Girls with Bright Futures

by Tracy Dobmeier

  “I went to dinner with the other seniors on the team, and then I went over to Tenley’s. Like I texted you,” Brooke said between forkfuls of salad.

  “Can I see your phone?” Alicia asked.

  “Why? I’m not lying,” Brooke mumbled and chewed, her eyes on her phone.

  “I know you’re not, but I want to see your phone.”

  “What the hell, Mom?” Brooke finally looked up.

  “Have you been sexting a Greenleaf boy?” Alicia asked.

  Brooke dropped her fork. “Who told you that?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Brooke shrugged. “It was only one picture. Relax.”

  Alicia leaned across the island and snatched the phone out of Brooke’s hand. “This isn’t a joke. What was the picture of exactly?” Alicia was struggling to maintain her composure in the face of her daughter’s insolence. She needed the full story and wasn’t going to let Brooke off the hook until she had it.

  “Why are you so mad? It was just a temporary glitter tattoo I got with my Brazilian.” Brooke rolled her eyes and looked away.

  “Excuse me? You put glitter where?” Alicia gripped the marble counter.

  “On my vag. Don’t be such a prude. It’s called a glitter gram, and it was only the guy’s initials.”

  Alicia exploded. “What the hell were you thinking? Do you know what people would say about me if that photo got out? And do you really want to see your private parts plastered all over the internet? I didn’t think anything could be worse than your pregnancy test debacle.” The empty EPT pregnancy test box retrieved by some enterprising dumpster diver last summer had provided a news cycle worth of clickbait fodder. Brooke claimed the test was a friend’s, but Alicia had known she was lying. A quick check of Brooke’s texts had confirmed it was hers all right. Thankfully, Brooke hadn’t been pregnant, but the experience had resulted in a whole new level of security precautions for the family. And a trip to the gynecologist for an STD check and birth control for Brooke.

  “Whatever.”

  “I’ll have my cyber team track the photo down and scrub the internet, but I’ll need to give them the phone so we can take care of this,” Alicia said, placing Brooke’s phone next to her computer. “What’s your passcode?”

  Brooke blanched at the notion of giving her mother access to her phone, but she was in no position to argue, and for once, she seemed to know it. She wrote down her passcode and went upstairs, leaving her unfinished salad on the counter.

  Alicia whipped off a humiliating email to her security lead informing him of his search-and-destroy mission first thing in the morning. Then she picked up Brooke’s phone, entered the passcode, and clicked on the texting app to see the ill-advised photo for herself. It wasn’t hard to find, and luckily there really was only one. At least Brooke hadn’t included her own initials or any other identifiable details. Other than the fact that she’d sent it. As Alicia scrolled through Brooke’s many other text conversations hoping to learn more about the owner of the “P.H.” initials now artfully rendered on her only child’s vagina, one group text in particular from earlier that day caught her attention.

  Chloe to Brooke, Tenley, Sadie: Yo bitches—youll never guess what I found in the back of my mom’s closet when I was looking for a pair of boots

  Sadie: fur handcuffs?

  Brooke: whips?

  Chloe: haha as if

  Chloe: if they had those in the house i guarantee they wouldn’t be using them for sex, they hate each other so much

  Tenley: giant dildo? anal beads?

  Chloe: gross!

  Chloe: you guys suck at this

  Chloe: ok fine—it’s three huge bags filled with columbia gear!!!!

  Chloe: i mean WTF? Even if i am 3rd gen I probably won’t get in and now the whole goddamn store is stashed in her closet

  Chloe: and why would i ever need 17 sweatshirts, 9 hats, 11 scarves and 4 pairs of columbia pjs?

  Sadie: maybe theyre planning to outfit u + an entire village of syrian refugees?

  Tenley: WTAF!

  Tenley: that is so messed up, but don’t worry chlo youll probably get in

  Tenley: and at least ur mom is excited about where ur applying

  Tenley: my parents are all SMH about why i’m wasting my early shot on a loser ivy like brown, like the embarrassment is just too much for them

  Tenley: like how could they not have raised a HYPS kid?

