“Hello, there, Miss Pressley,” announced the attending physician in a cheery voice as he strode in the door flanked by his team of five residents. He was the shortest person in the room, but his presence was commanding, and his eyes were fixed on Winnie. “Let’s have a look and see how you’re doing this morning.” When he noticed Maren standing in the corner, he introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Patel.”
“Hi, I’m Maren, her mom. How is she, Doctor? She opened her eyes and responded to me a minute ago. That’s a good sign, right?”
“Absolutely,” Dr. Patel said, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He sat on a swivel stool and reviewed Winnie’s records on the computer. “It looks like she woke up during the night a couple of times. She appeared aware of her surroundings and understood she’d been in an accident. She had a neurology consult early this morning, which looks like it went well. All very encouraging.”
“Oh thank goodness,” she said. “So she’s going to be OK?”
Dr. Patel scratched his balding head and clicked through several screens. “All things considered, Mrs. Pressley, your daughter is a very lucky young woman. The fractures in her right arm were evaluated by the ortho team. They were able to set the bones, so that’s also good news. All in all, I expect she’ll make a strong recovery. We should be able to move her to the general care floor later this morning. Be prepared though. She’ll probably be pretty out of it for several days, maybe even a week, until the swelling subsides. The best thing for her now is rest, and that means as little physical and emotional agitation as possible.” He nodded at the nurse in the doorway as he led his team from the room.
The ICU nurse turned to Maren. “Why don’t you go get some coffee while your daughter sleeps? It’ll be the best thing for her, I promise. I’ll take your cell phone number and call you when she wakes up.”
Maren wrote her number down on the clipboard the nurse handed her. Winnie’s eyes were still closed, but Maren gave her a light kiss on the cheek. “It’s all going to be OK, Win. I promise. You just sleep.” As she ducked out of the room, Maren checked her watch—it was a quarter after eight. The Stones lived only a mile from the hospital, and she could easily dash over there to fulfill her morning duties. With a tsunami of medical expenses now forming on the horizon, Maren needed to keep her job for as long as possible. Because once they pushed the button on Winnie’s application to Stanford, all bets would be off. Maren would have six weeks, at most, to develop a disaster plan in case Winnie got in and Brooke did not. In the meantime, she had to figure out how to keep her daughter out of harm’s way.
16
Alicia
With Brooke’s Stanford application submitted at last, Alicia awoke on Saturday morning with a looseness in her limbs she hadn’t felt in months. No more harping on Brooke. No more worrying about missed deadlines. It was only a matter of time now. As Brooke strolled into the kitchen with her eyes glued to her phone, Alicia glanced at the stove clock. It was one p.m., but she was not about to let her daughter’s slovenly sleep habits ruin her good mood. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
“Oh my God! Did you know Winnie was in an accident last night?” Brooke asked.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Alicia set her lukewarm coffee cup on the island.
“Maren just posted on Winnie’s Insta account. Said she was seriously injured riding one of those rent-a-scooters.”
“That’s terrible!” Alicia’s hand flew up to her mouth. “Is she OK?” She grabbed her phone to check her texts, but the last one from Maren had been Friday morning. Why hadn’t Maren texted her? “It must have happened after Maren stopped by last night, but it can’t be too bad if Maren was here this morning, right? I had a personal training session at the club and then stayed for a spin class so I didn’t see her, but she cleaned up our dinner dishes and made us each smoothies. She even left a note that she took Cardinal out for his walk.”
“I dunno, it sounds pretty bad. She’s in the hospital.” Brooke took her smoothie out of the fridge.
Maren’s standard schedule included working Saturday mornings, but her daughter had been in a serious accident and she’d had the wherewithal to come to work anyway? Had Maren come to work because she couldn’t afford a day off? Did Maren even have health insurance? Alicia didn’t provide it for any of her household employees. At this point, it would be embarrassing to ask.
“But, Mom,” Brooke interrupted Alicia’s thoughts. “It sounds like it wasn’t an accident.” She handed her phone to her mom. “Someone tried to kill her.”
