Savannah after you give it a little time,” Hayes says patiently. “It’s always good to be where you belong.”
“No, see, I belong in Mendocino. I was born there, so… basically, I’ll be going back ASAP.”
Madison sneers. “Us country cousins’ll try to survive without you.”
“I’d love to hear more about California,” Hayes says, cutting her off. “Tell me about it.”
“Well,” I say, trying to ignore Madison, “it’s beautiful. Kind of foggy. It’s never hot or humid on the coast. Also, I didn’t have to go to regular school. I basically lived on a commune and read great books and smoked pot and had awesome friends and a great boyfriend. What else could I want?”
“A shower?” Madison says under her breath.
“Madison…” Hayes says.
“Gee,” I say sarcastically, “for Southern girls, you’re kind of rude.”
“Gee,” Madison shoots back, “for a California girl, you’re kind of a cliché.”
“Listen, this is sort of an awkward way to get to know one another,” Hayes says. “But what we want you to know is just that we’re so glad that you’re here. The Magnolia League is a real sisterhood, and if you just give it a chance, I know you’ll fit right in.”
“Thanks, but—”
“Hey, some of my brother’s friends are partying out at the Field tomorrow night. Why don’t you come?”
“That’s okay,” I say. “I’m busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Well…” I rack my brain. “I’ve never read any Flannery O’Connor, and I figure now’s probably an appropriate time.”
“Alex,” Hayes says, “I know you think your situation is bleak, but, please, don’t sit home reading a book on Saturday night. It doesn’t have to be that bad.”
“It’s really nice of you girls to ask me. I appreciate all of this sisterhood and whatever. Seriously. Very cool. But no, I don’t want to get to know this place. Honestly, I plan on vacating as soon as possible.”
“Don’t let your mouth write checks your ass can’t cash,” Madison says.
“What do you mean?”
“She doesn’t mean anything,” Hayes says. “Think about it. I know the Field’s not a particularly glamorous proposition, but I think you’ll have a better time there than you’ll have sitting alone in your room.”
“Thanks very much. But I’m pretty sure I’ll pass.”
“All right,” Hayes says. She and Madison exchange glances and rise at exactly the same time. “Well, I suppose we’ll see you later.”
“Right. At school or whatever.” I walk them to the entrance and stand in the doorway as they drift prettily down the steps toward Hayes’s Mercedes SUV.
“Hasn’t anyone told your parents there’s a global-warming crisis? Not to mention a recession.”
“Magnolias are a bit impervious to economic hard times,” Hayes says with a chuckle. “But you’re certainly right about Mother Earth.”
Mother Earth. Weird. That’s what my mom used to call it too.
“ ‘Impervious to hard times’?” I say, incredulous. “All of you? Well, eventually that sweet Southern luck is going to run out, and you’ll have to deal with reality.”
Hayes hesitates thoughtfully and then waves, as if she hasn’t heard me. The girls climb into the SUV and, with a great V-8 roar, peel out onto Savannah’s dark, slow streets.
5
“So,” Hayes says, checking out her lovely image in the rearview mirror. “What do you think?”
“I don’t like her,” Madison replies.
“You don’t like anyone.”
“She’s obnoxious, judgmental, and ungrateful. A self-righteous know-it-all with roadkill on her head.”
“But she is an MG,” Hayes says, using their shorthand for a young Magnolia Leaguer—a Magnolia girl.
“She’s not an MG. She’s a punishment. Clearly we committed a crime in a previous life. Anyway, what’s the plan?”
“If you checked your e-mail, you’d know,” Hayes says as she stops at a light. Picking up her BlackBerry Curve, she IMs a to-do list to Madison. Again. Madison picks up her phone, reads the screen, and frowns.
“Bonaventure Cemetery? Twice in one week? Jesus, Hayes, these midnight crawls are making my eyes puffy.”
“I underestimated how much Sybil needed for next week, and she flipped, which means my mom flipped, which means I need more goofer dirt, which means you’re coming with me to Bonaventure,” Hayes says.
“Your family drama is prematurely aging me.”
Hayes drums her fingers on the wheel.
“Even with that awful hair,” she says absently, “you know… she has it.”
“That doesn’t mean we have to be soul sisters.”
“But don’t you think she’s got it?”
“Yes, yes,” Madison says impatiently. “All nature, no nurture. She’s so wonderful.”
“You’re just jealous of how hot she is,” Hayes says, at which they both burst out laughing—Madison so hard she ends up spraying the dash with Vitaminwater.
“No, but seriously, what a little ingrate,” Madison says, wiping the