Being Mary Bennet Blows

by Mary Strand

  “P-Penelope?”

  “If you hurry, you can catch her.” I jabbed my thumb in the direction she’d gone. “Maybe she knows something about roller coasters.”

  “Penelope isn’t in our Physics class. She dropped out after the first week.”

  “No wonder you’re talking to me.” I took another bite of my dry, repugnant, soul-sucking sandwich. Maybe I should switch to protein shakes.

  Josh looked at me, utter confusion etched across his face. “You don’t want to work on the roller coaster with me?”

  Yes. But no. “I’m not sure where you’re coming from, Josh.”

  “What do you mean? We haven’t even discussed my design idea.”

  “It doesn’t look like we’re going to.” I bit my lip as I rolled up my paper bag; I’d had enough of Josh and more than enough of Mom’s toxic culinary efforts. “Sorry.”

  “Do you wanna—”

  Work on the roller coaster project? Wasn’t he listening? “I don’t think so.”

  I pushed back from the table and tried to walk with dignity over to the garbage can to get rid of my bag, but my knees were shaking and Mom’s sandwich was hitting my stomach hard.

  Josh followed me to the garbage can, even though he’d left his tray at the table. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

  I turned to find him right behind me. “Thanks, but I think I have a clue.”

  Unlike Josh.

  Chapter 14

  Mary was obliged to mix more with the world, but she could still moralize over every morning visit.

  — Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume III, Chapter Nineteen

  Friday afternoon, Jane caught me in the bathroom after school, scrubbing my teeth in my vain search for that elusive whiteness I’d so far seen only in teen celebrity magazines.

  “MB? Are you going out?”

  I pulled the toothbrush out of my mouth and spit out the toothpaste, then glanced in the mirror. No whiter than any other day. I sighed.

  “MB?”

  I met Jane’s gaze in the mirror. “Nope, definitely not going out. Why? Do you need the bathroom?”

  “Not right this minute.”

  Jane kept staring at me as I grabbed a paper cup and swished water around and spit again. I glanced from Jane’s perfect face in the mirror to my own face, then cringed. No wonder guys didn’t ask me out. I looked utterly gross doing all this rinsing and spitting. Jane would make even that look good.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” I skipped the bright smile. It hadn’t worked on Josh, and Jane would be even more likely to see through it. After all, she wasn’t a guy. She wasn’t fixated on how girls looked. She was fixated on Charlie. “Aren’t you going out with Charlie tonight?”

  She shook her head. “He’s in New York for a few days on business, and so is Alex.”

  I took a closer look at her. “Aren’t you bummed?”

  Charlie and Alex seemed elusive even after Jane and Liz caught them, which didn’t offer much hope to a girl who didn’t get hit on even when she passed out on a guy’s bed.

  Jane shook her head. “It’s probably a good thing, actually. I can get caught up on my reading, and Liz is her usual neurotic self about grades, especially now that—”

  She broke off, pursed her lips, and didn’t continue.

  “Now that what?”

  “Er, now that she’s a sophomore. The expectations just keep going up.”

  I was pretty sure that wasn’t what she’d started to say. I bit my lip. Jane and Liz paid more attention to me lately, but life hadn’t really changed. Only my hair and wardrobe had.

  Jane glanced at me, poked her head into the hall, then came back into the bathroom and shut the door. “Okay, but you can’t tell anyone.”

  “Tell anyone what?”

  “What I didn’t just tell you.”

  I rolled my eyes but made a quick, half-assed cross in the general vicinity of my heart. “Promise.”

  “Dad said Liz and I could get an apartment in Minneapolis second semester, but only if our grades are in the stratospheres.”

  “I already heard.” I shrugged when Jane looked surprised. I did pay attention. “Even though Dad and Mom can’t afford private-college tuition for any of us?”

  Jane nodded. “We’ll both have to get part-time jobs to help with the rent, but Dad claims his and Mom’s financial situation isn’t as bleak as I thought.”

  “But Carleton—”

  “—is still out of the question.” Jane sat on the edge of the bathtub. After first laying a clean towel on it. “It’s okay, though. I’ve gotten used to the U of M, and it has a decent English department.”