“What are you talking about? That’s crazy.” Alicia’s pulse quickened as she took the phone and looked at the Instagram post on Brooke’s screen. There was a screenshot of a text received on Winnie’s phone from an unknown number:
Today 11:34 a.m.
Shame you survived. Maybe next time you won’t be so lucky. Take the hint and back off Stanford.
Underneath the photo of the text was a caption that read:
winnie_press2 This is Winnie’s mom, Maren. Wanted to let her friends know she was run off the road on a rent-a-scooter last night and is in the hospital. Winnie received the threat shown above this morning. If you know anything about this, please contact me. Stay safe, everyone.
“This is about Stanford?” Alicia said.
“Oh my God. Seriously? Someone tries to kill Winnie and all you care about is Stanford?”
“Oh please,” Alicia said. “Did they call the police?”
“I have no idea. Why? Are you worried?” Brooke sassed. “First we find out there’s only one spot left, and then someone tries to knock off my competition? Everyone knows you’re psycho about Stan—”
Alicia practically sprinted for the basement stairs. She’d never heard Bryan come home after he stormed out during the college application intervention. Now he was camped out watching sports in their home theater—first the UW football game and then later the World Series game that Professor Bejamaca would be attending on her dime. “What the hell did you do?” Alicia stood in front of him, glaring, her hands on her hips and elbows spread wide, trying to block his view, which, given the size of the massive screen, wasn’t easy.
“What are you talking about?” He peered around her.
“Winnie.” She paused, watching closely for a reaction, but Bryan’s face was blank. “She was in a serious accident last night? Someone tried to run her off the road? Sent her a threatening text about Stanford?”
“That sucks. Is she OK?” He tipped back the beer in his hand.
She lowered her voice. “Bry…you have to tell me: Did you have something to do with this?”
“Yeah, right.” He chuckled. “After the way you reacted to my harmless comment to Maren, you really think I’d do something like that?” He cracked his neck. “Maybe she’ll finally get the message though. I can’t wait till we’re done with all this college BS. Can you please move?”
“It’s not like I want something awful to happen to Winnie. I just don’t want her taking Brooke’s spot.”
“Leesh, we’re kicking a field goal—I can’t see.”
“Oh my God.” A wave of nausea hit her as she collapsed into the recliner next to Bryan’s. “You don’t think that stuff you said to Maren about her job the other day could make us look guilty, do you? Shit. This could get really ugly.”
“Relax. No one’s gonna think that.”
Alicia prayed her husband was right. However, if experience was any indication, the odds weren’t good.
* * *
Alicia peeled off her workout clothes and closed her eyes tight. For a moment, she gave thanks it was Winnie and not Brooke in that accident. She made a mental note to increase Brooke’s security. For all she knew, it was that nutcase Kelly or her daughter, Krissie, and Brooke could be the next target on the list. Alicia had barely survived losing her brother, Alex. She wasn’t sure what she’d
do if anything terrible ever happened to her only child. Her relief that Brooke was safe was quickly replaced by guilt over Maren. No mother should ever have to endure the fear of losing a child.
Forever seared in her memory was the sound of her own mother screaming after the police officer delivered the devastating news that Alex had been killed. He and his best friend, Paul, had been partying with their swimming buddies. They were both drunk far beyond the legal limit, but Paul drove Alex home anyway. So much for all those lectures about not drinking and driving. They were six blocks away when Paul ran a red light and they were T-boned by another car. Alex died instantly, while Paul survived and was paralyzed from the chest down. Two years ago, Alicia footed the bill for construction of a new, more accessible home for Paul in a grand gesture of forgiveness that the media hungrily devoured. But forgiveness and a sterling public persona would never bring back Alex and make her whole again.
