I swallowed hard. “That sounds really good to me.” This may have been the understatement of the century.
“Fantastic!” Arden blew out a long breath. “Whew. I amsweatingright now. That was like asking somebody out, times ten.” She fanned her face with the paper bag from her lunch. Terry passed her an extra napkin.
“So.” Lydia played with her necklace as she considered me. “Old books. That’s your fandom?”
“Yes.” It would have been silly to pretend otherwise.
“And is there a lot of death?” Terry asked, dark eyes eager.
“See, I pictured them being more about relationships,” Arden put in. “Like love stories, only messed up.”
I screwed the cap back on my water bottle while I thought it over. “It’s all that, but other stuff too. Like power, and who has it and who doesn’t, and how oppressive society can be with its rules and restrictions, especially for women. Class conflict. Being judged by appearances. How one mistake can ruin your life.”
“Pretty much the story of our lives, am I right?” Arden poked Lydia in the shoulder.
Lydia’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t know how excited I can get about a time that was basically, Men Control Everything, They Do What They Want. Oh wait, make that White Men. Even more than now. It’s like, ‘Yay, let’s be more oppressed!’ No offense,” she added, glancing at me.
“Actually, a lot of them are women’s stories, written by women.” I tried not to sound like I was disagreeing with Lydia, who was by far the most intimidating of the three. “They’re the heroines. And even when they get shafted by society, the books make you see how tragic that is, because they have these rich inner lives. It gives them a voice.”
“Exactly!” Arden pointed a potato chip at me. “Maybe they couldn’t fix all their problems, because patriarchy, butwecan. It’s about taking control of your destiny. We can learn from the past. ‘Heads-up, don’t get owned.’”
“That’s how I think about it.” My heart raced. Was I courting public ridicule all over again by talking about these things? “I don’t want to be a victim, or a villain, so I try not to make any of the mistakes I already know about.”
“Or let yourfriendsmake them,” Arden added, with a significant look at Terry. “Like dating the wrong people.”
“There are plenty of those,” I agreed.
Arden’s eyes widened. “At MHS?”
“In books. But maybe also at our school. I don’t really know anyone else, so it’s hard to say.”
“But we do. Know people, I mean. Or people who know people.” Arden flung out a hand. “Wait. I’m having a brain wave. That should totally be our goal, don’t you think, Lyds?”
Lydia squinted at her. “Having brain waves?”
“To show Mary the ropes,” Arden corrected. “See the sights, meet new people, try all the things they didn’t have at her old school. Give her the complete Millville High experience.”
“What about Terry?” Lydia asked.
“Terry’s new, but notnewnew. She’s coming from a different school, but it’s like Mary’s from a different century.” She offered me a quick smile. “In the best way possible.”
“Uh-huh,” said Lydia, who did not seem to find this analogy as pleasing as I did.
“I have a really good feeling about this,” Arden assured her.
“You have feelings about a lot of things.”
“Yes, I do, Robotica. But this one’s bigtime. And you know how much I like having clearly defined goals.”
“Arden’s mother runs an event business,” Lydia informed me. “The urge to plan is genetic.”
A fluttery feeling migrated from my stomach to my throat. “It sounds almost like aseason.”
“I guess we could make it a fall thing.” Arden’s furrowed brow suggested this was a significant scaling back of her plans.
“Not that kind of season,” I said. “There used to be a tradition where a young woman would make her debut, usually at a ball.”
“Like adebut-tante,” Arden put in.
