Penelope (17 page)

“OK,” said Penelope. “Is that like an extracurricular?”

“No!” Emma said. She shook her head in disbelief. “Kind of, I guess. You can’t put it on your résumé, but like a ton of powerful people have been members of finals clubs and they can get you incredible jobs later. But I mean, that is not the point of it. It’s supposed to be like for making friends or something.”

“Oh, OK,” said Penelope. “Is it like a sorority?”

“No,” said Emma. She looked disgusted, but her disgust at Penelope’s ignorance seemed to pull her out of the worst of her misery. She removed the excess eye makeup from her face and hiccoughed. “It is way more prestigious than any kind of frat at a state school. There is one club for guys that if you haven’t made a million dollars by the time you are thirty, they give you a million dollars.”

“That’s awesome,” said Penelope.

“I want to get into one of the girl ones. If you get into a girl one, you get into the guys’ ones for parties. Those parties are so much fun. They never get broken up by the cops and you don’t have to register them or anything.”

“Could Lan join one?” asked Penelope. “She hates cops. She told me that on Friday.”

“Oh, no,” said Emma. She laughed. “You have to get selected to even try out. There is a whole application process with cocktail parties and stuff. It’s called a punch. It’s not like some random person could do it. The Kennedys couldn’t even be in the million-dollar one.”

“They were bootleggers,” said Penelope solemnly.

Then Emma was sad again.

“So I have been doing those events all fall, and I just feel like I’m the person who’s the least likely to get in. Of all the punches.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” said Penelope.

“Thanks, Penelope. But I know I have to work double time. That is why I am doing this play, really. Bitty is the president of the Hasty Pudding, and probably going to be president of the Bee (which is like the best girls’ finals club), and I wanted to get to know her, so I volunteered to produce this play. But we have been having so many problems with all these people dropping out because they need to study. People really need to start taking personal responsibility.” Emma’s voice rose to almost hysterical levels.

“It will be fine,” said Penelope.

“I know that,” snapped Emma. “It’s just hard. Sometimes I feel like I’m so different from everyone else who is punching the Pudding. Like everyone else’s parents went to Harvard too. Everyone else’s parents were in finals clubs too. I don’t have that kind of legacy. My parents only went to Cornell.”

“I don’t even know where my mother went to college. I should ask her,” said Penelope.

“All these other girls I went to school with, I don’t even think they are worried about getting in. But I am super-worried.” Emma started to cry again.

“I am sure you will get in,” said Penelope. She patted Emma’s head. “You are just freaking out because it is almost over. How could you not get in? You did everything right.”

“Thanks, Penelope,” said Emma. While Emma tried to recover, Penelope got up and got a box of Kleenex from her desk.

“Here,” said Penelope. She gave Emma the box.

“Thanks,” said Emma. She took out a tissue and blew her nose loudly. “Just telling someone made me feel so much better.”

“Oh, no problem,” said Penelope.

“Thanks for doing the play too. It’s funny. I thought you were so weird when I first met you. Like one of the weirdest people I have ever met. Like just a freak.”

“Oh, really?” said Penelope.

“Yeah. And you know, while I was doing this, this Pudding stuff, I had to really think about my social position. You can’t be walking next to someone who owns half of New York City and say hi to someone like you. This is a very delicate thing.”

“I could see that,” said Penelope.

“But today, I was just so desperate, I was like, ‘Whatever, I will ask her to do the play. I don’t know anyone else who wants to do it.’ And now I think you are really fine. Like totally normal.”

“Thanks,” said Penelope.

Emma sighed.

“I really love it when people are honest with me. I am going to go to my room,” she said, and left.

Penelope went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. While she was flossing, Lan stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

“Lan,” said Penelope. “Hi!”

“Hi,” said Lan.

“I didn’t know you were a lighting designer,” said Penelope.

“Emma said she would report Raymond to the proctor if I didn’t lighting design this terrible play,” said Lan. “I hope she dies in a ditch.”

“She did?” said Penelope.