  Brooke: that sucks Ten

  Sadie: wait, what’s HYPS?

  Tenley: harvard yale princeton stanford

  Sadie: ohhhhh…not really my scene

  Chloe: but what if i don’t get in?

  Sadie: then there will just be lots of super educated looking homeless dudes walking around town this spring!

  Sadie: and anyway, you think that’s bad? My parents are already talking about how it will be ok if i ONLY get into claremont or hopkins bc i can apply to transfer right away

  Sadie: they literally told me it’s easier to get into a second tier ivy as a transfer and i can just think of all this as “practice”

  Sadie: like my whole first year of college is just supposed to be a fucking dress rehearsal until i finally make it to a school they can brag about at cocktail parties?

  Brooke: if you think a #practiceyear or a few bags of sweats are batshit try having your famous richass mom donate 15 mil to stanford

  Brooke: don’t even talk to me about pressure!

  Chloe: ouch wow

  Chloe: ok thanks i feel so much better now!

  Brooke: that makes one of us at least

  Brooke: can’t wait for this year to be over

  Alicia was enraged. The biting comments stung for sure—how could these girls be so ungrateful? But it was Brooke’s text revealing Alicia’s $15 million donation to Stanford that took her breath away. Brooke was well aware that they were intentionally keeping the donation quiet until after early decision to shield her from the inevitable snarky comments that her mom was buying her way into Stanford. Alicia smacked the phone down on the counter. Now that Brooke had blasted out their secret, her foolish daughter would just have to deal with the fallout on her own.

  13

  Maren

  “Hi Mom! I’m home!” Winnie burst in the front door after cross-country practice. “Smells good. What’s for dinner?”

  Maren heard the thump of Winnie’s backpack hitting the floor as she pulled their sheet-pan dinner out of the oven and set it on the stovetop. “Chicken.”

  “Great. I’m starving.” Winnie appeared beside Maren and picked a wedge of roasted potato off the pan.

  “Careful, that’s just out of the oven!” Maren said as Winnie shoved the potato into her mouth.

  Winnie spat out the steaming potato into her hand. “Now you tell me.”

  Maren swatted Winnie’s hand away as she reached for a piece of chicken. “Stop that! Let’s sit down at the table and eat. How was your day?”

  “Fine, I guess. Except for the woman who got on my bus with me and watched me basically the whole way home.”

  “That’s odd. What’d she look like?”

  “I don’t know. I never really got to see her whole face. She had a baseball hat pulled down and a puffy coat with the collar kind of pulled up over her chin. And black yoga pants, I think.”

  “Well, that’s helpful. You’ve basically just described the wardrobe of every mom in Seattle.” After her conversation with Ted the other day, Maren suspected either Kelly or Alicia of trying to screw with Winnie. As far as Maren knew, Alicia had never set foot on a city bus, so that left only Kelly. “Is there any way it could have been Mrs. Vernon?”

  “No way. She was definitely younger and thinner. Plus I would know Mrs. Vernon anywhere. She’s like the campus witch, emerging out of thin air—like poof!—to ask where you
’re applying to college whenever you’re alone in a hallway.”

  “Charming,” Maren said. “Maybe the woman just thought you looked like someone she knew.”

  “Maybe.” Winnie sounded skeptical.

  It seemed insane, but was it possible that Kelly or Alicia had hired a private investigator to dig for dirt that might disqualify Winnie from the Stanford competition? Maren couldn’t totally discount the theory. If that were true, though, it was yet another reason she needed to get Winnie to give up on Stanford once and for all. Then all this madness would go away and their lives could return to normal. Maren gritted her teeth with resolve. It was well past time to put an end to this charade between them. “Listen, there’s something we need to discuss.” She reached into the cabinet for two dinner plates and passed them off to Winnie.

  “Uh-oh, sounds serious,” Winnie said as she opened the silverware drawer and grabbed a couple of forks. “Let me guess…you need a fashion intervention? I’m in!”

