The Beautiful Between - Alyssa B. Sheinmel [2]
“I’ve tried that. I still suck. Maybe you can teach me something they couldn’t.”
Either Jeremy is hitting on me and is remarkably smooth—only the savviest of men would know that complimenting my vocabulary is the best way to get on my good side—or he’s genuine. Either way, I’m pretty much jelly by now.
“Okay, sounds good.”
“Thursday after school?”
“Okay.”
“Meet you in the lobby.”
“Okay.”
“All right, Sternin, stay cool.”
How is it that Jeremy makes me feel like I’m twelve and he’s twenty?
2
My mom isn’t entirely unlike the evil stepmother in “Cinderella.” I don’t mean that she’s wicked—she’s a perfectly nice person and mother. But I think she would love to be part of a more glamorous world than the one that she inhabits, and sometimes I think she’s hoping that her daughter will get her there. I can’t explain why; maybe it’s because she’s sent me to the school I go to, Jeremy Cole’s school, a school where celebrities’ children go—that kind of place. She’s always made sure I wear the right clothes; shopping is one of the few ways we really spend time together.
These days, just like the wicked stepmother who wanted her daughters to marry the prince so that she could rub shoulders with the royals, my mother seems to be waiting for me to come home with a nice high-society boy through whose parents she could catch a peek at the best of New York. I know that I can always get her attention if I have some good gossip from school about something that’s going on in some family whose name she knows. She loves any kind of gossip about people like that.
So you can imagine her delight when I walk in with Jeremy Cole on Thursday afternoon. She certainly knows who Jeremy is—his family is one of the wealthiest in New York. He’s one of those boys you see pictured occasionally in New York magazine, whose family parties make it onto Page Six of the Post.
“Hey, Mom!” I call out as I open the door. I forgot to tell her Jeremy was coming over, and there’s a possibility she’s puttering around the apartment in an oversized T-shirt and rollers. It’s not that she doesn’t do stuff during the day—she goes to lunches, is on a charitable board or two—but every so often, she’s just here. I wonder if she gets bored.
“Hey, honey,” she responds, and comes out from her room in—phew!—jeans and a loose black T-shirt. Not quite what I imagine Jeremy’s mom wears around the house, but nothing embarrassing either.
“Mom, this is Jeremy Cole.”
When she talks to him, her voice is high-pitched. I can’t tell if she’s trying to sound fancy, or if she’s nervous to be talking to him.
“Why, hello, Jeremy. I’m Ellen, Connelly’s mother. She didn’t mention she was bringing anyone over today.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Sternin.” Jeremy replies robotically but politely, like a well-raised royal should.
“Oh, call me Ellen, please!” She laughs like “Mrs. Sternin” is preposterous, and her hand lands on Jeremy’s upper arm. If we stay here, my mom will start to flirt—on my behalf, perhaps, but flirt nonetheless.
“Well, Mom, Jeremy and I have to study now, so we’ll be in the other room.” I head toward my bedroom, and Jeremy follows.
“All right, kids, let me know if you need anything. I could make you a snack or something.”
My mother didn’t even make me after-school snacks when I was in kindergarten.
I open the door, and it isn’t until Jeremy follows me inside that I realize that in my haste to get him away from my mother, I’ve brought Jeremy into my room. This is problematic on several levels. One, Jeremy may get the wrong idea. Two, my room is immaculate, and what if he messes with my stuff? Three, the dining room table would have been much more conducive to studying.
Alone with Jeremy Cole, I’m not quite sure what to do. I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that I went from barely ever having spoken to Jeremy Cole to having him here in my room. The weather today is humid and thick, even though it’s October, and normally I’d check up on my books, because I’m protective of them and humidity curls the pages. But