Girls in White Dresses

“Why are you fighting with me?” Ben asked. She hated when he did this, when he turned things on her. He could act however and say whatever he wanted, and if she cal ed him on it, then she was the bad person who’d instigated the fight.

“I’m not fighting with you,” Isabel a said. She knew that the night was already gone. It was ruined. They should just leave now instead of indulging in an evening of arguments and accusations.

“Real y, wel , that’s what it feels like. I need a new drink,” Ben said, and walked away.

Ben loved this stupid game show cal ed Deal or No Deal. He loved the part when people had the chance to walk away with a ton of money and then made the wrong choice and left with nothing. It made him laugh out loud.

“Don’t you feel bad for them?” Isabel a would ask.

“No,” he always said. “They’re stupid. They deserve it.”

When Isabel a watched him laughing at those people, she felt like she was sitting next to the cruelest person in the world.

Less than a week after the wedding, Ben moved out. They had final y broken up, and it was just as awful as Isabel a thought it would be. She couldn’t sleep and so she stared into the darkness every night. She was alone, and she felt the aloneness in everything she did. But that was just at first. It went away after a while, or maybe she just stopped noticing it.

She never ran into Ben, although she always thought she saw him in a crowded bar or walking down the street. Her eyes played tricks on her everywhere she went. But that, too, went away and then the only time she real y thought about him was when she smel ed pot.

The weird thing was that long after she got over Ben, Isabel a thought about JonBenet. She couldn’t even recal the girl’s real name, and stil she entered her mind with alarming frequency. Isabel a remembered how she had laughed at JonBenet without real y knowing her and how kind the girl had been to her that night. She thought about how everyone gossiped about her behind her back and wondered if she knew. And mostly, Isabel a wondered if JonBenet was final y engaged or even married by now. She almost e-mailed Ben once, just to ask. Isabel a wished for JonBenet when she threw pennies into fountains, when she blew on eyelashes, and when the clock read 5:55. She wished for her that she was married. She wished for her that she had a beautiful wedding. She hoped she was happy.

A bby’s family was weird. She had, on some level, always known this, but as she got older it became much more clear. When Abby was four, her dad’s uncle died and left them al of his money—and there was a lot of it. Instead of using it to buy a house or a boat, like normal people, her parents bought a farm in Vermont and spent their days smoking pot and refurbishing antique furniture. Sometimes her dad cal ed her mom Lil’ Bit, and sometimes they let their friend Patches park his trailer on their property and live there. Yes, Abby’s parents were weird, her sister was even stranger, and the whole lot of them together was sometimes too much to bear.

Abby didn’t try to hide this information. In fact, it was usual y the first thing she told people. “My parents are weird,” she’d say, as soon as the topic of family came up. “They’re hippies,” she’d add. A lot of times, the people she was talking to would nod their heads like they understood and say, “I know, my parents are total freaks too.” If this happened, Abby had to explain further. “My parents grow pot,” she’d say. “My mom raises chickens for us to eat.” If this didn’t get a rise out of them, she’d say, “My dad once kidnapped the neighbor’s peacocks.” That usual y shut them up.

Abby wasn’t complaining when she told people this. She just wanted it out there. It was better, she’d learned, to tel people right up front, instead of waiting for them to ask questions like “What line of work is your dad in?” and having it al come out like that.

When Abby was thirteen, her parents sent her to boarding school. They talked about sending her to the local high school, they even entertained the idea of enrol ing her in the hippie high school that took place on a VW bus and drove around the country, to teach kids through real-life experience. But in the end, her parents decided on Chattick, a real y wel -known and snobby boarding school in Connecticut, where al the kids had parents who were lawyers or bankers, and everyone bought their chicken in grocery stores.

At boarding school, Abby learned to study. When she arrived that first year with a canvas bag of clothes and a homemade patchwork quilt for her bed, she knew she had her work cut out for her. She studied hard, taking notes on the silver link bracelets al the girls wore and the bright patterned duffel bags they carried home at the holidays. She made lists and bought these things for herself, quickly and quietly, so that no one remembered that she hadn’t had them before, no one knew that she looked any different than when she’d first gotten there. Sometimes she thought she should have been a spy.

By the time she was a freshman in col ege, she had it down. When she met her freshman roommate, Kristi, she appeared total y normal. But stil , she told Kristi about her family as soon as it was acceptable. Abby had perfected her five-minute rant about her parents, and she performed it wel .

Kristi laughed in al the right places, and Abby was sure that they would be friends.

And stil , Abby tried to keep her friends at a distance. She was quieter than the rest of them, always listening, always watching to see if there was something she was supposed to be doing. It was exhausting, but she knew the alternative was worse. By senior year, she had been to stay with the families of al of her col ege roommates. She’d been to Chicago and Philadelphia and even California, but she’d never invited anyone to Vermont.

She also discouraged her parents from coming up for Parents’ Weekend. “It’s no big deal,” she always said. “No one is real y coming.” This was a lie, of course, and she felt bad about that, but she didn’t have a choice. It was one thing to hear about her family. It was another thing to see them.

Kristi was the one who brought it up one weekend when most of their friends were out of town for one reason or another. “I’m so bored I could die,” Kristi said. She rol ed over onto her back and sighed. “I could literal y die.”

Their friend Isabel a laughed. “Don’t be dramatic or anything.”

“I’m serious,” Kristi said. “We can’t stay here this weekend. There’s nothing going on. Let’s do something.”

“What do you want to do?” Isabel a asked. Abby stayed quiet. They were in her room, which always put her on edge. After freshman year, wherever the group of them lived, Abby always got a single. It calmed her