  “Very funny.” Maren placed the tray on the trivet and took her seat. “Actually, it is serious.”

  Winnie filled her plate. “I’m listening.…”

  “I had a meeting with Mr. Clark a few days ago.”

  Winnie’s eyes widened for an instant, but she quickly busied herself with placing her napkin on her lap. “And? What did he want?”

  “It wasn’t so much what he wanted as what he told me.” She glanced meaningfully at Winnie. This would be so much easier if Winnie would just come clean. But teenage girls weren’t known for wanting to make things easier for their moms. “He mentioned that you’re still planning to apply to Stanford. Is that true?”

  “What if it is?” Winnie said.

  “Well, if it is, I find it worrisome on many levels. First that you would lie to my face about it. And second, the Stones are onto you. Bryan told me Alicia’s pissed you’re applying to Stanford and all but threatened my job. By deceiving me, you put me in a position where my employer thinks I lied to his face. Can you even comprehend how cosmically bad that could be for us?”

  “Bryan’s an idiot. I think you’re being a little paranoid.” Winnie shoveled food into her mouth, conveniently avoiding eye contact.

  Not about to be derailed, Maren slapped down her fork and glared at Winnie. “Back to my question about Stanford. I thought we agreed on UW Honors. I need a straight answer from you, and I need it now.”

  Winnie took her time chewing and wiping her face with her napkin before responding. “Fine. I haven’t one hundred percent decided, but I’m most likely still applying. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d flip out. And also, I thought it would be better for you with Alicia if you really didn’t know the truth. You’re a pretty bad liar, you know.”

  “Oh really? What have I lied to you about?”

  “Nothing, because you suck at it and you know I’d know.” She raised her eyebrows.

  Maren let out what she hoped was an imperceptible sigh of relief that Winnie still wasn’t onto her whopper. “Don’t you think it’s a little too much of a coincidence that you lied about UW Honors and then suddenly my employer is threatening me, I’m getting hauled into the head of school’s office, and now it seems like someone was stalking you on the bus? I honestly don’t know what these people are capable of, and it’s starting to really stress me out.”

  “Mom, chill. There’s no way anyone outside the counseling office could know about my college plans. They’re always making a huge deal about how all our sessions are confidential and where we apply is no one else’s business. I haven’t told a soul other than Ms. Lawson. And also, why was Mr. Clark even sticking his nose in this anyway? Maybe it was just an excuse to get you to come in so he can ask you out again.” She shimmied her shoulders.

  “I think you’re being naive about the confidentiality issue. People don’t always follow the rules,” Maren said. “And as for Mr. Clark, you can just drop that for good. I’m never going out with him.” Maren gave her daughter a teen-caliber eye roll; two could play that game.

  “Why not? You should just go out with the poor guy already. Unless you’re a lesbian or something? That’s totally cool if you are. No big deal. But if you’re not, it’s been obvious for years that he likes you. And all the girls think he’s a total hottie—you know, like in an older man way.”

  “Stop changing the subject!” Maren took a sip of ice water to cool herself down. “Look, we’ve been over this too many times. If you really hate the idea of UW so much, let’s talk about that. Isn’t there another choice that isn’t the one school that could cost us our safety net? I just don’t get why you have to be so hung up on that one school. You’re an incredible student, and Ms. Lawson said your first-generation hook will help anywhere.”

  “Gee, I don’t know, Mom. Unlike every other student at EBA, I haven’t had the pleasure of visiting a dozen Ivy Plus schools just to show interest and explore my perfect fit.”

  That stung. Maren busted her butt every day to try to give Winnie a small fraction of the advantages her peers enjoyed, and Winnie was normally grateful. But Maren also knew a snow job when she saw one. “Oh baloney. There’s this super cool invention called—what is it again? Oh yeah—I know, the interwebs? Perhaps you’ve heard of it? I’m told you can type any college name and voilà”—Maren threw her hands up—“a whole world of fact and fantasy is unlocked.”

