Great by Sara Benincasa

about things like that,” she said, shaking her head and delicately spearing a berry with a fork. “I don’t understand why you can’t just give me an honest answer. I know you think your father just hangs the moon, and you two have always been buddy-buddy, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand for you giving me nonstop attitude for yet another summer.”
    â€œOh my God, this strawberry butter is so good,” I interjected suddenly. “Did you use that wild strain you found at that farm last year?”
    â€œYes,” she said, her expression lightening. Nothing brightens my mother’s mood like flattery. It’s like lighting a candle flame in front of a moth: instant distraction.
    Her cell rang, and she checked the incoming number and snatched it up.
    â€œHello, Merilee,” she sang sweetly. “How are you this morning? I’m . . . oh, Delilah . Hello, darling. You’d like to talk to Naomi?” Her eyes lit up with glee, and she snapped her fingers in front of my face, actually bouncing up and down a little with excitement. “Of course, dear, here she is.” She handed me the phone, mouthing unnecessarily, It’s Delilah! For you!
    While it’s true that this phone call from Delilah was an unprecedented development, my mother’s freak-out hardly seemed necessary. She stared at me expectantly, a dopey grin stretched across her face. I could tell she was going to hang on every word of this conversation.
    â€œHey, Delilah,” I said, turning away from my mother, the hyperactive puppy. “What’s up?”
    â€œSorry,” she said. “I didn’t have your number, so I just thought I’d call your mom. Teddy and Jeff and I want to go to the club to play tennis, and Jeff needs a partner. Want to come?”
    I am not athletic in the least, and while the prospect of seeing Jeff was kind of tantalizing (even though I wasn’t quite convinced he was the nicest guy), the surrounding circumstances would undoubtedly prove annoying and embarrassing. These kids came out of their mothers’ wombs wielding tennis rackets, and I’d only played once, when Skags decided we needed to get more physical activity (actually, she had noticed a hot girl at the public courts in our neighborhood and wanted an excuse to run into her).
    And besides, I’d planned to spend the day studying my SAT book and doing a practice test, which takes a few hours. I know that sounds incredibly lame, but (and this sounds even lamer) I’ve wanted to go to Harvard since I was a little kid and saw Legally Blonde , which is the sort of guilty-pleasure movie you wouldn’t think a nerd like me would like, except that it is perfect, and makes me wish the Beasts at our school were anywhere near as kind and awesome as Elle Woods. The unfortunate reality is that beautiful blond popular girls usually are superficial bitches, and not good-hearted humanitarians like Elle.
    â€œThanks for asking, Delilah,” I said, “but I promised myself I’d study my SAT book today.” I could actually hear my mother go into a conniption behind me. She hurried around the side of the table to face me and glare.
    â€œI know that sounds completely dorky,” I added hastily, averting my eyes from my mother’s gaze, “but I’m trying to get into Harvard early action, so I have to take the SAT at the end of the summer.”
    What are you DOING? my mother mouthed. I turned away from her, toward the backyard, and she let out an audible groan.
    â€œIs everything okay over there?” Delilah asked, sounding concerned.
    â€œOh, that’s my mother,” I said. “Her cake just collapsed in the oven, and she’s mourning the loss.”
    â€œMy cakes never collapse,” Mom hissed at me, plopping down in her chair and folding her arms in a huff.
    â€œWell, I totally understand about the SAT thing,” Delilah said.