The Girl Code

“It was just a pity fuck,” Shannon sighed at me, her big blue eyes annoyed. “A one-time thing. It’s not a big deal, Ivy.” My jaw dropped. Shannon poked at her tofu, wrinkled her perfect nose, and took one of my tater tots. I was still gaping at her.

“You… had sex… with Jordan?” I finally managed to gasp. Shannon flipped her long, straight blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Yep!” she said, and stole another tater tot. Then another. And another. I just sat there. Shannon had sex with Jordan. At Magdalena’s party. While I was sitting on Mag’s couch. Flirting with Mag’s hot older brother Juan. Even though I liked Jordan. And then I had flirted with Jordan later, completely oblivious to what he and Shannon had done.

Oh.

My.

Freaking.

God.

“You have the weirdest look on your face!” Shannon giggled. She popped another tater tot into her perfect mouth. She had kissed Jordan with that mouth.

“Oh shit, it’s 12:30!” she chirped. “I have a meeting with Mrs. College Advisor Lady. Toodles!” She hopped up and ate a final tater tot, then strutted away, her perfect hair swinging. I stared after her in shock.

Shannon.

And Jordan.

At Magdalena’s party.

“Ivy, you okay?” someone asked. I looked up and saw, of all people, Jordan Lockhart. He smiled at me and my stomach filled with butterflies.

“Hi, Jordan,” I managed to squeak.

Him.

And Shannon.

Shit.

“Ivy, you look kind of sick,” he said, his blue eyes concerned. I shook my head.

“Just tired,” I said, yawning unconvincingly.

“Oh, okay,” Jordan shrugged. Then he looked around. “You seen Shannon anywhere?” Anger bubbled up inside me.

“No. No, I have not seen Shannon anywhere,” I snapped. “See you later, Jordan.” I jumped up and stalked away, my heart racing, blood rushing in my ears. I ran down the hall, barely keeping myself from bursting into tears.

“Don’t run in the hall!” a teacher barked. I slowed down minutely and charged into the library. It was blissfully empty, so I grabbed the first book my hand brushed against, found a secluded corner, opened the book, and let myself cry.

“Um, excuse me, but you are okay?” said an accented voice I don’t know how many minutes later. I jumped and swiped my hand across my eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m okay,” I muttered.

“If you are okay, why do you cry?” I looked up at the boy talking to me. He was tall and skinny, scrawny is how I would describe him, with wildly curly black hair and large, long-lashed brown eyes.

“Um. My… uh… Um, the book that I’m reading is… It’s sad?” I improvised. I honestly had no idea what book I was holding, much less if it was sob-worthy. The boy crouched down next to me.

“You are reading encyclopedia Britannica,” he informed me. I glanced at the cover of the book.

“Oh,” I said, laughing a little and wiping tears from my eyes. “Yes I am.” The boy smiled. His teeth shone bright white against his olive skin.

“I am Cristóbal,” he said. “Cristóbal Castaño. I am from Madrid, in Spain.”

“I’m Ivy,” I told him. “Ivy Lee. I’ve lived in Cedarwood my whole life. I’ve never been out of the country.” Cristóbal’s smile got even bigger, if that was possible.

“Ivy Lee. It is wonderful to become acquainted with you. I hope that we shall become friends.”



“He’s so cute, Ivy. You wouldn’t even believe it,” Magdalena gushed at me later that day.

“Who?” I asked.

“The foreign kid!” she said excitedly. “He’s new. Tall, skinny, curly black hair, big eyes? Speaks Spanish?”

“Cristóbal?” I asked.

“You know his name?” Mags shrieked. Her dark eyes were wild, and her hands were flailing around in excitement. She was so Puerto Rican. “You talk to him?”

“I guess so,” I said. “We’ve talked once. In the library.” Magdalena gazed at me with imploring eyes.

“Ohmygod tell me everything,” she begged. I told her what Shannon had told me, then described what happened in the library. When I finished, Mags looked outraged.

“Okay, firstly, Shannon had sex with Jordan? At my birthday party?” I nodded. Her big eyes narrowed.

“Dios mío, ella es una puta!” she spat. I nodded. After six years of studying Spanish, as well as being best friends with Magdalena for twelve years, I was practically fluent, especially in the cuss word department. Mags swore whenever the opportunity arose.

“Yeah, she is a whore,” I agreed. “But she’s our whore.”

“Fuck that shit, niñita,” Mags laughed. “She knew you liked Jordan and she banged him anyways. She massively broke the Girl Code. No está bien, cariña.”

“I know it seemed that way, but she didn’t know that I liked Jordan,” I protested weakly.

“Bebé, everyone knows that you like Jordan. Except, of course, Jordan, and our sweet, airheaded little putita, Shannon. Am I right, amiguita?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I muttered.

“And what is this about liked, cariña? You don’t want Jordan’s pene anymore?” Mags teased me. I could feel my face flushing.

“Not after it’s been in Shannon’s vag,” I snapped. “Gross.” Magdalena’s laughter was loud and obnoxious, just like the rest of her. It filled the hallway. People turned and stared at her, and, since I was next to her, me.

“Super bien, bebé!” Mags squawked “My little mojigata just said vag in public! I am SO proud of you, cariña.” I rolled my eyes.

“Magdalena Maria Anabel Lopez, I am not a prude, so shut up,” I said, annoyed.

“Ay, Hiedra, yes you are.” Magdalena’s brown eyes sparkled. Mags has a lot of nicknames for me. Hiedra, the Spanish word for my name, Ivy, is one of her favorites.

“But it’s okay, cariña. I forgive you,” she added, and winked at me. I rolled my eyes. The bell rang and Mags swore.

“Gottverdammt,” she muttered. I blinked.

“Was that German?” I asked, confused. She nodded and stuck her tongue out at me, then ran to her next class, her dark brown hair, which still had pink streaks in it from when she dyed it over the summer, flying behind her.