anywhere two girls like us
could go?"
"I don't know, but I want to find it." Rizzo's
bruised lips made a ghost of a smile.
"I don't have a job anymore, and I already let Jan sign a sublet
lease on this place. So what are we
going to do?"
Sandy sat down on the window ledge beside her lover. "Leave it to fate."
"Excuse me?"
Sandy looked through the bug spatter and woven steel screen,
to the wakening street below them.
"If we're meant to be together, the first car down this street will
be blue. If I'm supposed to marry Danny,
it will be red."
"That's nuts."
But Rizzo knew Sandy - the little girl who dreamed of being kissed by
Ricky Nelson, who practiced all the new dances in front of their TV set -
believed that destiny had brought her to America and the arms of Danny Zukko. And so it was
destiny's job to pull them apart.
Rizzo squeezed her lover's hand. "Any last
requests?"
Sandy dimpled. "One more cigarette, please."
In the distance, an engine roared...