“They were a wake-up call, like breaking up with Brandon. I needed to figure out what I wanted.”
“Have you?” said Claire.
“Not quite,” I said. I looked at the trophy we gave up across the room. It glinted like the aluminum size sevens in my bag. I liked the idea of winning an award, but I liked having a cause to fight for and something to create for myself even more. “But I’m getting there.”
18
EMILIA GOODWIN,
:
IN THE COURT
:
OF ALLEGHENY COUNTY
Plaintiff,
:
:
v.
:
:
GREGORY GOODWIN,
:
Case No. FUDAD2021
:
:
Defendant
:
MAY 8: UNDISPUTED FACTS
There were college reps in the audience of national Mock Trial. I’d always heard rumors that a few came, but it seemed unrealistic. Usually that sort of thing only happened to athletes.
They handed out pamphlets to the winners.
“I’ve already committed to Columbia,” said one girl.
“No one is perfect!” said the man, shoving a folder into her hands. He looked at another kid. “What grade are you in?”
“I’m a junior,” he said.
“Can I get your info? We have an express link for scholarship opportunities,” he said. The man noticed me watching him.
“Bold move in there,” he said. And turned back to the kid from the winning team.
I sighed and walked over to Kay and Ms. McClain.
“Thank you for all that you did. You got us here,” I said.
“No, thank you, Millie,” said Kay. “It’s been a blast.”
“And even though I don’t quite understand what you did in there,” said Ms. McClain, “I still respect it immensely. This is because of you. You brought us all this far.”
“My team did, too,” I said.
Another woman came over to us.
“Hi there,” she said. “I’m a reporter from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. I was wondering if I can get a quote from you. I’m told you are the team captain from Steelton High.”
“You bet,” I said.
“My biggest question for all the competitors: What did you learn from this experience? From the competition here and from Mock Trial in general?”
I thought about it for a second.
“I guess…” I thought of everything. From my years researching for the boys; doing work for Dad; for being Millie, the dutiful daughter and student.
What had Mock Trial really taught me?
“It taught me that even though it is often important to be a team player”—I paused—“it is also just as important to figure out the right thing to do, and the right time to do it.”
“Great,” she said.
I realized how true that was.
Sometimes dissent is the best thing you can do, as an angry girl.
For yourself, and for everyone else.
19
RAINA PETREE,
:
IN THE COURT OF
:
CAMBRIA COUNTY
Plaintiff,
:
:
v.
:
CIVIL ACTION-LAW
:
THE UNFAIRNESS OF A LIFE
:
Case No. BRNDNWHO21
PURSUING A CREATIVE
:
OCCUPATION,
:
:
Defendant
:
SEPTEMBER 1: SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT AND RELEASE
Everything was fine.
Everything was great, actually. Who would have guessed?
I was killing it as the Stage Manager in the Stackhouse Players production of Our Town. (Everyone said so, including the reviewers in This Town: Steeltown and the Tribune Republican. But everyone loved this damn play no matter what you did. It didn’t matter.) The admissions department at Carnegie Mellon didn’t seem interested in my performance, but I’d accepted that. I was taking classes in political science and “law and government” at the community college to try it out. Alex had moved to Massachusetts to work at a pot store, so Carla hired me on as her replacement.
The door clinked open. The hottest guy I’d ever seen stood in front of me. I stared at his chest, imagining the abs that must be under that American Eagle shirt.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m looking for a new LYS. Just started at Penn State Steelton. I’m starting a club there. Row Bros,” he said.
Wow, his pants were tight. And just look at his red hair.
“What are you studying?” I wondered if I could get a picture of him to send to Megan. Her head would explode.
“Accounting,” he said. “Do you go school there, too?”
“No. I’m focusing on activism,” I said. “Take a pamphlet. We are going to be holding a knit-in at a local theater where they produce misogyny.”
“I’m in. Took me a while to recover from toxic masculinity myself. I’m still a work in progress.” He cocked his head. “Hey, actually, I recognize you. You were in that play they took us to for orientation. You were, like, one of the leads, weren’t you?” he said.
“Oh, Our Town?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’ve always hated that play. They made us do it every year in high school when I ran tech. But you were awesome in it.” He looked around. “It’s great that you work here. Can you show me your worsted weights? And, possibly, if you are interested, your number?”
I eyed him. I didn’t really need a boyfriend at the moment. I had the theater and the protests and all the fancy yarn I wanted at 50 percent off. “What do you look for in a girl?”
He thought about it. “Enthusiastic consent,” he said.
I grinned. “Good start. I’ll think about it. Let me show you the colors we just got in.”
He was obviously happy to follow me.
I was happy to think about where to lead next.
20
EMILIA GOODWIN,
:
COUNTY COURT
:
OF FRANKLIN COUNTY
Plaintiff,
:
:
v.
:
:
ANY OBSTACLE WHATSOEVER,
:
Case No. FUTRS0BR17
:
:
Defendant
:
SEPTEMBER 7: PARTIES BOUND
Today was the day.
