Big Haired Bitches - 10. There Will Be Blood

Big Haired Bitches: There Will Be Blood

“Her name is Summer Smithson,” Taylor said in a shaky voice.

“Of course it is,” I replied. Summer Smithson. It sounded so… elitist. We don’t need to give our daughter a reasonable name. We have assloads of money.

“What’s so significant about her?” Steven asked.

“Were you not there? Was I the only one there?” I asked him, taking a huge bite out of my pizza and chewing like a cow on bale day.

After our midnight caller left Steven and I with no hope of ever getting a boner again, we peeled off each other, raced downstairs and found Taylor. I was in desperate need of carbo-therapy, so I drove us out to a 24-hour diner on the southern, more urban edge, of Summit Hill.

“She should have been a senior this year,” Taylor explained. “And she used to be Tori’s best friend. I mean, when I first got here freshman year, they were inseparable.”

“And then what happened?”

“And then she snapped.” Taylor’s eyes were huge. I’d never seen him so dramatically shaken.

“Snapped how, Tay?” I was growing agitated. I wanted to know what we were dealing with and I wanted to know as soon as possible. I needed him to snap out of it and tell me the story before I ate another deep dish pepperoni pizza and had to be air lifted out of the booth.

“She just snapped, Loges.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t friends with them at the time, but one day she was normal, and the next day she was completely gone. No one knew where she went.”

“That doesn’t sound so scary to me.” Steven looked confused, and I was right there with him.

“It wasn’t that she disappeared that was scary. It was what she left in her wake and the rumors surrounding it.”

“You’re gonna need to explain all of this in vivid detail,” I said, my attitude growing. I shoveled a handful of fries into my mouth and washed them down with a Diet Coke.

“Okay, I’m sorry. So it was last year this time, and like I said, they were inseparable. I was sort of friends with Tori, but more so with Eric, so I got a little bit of the dirt. It turns out that at Tori and Eric’s end of summer rager last year, Summer caught Tori having sex with her boyfriend, Frank. No one knew about that part. All they saw was Summer freak out, throw things off the balcony and into the pool. And I’m not talking vases or books from the shelf. She picked up a flat screen TV from Tori’s bedroom and chucked it out the window. When she went downstairs to continue her rage, she threw an urn of Tori’s grandfather’s ashes right into the bitch’s face.”

“Okay, that sounds scary,” I said almost choking on my Coke.

“And that was just the straw that got her taken away to wherever they take girls that are severely interrupted. We’re talking Winona Ryder interrupted. She was always sort of a loose cannon.”

“How so?” Steven asked, leaning in. I could tell he was growing very interested in this tale that could have very easily been written for a CW primetime show.

“Obviously, she was in charge before she went splitsville to crazytown, right? Well her brand of leadership wasn’t quiet and terrifying like Tori’s, no. She would get in your face like nothing scared her if she hated you.”

I flashed briefly back to her walking in on me and Steven with no sense of tact or fear, whatsoever. She wasn’t the kind to plot behind your back. If she wanted to scare you, she’d do it to your face, and I had figured that out firsthand.

“At a dance freshman year, she made a girl take her dress off because it was the same color as hers—not even the same dress. Just the same color. And she set it on fire. Right there in the girl’s bathroom. No big deal. She said if the chick had been following her Xanga, she would have known the color Summer was wearing and she wouldn’t have traipsed on down to Sears and bought the knock off version of the dress.”

I took in a deep breath. We weren’t dealing with your average scheming Queen here, I realized. We were dealing with something far greater. Something far worse. And if anything Taylor was saying was true, I’d be off of the throne in no time.

“How do we stop her?” I asked, my voice shaking uncontrollably.

“Loges, I wish I knew,” Taylor replied, his eyes wide and his expression frightened. “I think we don’t. I think we cut our losses, find a school across town and book it. Houston Country Day, maybe? I don’t know… Bellaire Academy?”

“You are not transferring to Bellaire Academy, you idiot!” I took a deep breath. “We know she fights with literal fire. We just have to show her we aren’t afraid of getting burned.”

It was during that speech that I realized how much I’d grown to like Taylor. If he had thrown in the towel and gone to a different school, leaving me all alone, I would have been somewhat crushed. I needed him, and as evidenced by the way he rallied around me when I ascended to the top, he needed me too. Claire, I could have done without, but Taylor was a darling to be kept.

I’m not sure where I mustered the confidence to rally the troops, but it certainly didn’t last. By the time I was in the car with Steven, nursing my food baby to full term, I was once again shaking in my Marc Jacob boots.

“How did you miss all of this?” I asked Steven as he sped off towards his house. “Weren’t you in school here when this all happened?”

