The Bennet Women

by Eden Appiah-Kubi

  The new arrival rocked a blue suit of intimidating style (Tom Ford, maybe?) and designer sunglasses, even though it was after ten. He paused a moment like he was waiting to be photographed before he spoke again.

  “Zara and her people are ready to go,” Will said blandly, folding his arms.

  “Actually, she just asked someone to request a song for her,” EJ observed archly. “So you sound mighty misinformed. Perhaps you should go check your intel.”

  Shit. Jamie heard the challenge in EJ’s voice. This guy was exactly the kind of person her bestie could not abide. And EJ had no poker face. She bit her tongue so much in class and labs that she had zero fucks left to give with rude strangers. Jamie needed to tread lightly here and get EJ away before Lee’s friend did something offensive. Fortunately, a distraction presented herself.

  “Hey, Eej”—Jamie directed her friend’s attention to the far wall of the tent—“isn’t that Tinkerbelle? I think she’s looking for you.” God bless that little Mormon pixie; she’d turned up at the exact right time.

  “Our song is next!” the petite blonde cried.

  EJ blinked in surprise. “I can’t believe she got the DJ to play ‘Sister Kate.’” She nodded to Lee and his friend. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I promised that young lady a Charleston, and a Bennet Woman always keeps her word.”

  As she departed, shimmering all the way, Jamie and Lee chatted for a bit. “We’re both seniors, right?” Jamie began. “I’m amazed we haven’t met yet. Longbourn’s only a couple thousand kids.”

  “I know, right?” Lee linked his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “You might have heard me, though. I had a show for Longbourn’s radio station until a cappella and The Bugle took over my life last year.” Lee paused and shifted to his radio voice, which was a twenty-two-year-old’s passable impression of Barry White. “Hey, funky cats and disco kittens, it’s time for another Wednesday night dance party—”

  Jamie gasped. “Oh my God, you’re the Funkmeister?”

  Lee gave his best courtly bow, in response. Out of the corner of her eye, Jamie could see Will smirk sarcastically, but she decided to ignore him. “I loved your show! I tweeted requests every week from @DiscoJew, and yes, I’ve had that handle since high school.”

  “That’s awesome.” He laughed.

  He thinks I’m funny, Jamie said to herself. The thought warmed her.

  “Teenage you and teenage me would have been friends,” Lee said with a shy smile.

  Jamie flicked her ponytail back. “Only if you were also into reading Steven Universe fan fiction.” Oh God, that was too much. Abort! Abort!

  Just then the music went up several decibels. Though Jamie couldn’t hear Lee’s response, she knew it was something very sweet from the way Will rolled his eyes. Unfortunately, between the loud music and Will’s sourness, conversation became too difficult. She made her excuses and prepared to leave. “Hate to keep you from your evening plans, so—” She began walking away, sparing a glance at the still-fuming Will.

  “Wait!” Lee called after her. “What are you doing afterward?” The dance ended at eleven, which was when most Longbourn students started their nights out.

  “We’re heading over to Cousin Nicky’s. It’s kind of a tradition,” Jamie responded. “You’re more than welcome to join us.” Well, Lee was more than welcome. Zara (!) would be amazing. This Will character, Jamie could take or leave.

  EJ at the Dance, Later

  The dance had just ended, and people were pouring out of the tent. EJ grabbed her wrap and went to the bathroom to repair her hair before the after-party. She could feel Tessa’s elaborate creation starting to list to one side. It took a little time, but she successfully stabilized her hair with the addition of a skinny headband and a well-placed pen. “Structurally sound,” EJ said approvingly to her reflection.

  On the way back to her car, she heard Lee’s voice. He seemed to be heading toward the tent. She hung back, not wanting to disturb the conversation.

  “Come on, Will, would it kill you to hang out?” Lee pleaded. “You’re going to be here for a year.”

  The other man audibly huffed. “I can see why you want to go: the girl in the white outfit is the kind of angularly pretty you like. I can see why Zara wants to go: she loves playing Evita. But why should I go?”

  “What about Jamie’s friend?” Lee offered. “EJ, I think. She’s pretty cute.”

  She suddenly felt even more warmly disposed toward her new acquaintance.

