learn years later that I had lost her a second time. Even Christ was crucified only once.”
“Spare me.”
The line slows down.
“Ladies,” Khaki Pettit calls from the end of the room. “Exchange your gloves, please.”
“Ugh,” Madison calls over to me, peeling off her opera gloves. “These are disgusting. I want to go swimming in a big pool full of Purell.”
A waiter with a silver tray of fresh gloves and a basket moves down the line. He reaches me, and automatically I drop my damp gloves in the basket and take a clean pair from his tray.
“And now, if y’all will take your place to walk the stairs,” Khaki calls.
All the mothers race to the back stairs so they can go down to the front hall and witness their daughters’ moment of glory. All the fathers take their daughters by the hand and proceed to the head of the grand staircase. My grandmother tries to take my hand, but I keep it clenched. She grabs it and attempts to pry my fingers open. I’m shocked by her strength, but I’m stronger. I yank my hand away.
“Do not disgrace me right now,” she whispers fiercely. “This is not the time to give in to petty personal issues.”
I hear Khaki Pettit on the microphone downstairs in the grand hall.
“Making her debut tonight, and presented by her father, Mr. Michael Shaw, the Cotillion presents to Savannah—Miss Mary Michael Shaw.”
Applause, some weak wolf whistles, flashbulbs popping. A bigger roar when she does her St. James bow on the landing. Then a giant cheer—probably her dad kissing her on the cheek.
“Petty personal issues?” I snap. “You killed my mother.”
“You don’t have all the facts,” my grandmother says, drawing herself up. “I have been a victim in this more than anyone else, and unlike you I don’t have the luxury of throwing a tantrum. I have fed you and clothed you. I have welcomed you into my house and let you sleep under my roof. I have indulged you past the point of reason. And I will be damned if I let you humiliate me tonight of all nights. You will walk the stairs with me, Alexandria, and you will smile and be gracious, and you will have your first dance with a young man of my choosing if your escort cannot be found, and you will stop acting like a brat and comport yourself like a Magnolia right this minute.”
“Grandmother,” I say, “screw you.”
I walk to the head of the stairs, leaving my stunned grandmother in my wake. For once she’s speechless.
“Where’s your grandmother?” Hayes hisses as I approach the waiting area. Down the stairs we can hear shouts and cheers as Carson Moore is presented. Apparently her St. James bow is something else, because the yells practically tear the roof off the place.
“She won’t be joining us,” I say. “I’m walking the stairs alone.”
Hayes gapes at me. “But you can’t… you can’t walk alone!”
“You’re up, Alex,” Madison calls from up ahead. “Where’s Dorothy?”
“I’m going alone.”
“What?” She trots back to me. “What the—say what?”
“Alexandria,” I hear my grandmother call. “I’m coming.”
“If you were ever my friends, don’t let that woman near me,” I say. And then I take a deep breath and walk to the top of the staircase. I stand in the shadows, waiting for Carson’s applause to die down, just as we’ve practiced. Behind me, I hear the daddies doing double takes as they realize I don’t have an escort.
I look over my shoulder. Madison is blocking my grandmother’s way—not so obviously that you can tell that the maneuver is intentional, but firmly enough so that Miss Lee can’t get past her. I hear the silence. Khaki takes a breath, made audible by the microphone. I prepare for my public humiliation.
“And now,” she says, “making her debut tonight, and presented by her grandmother, Mrs. Dorothy Lee, the Magnolia League presents to Savannah—Miss Alexandria Lee.”
I feel a gloved hand grip mine. I turn and see Hayes grinning at me. “Hos before bros,” she says.
Another glove grips my other hand. I turn. It’s Madison. “Don’t ever doubt that we’ve got your back,” she says.
And hand in hand, the three of us walk the stairs.
There is silence for a moment as everyone gapes. Madison and Hayes are very obviously not my grandmother. The flashbulbs stop. The room goes so silent I can hear our dresses brushing the carpet as we walk. Even Khaki is staring up at us, her mouth open like a fish’s. But breeding trumps all,