Lunatic Fringe Read Free Page A

lips looked naturally rosy. She
could have passed for a fairytale princess, all fair and bright, if
it weren’t for that short, spiky hair. Though it seemed unnaturally
blond, Blythe’s hair didn’t carry even a hint of root color, as if
its hue relied on a recessive albinism rather than a debt to a
bottle of bleach.
    Only three trips between Lexie’s room
and her truck and they were done. It was a painless endeavor, save
for the moments they passed each other en route when Blythe would
wink, smirk, or stick out her tongue, making Lexie wonder how many
faces she had in her repertoire. Each theatrical expression left
Lexie feeling plain in comparison. She didn’t have the facility
with her body and face that Blythe seemed to possess without
thought. Mitch, on the other hand, seemed content with her role as
the affable lunk attached to the beautiful heroine. She simply
smiled, presenting deep dimples in response to her girlfriend’s
ebullience.
    Mitch reminded Lexie of her father’s
old colleague in the forestry service, a massive, be-flanneled
woman named Leslie, whom everyone called “Wes.” Wes was unlike any
woman Lexie had met before. Wes was unlike most women in general.
She was taller than Lexie’s father and roughly the same width. Her
shoulders were like a linebacker’s, and her breasts were
perpetually glued to her chest in round, solid mounds, looking more
like vestigial organs than reproductive or sexual attributes. Lexie
liked watching Wes, the way she seemed so solid, so heavy, like all
the men Lexie had grown up around. She hadn’t known until meeting
Wes that women were made like this, that they wore rough work pants
and kept their hair buzzed and carried oil and grit under the short
fingernails on their rough, calloused hands. The first time Lexie
had met her, as a child on one of her father’s surveys, Lexie had
referred to Wes as “him.” It was her father who corrected her,
while Wes just leaned on the open passenger door of the pickup,
smiling a broad, gap-toothed grin. It wasn’t that Lexie thought Wes
was a man; to her six-year-old mind, it just seemed like the better
word to use. Thinking of Wes as a “woman” felt odd, but so did
thinking of her as a “man.” Wes was just Wes. That seemed to be the
consensus of all the guys working in the Department, including her
dad, so she didn’t give it too much thought. Now Mitch was the
second of such women that Lexie had ever met. She wondered if Mitch
was going to go into forestry, too, but then backpedaled when she
realized how bigoted that sounded in her head.
    Inside Lexie’s new room, amid stacks of
boxes and bags, the three girls sighed with relief, but none more
than Lexie, who was eager to be rid of her unsettling new
friends.
    “ Thanks, baby,” Blythe
said, resting on one of the larger boxes. Mitch smiled, her
doughboy cheeks growing rosy.
    Lexie offered them a ride home out of
simple courtesy, though the thought of huddling in her cab with
them intimidated her. Blythe mercifully refused, choosing instead
to bestow some upperclassman wisdom on Lexie
    “ Stay away from Phi Kappa
Phi,” Blythe said. “They’re a bunch of vile misogynists who hide
behind the safety of their little club.” Lexie looked at Mitch, who
shrugged and nodded. “Oh, and the professors in the philosophy
department aren’t much better,” Blythe added, rolling her
eyes.
    “ Like they give girls worse
grades?”
    “ Not so much. Don’t worry
about it.” Blythe grinned. “Listen,” she continued, oblivious to
Lexie’s meandering focus as she scanned the boxes and bags of her
room with increasing anxiety. “Every month, my sisters and I throw
a little brunch at our place.”
    Lexie had never heard anyone refer to
women as their sisters unless it was a literal reference. Coming
from Blythe, the term sounded rich with subtlety. Lexie envisioned
a harem of sorts, with fountains and silks, where women brushed one
another’s hair while others