Preethi shrugs. “Fine! We’re all still in the house. Like I said, everything’s the same except my mom goes on dates! Dad does, too! I never picture them having sex!”
“Holy shit,” Gray says.
“Language!” Ms. Waters says again.
“Sorry, I meant holyfuck.”
I cover my face and laugh. “That’s definitely more appropriate.”
“I try,” says Gray.
Ms. Waters chuckles in spite of herself. She looks back down at her clipboard. “Preethi, I noticed that your file had nothing underReason for Admission.”
“That’s because I signed myself up,” Preethi says. “My parents’ lawyer said it might be a good idea, even though everything’s fine, for the sake of due diligence. He also said my parents had aperfectdivorce!”
“Huh,” says Ms. Waters.
Huh, say we all.
Preethi’s eyes widen to saucer size. “Wait a sec. Does that mean you guys didnotsign yourselves up? As in, you all did something toget inhere?! What was it?! What was it?!”
“That’s confidential, Preethi,” says Ms. Waters.
Preethi rubs her palms together. “Secrets!”
Ms. Waters shakes her head. “Confidential meanspersonal. Notsecret.”
Preethi just narrows her eyes like a bloodhound trying to sniff out our crimes. I can’t help shrinking down in my seat. I can’t help noticing that Gray does, too.
“Can I eat my snack now?” Preethi asks.
“Not yet,” says Ms. Waters. “Lilliam, you’re next.”
Lilliam closes her eyes briefly like she’s getting into character. Instead of touching her marshmallow people, she points at them.
“Dad: Your mother and I have incompatible lifestyles. Mom: Manhattan is very different from Brentwood, dear, but you will learn to navigate both. And so on.”
Ms. Waters twirls her hands, coaxing Lilliam to say more.
Lilliam rolls her eyes but continues. “Mom: I bought you an Hermès scarf. Dad: The scarf I got you is better. Me: They’re both great.” She stops again.
Ms. Waters leans toward her. “How does that make you feel?”
Lilliam looks down at her nails. “I prefer Burberry, but I would never tell them that.”
Gray scoffs so loud that we all look at him.
“Be respectful,” says Ms. Waters.
“Of what? Am I supposed to feel bad that she’s a poor little rich girl? Who cares?”
Lilliam’s indifferent mask falls for just a second. “My parents certainly don’t.”
I glare at Gray. The second I think he has the slightest chance of being nice, he once again reminds me he’s actually a jerk.
“How often do they buy you things?” Ms. Waters asks.
“About every week,” she says. “My closet is a high-end department store.”
