“Dad, she really did plan on telling you both today,” Phoebe says.
“Have you been blowing off classes like you did last semester?” my mother asks. “What about the money we sent you for private tutoring? Where did that go?”
I roll my eyes. “Mostly to my cocaine dealer, Mother.”
“Not funny,” my mother snaps. “Why is everything a joke with you?”
“Genetics are a mysterious thing,” I fire back. “Phoebe got the brains, and I got the jokes.”
“I’m going to fly back to Princeton with you,” my father says. “You and I are both going to meet with your counselor and whatever dean I can get a meeting with. I’ll see if I can get your academic probation extended, and you’ll go along with whatever option they give us. Do you understand, Penelope?”
I don’t. That’s the problem. And it’s not just Princeton I don’t understand. It’s my parents. Why do they so desperately want me to fit in at a place I so clearly don’t belong? And how do they not see that I don’t belong there?
“I’m sorry, but I’m not cut out to be who you want me to be.” My voice shakes despite my best efforts to steady it. “I wanted to go to school to major in creative writing.”
“Writing is a hobby.” My father shakes his head twice. “Do you have any idea how many students your age would kill to have the advantages you’ve been given? Do you know how many kids fresh out of college my company turns away? All you have to do is pass your classes, Penelope. That’s all I—”
I push my seat away from the table and toss my napkin on the chair.
“Where are you going?” my mother asks frantically. “Penelope, sit down.”
“I’m going across the street,” I say over my shoulder.
My father growls. “Let me guess. That damn Mackenzie boy is back.”
“You can’t run away every time a conversation doesn’t go your way, Penelope,” my mother says.
“I’m not running away,” I say. “I’m going to dance under the full moon with that damn Mackenzie boy’s mother. Naked. Open the blinds tonight if you need to find me.”
Chapter 10
Penny: I’m doing it again.
Jackie: Doing what?
Chelsey: Kegels?
Penny: Turning into the worst version of myself.
Penny: I swear, the minute I land back in this zip code, I go all Paris and Nicole from the early ’00s.
Jackie: I’m going to need you to be more specific.
Chelsey: At least you’re not wearing a velour tracksuit with JUICY on your ass.
Penny: Honestly, it’s too much to text.
Chelsey: Video chat?
Jackie: Maybe in the morning before I’m completely drunk with my NJ cousins?
Jackie: 10 AM?
Chelsey: I can make that work.
Penny: I’ll try.
Chelsey: And Penny, just remember that we love you.
Chelsey: No matter what version of yourself you are.
Jackie: Seconded.
Those smut witches are the best humans on the planet, and I am simply not worthy of their friendship.
Penny: Love you hoes.
“Knock, knock.” Martin pushes open the door warily. “I’ve been instructed to inform you that your guest has arrived.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly. I walk across the room to my purse and empty it out on Phoebe’s bed. “I’ll be down in a sec.”
“I’ve, uh, considered your request.” He clears his throat. “While I think it’s the strangest favor anyone has ever asked of me, I’ll do it. Under one condition.”
“If you’re hoping there’s going to be a second peep show—”
“No. Believe it or not, I haven’t asked a girl to show me her boobs since high school. And for the record, that was a dare.”
“All right, then.” I unclasp my necklace, which has gotten tangled in my hair and Diane Keaton dress. “What’s your condition?”
“You help get me out of playing golf with your father on Friday.”
“Not a golfer? You look like a golfer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He quirks his brow. “It doesn’t seem complimentary.”
“That you look like a guy who likes to swing a stick around while smoking a cigar and riding in a little car?” I struggle to clasp my necklace over the turtleneck. “I don’t know. I thought liking golf was a requirement at my father’s office.”
“Let me help you with that.” He holds out his hand for the necklace. “I’ve got four sisters. I’m pretty good with clasps.”