Being Mary Bennet Blows by Mary Strand

Author:Mary Strand [Strand, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Triple Berry Press
Published: 2016-11-15T16:00:00+00:00

It occurred to me more than once over the next few days that a plan dependent on getting help from Jane and Liz was, at the moment, not the best plan.

Since Jane and Liz were both currently guy-crazy, I hardly saw them at breakfast or dinner, let alone somewhere private. Like my room. Or even the Mall of America.

If I wanted to have a chance of pulling off my plan, I needed more new clothes, decent shoes, and hope for my hair. Since I’d screwed up all three of those for the first seventeen years of my life, or at least since middle school, I knew I couldn’t do it without Jane or Liz. I didn’t want to think they’d let me down as much as Josh had, but there you have it. Thank God I was used to rejection.

In the meantime, I stuck with the overalls and boots and ponytail. If nothing else, the sight of me reminded Jane and Liz daily of their promise to help me.

Unfortunately, the sight of me anywhere near the media center reminded Ms. Kieran that I still hadn’t picked up the college brochures she kept waving in the air. She finally had Mr. Skamser hand them to me today in English class, accompanied by a loud sigh.

The sight of me also reminded my mom—when she wasn’t obsessing over Jane or Liz or the fancy boarding school she still thought Lydia was attending—to nag me about the piano.

I mostly managed to dodge Mom, but Dad wasn’t so easy. When he wasn’t at his yoga center, he could usually be found in the middle of the living room on his yoga mat, contorting his body in ways that, frankly, dads aren’t supposed to contort. At least not if they have teenage daughters.

“Mary?”

Friday afternoon after school, he called out to me from mountain pose a moment before dropping to plank position. I knew downward dog was next, and I tried to avert my gaze.

“Mary.” Staying in plank position, he fixed me with a Dad Stare. “I’d like to talk to you, if you have a moment.”

I glanced toward the stairs, where refuge beckoned. I’d had enough adults today. Did every girl have Ms. Gonzalez make her be soccer goalie, and Ms. Veilleux ask her to solve the Great Unsolvable calculus problem on the blackboard, and Mr. Gilbertson ask again why she didn’t want a partner for her roller coaster project? Obviously, Mr. Gilbertson didn’t believe I’d already finished my roller coaster design, even if Josh and every other kid in class did.

Now Dad was staring at me, still in plank position, his forearms trembling from the strain.

I took a tiny step backward. “Wish I could, Dad, but I’ve got homework.”

He collapsed on the floor. “You have all weekend to do it. I was being polite. I wasn’t really giving you an option.”

So much for refuge. I dropped my backpack in the hall and trudged into the living room, where I flopped into Dad’s favorite chair. He lifted one eyebrow as he moved to a sitting position, which for him was the lotus position.

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