Under the Same Stars by Libba Bray(42)
“There you are! What are you doing hiding in here?” Jenny’s mother said as she swept in to give the waiters instructions. She was perfect, of course, in her little black dress and pearls. Like a smiling photograph out of a hostessing magazine.
“Mom. I don’t know anyone.”
“And you won’t if you stay in here. You look darling in that dress!”
“I look like a county fair’s missing mascot.”
She thought she heard Helga snort. But it could’ve just been a German throat clearing.
Her mother sighed. “Well, that is some attitude, missy! What’s gotten into you tonight?”
“Nothing.”
“Then can you put on a smile, please, and come greet our guests? What would Miss Fox say?”
Jenny’s mother paraded her around from guest to guest. “Darling, say something in German for Mrs. Prescott!” she said, presenting her to a white-haired woman done up in heavy rouge and heavier jewelry.
Look how sophisticated she is! She walks and talks and speaks just like a real girl!
“Mir ist so langweilig, ich k?nnte sterben,’” Jenny said.
“And what does that mean, dear?” Mrs. Prescott cooed.
I am so bored I might die.
“I said, ‘I hope you have a pleasant evening,’” Jenny lied.
“My! So impressive!” Mrs. Prescott patted Jenny’s arm. “Your daughter is so well-behaved, Susan.”
“Thank you. We think we’ll keep her!”
Helga showed new guests into the parlor. There was a son around Jenny’s age. Blond and lifeguard-tan. He wore a suit and tie as if born to it. His eyes scanned the room like a pretty-girl-seeking robot.
“I told you you’d want to look your best,” her mother whispered into her ear.
Jenny’s stomach knotted for the embarrassments to come.
Mrs. Campbell greeted the new guests with some trivial party-chatter preamble before announcing, “And, Jenny, this is their son, Michael. He’s here for the summer, too!”
Michael looked her up and down. Just like her camera, she caught the split-second flicker of disappointment his manners weren’t quick enough to hide. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“Jenny, honey, why don’t you get Michael a Coke? There are some in the refrigerator. Oh, and there’s diet soda, too—not that you have to worry about that, Michael!”
They took their Cokes out onto the little terrace overlooking the street. Jenny discovered to her dismay that Michael was one of those people who drank slowly but talked fast and who punctuated his sentences with “You know?” like he was waiting for an answer even though he wasn’t.
He drew a flask from his back pocket and poured the booze into his Coke. “No reason we can’t have our own party, you know?”
He offered it to Jenny, who shook her head.
“Suit yourself. Nice place. Your dad must be really big in the company.”
“I guess so. How do you like living in Berlin?”
“Sucks. I mean, why couldn’t the company have moved to Paris or London? You know?”
“It’s not so bad. Did you know Bowie recorded ‘Heroes’ here?”
“They don’t even have a McDonald’s. And I miss my car.”
Jenny sipped her Coke and looked out at the streetlamps. She wondered what Lena was doing now.
“I’m going to UVA—my dad went there, so I’m legacy. They have to take me. You know?”
“Right.”
“I’m stoked for rush in the fall. You gonna rush? I mean, you kinda have to if you wanna have any kind of social life, you know?”
“Mmm.”
“I’m gonna pledge PIKE. They’re the best house. I heard the college is cracking down on the frats, though, really being up their asses—’scuse my French—just because some idiot couldn’t handle his booze during initiation and nearly died. I mean, hazing is tradition. If you can’t handle that, you shouldn’t pledge.”
“Could you excuse me for a minute?”
Jenny approached her mother and waited for her opening. “Mom, I’m gonna take a plate of cookies down to Frau Hermann.”
Her mother searched the room. “Where’s Michael? You didn’t abandon him, did you?”
Jenny sighed. “Mom.”
Jenny’s mother put up her hands. “All right. But don’t stay too long. It’s getting late and I’m sure she needs her rest.”
* * *
Frau Hermann opened her door with a glance toward the muffled music and voices wafting down the staircase. “Aren’t you having a party?”
“My parents are having a party.”
“Ah. I see,” Frau Hermann said.
Jenny offered the paper plate of chocolate chip cookies. “From my mother.”
“Oh. Danke, but…” Frau Hermann put up a hand. “I cannot eat chocolate.” She brightened. “But I have an apple torte. Come in. Sit. I will bring it out.”
Jenny left the cookie plate outside, then took a seat at the dining room table. Teeming stacks of crosswise papers were spread across every inch. It made Jenny smile to know that Frau Hermann could be a bit of a slob. There was an open wine bottle and a crystal glass stained purple red. Jenny gave the glass a quick sniff. Wine, not poison. She’d report this to Lena.