I looked in the mirror for the twentieth time. I smoothed the scarlet and gray folds of my skirt. It was my first day of work at the law firm. I was only a part-time receptionist, but I would sit in meetings and organize notes, and experience was experience.
“Millie? Are you almost done in there? I have to get ready for class.”
I opened the door. One of my six housemates paced back and forth in front of me.
“Sorry!” I said.
Living with so many people was a pain, but it was all I could afford. I only made minimum wage at my library job, and the law firm wasn’t much more. I spent as much time in Grace’s dorm room as possible.
If all went well, I’d live on campus next year.
Nervous! I texted Grace, at the thought of her. Miss you!
You got this, rebel fighter. Love you, she texted back.
I saw several missed texts from my dad. I thought he’d disowned me for not living out his life plan, but Sheila told him it was better if Victor got my room so he and Nina didn’t have to share.
Hey babes, do you remember where the key to the safe is? We need some documents in there asap! Did you see my new dress shoes while you were packing? Are you coming to visit for fall break? Sheila wants to visit her parents without the kids. Can you spare a weekend over Christmas? We might go skiing and could use an extra pair of eyes.
Dad wasn’t payin
g for college, since I was “being willful.”
So I willfully blocked his number after the text about Christmas.
And then I also willfully forgot to mention I’d hidden his shoes in the back of the laundry room broom closet before I left. I wondered how long it’d take Sheila to find them, since I knew Dad probably didn’t even know the space existed. I’d brought the key to the safe with me to college.
And then I threw it in the garbage when I unpacked.
My phone buzzed again.
When do you get off tonight? Nine? Can I pick you up? texted Grace.
Only if you take me to the late-night cafeteria for chicken fingers, I texted back.
Deal.
A girlfriend with guest meals was helpful.
A girlfriend in general was pretty great.
I rode the bus to my job, excited to get started. They’d said on nights when the partners went home early, I would be able to study. I brought my Intro to Poli Sci book to keep me company.
I didn’t even mind that I would have to wait a year to have enough time to do Mock Trial here. The team would be there sophomore year, and nothing felt better than being free to take care of only myself.
I couldn’t wait to see what I could do on my own.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, thanks must first go to my family and friends, whose support carries me. Particularly Katherine and Charles, who always make me laugh.
Thank you to the Feiwel and Friends team—especially Anna Roberto, who is amazing and wonderful.
Thank you to Catherine Drayton and Claire Friedman, as well as everyone at Inkwell Management. You answer my copious questions and tolerate my dubious ideas with grace and humor.
Thank you to Josh Groban—who is not an angry girl but could play one onstage. Actually, I hope he does.
Thank you goes to my SNHU and Boston University students. TURN IN YOUR ASSIGNMENTS and also MAKE GOOD CHOICES.
Thank you to the real Nikita Varman, a tremendous human being who wanted to be a villain in a book.
I have a lot of people willing to read my works in progress. I am so grateful that you give your time to help the likes of me. I owe so much to Jennifer Mann, Cate Berry, Salima Alikahn, Lindsey Manwell, Rebecca Chernoff Udell, Shelly Nosbisch, Michele Prestininzi, Marianne Murphy, Alexa Donne, and Kristin Brophy … You are all perfect.
Of course, Melissa Baumgart and Kathryn Benson are perfect, and help me work through my ideas with eight hundred texts a day. But they also host the brilliant Truer Words Podcast (www.truerwordspodcast.com). Everyone should listen to it to make your creative life better.
Thanks to Dean Gloster, who has always championed my work every chance he gets.
Thanks to Gail Dickert, for caring so deeply.
Thank you to Kim Lloyd, for being strong and kind, as well as a great coach.
My love and gratitude goes out to the Dead Post-its Society and all of my teachers and friends from VCFA. It was the single best decision I ever made falling in with you lot.
I honor the memory of Gracie King, who was epic.
To Corinne Francis: I’m so happy you liked Dear Rachel Maddow. I hope you triumph in all future pursuits, spelling or otherwise.
Thanks to CT from Martha’s Vineyard, for the tour and for being generally awesome.
My appreciation goes out to Réa, Alan, Amber, Emily, and Cheryl—the people with whom I spend the most time outside of my actual family. All of BU Res Life, really. Thank you for listening to me talk (constantly) about my books and for always championing me along the way. Thank you also to Pauline, who has had to hear about it all for more than two decades.
Thank you to Ellie Moreton. We failed at the Green Line critique group, but you’ve always stuck with me.
Finally, thank you to all the angry girls.
If you identify as one, then you are one.
Stay furious.
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SIX ANGRY GIRLS
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Adrienne Kisner knits with more enthusiasm than skill. She is a graduate of Vermont College of Fine Arts with an MFA in writing for children and young adults. She is the author of Dear Rachel Maddow and The Confusion of Laurel Graham.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2020 by Adrienne Kisner
A Feiwel and Friends Book
An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271
fiercereads.com
All rights reserved.
Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by email at [email protected].
First hardcover edition 2020
eBook edition June 2020
eISBN 9781250253439
Six Angry Girls Page 25