Free Paulina & Fran by Rachel B. Glaser Page B

someone,” she said, “about something sort of stupid,” she said. She wanted to latch on to him. He looked at her blankly.
    Paulina sat like a princess on the ottoman. Apollo walked by and Eileen ran after him, holding a bag of cocaine. Fran felt disoriented. Girls from her studio eyed her with curiosity. Fran had no idea if her hair looked good. She touched it and couldn’t tell. She searched for a reflective surface.
    One night in Norway, after Paulina had styled Fran’s hair, they had shown each other their breasts and complimented them. Fran had felt they had always known each other and always would. Now Fran walked up to Paulina and everyone cleared away except Allison, who sat unmoving. In the kitchen, girls took pictures of Marvin. “That’s no way to treat beauty,” Paulina said and Fran silently agreed.
    “I know you hate me right now,” Fran said.
    “Don’t flatter yourself,” said Paulina, playing with a bracelet on her wrist that made a sound like rain.
    “I didn’t think you liked him anymore, but I should have asked.”
    “Who?” There was a pause in which neither moved. Paulina fixed her eyes on her bracelet, shoplifted from Nordstrom. Of course she liked him. She loved him, loved both of them, but this thought snapped back into the dark unknowing place of her. Bits of conversation made her turn to the other room where Eileen was humping the floor “breakdancing.” Someone was saying, “It’s that gluey stuff you spread onto the solder and the metal so they bond.” A girl said, “I found a cockroach in their toilet and saved it with a piece of toilet paper.” “I was an absolute animal in LA!” Apollo yelled and beat his fist in the air.
    Paulina turned back to Fran. “I don’t like him. He’s boring. His life is useless. His apartment sucks,” Paulina said, looking at her fingernails. Fran rolled her eyes. “I mean he’s nice. I think he’s nice. Do you think he’s nice?” Paulina asked Allison, who was slowly packing weed into a bowl. Each time she said nice, it sounded like a boring, stupid thing to be. Allison smirked.
    Sadie plopped down next to Paulina. “The best night of my life!” Sadie said, and threw her head on Paulina’s lap. Paulina mindlessly stroked Sadie’s long black hair.
    “He loves me, Fran!” Sadie said happily.
    “I’m really sorry,” Fran said, her eyes filling with tears.
    “Enough,” Paulina said waving her away. “You’re ruining the party.”
    Paulina’s hate balled like a fist, willing Fran to leave, but Fran still stood before her. Paulina glared holes in Fran,watching her tears drip. Finally Fran turned and left. Allison blew out smoke. “She is actually pretty ordinary,” Paulina told Allison. “She deceived me by dressing so eccentrically. A lisp doesn’t make you charismatic.”
    Dean and Troy arrived, rescuing the party from its familiarity. In the dark, they were all renewed. They sweated through their outfits. They sniffed a bottle of shoe polish that gave a staggering two-minute high. People made out in the corners of Sadie’s apartment. Apollo put his arm around Paulina’s waist, and she draped herself over his twitchy shoulders. She touched his shaved head and it felt eelish and undid her.
    She imagined sex with him while he pitched a book he was writing about the government. “Nineteen fifty-five, they dropped three hundred thousand fever mosquitos from a plane over Georgia. Then they made a bomb made of fleas. It burst open on the plane. Those are facts. But what is their aim? How are they going to control the world with bugs? The facts are out there, they just need to be interpreted.” The novelty of Apollo was evaporating. “Where’s Sadie?” Paulina asked Allison.
    “Phone,” Allison said. She lay on Sadie’s couch looking at her hands. The party’s excitement had expired, but while most people gathered their things, believers tried to revive the party by flinging themselves around the room and sniffing