  “The rando in the rose-gold sequins, with the fake fur?” Will asked acidly. “She’s . . . fine, great if you like lady pimps.”

  EJ’s jaw dropped. She could see Will’s shadow shrug insouciantly.

  “She’s definitely not interesting enough to drag me someplace called Cousin Nicky’s. I can smell the grease from here.”

  Before EJ could respond, she heard an aggrieved squeak followed by someone trying to stomp in the grass.

  “Hey, jerk! If anyone’s a rando, it’s you!” Dia stepped into the light and glared as ferociously as her short stature would allow. “I don’t know who you are, but you insulted one of my favorite people and my favorite diner! Both are way more popular around here than you’ll ever be, mister, so shut up or go home.”

  Will coughed uncomfortably at her while Lee offered an apology for his visiting friend.

  “Whatever,” said Dia with an admirable finality.

  Even in the middle of this horrible situation, EJ had to smile. Though she be but little, she is fierce, she thought, silently applauding her resident.

  Her smile faded quickly, though. She felt exposed. She was suddenly aware of how she must look to the rich kids at Longbourn. It was a truth that she really didn’t need to know. Her walk across the campus slowed to a trudge, though she tried to put on a brave face at the car, where Jamie and Tessa were waiting.

  “To Nicky’s!” EJ cried with false brightness.

  Her friends’ faces creased with worry from across the roof of her car. “What happened?” Jamie asked.

  She sighed and signaled for them to get in. “I’ll tell you later.”

  As the trio entered Nicky’s, EJ was infused with warmth. First, her old manager greeted her with a big hug and asked her if she wanted her job back—an old tradition. Then Tessa wasted no time firing up the jukebox, and Jamie secured their favorite booth at the back. More friends came. Tipsy milkshakes were made.

  Later, when most attendees were either dancing (EJ, Vanessa, ballroom friends), talking intensely about abstract things (Jamie, French major friends), or leaving for the night (Tessa, after a tense phone call with Colin), the door gave a particularly portentous jingle. Then Zara (!) entered, greeted by applause and shouts of surprise. She was followed by Lee, whose eyes were searching the crowd, and a gloomy-looking Will. EJ smiled as she saw Lee spot Jamie and, seeing her receptive smile, race over to her booth. Then she felt a tap on her shoulder.

  “Oh my God, that dress!”

  EJ turned. To her amazement it was Zara. She’d come right over to the impromptu dance floor in time to catch the vamp from “Try a Little Tenderness.”

  “Thank you!” EJ cried over the surging horns.

  “All I did was speak the truth, hottie. Wanna take a selfie?” Zara whipped out her phone.

  “Yes!” EJ moved into frame as the star took several pics. The best one was the last—an accidental candid of the two of them laughing. Naturally, most of the room wanted to dance with Zara, so the booths—and everyone else—rushed to the front. (Everyone but Lee’s friend, of course, who seemed a little dejected as he sat down in the last unclaimed booth.)

  After someone killed the dance floor with an obscure folk selection, EJ followed Zara to her seat. They were infused with the best effects of alcohol and the camaraderie that can only be formed by extroverts on a dance floor. They were making amicable small talk when a groan came from across the table. Will emerged grumpily.

  “Oh!” EJ exclaimed. “I thought yo
u were a coat.” She congratulated herself on not screaming and running away. He grunted in reply.

  “Will, this is EJ,” Zara said. “She’s really fun. EJ, this is Will. He’s usually fun but has had a rough few months. We’re old work friends.”

  “We’ve met, in a way,” EJ responded.

  “My condolences—you met him in the middle of his audition for ‘world’s biggest asshole.’ He’s really going for it,” the actress added with a slight glare across the table.

  Shrugging at EJ, he addressed Zara. “I bought you a caramel coffee milkshake. I hope it makes your ass fat.” Zara, for her part, flipped him off and took a long sip of the milkshake . . . before setting it at the far end of the table.

  Zara pointed at the milkshake. “This is what I mean by asshole. Homeboy knows that I start filming a spandex movie next month and that I’m force-feeding myself enough kale to turn green. What does he do? Orders me my diet kryptonite because he’s in a bad mood. This is the problem with befriending spoiled little rich boys. They only know how to fight dirty.”

