The Season by Jonah Lisa Dyer Read Free Book Online

targeted barrage that a good twenty seconds must have passed before I managed to speak. She waited patiently while I wobbled like a punch-drunk fighter, in danger of going down for the count.
    â€œI think you’ve misjudged me,” I managed.
    â€œI highly doubt it.”
    My heart thumped against my chest, and my cheeks were red as cherries. Withdraw? We hadn’t even started. . . .
    â€œI don’t want to withdraw,” I began, cautiously. “This is important to my parents, and I am not, and never have been, a quitter. I’ll do whatever I have to do to provemyself.”
    â€œMoxie,” she stated flatly, “while admirable, will not suffice, Miss McKnight.”
    The
Miss
McKnight
thing was starting to grate.
    â€œIt is abundantly clear that you cannot walk properly,” she continued, “so it would naturally follow that you are unable to dance—and I do not mean Zumba.”
    â€œMy mom has already signed us up for dance lessons.”
    â€œI wish it were that simple. You will need to learn to stand up straight, dress appropriately, and behave with some clear sense of modesty and decorum. You’re miles from a satisfactory Texas Dip, and frankly, given the time allowed and the list of requirements, I doubt you’re up to it.”
    Suddenly I was not just insulted, but mad.
    â€œYou’d be surprised, Ms. Foster,” I stated with reckless confidence, “what I can accomplish in a short amount of time.”
    She looked me over again, still dubious. Why was I even fighting this? This was my chance to be gone. I could tell Mom that Ann felt I wasn’t up to it, that she knew, like I did, that I just wasn’t debutante material. But I thought of Dad begging me to do it, and while I wasn’t sure why, it was clear he
needed
me to stay.
    â€œPlease, ma’am,” I said, softening my tone and smiling at her with all the Texas charm I could muster, “I realize today did not start well, but I would very much appreciate you allowing me the opportunity to prove that I belong.”
    She weighed my “ma’am” and the sentence that followed for a moment, unsure if they were mocking or sincere.
    â€œMiss McKnight, you have a month,” she said. “Surprise me.”
    And with that she turned and left the Magnolia Room
.
    I staggered over to the table. Julia and Abby stood.
    â€œYou look pale,” Julia said.
    â€œThat bitch is hard-core.”
    â€œShe is,” chimed in Ashley One. “Two years ago she gave my cousin a panic attack—she withdrew and ended up in the hospital.”
    â€œWell, what did she say?” Abby asked.
    â€œShe asked me to withdraw.” An audible, collective gasp. “But I talked her out of it—for the moment. I’m on some sort of debutante probation.”
    That made them laugh. Me too. I dropped into my chair. Desperate for solid food to calm the toxic cocktail of adrenaline and fear in my stomach, I tossed down a whole finger sandwich. Feeling better, I reached for another.
    â€œIt’s not too late to change your mind,” Lauren chimed in, her voice all singsongy. She smiled at me with emerald eyes and Chiclet teeth, but the effect was more north wind than welcome mat.
    â€œExcuse me? Have we even met?” I asked.
    â€œMegan, this is Lauren Battle,” Abby said. “Lauren, Megan McKnight.”
    â€œSo nice to meet you,” Lauren said, and stood halfway to stretch a hand across the table. I half rose too and shook it, resisting the impulse to crush it.
    â€œI’m not trying to be mean,” Lauren said, gesturing at the table of girls, “but this is, like, extremely important toall of us. And, well . . . a chain is only as strong as its weakest link.”
    â€œSeriously?” I said, looking to Julia. Then back to Lauren. “Well, then I will certainly do my best not to be the weak