I hope everything’s working out. I told my father that I needed new textbooks and screenwriting programs, so he’s letting me use the credit card. I’m going shopping with Morgan whenever she’s done in the shower: wish me luck!
Hugs,
Em
P.S. Unfortunately, Uggs aren’t really Oxford. Stick to low-heeled leather boots, and if you’re getting cold, try layering two pairs of tights: one patterned over one opaque. You’ve got earmuffs, right?
14
Natasha was right: Morgan is the undoubted queen of local shopping. All it takes is a morning on State Street with her, Lexi, and that emergency credit card for me to be transformed. I draw the line at anything uber-slutty, of course, but even taking into account my “must cover my crotch” rule of taste and decency, the pair of them still manage to outfit me in a complete range of skintight jeans, little polo shirts, miniskirts, and sneakers.
“I still say you need some time in the tanning salon.” Morgan assesses me again from her seat at the nail parlor.
I shake my head. “No, thank you. The dye and nails are more than enough.” My thin strawberry-blond hair is now definitely more blond than strawberry; blow-dried out in a full, straight mass. All I need is a pair of Ugg boots and a small, yappy dog, and Emily Lewis could, “like, totally” pass for a native. If I don’t open my mouth, that is.
“Sure, if you want to look freakishly pale . . .” Lexi pipes up from my other side. She’s getting blood-red varnish painted on her toenails, to match the new lipstick she bought.
“I’m fine,” I insist.
“Maybe just go for some tinted moisturizer?” Morgan bargains. “’Cause you really do look like you haven’t been outside in, like, forever. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“But those Pumas were a cool find.” Her gaze travels over me, and I get the distinct impression that she’s seeing me as a collection of parts rather than a whole person. “We made a great start.”
Start? I pretend to study my one finished hand, wondering what on earth else is in store for me. Despite the fact that my reflection is now shiny and very blond, I still don’t feel any different from the old, non-trendy me. In fact, I have to force myself not to stare anxiously at my watch as the meeting time for our film group draws ominously near.
Which reminds me that in addition to the dubious honor of being a newly owned Psi Delt Doable, I’m also not exactly riding high in my study partner’s good books.
“So,” I begin hesitantly, wondering how much warning I need, “what happened at the party the other night — with Ryan, I mean. He looked rather upset.”
Morgan pauses. “Omigod, you didn’t hear? He freaked out. It was crazy.”
“So crazy,” Lexi echoes.
“I can’t believe you missed it.” Morgan brightens, wriggling her toes in the small bowl of warm water. “It was so scandalous.”
“Because he saw you with . . . Ben, was it?”
“Right. But it’s not like we were even doing anything!” she exclaims. “Just hanging out. I mean, did he expect me to be a total nun?”
I think of her lunch-hour “workouts” and stay quiet.
“And technically you never said you were exclusive,” Lexi points out, her lip-gloss wand wavering midway to her mouth.
“I know!” Morgan flips back her hair dramatically. “So anyway, I was just chilling out with Ben — and there were tons more people there too; it wasn’t like we were on our own — and Ryan comes storming in, totally mad.” I get the sense she’s taking some dramatic license here, but she’s in full narrative flow, so never mind. “And he’s all, ‘What are you doing with him?’ So I’m like, ‘Is it any of your business?’ And he goes, ‘Uh, yes, I’m your boyfriend.’ And I just laugh like, ‘Whatever.’” Morgan finally pauses for breath. “And then he starts going on about honesty and trust, and I’m like, ‘Enough.’ Right?”
“Right.” Lexi nods.
“You were there?” I ask as the silent Chinese woman finishes my nails and retreats. I say a “thank-you” to her back.
“No, but she called me, like, minutes later.”
“It was so terrible!” Morgan demands our attention again. “I was a wreck.”
“Total wreck,” Lexi confirms, head bobbing.
“I mean, how could he be so mean?”
I blink.
“And yelling at me in front of everyone.” She pouts. “Where does he get off thinking like he owns me? I mean, that’s not how we do things here.”
“How do you do things?” I spy the opportunity for some inside information. “With dating and boys, I mean.”
“Oh, everything’s totally casual,” Morgan pronounces. “Like, unless you’ve been dating forever and you’ve both said you’re exclusive, then you can hook up with whoever you want.”
“But you wouldn’t, like, sleep with other guys,” Lexi adds. “That would just be skanky.” I swear I see her shoot a sideways glance at Morgan, but she seems unconcerned.
“So if I’d hooked up with Ben — if — then it would have been totally legit,” Morgan insists. “If I’m exclusive, I don’t cheat, but we weren’t, so it’s not cheating.”
“That makes sense.” I’m surprised at just how straightforward Morgan’s dating logic actually is. I feel a short pang of guilt for thinking she was a heartless bitch.
“I know.” She looks at me as if to say, “Keep up.” “Ryan was just mad I blew him off to go to the party in the first place. And he loves the drama. Like, I swear he’s just playing out this big script in his head, and I was around at the right time to be the main part.”
“He is rather . . . devoted to film,” I agree.
“Try totally obsessed!” Morgan says. “Like, I figured it was cute to begin with. He was totally sweet and treated me so good, and after what happened with Casey —”
“Oh god, Casey!” Lexi squeals.
“Right!” Morgan catches my confused expression. “You don’t even want to know. Psycho.”
“Oh.”
“So I just wanted someone nice, you know? But not serious. And we’ve only been dating since, what, Christmas?”
“About then.” Lexi pulls her shoes back on.