Alicia put on her robe and padded back to her dressing room for her phone. She stood there for more than a minute trying to decide what to text Maren. Accidents and threats aside, she was still furious with Maren for lying to her about Stanford and Winnie’s father. But in light of the threat Winnie had just received—coupled with Bryan’s ill-conceived effort to “help” the other day—Alicia had no choice but to continue pretending nothing was amiss. The last thing she needed was anyone thinking she or Bryan had had something to do with Winnie’s accident.
Alicia: Brooke just told me about Winnie. Is she OK? Are you OK? What happened?
Maren: She was riding one of those electric scooters. Brain bleed, surgery, broken arm
Alicia: OMG! I can’t believe you didn’t call me!!! Is she still in the hospital?
Maren: Out of ICU as of a few minutes ago.
Alicia: Brooke showed me that awful text. I assume the police are involved. Any leads?
Maren: Nothing yet—text sent from burner
Alicia: That’s terrible. I insist you take a couple days off. Paid of course. Use my credit card to order groceries. Whatever you need.
Maren: Thx. Really appreciate it. What about SST meeting on Monday?
Alicia: I’ll tell Bryan he needs to go.
Maren: Thx—I’ll email him all the info he needs by end of wknd
Bryan. She’d been so eager to believe he had nothing to do with the accident that she’d smothered her instinctive emotional response when he asked: “Do you really think I’d do something like that?” The truth was she didn’t know what he or anyone else was capable of doing—herself included.
17
Kelly
In the few days since Krissie had submitted her application, well ahead of the November 1 deadline, Kelly found herself plagued by the niggling sense she’d overlooked some key piece of information. If anything, her college surveillance operation needed to intensify now that the deadline was only two days away. Today, she planned to kill time during Kaleb’s Saturday afternoon fencing lesson with another round of social media research to see if she could get final confirmation about who else was applying. For months, she had focused on Brooke and Winnie as Krissie’s only competition, but there was always a chance someone else could have flown under her radar. Kelly clicked open Krissie’s Instagram account. In the midst of the usual photos of kids partying, dogs, and girls experimenting with filters—and the occasional reference to college, but nothing that raised a red flag—was a post by Maren from Winnie’s account. As she read the post detailing Winnie’s accident and the threat she’d received, Kelly gasped, causing several other mothers in the waiting area outside the gym to look up from their phones. Unbelievable! After everything Kelly had done to torpedo Winnie’s application, the threat made it clear: Winnie had still been planning to apply to Stanford.
Ignoring the inquisitive stares, Kelly went out to her car to wait for Kaleb. She pulled out a large bag of Pirate’s Booty and feverishly paged through Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat as the full situation came into view. Setting aside her surprise that all her efforts to deter Winnie had failed, not to mention that Maren allowed Winnie to use those motorized death traps, Kelly worried that her made-up rumor might make her indirectly responsible for Winnie’s accident. Her text had swept across campus and had left a path of scorched earth and seething parents in its wake. You couldn’t turn the corner at an EBA sporting event, PTA meeting, or parent coffee without a group of adults discussing with vitriol the “Pressley situation” as it had been dubbed. One father of a Princeton hopeful went so far as to shout for Winnie’s expulsion outside the college counselor’s office, drawing a crowd of faculty and students alike. And each day, Ted Clark appeared more and more harried as he fielded calls and appointments with venomous parents. She’d only wanted to reveal Maren and Winnie as the liars they were, but now it seemed everyone wanted them to pay. Was it possible one of the parents on the receiving end of her anonymous text had tried to mow down Winnie? And what if they were trying to frame Kelly? After all, Kelly had publicly announced Krissie’s intent to apply to Stanford on Facebook. Everyone knew there was only one spot left. Oh God. What if people thought she was the one who had done this?
Kelly paused her fretting long enough to thank her lucky stars that such a horrible thing had happened to Winnie and not to Krissie. She couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to one of her kids. But then it occurred to her: Maren’s signoff had been “Stay safe, everyone.” Was Krissie in danger too? Kelly whipped off a text to Kevin to keep a close eye on Krissie until they learned more. But as she pushed Send, the more pressing question, the one she could not bring herself to give voice to, even to Kevin, did cartwheels in the back of her mind: Did Krissie have something to do with Winnie’s accident? Kelly climbed out of the car and checked the Volvo three times for body damage, but thankfully none of the scratches in the dark-gray paint looked new.
