Vicious Little Darlings Read Online Free Page A

Maddy and I order cheeseburgers, fries, and strawberry shakes from a tired waitress with frizzy, coppery-gray hair. Agnes orders a cup of hot water. Who is she kidding? Like she doesn’t eat? When the waitress walks away, Agnes’s eyes bore into me. She’s studying me, looking for flaws. Someone should tell her it’s rude to stare.
    I look at Maddy, who’s been quiet ever since we left the bar. I ask, “So how did you two become friends?”
    Maddy smiles. “Our moms were best friends. They met at Wetherly, and Agnes and I practically grew up together. We’re more like sisters than friends.”
    â€œ Best friends,” Agnes adds haughtily.
    So they’re legacy students. I nod and try to look interested, but of course the real question I want to ask—and the thing that’s been on my mind for the past half hour—is what Agnes whispered to Bobby to make him go away. But I get the feeling that Agnes won’t tell me anyway, so I don’t ask.
    Maddy goes on to tell me her life story. She’s an only child from New York whose parents died in a car accident three years ago. Apparently, her parents were divorced and having an affair with each other after her mother had already married Maddy’s stepdad, a well-known Manhattan shrink. Her stepdad didn’t learn of the affair until the day Maddy’s parents died, and apparently he’s still angry about it. He feels especially betrayed by Maddy because she kept her parents’ affair a secret, and to this day he still calls her, whimpering into the phone. Now she lives with her aunt and uncle—both of whom are high school teachers—in Queens. The quiver in Maddy’s lip tells me her life is not a happy one, and shortly after mentioning her aunt and uncle, she tenses up and stops talking altogether. Poor girl. Her life has more drama than As the World Turns .
    The waitress returns with our food. “Here’s your hot water,” she says icily to Agnes. “You sure you don’t want a tea bag to go with that?”
    â€œI’m sure,” Agnes says with a smirk.
    The waitress stalks off.
    Agnes takes a sip of her water and makes a face. “Lukewarm.” She pushes the mug toward the edge of the table.
    â€œYou’re not hungry?” I ask.
    â€œNo,” she says curtly while stealing a fry from Maddy’s plate. “I’m a vegetarian.”
    O-kay.
    Maddy then starts telling me Agnes’s life story as though Agnes weren’t here. I learn that Agnes comes from a prominent New York family who can trace their roots back to the Mayflower. She had a precious upbringing: maids, butlers, trips around the world, homes in New York, Massachusetts, and Connecticut. Apparently, her father owns half of Massachusetts and most of Connecticut, blah, blah, blah. Although I do find some of the story interesting, it’s impossible to concentrate, what with Agnes mad-dogging me.
    When Maddy finishes talking, Agnes leers at me and says, “So what do your parents do?”
    I pause, trying to think of how I should answer this. The truth is, my parents, when I knew them, were alcoholics who struggled to hold down jobs. My mother left when I was five, never to be heard from again, and my father currently lives in Vegas with his stripper girlfriend. Sometimes he sends postcards, but never money. Even Nana thinks he’s a loser, and he’s her only child. I’m so tempted to tell Agnes my parents are big Hollywood producers or famous plastic surgeons, but I can’t decide which way to go, and then I start worrying that I won’t be able to pull it off anyway, so I just say the next thing that comes to mind: “My parents are dead.” I glance at Agnes to gauge her reaction. She looks completely unaffected, stoic as a monk.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Maddy says, looking down at the table and then at Agnes. “I definitely know how you