Watching Wonderful (sample)
“You’ve never seen it?” “They play it all the time but I’ve never seen it.” “That’s so funny. It’s supposed to be one of the classics.” “We’re, like, the only two people on Earth who haven’t seen it.” “You know we’re the only two people left in the dorm.” “You think?” “I didn’t even know anyone else was around.”
Marnie Warble lived on the first floor and Claudia Barnes on the fourth, which meant they didn’t socialize that often. At best they were familiar strangers, who knew each other’s faces and little else. On Saturday night Claudia got to the basement first, the big basement cave with the ping-pong table and the ten-year-old TV and gray couches, and Marnie was surprised to come down for the movie and find someone else in the room.
“You’re… Claudia, right?” “Claudia, right. And… don’t tell me. Melanie.” “Marnie.” “Oh. That was bad of me.” “Don’t worry about it.” “I so didn’t know you were here. Were you on campus for Thanksgiving?” “Yeah, they did something across the road. You didn’t go to that?” “No. I wouldn’t have seen you.” “It was international students, mostly. A lot of headscarves. I sat with people who, none of us had met before, I mean. We just talked.” “About what?” “About nothing, really. Hey, were you watching this?” “No. Just waitin’ for the movie.” “You have, like, homework. I’m not interrupting you, am I?” “Nah. It was just a thing to do at the commercials.”
Marnie was a child of the Upper West Side and had learned how to hide it. She knew a coded language of money and fashion and family names and never spoke it farther west than her safe little island. It wasn’t hard to hide. Her privilege was muted. People with her kind of money did not ‘do’ gaudy gold and conspicuous labels. Nobody noticed her measured silence during dining-hall chats about student loans or arduous expenses. And she never, ever mentioned the summer house. It wasn’t hard at all. Anecdotes could be transposed. Details could always be left out. She never felt different—she just didn’t want other people to think she was different. There were so many other things to talk about, anyway.
“My dad does the worst imitation of that guy…” “Oh, she’s the one mentioned in that song, from that show.” “Is he related to Drew Barrymore?” “Yeah, all those guys were related.”
This concludes the free sample, but you can buy the full story at this link! . . . |