“So, have you worked with her?” Reagan asked, pointing to a petite blonde.
Madison looked at the magazine. They were spending a lazy afternoon in Reagan’s bedroom lying on the bed, flipping through fashion magazines. “Yeah, that’s Uta Vongstuben. Everyone calls her UV. She’s from Germany and is supposedly the next Kate Moss.” Madison turned up her nose. “But if you ask me, she can’t touch Kate.”
“UV, that’s ironic since she’s as pale as a ghost and could use a few UV rays on that transparent-looking skin. Besides, she’s not as pretty as Kate, and she’s way too skinny.”
Madison laughed. “If you think she looks skinny in that picture, you should see her in person. One strong wind could knock her to her knees, she’s so thin.”
“Madison, I don’t know how you can stand working with all those non-eating, wafer-thin models. Doesn’t it make you feel self-conscious?”
“No. The anorexic look is out. I may not be a triple zero, but I’m a healthy size four, and proud of it. Some days when I’m not bloated, I can even get into a two. Luckily I have a naturally high metabolism, and burn calories fast. I can eat anything I want and not pile on the pounds.”
“I wish I could say the same. I have to watch everything that goes into my mouth. You know how much I love Cherry Garcia ice cream, but I can’t have it every day, or my butt would be the size of a beach ball.”
“Girl, you’re being paranoid. What are you, a size six?”
“Yep.”
“A six is still small. At least you’re not a twelve.”
“I’d wire my mouth shut before I’d get into double digits,” she said, as if being bigger was a crime punishable by law.
“All this talk about food has me wanting a snack. What do you have to munch on?” Madison asked, rubbing her belly.
“I don’t know. Let’s go in the kitchen and see.”
Reagan lived with her parents and twin sister Kennedy in a rambling five-bedroom co-op, but they were all out for the afternoon. “Let’s see,” she said, opening the refrigerator. “There’s tuna salad, leftover meatloaf, mashed potatoes, cheese and crackers, fruit, and of course, ice cream.”
“I think I’ll have a meatloaf sandwich. Do you have any chips?”
Reagan took the meatloaf out, set it on the counter, and opened the cabinet next to the fridge. “There’s plain, barbecue, and the baked, no-salt kind.”
“I’ll take the plain ones, as long as they’re salted.”
“Yeah, they have salt.” Reagan fixed them each a sandwich, and poured two glasses of cranberry juice. The girls sat at the kitchen counter and munched away.
“So what was with you at Ian’s?” Madison wanted to know.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean when Ian and I came out of his bedroom, you were acting all strange and stuff. Pulling on my blouse, and joking about my hair.”
“I’m sorry. I was just jealous,” she confessed.
“Jealous of what?”
“It’s just that you guys seem to really be vibing on each other, and I want a boyfriend who likes me the way Ian likes you,” Reagan confessed.
“What are you talking about? PG is crazy about you.”
“It’s not the same thing you have with Ian. I couldn’t care less about PG. Don’t get me wrong, he’s nice and all, but he’s not my type.”
“You mean because he’s so skinny?”
“Yeah that, and he acts so goofy sometimes,” she said, popping a chip into her mouth.
“He wasn’t acting goofy when he tried to kiss you after he gave you that necklace.”
Reagan fingered the diamonds in the center of the Atlas. “I know. He caught me completely off guard.”
“You should’ve let him kiss you. Maybe he’s a good kisser. There’s nothing like a boy who knows how to lip lock,” Madison said in a dreamy voice.
“Can Ian kiss?”
“Ooh, yes he can, and his lips are so smooth,” she said, closing her eyes as if reliving the moment.
“So, Miss Thang…is kissing all you did?”
“Well…” Madison opened her eyes, and turned her lip up in a smirk.
“Come on. Give up the goods.”
Madison put her elbows on the counter, and rested her chin in her hands. “…he wanted to do more than kiss, and started feeling me up.”
“You mean he put his hands in your panties?” Reagan interrupted.
“He tried to, but I stopped him. I told him that I wasn’t ready for that yet.”
“What did he say?”
“It’s not what he said, it’s what he did,” she said, giving Reagan a serious look.
“What? What? What did he do?” Reagan asked excitedly, hardly able to keep calm.
“He took my hand and put it on his thing.”
“Ugh. What did it feel like?” Reagan had smooched PG, but had never touched his privates, or any other boys’ for that matter.
“I didn’t actually feel it feel it. I mean, I felt it, but through his pants. It was long and hard.”
“Whatcha mean ‘hard’?”
“I mean, it felt like he had a banana in his pants.”
“Ugh. I want a boyfriend, but I’m not ready to be feeling on some guy’s banana.”
“I know. It did feel strange.”
“What felt strange?” asked a third voice.
They both swung around and faced the doorway. Kennedy was standing there looking exactly like her identical twin sister, Reagan, with big brown eyes on maple-brown skin. The only difference between the twins was their hair. While Reagan relaxed hers and wore it bone straight, Kennedy’s was a fluff of freedom, naturally flowing all over her head.
“Hmm, nothing.” Madison giggled, and covered her mouth as if unwanted words would come tumbling out.
Kennedy walked into the kitchen. “If I had to bet, I’d say you were talking about boys, or clothes, two of your favorite subjects,” she said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.
“Whatever we’re talking about is none of your business. And speaking of clothes, don’t you think it’s time to retire that old army jacket? You’ve been wearing that beat-up-looking thing for months,” Reagan said, insulting her sister.
“Unlike you and Madison, I couldn’t care less about clothes. Do you know that there are kids starving in the world, and what you two spend on shoes and designer purses could host a child in a Third World country for years.”
“Oh, here it comes. Kennedy’s holier-than-thou speech. Don’t you ever get tried of riding your high horse?” Reagan asked.
“I’m not riding a high horse. It’s just that I care more about ending world hunger and saving the environment than spending all my time in the mall shopping for clothes that will go out of style in a few months. The money you all waste at those trendy boutiques could really be put to good use,” she said, sounding more like a parent than a sibling. Kennedy opened the fridge, and took out a bottle of vitamin water.
“I swear, even though you guys look exactly alike, you couldn’t be more different than if you were born from different parents,” Madison commented.
“Sometimes I wish we were,” Reagan whispered underneath her breath.
“I heard that,” Kennedy said. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two to your gossip. I’ve got better things to do,” she added, and walked out with her water.
“Dang, do you two ever stop bickering?” Madison asked.
“It’s not me. It’s her. She always has to put down whatever I’m doing, saying, or wearing. I swear, sometimes I really do wish she wasn’t my sister. It’d be a lot easier if she were more like you.”
“We all can’t be fabulous.” Madison laughed, and swung her red hair, trying to lighten the mood.
“Ha, ha, very funny. Now that Cruella is home, why don’t we go over to Serendipity? Suddenly I’m in the mood for a big fat sundae. Besides, I don’t want her overhearing our conversation.”
“Sounds good to me,” Madison said.
The two friends abandoned their sandwiches, went back into Reagan’s room, grabbed their designer purses off of the bed, and headed out of the apartment. At least at the dessert parlor they could speak freely about boys, clothes and whatever else they wished, without being judged by Kennedy’s lofty standards.