How To Be A Perfect Girl (23 page)

The three of them spent the next few minutes
distributing food around the house and putting away the more
expensive or easily broken decorations. “I don’t think it will get
crazy,” Aaliyah said, “But just in case it does, best bet is to put
away the Warhols.”

They were joined by Steven, who helped them
finish their preparations. “I was gonna bring some of my dad’s
calamari, for you to try,” Steven said to Val, “But I decided I
didn’t want everyone else being jealous. I mean, I’ve told you how
good it is,” he grinned.

Val returned his smile, “Really? I’ve heard
it’s—meh. And my source was pretty reliable.”

Steven laughed. “You look really good today,
Val,” he blushed and looked at the far wall.

“Thanks. I was gonna wear something else,
but my dad made me change,” Val shared; the doorbell rang, bringing
more guests.

“Ooh, must’ve been something naughty,”
Steven’s mischievous smile caused Val to laugh.

“I guess you could say that. It really
wasn’t that—oh!” A pair of arms lifted Val from behind.

“I hope my friend’s not boring you,” Val
instantly recognized Alex’s voice.

“Alex!” Val turned in the boy’s arms once
he’d set her down.

“Hey there,” Alex whispered, “You know,
you’re pretty close to me.” He was right: Val’s face was only
inches from his. “I just decided I’ll accept a kiss instead of the
lap dance you owe me.”

Val laughed, “Yeah, still not happening.
Wait, if you’re here, where’s Keenan?”

“Not coming,” Alex shrugged, “He’s being
boring tonight. So it’s just gonna be you and me.”

“And thirty other people.”

“And thirty other people,” Alex agreed, “But
none as funny or charming as me.”

Val laughed again; a question entered her
mind and she asked, “What would you do if I was actually interested
in you?”

Alex let go of Val, a look of genuine pain
flashing across his face before he stifled it, “Keenan’s my boy.
But we could still have some fun, and he’d never have to know.”

“Oh, hey, look who it is!” someone said
loudly from across the room.

“That would be so horrible!” Val bit her
lip, “Not because you’re bad looking, just—I meant, that would be
unfair to Keenan—“

“Gee, thanks,” Alex maintained his usual
smile, “So if you weren’t with him you’d want me?”

“I don’t know. I guess. It’s hard to
tell.”

“Hmm,” Alex rubbed his chin, feigning
seriousness, “Then I guess the plan becomes—to kill Keenan.”

Val swatted at her friend’s arm, “As if you
could kill anybody.”

“Oh, I could. I’m a black-belt in judo, you
know.”

“Look who it is!” the voice was closer this
time; Val turned to figure out who it belonged to. She nearly
bumped into Ethan and was forced to suppress a groan as he pulled
her in for a hug, “Val, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t think I’d run into you here. Hey
Alex.”

Val cocked her head in confusion, “It’s a
freshman party—I’m a freshman. I’m more surprised you’re here,
actually.” She made a mental note to discuss Aaliyah’s
party-inviting process the next time she spoke with her friend.

“Well I guess I’m gonna go mingle,” Steven
slipped off into the crowd; with a jolt, Val realized she’d all but
ignored him since Alex’s arrival.

“I know,” Ethan replied; it took Val a
moment to remember what he was talking about, “But I just figured
you’d be out doing something else. You know, breaking boys’
hearts.”

Val shrugged, “I can do that here,” she
joked.

“Mmm, I bet you can—“ Ethan made a point of
looking her up and down, “Especially in that dress.”

Something about the black-haired Senior made
Val uncomfortable—perhaps it was what Scarlett had told her about
him. “You wanna get something to drink?” she asked Alex.

“Please,” from the way Alex glared at Ethan,
Val could tell that he was not the other boy’s biggest fan either.
Val led the way to Aaliyah’s kitchen, and thankfully Ethan didn’t
follow.

“You’re friends with Ethan?” Alex asked once
they were in the kitchen.

Val shook her head, “Not really. He’s
annoying—he hits on me more than you do!”

“Geeze, that’s a lot,” Alex laughed, “Plus I
bet it’s weirder cause he’s so much older than you.”

“Not that much older,” Val replied
defensively, “I mean, I don’t know why there’s like this big taboo
against seniors and freshmen dating.”

“Cause four years is a big difference in
high school.”

