The Crazy Things Girls Do for Love

As a further example of things they have in common, both Maya Baraberra and Sicilee Kewe imagined that they would be leaving the meeting with Cody Lightfoot. Each of them was prepared not just to walk all the way home, but to walk all the way to someone else’s home if it meant she walked with him.

But neither of these scenarios happened. Somehow, when Cody stood up at the end of the meeting, Maya and Sicilee were left looking at each other across the space where he’d been. Sicilee tossed her hair and shrank her smile so small that she seemed about to spit. Maya stared back unblinkingly. If looks were curses, Maya would have been turned into a toad and Sicilee would have vanished completely, and probably for ever.

By the time they picked up their things and stood up themselves, Cody was walking out of the room with Ms Kimodo.

And so, against all the odds, Maya Baraberra and Sicilee Kewe ended up leaving the school side-by-side.

“You know, you really are incredible,” Maya says as they cross the main hall. She puts on an exaggerated, shrill and girly voice. “Ooh, I’ve been doing the Green thing for, like, ever now … the bottles … the light bulbs … the whole vegan scene!”

“Oh, listen who’s talking!” Sicilee fumes. “You made it sound like you and Cody were virtual twins.”

Maya’s laugh will later be described by Sicilee as sounding like the squeal of a panicked pig. “At least everything I said was true!”

Naturally, Sicilee had been prepared to embroider the truth a little – to claim she turned off lights and things like that – but how could she with Maya standing there looking like the cat that had swallowed every pigeon in the park? She had no choice. What was she supposed to say? That her mother gives her old clothes to the church thrift store and, every time he gets the electric bill, her father stomps around the house turning off lights? She had to lie. Boldly. Baldly. The worst thing was that once she got started, she couldn’t seem to stop. By the time she was done, she’d altered the truth so much that it wouldn’t have been able to recognize itself.

Sicilee yanks open one side of the glass doors. “Are you saying that you don’t believe me?” she asks as she sails through.

“Oh, heavens to Betsy! I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.” Right behind her, Maya catches the closing door with her hip, her expression sour as she pushes through. “I am so sure you’re Greener than grass.” She leans her mouth close to Sicilee’s ear. “Like not!” If the planet thought it had to count on Sicilee to save it, it would shoot itself now. “If there was one word of truth in anything you said, it was the word ‘I’.”

“That just shows how much you know.” Sicilee strides on, hair swinging, heels clicking against the pavement. “It just so happens that I am not a liar, Baraberra. I leave that kind of thing to people like you.”

Maya’s laugh pops like a blister. “Oh, please. Spare me the self-righteous crap. I bet you don’t even know what a vegan is.”

“Of course I do.” Sicilee doesn’t. She thinks that vegan is short for vegetarian. She slows down so that Maya can catch up with her and see the scornful edge to her smile. “Just because I don’t go around drooling cool the way you do, Baraberra – shaking your stupid badges in everybody’s face and thinking you’re so great because you wear somebody else’s old clothes – doesn’t mean that I don’t know what’s going on in the big picture. I know what’s going on.”

Maya sneers. Yeah, sure you do. “Sicilee,” says Maya with exaggerated sweetness, “we’re alone now – you don’t have to pretend. You don’t have a clue what’s going on in ‘the big picture’. Gott im Himmel, you think you’re the big picture. If you can’t wear it, drive it, watch it, listen to it, or eat it, it doesn’t exist.”

“What? Unlike you, Miss Sacrifice-and-self-denial? Like you’ve dedicated your life to protecting chipmunks and drawing on the walls of the cave you live in?” Sicilee’s laughter splutters like machine-gun fire. “You are such a total phoney. You know, you don’t look like you’re doing without much to me. Your parents have two cars, just like everybody else. And you have all the stuff everybody else has.” Sicilee’s smile shrinks contemptuously. “Your cell phone does everything but fly.”

They aren’t walking any more. They’ve stopped a little way down the drive, where they are squaring off like boxers.

“Sicilee,” says Maya, “the point isn’t whether or not I and ten billion other people have a cell phone. The point is that besides everything else you aren’t – you know, like human – you are so definitely not the animal-rights type.”

“And when did I say I was?” Sicilee has seen animal-rights types on the news. They’re usually screaming, wearing balaclavas and throwing paint on people wearing totally gorgeous mink coats. “Those people are nothing but terrorists.”

“Oh, spare me.” Maya purses her lips in that smug and irksome way she has. “To an animal, you’re the one who’s the terrorist, with your fur coat and those boots you wear that make you look like you’ve got dogs wrapped around your feet. Which is why you can’t be a vegan. Vegans are animal-rights types, Barbie-brain.”

“I know about fur and everything.” Sicilee’s smile shines like highly polished steel. “But for your information, I only just started being a vegan. I can’t completely change my whole wardrobe overnight.”

“I know you just started being a vegan.” Maya grins. “About forty-five minutes ago.”

“Oh, right. At about the same time that you started riding a bike everywhere.” Sicilee’s arm sweeps across the empty bike rack outside the library. “Just where is your bike, Your Greenness? Or is its invisibility part of it being environmentally friendly?”

“It has a flat. You probably don’t know this, but you can’t ride a bike with a flat tyre.” Maya starts walking again. “And anyway, I’m a hell of a lot Greener than you’ll ever be. Gott im Himmel, you are like a walking advertisement for the consumer society. You won’t last an hour being Green.” Maya looks over with a serene smile. “You won’t even last ten minutes.”

“Oh, really?” sneers Sicilee.

“Yeah, really,” says Maya. “You’re about as Green as strip mining. You probably leave the lights on when you’re sleeping, so you’ll be able to see yourself in the mirror if you wake up during the night.”

“And I suppose you’re Greener than a tree, Madame I-ride-my-bike-in-blizzards!” The many people who know only Sicilee’s dazzling smile would be surprised at how good she is at contorting her mouth into an expression of revulsion and disgust. “You are so false, Baraberra. I bet you’ve never even been on a bike.”

“Well, you lose, Kewe. Because not only have I been on a bike about a trillion times, but as soon as I get the flat fixed, you’ll be seeing me on it every day.”

Neither of these statements is much truer than Sicilee’s claim to be a concerned environmentalist and vegan. The truth is that Maya has been on a bicycle only a dozen times, the last being over four years ago when she skidded on something in the road, ran into a hedge and decided it was easier to get rides from her mother than risk her life.

“And you’ll be seeing me eating nothing but vegetables,” counters Sicilee (who has never thought of vegetables as more than a garnish).

“Sure I will.” Maya takes a step towards Sicilee. An innocent bystander might wonder if she’s planning to hug Sicilee or give her a shove, but all she does is smile – albeit in a slightly spine-chilling way. “You may think everybody’s got the wool pulled over their eyes, you know? So let me be the one to tell you that they don’t. It is pathetically obvious that you only came today because you have the hots for Cody Lightfoot.”

“And that isn’t why you came?” Sicilee smiles back. “You are such a scammer, Baraberra. You are so transparent I could watch TV through you.”

“At least I have real Green credentials,” snaps Maya. “Unlike some people I could mention.”

“Oh, please.” Sicilee’s hair swings, scythe-like, with scorn. “You may be able to convince some people that you showed up because you can’t sleep for worrying about the whales, but not everyone’s that gullible, Baraberra. Sweet Mary! If you’d sat any closer to Cody at the meeting, you would’ve been on my lap.”

“You don’t stand a chance with him.” Maya’s voice is so reasonable and calm you’d think she’d started talking about something else entirely (socks, perhaps, or how to bake a potato). “Cody’s not one of your preppy puppets who’s only interested in what a girl looks like.”