“Yeah,” said Lan. “Why would I ever want to do the lighting design for this stupid play? It doesn’t even make sense at all! She just wants to brownie up to that bimbo who plays Caligula because she’s the president of one of these finals clubs that Emma wants to get into. What a loser. I am going to paint her room black.”

“But that’s my room too,” said Penelope.

This was greeted with silence.

“Do you really like Raymond that much?” asked Penelope.

“I like him OK,” said Lan.

“Can he pee in the toilet now?” asked Penelope.

“No. He is the stupidest cat I have ever met,” said Lan. “His IQ is zero.”

“Oh,” said Penelope.

A couple of days later, on the way to play practice, Penelope called her mother.

“Hi, Mom!” said Penelope.

“Penelope,” said her mother, “I was starting to worry you were dead. I was two seconds away from calling a hospital. You haven’t called me for a week. What have you been doing?”

“Oh,” said Penelope. “Well, I am alive, and guess where I am going!”

“Did you get my calls? I called you twice.”

“I did. And now I am calling you back! Guess where I am now!”

“Well, I don’t even want to know. Because I was very worried. You should have called me back much earlier.”

“I’m sorry,” said Penelope.

“Well, where are you?” asked Penelope’s mother, mollified.

“I am on my way to play practice,” said Penelope.

“You are in a play? Oh, Penelope, that is great news! What’s the play called?”

“Caligula.”

“What is that?” asked Penelope’s mother.

“It’s a play about this guy who kills his entire kingdom and has sex with his sister. I don’t know, I haven’t read it in a while.”

“Well, aren’t you in it? Shouldn’t you read it to refresh your memory?”

“Maybe,” said Penelope. “I don’t have any lines.”

“Still, Penelope,” said her mother, “I think you should read it. What if the lead breaks her leg and you have to go on as the lead?”

“Well, there are two Caligulas, so I don’t think that will happen.”

“There are two Caligulas. Why is that?”

“I don’t know. OK, Mom, I am almost at the theater,” said Penelope.

“OK,” said her mother. “How are your friends?”

“Bye!”

“What? Oh well, bye, Penelope,” said her mother.

Unfortunately, Penelope arrived at the theater at the same time as Ted and Catherine. They were just across the street from Penelope; Ted in his shorts, Catherine in a tiny pink tennis skirt and sweatshirt with a giant V cut in the front. Penelope hoped she could escape without saying hi to them.

Until this moment, Penelope had successfully avoided speaking or hanging out with Ted. This was a major feat considering the broad parameters of their former intimacy, but she had felt herself both too duty bound and embarrassed to see him once he had pledged himself to Catherine’s stead. Penelope imagined Ted felt the same way. He had certainly stopped randomly dropping in on her since the dead fish incident, which was what Penelope had taken to calling it in her mind.

“Penelope!” yelled Catherine when she spotted her.

Penelope reluctantly turned around.

“Oh, hi,” said Penelope.

“Wait up,” said Catherine. When within arm’s length, Catherine grabbed Penelope’s elbow. Ted hung back, met Penelope’s eyes briefly, and smiled. She did not smile back.

“Did you hear about Nikil?” asked Catherine, encasing Penelope’s arm in a viselike grip.

“Um, no?” said Penelope.

“He didn’t get on the Crimson Business Board. He got cut.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” said Penelope.

“He’s really upset,” said Catherine with relish. “I feel awful for him.”

“It’s too bad that even things that seem so un-fun are also so competitive,” said Penelope. “This was why I have always been against the Olympics, as a rule.”

“I think the business board sounds fun. You know what is not fun? I was up until four a.m. last night doing work,” said Catherine. “How late were you up?”

“Eleven?” said Penelope.

“I’m worried I will fall asleep during this rehearsal.”

“Well,” said Penelope, “good thing we are guards. They always go to sleep at inopportune times.”

“Are you going to Harvard-Yale, Penelope?” asked Catherine. “We’re not. Too much work.”