“I spent my freshman year studying in England with a pre-Oxford program,” he replied, the pride in his voice overshadowed by the fact that his studiousness rendered him completely useless in this situation. “When I got back, it was school and rowing. I wasn’t really interested in all of this social politics stuff until I met you.”

“Well in the event that we die soon, let me apologize in advance for dragging you into this whole entire mess.”

“Honestly, it’s a lot more fun than figuring out the coefficient of a complex matrix,” he responded. Whamp, whamp, whamp, was all I heard. I was ready to dive back into my scared thoughts when I felt Steven pull the car sharply to the left and up a steep hill. I knew this wasn’t the way to his house.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I dunno, for whatever reason, I just really want to make love to you right now,” he said. He turned his head and smiled wickedly at me. Because he was so beautiful, I was always in the mood. I could even forgive him for saying something as soap operatic as ‘make love’.

“Are you horny because of the coefficient of a whatever whatever?”

“No, stupid,” he replied. “I was just thinking. If we do die soon, I don’t want to pass up the opportunity of fucking you in the backseat of my car.”

His smile was laced with naughtiness and adolescent glee. I was impressed at his sudden burst of aggressiveness. I was usually the one to initiate anything sexual, but this… with him… well, I was excited to be swept off my feet for a change.

Once we parked at the top of a hill overlooking most of east Summit, with the faint lights and smog of Houston lighting up in the distance, I couldn’t have dreamed of another place to have spontaneous sex. The trouble was, the backseat of Steven’s four-door Acura wasn’t the roomiest place, and my six-two boyfriend didn’t fit back there comfortably.

After enduring two minutes of awkward kissing, we decided to try the front seat, pushing it back so it was completely horizontal. That worked better, but after bumping his head twice while trying to get his pants off, we decided that wouldn’t work either.

“Well, we tried, Steve,” I said, sitting up. He climbed out of the car.

“Who said we were done trying?” he pulled me out of the car with him, turned me around and pushed me roughly to the side of the car. A second later, I felt him press his body against mine, the unmistakable bulge of a roll of quarters pressing tightly against my back. He leaned down the four inches that separated us in height and kissed my neck softly.

“Mmm,” I moaned, letting him take things as slowly as he wanted. We made out against the side of his car as he sensually peeled our clothes off, leaving us standing there under the stars and traces of Houston smog, in the most romantic encounter of my life.

By the time I couldn’t take the foreplay anymore, I turned back around so I was facing the car and pushed my ass backwards, arching my back. It was a classic ‘fuck me’ pose, and it didn’t take long for Steven to slide right behind me, moan deeply into my ear, and proceed to do just that. Fuck me.

It would be a lie to say outside sex, even with the still green Steven, wasn’t the absolute best sex I’d had up until that point. Sure, I’d been with guys who were bigger and girthier, and more adept. Sure, I’d had my fair share of real jackhammers who knew their way around a G-Spot like an intern knew her way around the Oval Office. And sure I’d been with guys who could go for hours without tiring or chaffing.

But that night, with Steven, under the hazy stars and against his black sedan was so romantic, it made those other guys seem like chumps in comparison. All glorious thirteen minutes of unadulterated, ribbed for his and her pleasure fucking went in my personal Guinness Book of Sex Records as the best I’d ever had.

The feeling I felt when he came on my arched back and I came on the passenger door of his car is so indescribable, I won’t even try. I’ll just to skip to the post orgasmic part of the night, and let you know that I was feeling tingly both inside and out until the second we made it to Steven’s house, crawled up to his bedroom, and went again for round two.

      **

I spent most of Saturday not thinking about Calc, World Geography, or English homework that was stacked so high, I could have built a fort from it. Instead, I spent the afternoon thinking about ways to scare the living daylights out my newest nemesis, Summer Smithson.

After my morning doctor’s appointment that completely cleared me of anything except the potential for internal bruising, which they were still determined to monitor, I went home and locked myself in my room.

I needed to be one with my thoughts, without the nagging voices of Taylor and Claire or the gorgeous distraction that was Steven. Instead, I needed to be alone, to assess my thoughts and to come up with a game plan.

After an hour of racking my mind for an idea of how to intimidate the most intimidating person in Summit proper, I was convinced I would never come up with something suitable.

I thought about a laxative laced welcome basket. I considered planting drugs in her locker and alerting the vice principal. I thought, maybe, I could get by being nice to her until I had some usable intel that I could use as blackmail. All of those things seemed done, pointless, and decidedly elementary. I wasn’t dealing with a normal nemesis here. I wasn’t dealing with a power hungry Sydney Yuki. I was dealing with a complete psycho.

