Second Helpings_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [102]
There was nothing funny about this.
“It was very nice of her to give it to you, and since you’ve put on some weight, it just might fit.”
“I’ve already got the scholarship, Mom,” I argued. “I don’t see why I need to dress to impress.”
Then my mom went on and on about how the tea was being held at the home of Ms. Susan Petrone, a very highfalutin Piedmont University alumna, Class of 1986. She’s a big-time district attorney, and even if I chose not to attend Piedmont, she could be a perfect addition to my Rolodex (?!) and someone I could turn to for a reference four years from now when I need a job blahdiddyblahblahblah.
“You never get a second chance to make a first impression,” she said.
I love it when my mom drops deodorant commercial wisdom.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
Another perfect opportunity for my Columbia confession.
“Nothing.”
That’s right. I pussed out and put on the itchy, ill-fitting suit. I suck.
“You look very professional,” my mom said when she looked me over.
Yes, it’s very important to look professional when the only job on your résumé is serving frozen custard and other heart-attack snacks for fatty boombalatty bennies at Wally D’s Sweet Treat Shoppe on the Seaside Heights boardwalk. Christ. How did I let myself get into this?
So we drove to Oceanhead, which is a very hoity-toity waterfront town. It’s probably the classiest town in Ocean County, which is really not saying much. Ms. Susan Petrone lives in one of those slate-and-blond-wood houses with floor-to-ceiling windows exposing grandiose views of creamy sand and crashing surf. It’s a private beach that has never seen a cigarette butt, beer cooler, or a bennie’s plastic flip-flop.
Needless to say, my mom was very impressed. “Do you have any idea how much I could sell this for?” she asked, drooling over the potential commission. “Three mil at least.”
Also needless to say, I was the only fool wearing a damn suit. The room was awash in pastels and floral church dresses. I looked like a bull dyke at the Easter Parade. Yet I made a very unlesbianlike observation.
“Why aren’t any guys here?” I asked myself out loud.
“This is a tea for the girls of Westlake College, Piedmont University,” said Ms. Susan Petrone, a tall, lean woman with newscaster hair, tasteful jewelry, and a no-nonsense demeanor.
“But Piedmont is a coed school—”
“Indeed,” interrupted Ms. Susan Petrone in the very authoritative tone she must use in the courtroom. “One of Piedmont’s greatest strengths is the coordinate system of education, which enables you to grow and share with each other in a women-only environment.”
“Oh,” I replied, vaguely remembering reading something about this in the brochure last year. At the time, when I was fed up with Marcus and malekind in general, and not in my right mind, the coordinate system had sounded like a good idea.
“Gather round, ladies,” she said, “as I explain to you the benefits of the coordinate system, one of the most misunderstood components of the Piedmont University educational experience.”
For the next half hour, she went on to explain that Piedmont was the only coed school in the nation that separates the sexes on campus. Much like at summer camp, guys and girls reside on opposite sides of a lake, the guys on the Piedmont College half and the girls on the Westlake College half. They have separate dormitories and student governments, but all classes are coed. According to Ms. Susan Petrone, the greatest advantage of the separate-but-equal living arrangement is that it allows women to live and work together without “the pressures of the patriarchy.”
That is exactly the kind of backward, pseudo-feminist bullshit Manda slings. I’ve never understood the grrrls who believe that the only way to get ahead as women is to exclude men. Don’t get me wrong, the Y-chromosome set is teeming with total morons. But how can we expect to make our mark on the world if we alienate half its population? It’s like Paul Parlipiano said about PACO: The best way to change