  Will responded with his own middle finger and snuggled into the corner of the booth.

  Zara turned sharply away from him and faced EJ. “Let’s you and I talk,” Zara said. “Where were we?”

  EJ had already decided that Will didn’t matter, so she happily took up the conversation. “You were about to share some juicy theater stories, I hope. Please excuse this bit of fangirling, but I have to tell you, I thought Cosplay: The Musical was brilliant! I was one of the lucky few who caught it off-Broadway because my mother is awesome. I also saw you in The Taming of the Shrew, at the Shakespeare in DC—I’m from Maryland—and you were incredible! I’d always hated that play, but you were so compelling as Katherina, even her surrender felt like strength.”

  “Thank you. Truly.” Zara seemed pleasantly surprised. “I consider the theater my home, so that means a lot.” As they talked, Will grabbed Zara’s milkshake, splashed a bit of something from his flask into it, and sipped until he slumped, thoroughly passed out, milkshake in hand. Unfortunately, he hadn’t emptied the glass. Slowly, the sticky concoction seeped out onto his jacket and then his shirt.

  “Should we . . .” EJ wasn’t quite sure what to suggest, but she felt obliged to ask.

  “He’s fine,” Zara said abruptly. “He can afford whatever will happen to that tux.”

  “He must have been real annoying tonight,” EJ observed.

  Zara watched the dripping milkshake, and EJ watched her. “He’s been a pain in the ass for two restaurants and a bar. Actively getting wasted, then cutting everyone with that patrician passive-aggressiveness. He’s more like his dad than he thinks.”

  The words spilled out before EJ could contain them: “Why is he here when he so obviously doesn’t want to be?”

  Zara sighed and reached for Will’s abandoned flask before squeezing her hand into a fist and returning it to her lap.

  “He says he’s ‘rebranding,’” Zara responded. “‘Creating a new, intellectual persona.’” EJ had never seen such sarcastic air quotes. “I keep trying to tell him he can’t win the breakup. But he never listens to me.”

  EJ shrugged and adjusted the strap of her dress “Fuck him then, you’re great.”

  Zara responded with a snort of laughter. “I am great, thank you.” She sat up and squeezed EJ’s hand. “And thanks for not asking about Carrie. Most people would.”

  That’s ’cause I have no idea who Carrie is, EJ thought. Context clues gave her enough, though. It was clear that Will was some kind of celebrity, who dated a more famous celebrity. The other thing that EJ understood clearly was that Zara was somewhere between tipsy and drunk.

  “Do you want coffee?” EJ offered. “It’s surprisingly good here, even at God-knows a.m.”

  “Yes, thank you.” She leaned back against the leatherette seat of the booth. “Despite all appearances, I’m having a blast.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” EJ replied.

  When the coffee came, they clinked mugs.

  “To new friends.” Zara smiled.

  “And Shakespeare! And the theater!” EJ added.

  As they drank their coffee, across the booth a dozing Will shifted. There was an audible crunch, which he didn’t seem to notice.

  “What was that?” EJ asked.

  Zara peered over Will’s side of the booth and giggled. “He sat on his sunglasses. Oh no, those were vintage. He loves those . . .” The actress started to shake with laughter. “He’s going to be so pissed tomorrow.”

  EJ tried and failed to suppress a laugh. “Oh! That is unfortunate.”

  THE MORNING AFTER THE FALL FORMAL

  (AND A LITTLE AFTER THAT)

  Jamie

  It was Sunday, and Sunday meant waffles. Jamie and EJ had established this early in their freshman year.

  “We eat. We bitch. We let it go,” Jamie had said. “Waffles and whipped cream are cheaper than therapy but equally necessary.” Since then she, EJ, and now Tessa kicked off every week by eating carbs and venting about whatever flavor of bullshit (racist/sexist/transphobic, etc.) they’d dealt with over the past seven days. Occasionally they celebrated their victories, too.

  Walking to their usual table, Jamie felt split two ways. She was so excited about Lee, but she wanted to ask EJ what had upset her at the end of the dance.

  “Give me good news!” Tessa demanded. “Who’s got it? Who’s got something to report from last night?”

  “Jamie does,” EJ prompted.