The accident occurred sometime Friday evening. Kelly had made gluten-free spaghetti with turkey meatballs (tofu balls for Katherine) for dinner, and they’d watched The Princess Bride as a family. Their favorite family movie of all time, although that night, she was the only one who actually watched and quoted the movie out loud, while Kevin fell asleep on the couch, Kaleb and Katherine stared at their phones, and Krissie quizzed herself for her AP Microeconomics class. Kelly closed her eyes tight, wishing she could forget that halfway through the movie, Krissie had tossed her flash cards on the coffee table, announced she was going to work out, and grabbed Kelly’s car keys. From what Kelly could piece together, the site of Winnie’s accident was near Krissie’s usual route to and from the gym.
Now Kelly sat paralyzed with fear. She couldn’t decide what terrified her the most: that her actions could have been the catalyst for Winnie’s accident, that Krissie could be the next victim, or that her daughter could have gone off the deep end.
* * *
For the rest of the weekend, Kelly monitored Krissie’s behavior and social media activity even more frequently than usual, but Winnie’s misfortune barely registered for Krissie. When Kelly asked her about it, she shrugged and said Winnie was probably lying about this too. Even to Kelly, that sounded harsh. Out of an abundance of caution for Krissie’s mental health and not wanting to derail her before the midterm exams that would determine her final grades sent to Stanford as part of her application, Kelly decided to keep her concerns to herself.
Instead, Kelly lay awake ruminating over all the vicious lies circulating across social media platforms linking her to Winnie’s accident. Someone had actually taken Kelly’s head from a photo on the EBA volunteer webpage and Photoshopped it so it looked like she was piloting a helicopter and then superimposed that image over the photo of Krissie holding the Seattle Times article on National Merit Semifinalists. They’d also done the same thing with Kelly’s head in place of a snowplow driver and a bulldozer operator. All the memes were captioned “Palo Alto–bound? Yes please!” Another one was just Kelly dressed he
ad to toe in camo and holding a machete with the caption “Guerilla Moms Take No Prisoners!” and another added, “Bushwhacker Mom!” She was guessing these monikers were considered way worse than a tiger mom, a designation she’d long ago embraced.
It seemed especially unfair that Kelly was the only subject of these memes. After word had spread like wildfire last week about Alicia’s $15 million donation to Stanford, people must have assumed the Stones didn’t need to resort to attacking Winnie to get what they wanted. But wasn’t it just as likely that they were incentivized to protect their investment? And what about all those other parents gunning for Ivy Plus schools? They were equally intense.
Regardless of misguided public opinion, though, Kelly would never apologize for being an involved parent and doing whatever was necessary to support her kids. Without having a ton of money to grease the skids like Alicia or so little money that unearned preferences were magically unlocked like Maren, Kelly’s kids needed every edge she could give them. So let the haters hate. She would stay the course. And when she came out on top with that coveted acceptance letter to Stanford, she’d leave all those losers behind wondering how on earth she’d done it.
18
Maren
From: Maren Pressley, Sunday, 7:15 p.m.
To: Ted Clark
Subject: Winnie
Hi, Ted,
FYI—Winnie was badly injured in a hit-and-run scooter accident Friday night. Not only that, but while she was recovering from surgery yesterday, she got a text saying: “Shame you survived. Maybe next time you won’t be so lucky. Take the hint and back off Stanford.”
I met with the police detective on the case. His name is Detective Davis. I gave him your contact info. He’ll be in touch. If you or anyone at EBA learns anything about the incident, please contact the East Precinct immediately.
Thankfully, Winnie’s recovering and is resting at home now. I’m hopeful she’ll make it back to school in a week or so. In the meantime, I trust you’ll make sure her teachers cut her all the slack she needs so her grades won’t suffer.
Girls with Bright Futures Page 16
