In Her Boots by KJ Dell'Antonia

Author:KJ Dell'Antonia [Dell'Antonia, KJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-07-05T00:00:00+00:00

20

Regrets

The great thing about a radio interview, in theory, should be that you don’t have to dress for it. But the next morning, after chores, Jasmine took over, insisting I needed to look the part by noon. “I’m not turning on my video,” I argued. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” she said, rifling through my closet. “But if you look good, you will sound good.” She turned. “There is literally nothing in here.”

“I came from South America with a backpack, remember? Have you seen me go shopping?”

“No, but I should have.” She took out my least-worn pair of jeans. “Start here,” she said. “Be right back.”

I pulled them on, listening to her rustle around in the guest room, and she reappeared with a gingham-checked shirt in bright pink, a belt, and the boots I’d worn on our ill-fated Today show adventure. “Redheads don’t—” I started.

“Redheads look great in pink,” she said. “This is not Anne of Green Gables. This will brighten you up and make you feel happy and good about yourself.”

She was right, of course—and being belted and booted did make me feel more ready for whatever came next than my T-shirt and socks. I accepted the powder and lip gloss Jas was offering and ran my fingers through my hair until she pronounced me ready.

“Okay,” she said, clearing my old desk of everything but my laptop and a reusable water bottle, with the headphones she’d lent me at the ready and my mobile phone by its side. “I am leaving you now. You will be great. And you will not pull any last-minute craziness.”

I eyed the setup nervously. “If I could think of any, I would,” I said.

“That’s why I won’t even be in the house. You’re on your own. You will have fun, Terry Gross will love you, and your editor will instantly call and offer you a new book deal that solves all of your financial problems.”

I laughed. “Maybe that shouldn’t be our standard for success,” I said. “How about no table flipping.”

“No table flipping,” said Jas. “Unless there’s wrestling. Then you flip tables.” She extended a hand. “Laura.”

“Wrestling’s always so great on the radio,” I said, putting my right hand on top of Jasmine’s. “Zora.”

Jasmine’s left hand. “Frida.”

My left. “Gloria.”

Then, together, lifting our pile of hands and dropping it at every word: “Ruth. Bader. Ginsburg. Go.”

“Maybe we should add Xena, Warrior Princess,” I suggested. “You know, for hand-to-hand combat.”

“Use your words, Modern Pioneer Girl,” Jas said. “Use your words.”

I’d already done a call with the Fresh Air producer. This would be the real deal, the interview itself via my laptop, running live on some stations and taped for others. As Jas left, my phone rang—that would be Emily, calling to make sure I was ready and to wish me luck.

As I answered, something inside my brain clicked. Emily. Someone else had mentioned an Emily recently. The niggling feeling unnerved me until an answer quickly followed: Mike. Louisa’s mom was named Emily.

Louisa’s mom, who gave her The Modern Pioneer Girl’s Guide to Life and might regret it.

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