The Takedown(30)

“Unstimulating as usual,” Audra said. “Oh, and yesterday someone posted a sex vid of Kyle—”

“A fake sex vid of Kyle,” I corrected.

“And she thinks her life is…” Audra paused, sent a txt, then said, “All-caps OVER. But on the bright side, everyone now wants into her pants and thinks she has amazing tatas.”

I wrapped my cardigan tighter around me.

“Audra, I appreciate your effort to shock us with the content and quality of your language. Don’t you, honey?” The Mother directed her words to the Father. “It shows quite the need for attention and acceptance, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, dear.” The Father reached across the table without looking and patted empty air as if searching for his wife’s hand, but then he picked up the home-hub controller instead. “And I am oddly put at ease that our daughter still tries to shock us.”

As the New York Times banner filled the wallpaper screen behind her, Audra scoffed like it was an art form.

“I’m not trying to shock you. I was trying to converse with you.”

I never understood why Audra spoke to her parents, why her method of adapting in this household hadn’t evolved into simple one-word answers. I guess I had to admire her pluck.

“Oh, darling.” The Mother directed her voice at her husband again. “I had a breakthrough with the coked-out model today. Did I mention it?”

After what felt like a full minute’s pause, the Father replied, “You did.”

My Doc buzzed.

audy I hate them. I hate them. I hate them.

moi I know.

This family did the impossible and left me at a loss for words. Audra’s tiny nostrils flared as she snorted. I hurriedly added,

moi I don’t have the best relationship with my mom either, y’know. My life is officially far from perfect nowadays. At least when you and your mom fight, she sends you shopping to make up for it.

Audra glared at me. “You think I care about shopping? Your life is perfect—still. You’re just too na?ve to see it.”

“Then enlighten me.”

“For starters, your mother is an amazing woman.”

“Insult noted, Audra,” the Mother intoned.

“You two are going through a tough time,” Audra continued. “That is all. Meanwhile, a video drops of you and you’re instantly famous. People would kill for this much attention, and do a lot more to get it. Yet you can’t even see all the possibilities it presents.”

“Possibilities?”

“Yes, Kyle. You would be the perfect person to prove that being an intelligent female and a normal sexual being aren’t exclusive concepts. You can cast it as ‘For so long I struggled trying to fit into society’s good-girl stereotype. And then, bam! My secret was out. And look, I’m still the same intelligent, ambitious woman who rocks nice clothes.’ This could be hugely feminist. Yale would be tripping over itself to enroll you. I think you should be thanking whoever posted that video.”

Ever since I met her, Audra had been trying to get me to come out of my proverbial prude shell. But why couldn’t she see that as much as some of us—her, Fawn, that B&P chick—were huge, flaunting sexual beings, some of us weren’t. Why wasn’t that okay too?

“And don’t even get me started on Mac.”

“No, go ahead,” I said. “You’re clearly on a roll.”

Audra was practically standing now. “The primest papa at Prep trips over himself to see you smile, yet you hold him at arm’s length, Buddha only knows why—the best I can figure is because he’s acquired previous skills. Girls would kill to date Mac. Poor frickin’ you. Kylie, I would give anything—anything—to have your life even for one day.”

In a normal household, the parents would have interceded by now. I could swear the Father was taking notes. Meanwhile, the Mother took a tiny sip of wine, then raised the volume on her EarRing.

“For the last time, Audra Rhodes,” I said slowly and clearly, “I did not sleep with Mr. E.”

“Stop lying to me!”

Audra slammed down her silverware. She stared at her plate, her lower lip quivering. Then, composing her features, she said, “Looks like the grocery avatar forgot again that I’m pescatarian.”

The Mother sighed. “You have been looking wan. I thought you needed iron. Thank you, Mother. You’re welcome, Audra.”

The Mother didn’t cook, but she definitely knew how to add to cart from the local foo-foo prepared-foods market. Audra could easily change the settings. It was a matter of a few swipes. But this had been her complaint five weeks running, almost as if she liked that her mother kept proving her neglect.

“I can’t eat this.”

The Mother scrolled through files. The Father flicked through news stories. Audra looked between them, then violently shoved back from the table. Like she was on the catwalk, she whisked her plate into the kitchen. The drama of the garbage can lid slamming against the wall rang through the house.

“I hope you put that in the compost bin,” the Mother called as I stared at Audra’s deserted Doc. “Teenage tantrums shouldn’t add unnecessary waste to landfills. Gregory, make sure your daughter put that in the compost.”

“Hmm?” the Father asked.