  “And Charlie is a lot closer to you here than he would be if you were at Carleton.”

  Jane laughed. “I wouldn’t have even met him there. Hey, I should thank Dad for turning into a midlife yogi.”

  As I thought of my pointless dreams of MIT, my mouth twisted. “Do you mind if I don’t?”

  Jane patted my shoulder. “I don’t mind at all, but let’s not hang out in the bathroom all night, okay? Liz suggested we do some early shopping for your birthday gift.”

  I frowned. “With me?”

  “Either that or you get to stay home and eat whatever Mom is fixing for dinner. I think it’s hockey pucks.”

  “You win.” Compared to Mom’s hamburgers, her sandwiches were practically a gourmet treat. “Where are we going?”

  We left the bathroom and headed down the hall to the room Jane and Liz still shared, even with Lydia off at reform school. “That’s a secret I’m not going to share.”

  Liz met us at the door to their room and playfully slugged Jane in the shoulder. “Tell me you’re not blabbing all our secrets.”

  Jane rubbed her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you fill her in about your love life.”

  “Jane!” This time, the slug wasn’t quite so playful.

  As Liz kept pummeling Jane all the way down the stairs, I trotted ahead of them. I didn’t want to know about Liz’s love life. Somehow, I didn’t think all the hot movies and teen magazines in the world were going to change that.

  We wandered through the Mall of America for the next couple hours, venturing into so many stores that I didn’t have a clue what Jane’s big birthday secret might be. More clothes? Sheet music for piano? No, Jane wasn’t that cruel. Lingerie? Liz was that cruel, but I didn’t think Jane would let her embarrass me like that, especially if it meant opening the gift in front of Dad.

  We finally slumped into chairs at Cinnabon, a huge, thick, and gooey cinnamon roll facing each of us. As Jane picked at hers with a plastic knife and fork, Liz peeled off a large layer of her roll with her fingers and dangled it above her mouth. Gross.

  I followed Liz’s lead and basked in the chewy yumminess.

  Jane gave us a disgusted look. “MB, when I said you were a lot like Liz, I wasn’t trying to encourage you.”

  Liz inhaled a huge piece. “Of course she wants to be like me. But speaking of acting like me—” She turned to me, wiping a gob of frosting from her upper lip. “What have you been doing the last few days to torment Josh?”

  I swallowed hard, choking, and the cinnamon roll suddenly tasted like sawdust. Sugary sawdust. “Nothing.”

  Possibly less than nothing.

  “And he hasn’t done anything? Or said anything?” Liz’s eyebrows danced. “Hasn’t he even offered to take you up to his bed again?”

  “Liz!” Jane swatted her.

  I wiped my mouth with a napkin. Something Jane, not Liz, would do. “He asked me a couple more times to work on his roller coaster project with him.”

  Even Jane groaned.

  Liz made a face. “I assume you blew him off?”

  I nodded, earning a high-five. “I could actually use some help on my own roller coaster. Mr. Gilbertson stopped bugging me to get a partner, but he said he still remembered your roller coaster design, in case I was thinking of copying it.”r />
  “Of course he remembers it.” Liz grinned, but she actually looked flattered. “It won that science contest. Remember, Jane? The one MIT sponsors each year?”

  “How could I forget?” Jane rolled her eyes. “I had to share a room with you, and you were insufferable for a month afterward. Maybe more like two months.”

  I gulped. “MIT?”

  Liz nodded. “I don’t know if they still sponsor it, but it was cool. They even offered a free trip out to visit MIT, but I had a basketball game that weekend.”

  I churned with questions as I stuffed the rest of my cinnamon roll in my mouth, not even bothering to chew. Next thing I knew, Jane was thumping me on the back.

  “MB? Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” My mind still raced with possibilities, most of them unattainable, especially since I didn’t just lack a Physics partner. I didn’t have a single idea for a roller coaster design, let alone a scathingly brilliant one.

  Unlike Josh. According to him.

  Jane put her hand on my arm. “Are you sure? You have a weird look on your face.”