And that’s when I had my first workable plan. Who said I needed to be the one to draw first blood? There might have been a very simple way for me to get someone else to draw it for me.

“Hi Sydney,” I said as sweetly as possible when she picked up her phone after two rings. “This is Logan.”

“Um, hello,” she said, sounding somewhat confused. Why am I calling? Hold that thought.

“Sydney, listen, I just wanted to call and apologize. I heard what happened about your party this weekend, and I think I know who’s responsible.”

“You mean, you know who made the phone call that got my sister suspended from her sorority? Oh, you mean you know who made the call that got the entire sorority put on social probation by the administration? I see… so you know who made the call that got me grounded by my parents for the rest of the first semester? Who the fuck is responsible, then, Logan?”

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t aware that two phone calls could have such disastrous effects, especially since we didn’t even actually alert their nationals. I guess the dean took our threat seriously and brought the hammer down on Tri-Delt.

“Listen, Sydney, she’s going to be really upset at me for telling you, but I just feel so bad about it. I mean, for all of that to happen is just awful.”

“You don’t know the half of it. I’m going to fuck up whoever did this, and you’d better believe that.” I was impressed by the little bitch’s feistiness. I knew she had some fight in her. People with no fight don’t go head to head with me on party night.

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t feel so bad telling on Summer Smithson then,” I said with confidence and a smile I couldn’t shake. “Listen, I’m begging you not to tell her where you heard it from. You know how she went crazy last year, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” Sydney replied.

“So whatever you do, to fuck her up like you said, I would just say make sure it’s foolproof and hopefully can’t be traced back to you. Who knows what she’ll do next. I mean, she already got your sister suspended, right?”

I could hear the wheels inside little Sydney’s head turning around and around and I knew I was in the clear. My warning to keep her revenge anonymous was paramount, but I was almost certain that Sydney would wield the arm of grounded justice to my intended target.

I felt better knowing that I had some sort of action in place. Instead of focusing on my homework, I celebrated by calling Taylor and asking him if he wanted to lay out by my pool.

      **

I sat back on Monday and watched everything unfold seamlessly. I felt just like a puppet master holding the strings high above the heads of Sydney Yuki and Summer Smithson.

It all started in the student office when Summer went to register her car and pick up her academic schedule. Sydney’s good friend Tara was the aide in charge of the front desk and apparently sent Sydney a text shortly after Summer arrived. Like the good friend she is, Tara stalled Summer until Sydney could get to the office.

Now, I wasn’t there to see this whole thing go down, but a tale is a tale, and this is how I heard it.

As soon as Summer left the office, Sydney was waiting around the corner with a pair of kitchen shears. Two snips later, and Summer had a fabulous bob haircut. A little wrestling, a pin to the ground and that bob was turned into a simple pixie, a la Jen from Dawson’s Creek during those truly unfortunate middle seasons.

But it didn’t end there. According to my sources, Sydney turned the five foot nothing girl around and doused the front of her blouse with a mixture of bleach, water, and fabric softener. The scream was heard all the way to the faculty lounge and by the time the gym coach found the two girls, Summer’s entire front side was discolored and smelled surprisingly clean.

Sydney Yuki got off with two days suspension and a loosely enforced restraining order against Summer. Summer has to live with her pain until her big hair eventually grows back.

      **

“The best part is, she has no clue we were behind any of it in the first place,” I said to Taylor at lunch as I picked away at briny olives and a caprese salad.

“Bold move, Loges,” he replied, stuffing his face with a celery stalk dipped in low-fat ranch dressing. “I just hope it doesn’t backfire.”

“How could it possibly backfire?” I asked. The look on Taylor’s face showed his lack of confidence.

Apparently, the how wasn’t so farfetched after all. While the two sparing girls were being taken to the vice-principal’s office, they were apparently shouting things to each other in the hall. The girl’s wrestling coach could keep them away from each other, but she certainly couldn’t keep their mouths shut. I’m told the conversation went something like this.

“Why the fuck did you do this you coconut throwing little bitch?”

“You’re a cocksucking cunt, you mother fucker! My sister almost got kicked out of her sorority because of you!”

“I don’t even know who the fuck your sister is you little snow blower!”

“Don’t call me a snow blower! And you know damn well what you did!”

At that point, Summer stopped walking, forcing Coach Drudge to stop moving. She twisted her arm and returned her voice to a normal decibel.

“What do you think I did?”

“You called Rice and told them my sister was planning an illegal mixer at our house.”

“I didn’t do that you fucking retard,” Summer said, her high voice lowering, and chilling the entire junior hallway as she spoke.

“Then who did?”

“Who told you it was me?” she panted.

“Logan Chancer.”