  Winnie set down her utensils and stared at her plate for a moment. “Fine. I also like Brown. It’s really good for social justice, and it’s on the no-loan list, so it would be free if I got in. But it’s also supposed to be really cold, and it’s so far away I’d probably never see you. Also Tenley Taylor’s been planning to apply early there forever, and she’ll probably be super pissed if I apply too.”

  “Have you done the supplemental essays for Brown?” Maren said, hoping Winnie would appreciate her newfound attention to application minutiae.

  “Yes, I did them. Just in case,” Winnie said.

  “Good. Brown it is then.”

  “What about Tenley?” Winnie said.

  “What about her? Does she own Brown? You have as much right as anyone to apply there.”

  “I could say the same for Stanford.”

  “Dammit, Winnie. Not Stanford. Anywhere but Stanford. That’s it. These people are not playing around!”

  “Jeez, Mom.” Winnie stiffened at the verbal assault. She grabbed her plate and stood in one hurried motion, dropping her fork and knife to the floor in the process. “Fine. You win. Brown it is. Happy now? I gotta go study.”

  “Just so we’re clear. No more lying and no more Stanford,” Maren said.

  Winnie dumped her plate in the sink.

  “And one more thing. Promise me you’ll stay alert when you’re out and about, and let me know if you see that woman again. OK?”

  “That’s two things, but yep. I promise.”

  Thankfully, Winnie hadn’t dug deeper into Maren’s meeting with Ted. It was just as well since Winnie was at least half right about Maren’s ability to lie. She didn’t suck at it in general, but she was pretty awful at lying to Winnie specifically. For years, Maren had dreaded the day she’d be forced to tell Winnie the whole truth about her father, incinerating the only life story Winnie had ever known in the process. Unfortunately, with each passing day, the walls of this twisted EBA community seemed to be caving in on her—in a way that seemed far too reminiscent of the country club community of her youth. But this time, she had even more at stake. This time, Maren had a daughter—her reason for living—to protect.

  14

  Alicia

  It was only nine thirty a.m., but Alicia was standing in the walk-in pantry looking for something to snack on to quell her anxiety over Brooke’s Stanford application. As usual, Brooke had procrastinated, and now there were only three days left before the November 1 deadline. Alicia had just shoved
her hand into a box of Cheerios when Bryan surprised her by wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. “Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Good morning,” she said, releasing the fistful of Cheerios and closing the box.

  Bryan massaged her shoulders. “Stressed?”

  “Yes.” Alicia was irritated that he couldn’t be bothered to take on at least some of the burden over this damn application. “Remember, tonight we’re supposed to finish Brooke’s application and submit it?”

  “Hmm,” Bryan said, pressing himself up against her back.

  She could feel his erection. “I’m worried she’s going to try to blow it on purpose.”

  “I was just going to hop in the shower,” he said. “Might help you relax a bit if you joined me.” He grabbed her hand and led the way to their master suite.

  With the large shower head raining down and the twenty side jets pulsing at them, Bryan reclined on the built-in bench. Alicia ran her hands along his tight abs and mounted him. As she thrust herself onto him, he whispered, “I took care of it for you, babe.”

  Alicia assumed he was referring to his body, but talking wasn’t her thing, so she moaned in appreciation. Several times.

  Grabbing her hips and pushing himself deep into her, Bryan locked eyes and said, “I fucking did it for you.”

  Did what for her? What was he talking about? She closed her eyes and willed herself to stay in the moment. Bryan expertly flipped her around, and as he entered her from behind, Alicia groaned with pleasure. She liked it when he got a little rough. His big hands were massaging her breasts with their favorite coconut-scented body wash, his thumbs teasing her nipples. Alicia could feel herself getting close to the edge when he growled in her ear, “I told her you were onto her.”

  Her eyes flew open, and she stopped moving. She pushed away from Bryan and stood up, reaching out for the wall to steady herself. Her legs and head were jelly from the sex, but maybe more so from the realization that Bryan was talking about Maren. “What did you do?”