chili. When I got back, Kathryn was standing off by herself, flipping through my CDs.
âHaving fun?â I said. I hoped sheâd say no so I could launch a rant about how fake the whole evening was. Something about Kathryn made me think sheâd understand.
âIâm having a great time,â she said. âYour friends are nice.â
I put the chili down on my desk. Who was I kidding? Nobody was going to eat it.
âTell me youâre just saying that.â
âOkay, Iâm just saying that.â Kathryn laughed a quiet little laugh and held up a collection of French art songs. âDawn Upshaw. I love her.â
âMe too. My dad took me to see her in The Great Gatsby at the Met. It was amazing.â
Kathrynâs eyes got wide. âYouâve been to the Met?â
âSure. Havenât you?â
âIâve never been to New York. My mom and I were saving up to go over spring break but itâs so expensive. I listen to the operas every Saturday on the radio, though.â
I couldnât believe it. Iâd thought I was the only person who did that.
âSo what did you think about the new Turandot ?â Iâd been dying to talk about it ever since the broadcast.
âThe new aria was great, but I couldnât handle that it didnât end with âNessun Dorma.â I guess Iâm traditional that way.â
âTotally.â I couldnât stop staring at her. Nobody I knew knew anything about music, let alone a famous melody from a Puccini opera.
Chloe had opened my closet and the other girlswere trying on my clothes. Kathryn laughed as Violet flounced around in my old Halloween flapper boa. âMr. Lieb, my voice teacher at Baldwin, says not listening to the Met is like wasting a free ticket.â
âThatâs what Hildy says, too. Lieb has his studio off the courtyard, right? Hildy Schultz is right down the hall.â
Kathryn nodded and flipped some more. âYou have a really good collection.â
âDawn Upshaw is my only soprano. Iâm all about the mezzos and contraltos. Listen to this.â
I took Madonna out of the CD player and popped in Bizetâs Carmen . Denyce Graves singing âDown Near the Walls of Sevillaâ came blaring out of the speakers. Kathryn tipped her head and nodded along with the music. âDenyce Graves is awesome,â she said. âDid you see her in Aida in St. Paul?â
âHey!â Chloeâs voice came at us from across the room. âTurn that crap off!â She grabbed a couple of the new girls, whirled them around to face me, and announced, âBrooke here wants to be an opera singer when she grows up. Which is fine and all, as long as the rest of us donât have to hear it.â
Kathryn ejected the CD and handed it to me. âMaybe we can listen some other time,â she said.
I took the CD and smiled a smile that said, See, Chloe?Somebody else cares about this stuff, too.
âFine,â I said. âBut one of these days youâll wish you were nicer to us music freaks.â
Chloe waved a whatever hand as she turned away.
âI highly doubt that,â she said.
KATHRYN
TWO HOURS. THATâS HOW MUCH sleep I got the night of the slumber party, just two hours somewhere between four in the morning and ten a.m., when I stumbled back through my own front door, headachy, stale-mouthed, and utterly exhilarated. All of the years that Iâd kept to myself with Matt, Iâd convinced myself I wasnât missing anything; Matt was comfortable and familiar, just like the best guy friends in the old movies we liked to watch, and that was good enough for me. I didnât need girlfriends.
After Brookeâs, however, I knew it wasnât true. There was something special about being around other girls, a sense of belonging Iâd never experienced before. And I did belongâat least thatâs how it felt, because everybody
George Simpson, Neal Burger