“I don’t know,” said Penelope. “What is it?”

“It’s a football game, duh,” said Catherine. “Oh my God, you are so out of it.”

“I have to head out,” said Ted. “I have a class.”

“OK, baby!” said Catherine, brought to attention. She hugged Ted and then ruffled his hair. “What are you doing later?”

“I don’t know,” said Ted. “What are you doing later?”

“I was thinking about watching a movie or something,” said Catherine.

“That sounds great,” said Ted. “Penelope, do you still have that TV?”

“Yes,” said Penelope. Was he inviting her? She would make it clear that she was not attending. “You can use it. I think there is a parade in Boston that I wanted to go to.”

Ted started laughing.

“Penelope, don’t be ridiculous. If we are watching TV in your room, then you have to come! I don’t think there is a parade happening anywhere.”

Penelope was struck dumb. She had flattered herself that their avoidance was mutual. Was he trying to be friends again? Did he want them all to be friends? Why had she said that about a parade? What parade happens at night? A night parade, she should have said.

“Cool,” said Ted. “Let’s all get dinner and watch a movie together. That will be fun.” He sauntered off, pleased. Catherine and Penelope entered the rehearsal room together.

“Ted insisted on walking me here today, isn’t that sweet?” whispered Catherine as they opened the door.

“Yes,” said Penelope.

“Ahh, Guards,” shouted Henry Wills-Mather as soon as Penelope and Catherine entered the room. “Just in time!”

Henry Wills-Mather was wearing the exact same outfit that he was wearing at the last play practice with the addition of a red scarf, which he had tucked into the neck of his black turtleneck like a bib. The overall effect was curiously non-French.

“We are blocking the first act today and we have a lot of work to do, so let’s hop to it!” The cast, many of whom were milling around the front of the stage, quickly gathered around Henry Wills-Mather.

“I want the Caligulas over there,” said Wills-Mather, flinging his arm toward a spot in the center of the stage. “We are going to run the scene from your entrance. Octavius, Lucius, Cassius, Helicon, all to your places.” All the Roman senators gathered in groups of two or three around the stage. In nearly every group someone was kneeling and someone else was peering into the distance and pointing.

“It’s supposed to seem like we interrupted you talking. So really act like you’re talking!” said Henry Wills-Mather. The senators broke from their poses and started mouthing words and gesticulating wildly.

“OK. Guards, I want you to go to either side of Caligula.” Penelope and Catherine silently filed next to the two Caligulas.

“You are holding spears, so pretend to hold spears,” said Henry Wills-Mather. Penelope and Catherine both put their hands out in front of them, as if they were holding spears.

“OK. So I see you all have your places,” said Henry Wills-Mather. “Let’s take it from ‘But you know nothing.’ ”

Boy Caligula came forward. He spoke in a high, nasal voice:

“But you know nothing!” he said, spitting tiny pustules of water into the air. “Everything is important, the agrarian laws and finance. Everything is on the same footing: the grandeur of Rome and your arthritis attacks. Hear me, little steward.”

“We’re listening,” said the Steward. Then Girl Caligula stepped forward.

“You are fair, is not it?” said Girl Caligula forcefully.

“No, no, no, no, no!” said Henry Wills-Mather. “That is all wrong.”

“Phew. Do you think something is wrong with their scripts?” whispered Penelope to Catherine.

“No,” said Catherine shortly. Penelope wondered if she was a little peeved that she had to watch TV in Penelope’s room this evening.

“I think he doesn’t know French or something,” said Penelope.

“Penelope, he said he was a linguist. I don’t think he would just lie about that,” hissed Catherine.

“Guards,” said Henry Wills-Mather. “Do you know why I am stopping?”

Penelope and Catherine stopped whispering.

“Guards, your job in this play is very very important. Very important. Although you have no speaking roles, you add a very integral humanity to the theatrical landscape. That is why you are here. So when you stand there, woodenly looking at the action instead of psychologically participating in the action, well, it’s very hard to watch.”