Lovely Girls(8)

“Fine,” she said flatly.

“I thought we could watch a movie. We haven’t had a John Candy marathon in a while.”

“I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”

“Maybe we can find a new series to binge. I’ve heard The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel is supposed to be great.”

I felt like I was back in middle school and trying to convince one of the popular girls to be friends with me.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Alex hesitated. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“You can talk to me about anything.” I could tell my overly enthusiastic demeanor was annoying Alex. She looked like she’d bitten into something sour and unpleasant. I decided to tone it down. “What’s up?”

“If I don’t make the tennis team . . . ,” Alex began.

“You’ll make it.”

“Well, if I don’t, I was thinking . . . I want to homeschool.”

“Homeschool?” I repeated. I knew other parents who homeschooled, but always with younger children in elementary school. “You want me to teach you?”

Alex shook her head. “No, of course not. But Florida has an online virtual school that anyone in the state can enroll in. I already looked into it. All of the courses I need to take to graduate are on there.”

It was a terrible idea. I knew it instinctively, even though I couldn’t quite figure out how to mount the best argument against it. Alex was already too withdrawn, too isolated. Once school started, she’d be forced into spending time with other teenagers. My hope was that she’d make friends. Sitting home alone in her room and attending school virtually would only make things worse.

“What about your college applications?” I asked. “I don’t think it will look good to the admissions offices.”

Alex shook her head. “They won’t care. All they look at are grades, test scores, and your personal essay.”

“Don’t you want to meet other kids?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t fit in here,” Alex said.

“Why would you say that?” I asked. Then I remembered the three girls manning the tennis team table at orientation. The girls with the cold eyes and pretty faces. When they looked at Alex, they’d reminded me of predators sizing up potential prey. I tried to shake this thought off. “I’m sure there are lots of nice, interesting kids who go to that school. You’ll find the right group.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Alex said. “It doesn’t even matter. I only have to get through one more year, and I’ll be gone.”

And with this pronouncement, Alex turned and walked off. I stirred the pasta sauce and blinked back tears.

Alex was right. In a year, she’d be off to college. All of the schools on her application list were out of state—New York University, Boston University, Tufts. Once she left, I’d see her only sporadically, on school breaks or over the holidays. My time with her was rapidly coming to an end.

When I was pregnant with Alex, Janice Fielding had thrown me a baby shower. Janice lived next door to my parents, and I’d known her since we’d moved into that house when I was five. The theme had been pink, from the flowers to the helium-filled balloons to the frosting on the cupcakes. When Janice handed me her present, wrapped in shiny pale-pink paper with an enormous bow, she patted my arm.

“You’re so lucky you’re having a girl,” she said. “Boys leave, but girls always stay close to their moms.”

Janice had lied to me.

I was about to lose Alex forever.





CHAPTER FIVE




* * *





KATE

Genevieve called a few days after orientation night to repeat her invitation to the homecoming committee meeting, which was going to be held at her house.

“It’s a great group. I’m sure you’ll love everyone,” she’d told me over the phone.

I thought back to Lita’s hostility toward Genevieve. Maybe there was some history between the two women that I didn’t know about, an old slight that had festered over the years. Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to worry about it. If I truly was going to start over, to forge a new life for Alex and myself, I needed to make friends. This was a great opportunity to do just that. Even if it was out of my comfort zone. Even if the thought of putting myself out there terrified me.

As I drove to Genevieve’s house on the morning of the homecoming committee meeting, it struck me that there was a studied perfection about Shoreham, at least in the wealthier neighborhoods. The houses were all magazine beautiful, the yards perfectly landscaped, the cars brand new. I’d already noticed that many of the women who lived here were always dressed up and made up, even if they were just running to the grocery store.

It was almost too perfect, I thought.

I pulled into the Hudsons’ driveway and stared up at the house, which was one of the more impressive ones I’d seen yet. It was large and white, with columns flanking the entrance. There were several other cars already parked in the driveway. I felt a flutter of nerves.

I drew in a deep breath, then climbed out of my car and headed toward the double front doors, which were painted a glossy black. I rang the bell, and a moment later the door opened, and Genevieve was there smiling at me. She was wearing a pink sundress that showed off her sculpted shoulders and slim figure. I suddenly felt horribly underdressed in my white button-down shirt and khaki shorts.