  “You also haven’t given us the scoop on Josh.” Liz finished her cinnamon roll and started slurping her lemonade. “I mean, he just asked you to work on the roller coaster with him? Hasn’t he noticed how great you look?”

  I crash-landed back in reality.

  “Why would he? There’s this girl, Penelope.”

  Next thing I knew, even as half of my brain pondered roller coasters and MIT and the feeblest hope of a scholarship, the whole Josh-and-Penelope story, or what I knew and wasn’t completely making up, spilled out of my mouth.

  When I finished, Liz sat back in her chair, arms crossed, watching me intently but not saying anything. A first.

  Jane gazed out into the mall, then finally looked back at me. “So she copies whatever you wear?”

  “Weird, huh? Why would anyone—”

  Liz snorted. “She saw who Josh was talking to—you—and wanted to be you.”

  “Right. No one wants to be me.”

  “All evidence to the contrary. But are you sure it’s working? I mean, is Josh actually going out with her?”

  “I assume so.” I even hated the thought of coming to the Mall of America tonight. On or off a roller coaster, I’d barf if I saw them together here on a date.

  “But you don’t know.”

  I shook my head. “Liz, he stares at her.”

  “That’s the Y chromosome talking. You said she has big boobs, or at least a few helpful bras.”

  Jane nodded. “Not unlike Charlie’s sister, Stephanie.”

  Taking another long sip, Liz looked thoughtful. “But even Stephanie didn’t copy my clothing.”

  Jane and I both looked at Liz. With Alex missing in action, she wore her usual ripped jeans and a Coldplay T-shirt.

  Jane lifted one perfectly sculpted brow. “Go figure.”

  “Anyway.” Liz held up a hand. “You guys can make fun of me all you want, but this is about Mary.”

  Jane tapped her arm. “MB.”

  “MB. Whatever. It sounds like Josh has a weakness for checking out girls. So what else is new? The way I see it, MB has two options: skateboard T-shirts, preferably tight ones, or a short skirt.”

  My nose wrinkled. “There are no other options? Like avoiding guys?”

  “You could, but I don’t think you want to. No matter how much you protest.” Liz skewered me with a look. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Skateboard T-shirts? No way.”

  “They’re kinda cool, actually, and I’m not even into skateboarding.” Liz glanced at Jane for confirmation, but Jane was shaking her head as she continued to attack her Cinnabon. With a fork and knife. So Liz looked back at me. “And you do have long legs.”

  I stared at Liz. “What does that have to do with skateboard T-shirts?”

  “Absolutely nothing.” Liz slurped more lemonade as she glanced at me from top to bottom. “You said Penelope had a little beef on her.”

  “I did not put it that way.”

  Jane held up a gooey finger. When she saw Liz and me staring at her, she licked her finger. Then wiped it on her napkin. “You didn’t say it in so many words, but Liz tends to cut to the chase. You said Penelope is a little bigger?”

  I shrugged. “On top, at least.”

  “There aren’t many girls who are bigger only on top. So Liz is right.”

  “Right?” I glanced from Jane to Liz and back again. “About what?”

  As Liz plucked the plastic lid off of her lemonade and drained the rest of it, Jane took a quick but dainty sip from her own cup. “About short skirts. I’m not saying a bigger girl can’t look good in a short skirt—of course she can—but most of us tend to dress to our strengths. Your strength is your long legs, so you should wear a short skirt to school.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. I’d feel naked.”

  “But you said no one at school is making fun of you anymore. They’re used to the new you.”

  “They haven’t seen me in a short skirt.” Neither had Josh, and I think I liked it better that way.

  “So? You said you wanted to annoy them.” Jane smiled at me, looking surprisingly evil. For Jane. “Including Josh. Don’t wear the skirt to try to hook him, but I promise he’ll notice. In fact, it’ll drive him nuts.”

  “Would you do something like that to hook—I mean, annoy—Charlie?”

  Liz laughed. “You were right the first time. Unless Josh is blind, the skirt will do one or the other. If you don’t believe me, let’s put a little money on it.”

  The price tags of all the clothes I’d bought lately flashed in neon colors before my eyes. Thank God I’d be dealing only with U of M tuition next year. “We don’t need to bet.”

