The Crazy Things Girls Do for Love

Chapter Twenty-Three Sicilee goes out with her friends

“So, fairest Sicilee,” says Rupert once they’re all settled at a table at the back of Uncle Tony’s. “What exciting, five-star, life-changing things have been happening in the wonderful world of Kewe lately?”

Sicilee looks over at Rupert. Up until this moment, she has been having a really good time. These days, she is usually in a state of at least mild stress at school and, when she hasn’t drifted off into one of her lovelorn reveries, anxiety at home – always worried about what to wear and what to say (or what she’s going to wear and going to say), but tonight, going to the movies with her friends, she’s actually managed to forget about Cody Lightfoot for more than two consecutive hours. Which these days is a record. But there is something in the inane way Rupert’s grinning at her that makes her think that brief idyll is about to end. Possibly in an ugly way.

“Nothing.” She shrugs off her new parka (made from ethically sourced materials and trimmed in fur that has never been closer to an animal than Sicilee’s head) and picks up her menu. “Same old, same old, really.”

“That’s not what we heard,” says Abe.

“That’s right,” agrees Davis. Rupert’s inane grin seems to be as contagious as measles. “We heard that you were boldly going where no one’s boldly gone before.”

“Risking isolation, destruction and possible certain death,” chips in Chris.

Sicilee clamps her teeth together to hold her smile in place. Somebody’s told the boys about her new extracurricular activity. Somebody with a mouth the size of Lake Michigan. Which one of them was it? She glances at Kristin, Loretta and Ash, all of whom are gazing at their menus as if they haven’t eaten enough pizza here to feed half of Sicily. She’ll find out later.

“Well, you heard wrong.”

Davis leans across Kristin to brush something from Sicilee’s arm. “Oh, sorry.” He might sound more sincere if his smile was less jubilant. “I thought there was some bark on your sleeve.”

Loretta, Ash and Kristin all bite back their smiles, but the boys laugh uproariously.

Following the example of her friends, Sicilee is gazing at her menu. “You know, I don’t think I’ll have any pizza tonight,” she says, as though this thought has just occurred to her. “I think I’ll just have a salad.” There is no way she can eat pepperoni pizza in public. What if Maya Baraberra and her friends walk in? What if Cody does?

“Salad?” hoots Rupert. “But we always get pepperoni pizza with double cheese.”

“And am I stopping you?” Sicilee speaks so sweetly that it might be wise for Rupert to remember that sugar kills. “But I’m having a salad. I don’t want anything too heavy this late at night.”

Chris leans towards her earnestly. “So what’s the deal, Miss Kewe?” He waggles his eyebrows. “An eager world hangs on your every word. Is it true that all of a sudden you’ve decided to be born-again Green?”

Sicilee takes a sip of water. “If you’re referring to the fact that I’ve joined the Environmental Club, Christopher,” she says evenly, “no, it doesn’t mean that I’ve been ‘born-again Green’. It just means I’m taking an interest in my country and in my planet.” She sets her glass back on the table very carefully. “As all good citizens should.”

“Well, it sounds to me like you’ve been born again Green,” says Chris. “I mean, look at you. You’re dressed like you live in Arizona.” Tonight, Sicilee is in muted earthy tones – beige and umber, sienna, ochre and terracotta. “And you’re eating salad.”

“I eat salad a lot, Chris. It happens to be very good for you. I eat it all the time.”

“Not by itself, you don’t,” says Rupert.

“Well, tonight I do.” Sicilee’s afraid to pick up her glass again, in case the temptation to throw its contents at Rupert proves too strong. “I told you, I want something light.”

“Or maybe you’ve become a vegetarian,” suggests Davis.

Merciful Mother, is there nothing the boys don’t know? she thinks.

Sicilee’s mouth is so rigid it could crush bones. There had better be one thing they haven’t been told. “And what if I am?” It certainly beats being vegan. After what Kristin told her and what she overheard of Maya’s conversation with Cody, Sicilee figured that given the choice between veganism and working fourteen hours a day gluing the soles on trainers, she’d choose the sweatshop any day. “In case it’s escaped your attention, Davis, vegetarianism’s very popular nowadays.”

“Sure it is,” sniggers Davis. “Especially among rabbits.”

Kristin, possibly to keep herself from laughing with the others, finally comes to Sicilee’s aid. “Actually, a lot of really famous people are vegetarian,” she says. “Isn’t that true, Siss?”

“Yes, it is true,” says Sicilee. Though she’d be hard put to name any of those famous people.

“You mean like Hitler?” asks Rupert.

“I don’t think I could give up meat,” says Loretta. “It’s so, like, radical. Like having a stud put in your tongue.”

Ash squiggles up her nose. “And it’s so, you know, meatless. I mean, what do you eat if you don’t eat meat?”

“Salad,” says Abe.

Davis wants to know if this is the last time Sicilee will be hanging out with everyone socially.

“It’s not a cult, Davis, it’s a club,” Sicilee explains. “I can hang out with anyone I want.”

“I didn’t mean that. I meant that because it’s going to kind of cramp everyone’s style, isn’t it? OK, you eat a bowl of lettuce when we come here, but what happens when we go bowling? No more deluxe nachos or hamburgers. And no more pool parties or barbecues when summer rolls around…” He pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “What a shame, after all the fun we’ve had together, Siss. We’re really going to miss you.”

Sicilee’s smile is as steady as the smile on a statue. “What a shame that I can’t say the same about you.”

“Ooooh…” crow Rupert and Chris.

“Ouch!” Davis shakes his hand as though he’s burned it. “That really really hurt, Sicilee. I think I may be traumatized for life.”

Chris, having regained his composure, leans forward again as if he’s about to say something important. “I have a question, Miss Kewe. I want to know now that you’re living on bean curd and recycling your toenail clippings, does that mean you’re going to cut off your hair and wear combat boots from now on, too?”

Sicilee never realized before how little she really cares for Chris. He has the same laugh as Woody Woodpecker, but isn’t nearly as amusing. Or as cute. “Meaning?”

“Meaning?” Chris splutters some more, looking at the other boys for back-up and approval in an incredibly irritating and childish way. “Meaning that everybody knows the Green brigade is pretty much gay.”

Sweet Mary, she’s surrounded by fools. If smiles were punches, Sicilee would knock him out cold. “I’d rather be gay than an ignoramus like you.”

Rupert – who apparently gets his information from a different source to Chris – wants to know if Sicilee is going to become a nudist. “You know, back to nature … running around in the moonlight worshipping the Corn God…” He gives her a smile that would be sleazy from anyone who looks less like a chipmunk. “That’d be cool.”

Sicilee rolls her eyes. “That’s only funny if you don’t think you’re joking.”

Maybe she doesn’t really care for any of them.

Except Abe. Abe hasn’t cracked one juvenile joke, or laughed so hard he nearly choked. In fact, Sicilee has always had a soft spot for Abe, who plays the saxophone and works in his father’s nursery, and who suddenly says to her in total seriousness and with no trace of sarcasm, “So, is that true, Sicilee? Are you really taking an interest in the planet and everything?”

“Of course it’s true,” says Sicilee. “You don’t think I’m doing it for fun, do you?”

Abe shakes his head. “No, I guess not.”

Sicilee returns his smile with a very nice smile of her own.