Summer’s face changed and it was clear to the both of them that they had been played. I, on the other hand, had no clue I had been sold out until I walked to the faculty lot with the confidence of someone whose pride had come right before the proverbial fall.

The moment I saw her standing there, the front of her shirt completely white and the Louisville slugger gingerly hitting her non-swinging hand, I did an about face and walked the other way.

But she already saw you, dipshit, I thought. So I turned back around and continued towards my car. I took two hesitant steps, looked behind me and contemplated making a run for it. I clutched my phone in my hand and wondered who in the hell I could even call. Steven had rowing. Taylor didn’t have a last period class and had left an hour earlier. My dad would know I ruined some Rice chick’s academic future and the police wouldn’t take a report seriously when I told them I was being attacked by a pixie with a bald spot.

“You have to get to your car eventually, Logan,” she called sweetly. I turned back around and wished to God someone in the faculty would come out. The administration, however, was required to stay at school until four. I was screwed for forty five minutes.

“Um… hi. Summer was it?”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you,” she hissed. “Why don’t you come a little closer.”

I took a deep breath and took the remaining steps towards her. My knuckles were jet white at clutching the sides of my backpack. I felt like the runty kid in sixth grade after a particularly bad peanut butter and jelly lunch for the eighth grade bully. Only this bully had a bat and was standing within swinging distance of my third car in as many weeks.

“Summer, I’m not sure what this all is about, but let’s talk about it…”

“Oh you know exactly what this is about,” she hissed in a high voice. I imagined a pack of rabid dogs coming out from the parked cars as she spoke and I shivered.

“Summer…”

“It’s about this!” she said, pulling an inch-long tuft of hair from the top of her head.

“It’s about this!” she repeated, pointing at her blouse. “Do you have any clue how difficult it is to get a Mui Mui top off the runway? And now it is ruined because of you!”

“I didn’t do that.” I swallowed so hard, I felt like my Adam’s apple was liable to come out of my throat.

“Shhh, stop talking,” she said, putting the tip of the bat right up to my lips. My eyes widened as she took a step near me. I wasn’t sure my dad’s insurance protected me from gangster muggings when said gangsters were eighteen year old blonde chicks in four inch Manolo Blahniks.

“You know what you did, you bastard,” she said in an even and calm voice that was a hundred times more frightening than her yelling from across the lot. I swallowed again, wondering how long my throat could survive the nervous abuse.

“If you think I’m fucking retarded and that I don’t know you orchestrated this entire thing, you have another thing coming to you, Logan.”

She stopped speaking abruptly, and I waited for her to say something else. Instead, she took the bat off my lips and brought it to the side of my face, circling it around my ear as if she could have popped me in the head at any moment.

“Now, I’m not unreasonable. I know how it goes. You spot the threat and you neutralize it. This isn’t my first time at the Rodeo, Logan,” she continued. “But you missed one important step. Cover your fucking tracks.”

She punctuated each word in the last sentence by jabbing the bat forcefully into my chest. When she was done talking, she dragged it down, passed my stomach, stopping right at the crotch of my jeans. She pushed in hard, and I took a deep breath. Her facial expression was pure horror.

“I’m going to give you one chance to do the right thing,” she said. “One simple task, and I’ll pretend I’m not bald because of you!”

“Okay, okay,” I said, inching backwards. She maintained the pressure on my ballsack and had she pushed in with just one more ounce of force, I would have needed ball retrieval surgery in a big way. “I will do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, just name it, please, just name it,” I rattled off, praying to God she saw how desperate I was. “Please, please.”

“Oh, don’t beg, you pussy,” she spat. “It’s not attractive.”

She took the bat of my family jewels and returned it to her side. I waited with baited breath for her to tell me what my one task was, hoping it was something simple like getting her coffee or a wig cap. Instinctively, I knew it wouldn’t be pretty.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked after an unbearable silence.

“I’m bringing in a new regime,” she said. “When I said the bitch is back, I meant it one hundred and ten percent. Now you have a chance to be a part of this regime. At the very bottom where you belong. But there’s only room for one token gay guy, so… get rid of Taylor and do it quickly. I don’t trust him and frankly, neither should you.”

She spat out the words and while I was still trying to digest them, she turned around and clacked away.

Get rid of Taylor, I thought. The one friend I’d managed to make throughout all of this, and I had to drop him like a bad fucking habit.

“Oh, and did I mention that you don’t really have a choice?” She called when she was two car lengths away. “It’s either you or him, and the one it isn’t… well let’s just say I can be a very angry girl. Choose wisely, Logan.”

I watched her saunter away, my eyes petrified by the threat of this bald, formerly big haired bitch.