  “Fine.” Liz grinned. “Then you agree I’m right.”

  Just once, I wouldn’t mind wiping that know-it-all smirk off Liz’s face. “Not a chance. You’re on.”

  Maybe I had the legs, but I didn’t have the guts to wear a short skirt. Not after seeing Liz traipse off to college Monday morning in jeans and a Nirvana T-shirt. It wasn’t like she got to dress like that because she’d already hooked her guy. Even before they started going out, Liz wore exactly this sort of thing—if not worse—around Alex, and he still acted like a lovesick puppy around her.

  A lovesick Doberman puppy, but still.

  I waited until Liz and Jane left before emerging from my room—not in overalls, which still occupied a place in my closet and my heart, but in a pants-and-top outfit Jane and Liz had bought for me when we went shopping Friday night, even though they claimed it wasn’t my birthday gift. Unless Dad had handed his credit card to them, I didn’t understand why they kept heaping gifts on me. Had they mistaken me for a tax-deductible charity?

  As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw Dad sitting cross-legged in his classic “Om” position, the one he seemed to occupy for an hour every day after doing a ten-minute sun salutation. Like jumping rope for ten minutes followed by an hour nap: good work if you can get it.

  He stopped chanting. “Good morning, sunshine.”

  He hadn’t called me “sunshine” since I threw up on him that time I was ten. Come to think of it, he probably hadn’t called me “sunshine” before that, either.

  “Hey.” I scooted through the living room on my way to the kitchen, hoping no one had snagged the last Pop-Tart. I didn’t want to risk another fainting session, but I also didn’t have time to make anything or sit down to eat.

  Dad untwisted himself and joined me in the kitchen as I darted around searching desperately for a Pop-Tart, then a bagel, then something edible. I finally spotted an open bag of red licorice when Dad cleared his throat.

  “I thought you’d already left for school.”

  “Yeah, well, I—” Fine. I’d been hiding in my room from Jane and Liz. I shrugged.

  “Cat already left. In the Jeep.”

  I glanced up at the clock. Only ten minutes before school sta
rted. It took at least twenty minutes to walk there, and that meant running shoes and more sweating than I wanted to do right before class. “Shit.”

  “Not exactly my word choice, but you’ve been hanging around Liz lately.” Dad chuckled even as he looked at me curiously, probably wondering why Liz and Jane were hanging out with me lately.

  I’d been wondering the same thing.

  Dad glanced at the open licorice bag and my hand protruding from it. “I can give you a lift on my way to the yoga studio.”

  I frowned as I glanced down at his baggy sweatpants, ripped in both knees and hanging halfway down his butt, and then back up at his T-shirt. It was filled with at least three colors of paint and the worst sweaty armpit stains I’d seen, even on Liz after a two-hour workout.

  Dad looked down at himself. “You’re right. I’d better shower first, but then I could give you a ride.”

  Since the duration of his showers tended to rival his “Om” moments on the yoga mat, I shook my head.

  “Thanks, but school starts in ten minutes.”

  “You’ll be late.”

  Unless he hopped in the car right now and drove me there. I stood there waiting, but no sound came out of his mouth. Was Deepak Chopra like this, too? So busy seeking his bliss that he let his daughter be late to school? What was it with self-absorbed middle-aged men, anyway?

  Shaking my head, I stole a few more licorice for the road, grabbed my backpack from the counter, and slung it over my shoulder.

  Dad called after me as I headed to the front door. “Do you need a late note?”

  “Thanks, but I’ll manage.”

  Outside, I decided not to run, or even walk fast. I was screwed, plain and simple, and I didn’t need to exacerbate it by showing up covered in sweat. The sight of Dad’s T-shirt had resolved me on that.

  A block from home, a horn honked and the sound of a car’s engine rumbled to my left.

  Josh.

  I blinked. I also whispered a silent thanks to the Universe for not letting me wear a short skirt today.

  “Want a ride?”

  I nodded and climbed in, grateful for Josh, grateful for his Camaro—even though the CD player was silent this morning—and grateful that Penelope’s fat ass wasn’t hogging the passenger seat. “Thanks.”