So I've taken a shine to
the new girl. Much to everyone's displeasure.
The nurses are afraid I'm going to corrupt the poor sweet innocent darling
before they've had a chance to mold her into the Wellesley
Girl version of Good Mental Health, and the patients, of course, are all afraid
I'm going to ditch them for her. I've seen the way they all look at
me. Jesus fucking Christ, Jamie offed herself a
week ago and already they're all trying to take her fucking place - trying to
be my faaaavorite, like Polly might say it. It's pathetic. And it's
sick how much I like it.
But this Susanna - I think
the rest of the girls are in for a disappointment, because I like this
chick. There's something about her. She comes off all sad and sweet
and scared, with those big doe eyes, the way they blank right out of focus when
one of those flashbacks comes on. But she doesn't blank out except when
she's got the time and luxury for it. Pinned up against that wall, she
was right there with me, and in another second she'd have been scratching me
like a cat - anything to get away. That was in her eyes too. She's
a hard little nut when you get right down to it. She wouldn't crack like
Jamie, see, she'd never put her whole soul in someone else's hands. She's
got a little core of selfish bitchiness to fall back on when someone screws her
over.
I already know I'm going to
fuck her. She's a hot little piece. She's got the short hair going
and all, but I know she's not a dyke - it's always so easy to tell - or at
least she wasn't before me. She's probably got some sissy little
boyfriend at home kicking back in his college V-neck and khakis, swigging a
fucking Michelob. Or maybe, what with the French cigarettes and all, he's
sipping a carefully chilled white wine and writing poetry. That seems
more her line.
Operation New Girl: Get the boyfriend forgotten by the end of the week.