UGLY GIRLS
by Lindsay Hunter
FSG (2014)
review // Bud Smith
I sa
w another reviewer give Ugly Girls 1 star on Goodreads because they were scared of it.
They thought it was a YA novel about two adolescent girls, who are unlikely friends and get into a little trouble. What that reviewer was repelled by, will draw most people with a spine farther into the nervy, everyday trailer park terror that exists in the pages of Ugly Girls.
But as it goes, Ugly Girls isn’t YA, it’s Anti-YA.
I find a a ring with 11 brass house keys by the TV. “Whose keys are these?”
It’s 3am, our New Year’s party is over. 40 people were here, we only have two people left: Alaina and Julie.
I’m on shrooms and so is my wife, we’re floating around in a bubble. Alaina is sober and asking, “Will you walk with me to get a cab?” She’s not in the mood to get killed, alone on the street.
“Sure, we’ll walk you.”
That means we’ll have to go three avenues east, from our place on the river, till we hit Broadway and 175th street. I say, “Cabbies hang out in front of the 24 hour Dominican chicken place.”
I send two texts on my phone, asking two separate friends, who’d both brought groups of people with them, if they or anyone else forgot a set of keys. “Ask around,” I text.
Three of us step into the hallway, Julie stays behind at the pad, asleep at my desk. The apartment door clicks shut behind us, locking. I’m tripping pretty good, walking down the hallway. I keep patting my pant pocket, making sure I have my keys. My wife laughs hysterical. Alaina is telling us a joke. I don’t remember what the joke was, but I do remember almost falling down the stairs, that’s how funny it was. Alaina forgets we’re high and for a minute thinks she’s the funniest person on earth. I’m happy to help.
Halfway up the block, I realize I’m wearing my slippers instead of my sneakers. Oh well. The road is frozen. My toes are blue.
But there are cabs right where I thought they’d be and it feels like a miracle. A girl in a white fur coat climbs out of the cab.
I say, “Is that polar bear fur? Did you kill the polar bear?”
She’s says, “YES! I KILLED THE BEAR!” The polar bear girl warns us that the cabbie doesn’t have GPS. “Alaina’s probably more sober than the cabbie. You should drive the cab, Alaina.”
She gives me a hug goodbye “Maybe they’re my cousin’s keys?”
Off Alaina goes down Broadway.
My wife leads the way back towards the apartment, we’re hugging and laughing again as we walk—there are worse things in this world. Coming up the sidewalk is a young couple just like us, except they’re not hugging and walking. She’s yelling at him and he’s saying “I’m sorry you had the worst night of your fucking life!”
They pass and my wife says, “Oh god, they didn’t have fun.”
“We did, we win.”
But there up ahead is a stoop and there’s another couple sitting on the stoop and he’s screaming at her and she’s screaming at him.