The Magnolia League - By Katie Crouch Page 0,40

You went to a strange man’s house. What egregiously irresponsible behavior! Is this the way people act in California?”

“Well, I can’t speak for the whole state, but, yes, I’d say I’m a pretty open person.”

Miss Lee purses her lips. “All right. Well. I’m sorry, Alexandria. I have no choice but to ground you.”

I stare at her in disbelief. She’s okay with me getting into a car full of teenagers with bad driving skills and spending all night at a keg party, but she’s grounding me for checking out a friend’s garden?

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. For the time being, you’re not to leave the house. And you may never go to Sam Buzzard’s again.”

“But that’s just crazy,” I say. “You can’t imprison a young person like that. It’s… un-American.”

“I can’t talk about it any further, Alexandria. I’m late for dinner out. I’ll have Josie make you something.” She looks at me hopelessly, gives one last dramatic sigh, and leaves.

I slink up to my room and plop on the bed, shaking my head in disbelief. Grounded? I never got grounded at the RC, even when I sneaked off with some kids to San Francisco for three days to see a concert without telling anyone. What am I supposed to do in this house? Learn ballroom dancing? Listen politely while my grandmother explains the correct way to sip friggin’ sweet tea?

Suddenly, I have an idea. I flip on the computer, waiting impatiently for the Internet to come up. No new e-mails from Reggie… big surprise. But that’s okay. After tonight, we won’t need this stupid e-mail system anymore. I bring up Delta.com and grab that brilliant new credit card out of my backpack.

Okay. I know the Visa was meant for new clothes, not a plane ticket back to California. But I promise you one thing, Grandma. As soon as I get there, I’ll get out some scissors and cut it up for good.

16

Magnolia League Meeting: The Senior Four

September is the height of hurricane season in Savannah, and this morning, though the weatherman has issued no warning, it’s raining hard enough to feel like one might actually be on the way. Miss Lee struts from the car to Magnolia Hall, holding her trench coat tight around her. When she steps into the hallway, she sees that Mary Oglethorpe has forgone the sweet tea (and the pink wine, for that matter) for a strong, hot pot of Swamp Brew.

“Hello, Dorothy,” Sybil says.

“Hi, girls,” Miss Lee says. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Miss Lee phoned the other Seniors last night after returning from her dinner date. When Mary, Khaki, and Sybil got the call, naturally they dropped everything to come. The Seniors are rarely summoned, but when they are, it’s important.

“I probably should have called a full meeting, but I didn’t want to alarm the whole damned world.” Mary and Sybil exchange glances at their leader’s candor. Though they have known her since they were toddlers, as president of the League, “Miss Lee” usually separates herself from her friends with a veil of formality.

“Here,” Mary says. “Have some brew.” She pours the thick, pungent liquid into a cup. Miss Lee gratefully takes a sip, looking at Mary’s rumpled dress and bird’s-nest hair with an amused eye. “Mary, you’re looking a little disheveled this morning.”

Mary smiles sheepishly. “It’s this new kid I’m dating.”

Sybil shakes her head. “I keep telling you. You conjured yourself too young.”

“Sybil, you’ve been lecturing me for thirty years about that.”

“And now look. Where were you last night? Doing karaoke on River Street? Jell-O shots with high school students? How is a sixty-five-year-old woman supposed to keep up with that?”

“I’m not the one who can’t keep her senator husband out of the news for skinny-dipping in Rio,” Mary snaps. “Maybe if you’d chosen a better age, you wouldn’t have such problems keeping Tom in check.”

“I told you, she was Argentinian, not Brazilian.”

“Girls, please.” Miss Lee sighs.

“Well, we’re here for Miss Lee,” Sybil says, trying to focus the meeting. She turns to the president, who, despite her evident distress, is resplendent in a silk jersey wrap dress. “What is the issue at hand?”

“Alex is missing,” Miss Lee says.

“Hmm.” The Senior Four are not alarmed. Magnolias, protected as they are, have more freedom than normal teenage girls. “Did you call Sam to investigate?”

“No. Certainly not. Not with our history.”

“Ah,” Sybil says, nodding. After what happened to Louisa, that certainly makes sense.

“Anyway, I don’t need his insight on this matter. I’m certain she went back to