“I guess. Anyways, you ready to rejoin the
party?”

“Sure. But let’s avoid
Ethan. He seemed
way
too into you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Val took the lead as they
reentered Aaliyah’s living room; Aaliyah nearly tripped over them,
carrying a pack of what looked like playing cards. “We’re starting
a game of Texas hold ‘em downstairs, Val, if you want to join,” she
said.

“Cool! Come on Alex, let’s go.” Val followed
Aaliyah into the basement, and Alex followed her.

Sitting around a mahogany card table sat a
few older boys Val didn’t recognize; “I brought another girl!”
Aaliyah announced as she plopped the deck on the table.

Val took the last empty seat, “Hey Aaliyah,
can Alex play too?”

Alex shook his head before Aaliyah could
respond, “It’s cool. I’ll just go upstairs and mingle. Have
fun.”

“Oh, ok,” Val looked at her friend
apologetically, “You too.”

“So, are we playing regular poker or—?” Val
recognized the face of the boy who had spoken: Josh.

“What do you mean?” Val asked; judging by
the looks Josh and the two other boys gave her, it was a stupid
question.

“Well, we were talking about maybe—if
everyone was up for it—upping the stakes,” Aaliyah said. When Val
still didn’t quite understand, she clarified, “Josh was suggesting
we turn this into a game of strip poker.”

“Oh—“ Val frowned, “But I’m only wearing a
dress! I’d lose in like a second.”

A tanned boy to Josh’s left laughed, “That’s
the point, cutie. You gals take your clothes off, we watch. If you
wanna just skip the game we could—“

“Perhaps we should just start off playing
regular poker,” Aaliyah suggested, “For chips. Then if that goes
well we can discuss the prospect of strip poker.” She shuffled the
deck and tossed them each a pair of cards, “Ian, you’ve got small
blind, and Josh, you’re big.”

“That I am,” Josh agreed; the three boys all
laughed. Val watched passively; she was busily trying to come up
with an excuse that would allow her to leave the game before she
got forced into a game of strip poker.

Down the line everyone made their bets; the
boy to Val’s right folded. Val leaned over to Aaliyah, showing her
friend her cards, “Is this a good hand?”

“Val! You’re not supposed to show anyone
else what you have!”

“Oh, um, okay. But is it good?”

Aaliyah shrugged, “It’s alright. You do know
how to play Texas hold ‘em, right?”

“Not really,” Val confessed, “My family was
never big on poker.”

Aaliyah frowned, “Alright then, I’ll teach
you. Here, let’s just turn this round into a teaching round.” She
took Val’s cards and set them down near the deck. Aaliyah made her
own bet, “And now Ian can call up to the big blind or fold.” Ian
called. “And now it’s Josh’s turn. Since he’s big blind, he can
either raise the bet or check.” She continued explaining as the
hand went on, and to her credit managed to win while maintaining
her stream of explanations.

“Do you want to sit out one more round? Or
do you think you get it?”

“I think I get it now.” Val held out her
hands as Aaliyah pushed a pair of cards her way.

“Remember,” Aaliyah said, “Doubles beats
high card, two doubles beats one double, triples beats that, then
comes a straight, then a flush, then full house, four of a kind,
and a straight flush beats everything.”

“Hold on,” Val frowned at her cards, “What’s
a straight?”

“A straight is like five cards in a row—like
five, six, seven, eight, and nine. No one will probably get
anything higher than a triple here, so that’s all you need to keep
in mind.”

“Ok,” Val looked at her cards and put in the
bet Aaliyah told her to.

They played a few hands, and Val started to
gain confidence; Texas hold ‘em was, as Aaliyah explained, a game
of trickery. It didn’t matter what cards Val had; the goal, she
discovered, was to make the people she was playing with think
whatever she wanted them to think. If she had a bad hand, she tried
to convince the others that she had good cards, while if her hand
was a good one she tried to act like she was disappointed.

Valentina felt like she was really getting
the hang of the game; she even started having fun trying to trick
Aaliyah and the others. It came as a surprise when Val’s chips ran
out, but she sensed her opportunity to excuse herself, “Well, I
guess that means I’m done.”

“Not necessarily,” Josh said, “It just means
it’s time for some new rules.”

Val grimaced, “Yeah, I definitely think I
should go if that’s what you guys want to do.”