  Okay, that meant she still wasn’t over whatever happened. Jamie soldiered on. She knew EJ would be excited for her no matter what.

  “Lee might have given me a little kiss last night, outside of Nicky’s,” she began. “And he sent me a text this morning asking when we could see each other again.”

  EJ beamed from across the table. “Oh, J, I’m so happy for you!” she exclaimed. “I’m not even going to ask you to rate the kiss. If it was bad, he seems teachable.”

  Tessa clasped her hands excitedly and bounced. “Hooray, Jamie!” She cried, “You’re so great, and he’s really so great—this is so great!” She gave Jamie a congratulatory squeeze of her hand.

  Jamie didn’t expect to feel relieved, but she was. Being trans, sometimes you found the limits of a friend’s support only when it ran out. With both of her friends excited with her and happy for her, she decided to gush. “I’m not exaggerating when I say he is the sweetest guy that I’ve ever met—gay or straight. He’s also smart and idealistic, in a useful way.”

  She was about to take a big bite of waffle when she exclaimed again. “Oh! I didn’t tell you the best part: no disclosure! Lee found my IG—”

  “@BookishTransAriel,” EJ piped up with a giggle.

  Jamie laughed and nodded. “Yup, with my, like, seven pride flags. Anyway, he DMed me when they were heading to Nicky’s. Basically, he made it clear that he understood everything and was very in.”

  “That’s the best!” Tessa said happily.

  EJ’s eyes danced with excitement. “Oh my God!” She took Jamie’s hands. “I don’t want to overreact, but I’m so excited for you! I have such a good feeling!”

  Jamie sighed. She could hardly believe it herself. “I don’t want to say anything more than that yet—but I have a good feeling, too! Hooray for possibilities!” Her face felt like it could crack in half, she was smiling so hard. Sure, it was right at the beginning, but it felt so good. Jamie looked to Tessa, then to EJ, and decided to get up right then, before she started babbling about Lee’s dimples.

  “Okay, loves, I’m going to refresh my coffee,” Jamie said before dashing back to the cafeteria. She returned moments later with her coffee and a soup bowl filled with dessert.

  “Cannoli!” she exclaimed, lifting the bowl. “They just put these out.” She set the dish on the table.

  “Perfect! Every waffle needs a cannoli chaser,” Tessa agreed.

  EJ nodded and went for another mug of coffee, as well. Th
ere was a period of dedicated chewing until she returned. Once EJ was back in her seat, Tessa straightened up and seemed to remember something.

  “Eej,” she began gently. “What happened last night, before you got back to the car? You were so happy and then so down.”

  Jamie was grateful Tessa asked, even as she watched her bestie’s face fall.

  EJ leaned back in her chair and groaned. “It’s so stupid. I can’t believe I let some random dude get to me like that.”

  “Don’t downplay it, Eej.” Jamie reached out and squeezed her hand. “Just tell us what happened.”

  EJ sighed and then repeated what she’d overheard. Tessa gasped, and her eyes got as round as saucers. “I’m so sorry,” she breathed.

  Jamie swallowed hard. “Who the hell does that guy think he is?” She slammed down her mug. “Where do you want him buried?”

  EJ waved her off. “Don’t go to war for me, J. For one, Dia already told him off—it was amazing. And Zara Hernandez herself said my dress was fly and took a selfie with me.” EJ couldn’t help smiling as she scrolled through her photos, then handed Jamie her phone. “Take a look.”

  On-screen, there were Zara and EJ laughing together, looking like the best of glamorous friends.

  Yes! Jamie silently cheered. This was the perfect antidote to whatever that Will guy had to say. She handed the phone to Tessa, who nodded in appreciation.

  EJ leaned back in her seat again, but this time she looked as content as a cat in the sun.

  “My night got better, and his got worse,” she chuckled. “I’m not usually one to revel in this kind of schadenfreude, but when I last saw Lee’s arrogant friend, he was passed out drunk, covered in leftover milkshake, and sitting on his designer sunglasses. Seeing him like that, I was much less concerned with his good opinion.”

  Jamie was mostly, but not completely, satisfied. “I still say a hearty ‘Fuck him.’ I don’t know who this Will guy is, but he must be both blind and stupid.”