“Scared?” Ian—the tanned boy—asked
tauntingly, “What’s the problem? It’s just the five of us—even if
you lost all your clothes we’d be the only ones to know.”

“But you’d still know,” Val pointed out,
“Plus it would be embarrassing.”

“Why? Do you have a tramp stamp or
something?” Josh leaned back in his chair, smiling.

“Well, no.”

“Look guys, she doesn’t want to do it,”
Aaliyah came to Val’s rescue, “And to be honest, I’m not exactly
one-hundred percent behind the idea either. Let’s just play normal
poker.”

“But that’s boring,” Josh complained, “Let’s
have some real stakes. If not clothes, how about money? Actual
money.”

“No, I don’t think so. Actually, let’s just
play again another time.” Aaliyah got up from the table.

“Okay okay, I’m not gonna force you to do
anything you don’t want to,” Josh frowned, “Even though you did
promise.”

Aaliyah shrugged, “I don’t always keep my
promises.”

“Damn, I wanted to see some titties!” Ian
joked.

“Ewh,” Val wrinkled her nose at his
language.

“What?”

“I just don’t like that word.”

Ian laughed, “It’s not like a curse word or
anything.”

“Yeah, but I still don’t like it.”

“Well you’re just a prude,” Ian accused.

“Am not.”

“Yeah you are, and you convinced Aaliyah to
be a prude with you. If you weren’t such a tease, maybe you
wouldn’t be so afraid to play an innocent game of strip poker. We
wouldn’t even make you go past your underwear, and we’ll count your
dress as three clothing items.”

Something about being called a prude, even
by a boy she’d only just met, irked Val. “Fine, we’ll play.”

Aaliyah sat back down, “If Val’s okay with
it, I suppose I am. Besides, we all know I’m not gonna lose any
hands, so it doesn’t matter.”

A crash from overhead cause them all to
start; “What was that?” Aaliyah asked, panic in her voice. She was
up the stairs before anyone else at the table had even gotten up;
Val followed her, anxious to see what the commotion was about.

“Oh my gosh!” she cried out when she caught
a glimpse of what was going on; such a large crowd had gathered
between two boys who were obviously fighting that Val could hardly
see what was happening, but she saw that one boy was on top of the
other, and was busily beating him into the ground. “Someone has to
stop this!” Val cried out to no one in particular; nobody moved to
intervene or even acknowledge her request.

Aaliyah was the only other one who seemed to
be trying to do something; she pushed through the mass of bodies,
and Val followed her. Together they broke through to the five foot
wide hole left by the onlookers; with a look at each other they
each grabbed one of the arms of the boy on top.

“Let me go!” the boy yelled, pulling
furiously against Val’s grip; he nearly broke free, but she held on
as if her life depended upon it. “This little bitch needs to
die!”

Val at the downed boy for the first time;
Dylan’s familiar frame lay supine on the floor. “Why were you two
fighting?” she asked, hoping the question would direct the
struggling boy’s attention away from his attempts to break her and
Aaliyah’s grip.

“Fucker said I was ‘tall enough to be on the
basketball team and stupid enough they’d let me play center’,” the
boy replied, “Which is not. Fucking. Funny.”

Aaliyah caught on to Val’s plan, “I get it;
Dylan’s a jerk to everyone. But do you really think one insult is
worth killing him?”

The boy relaxed a little, “I had to teach
him a lesson. Only stupid fuckheads insult someone who can beat
their ass.”

Val hid a wince at his excessive cursing,
“Okay, you made your point. Now, don’t you want to go home and just
forget this whole thing happened?”

“I guess the fucker learned his lesson.
Alright, just let me go and I’ll leave.”

Val looked at Aaliyah. She
could tell they were both weighing the same question in their
minds:
If we let him go, will he just
attack Dylan again?
In the end, Val
decided she wouldn’t be able to hold the boy back if he really
wanted to hurt Dylan more anyway—he was twice her size and at least
eight inches taller. She let him go, and after a second Aaliyah did
the same.

True to his word, the boy walked through the
crowd toward the exit; the gathered watchers parted to let him
through. Val turned her attention to Dylan; she leaned down to
assess his battered face.

“How bad is it?” Aaliyah
asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.
This is
her party, at her house,
Val
realized,
she could probably get in a lot
of trouble if we have to call an ambulance or something.