Never Sit Down in a Hoopskirt and Other Things I Learned in Southern Belle Hell by Crickett Rumley Page B

again. “So who is yours going to be?”
    â€œI don’t know. I just moved back here.”
    â€œAnd you, Zara?”
    Zara shrugged. “I just moved here, too.”
    Ashley arched an eyebrow at Mallory. Mallory arched one back. “Total disaster,” Ashley said.
    Brandi Lyn smiled. “Oh, I’m sure it will be fine. Zara and Jane are so lovely. They’ll find cute boys soon enough. Anyway, JoeJoe’s gonna die when I ask him to be my dandy.”
    â€œIs that the guy who leapt off the balcony for you at the civic center?” I asked.
    â€œIsn’t that the most romantic thing in the world?” Brandi Lyn cooed. “He just adores the whole Civil War thing.” She turned to Ashley. “Do you think he can wear his Confederate uniform to events?”
    Ashley rolled her eyes. “No, Brandi Lyn. It’s either morning suits or casual wear, depending on the occasion.”
    â€œAnd you, Ashley?” Engaging others in conversation, that’s sweet. Look how sweet I’m being, I thought. “Who is your dandy?”
    Ashley straightened up proudly. “My boyfriend, James Hardison the third.”
    â€œOoh. A third. How exciting!” Did I deserve an award or what?
    â€œOur fathers are partners in Hardison and LaFleur.”
    â€œWhat a match made in heaven.”
    â€œIsn’t it? And I feel so sorry for y’all,” said Ashley. “Not having a steady boyfriend you can depend on to be your dandy. Or even knowing any of our Bienville boys.”
    â€œThanks, Ashley,” I replied. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Hey, Mallory, who’s your dreamboat?”
    Mallory blushed. “I haven’t decided yet.”
    Ashley got a conniving look on her face. “Mallory has more of a free-form attitude toward boyfriends.”
    Mallory blushed even more. “Ashley! That makes me sound like a… slut .”
    â€œIf the shoe fits.”
    â€œY’all don’t listen to her! I can’t help it. I like boys. I just have a hard time making a decision.”
    â€œYou mean you haven’t met a boy you didn’t like yet.”
    â€œThat’s okay, Mallory,” I said. “What’s wrong with being a slut?” Okay, I was trying to be sweet…. That one just didn’t come out right. Thank God Mizz Upton and Walter Murray Hill chose that moment to come in from the kitchen.
    â€œAll right, y’all!” Mizz Upton called, a big smile on her face, her omnipresent blown-out bob bobbing every time she nodded. She motioned a maid—not the Magnolia kind—to set a heavily loaded tray onto the coffee table. “We have sweet tea, cream cheese and olive sandwiches, and lemon squares! Help yourselves. But not too much! You don’t want to be bloated for your first dress measurements.”
    Walter Murray Hill chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure we won’t have any bloating. This is the best-looking group of girls in town.”
    Mizz Upton dismissed the non-Magnolia maid and glanced around the room, finding something amiss. “Caroline! We’re starting, Caroline!”
    Moments later, Caroline trudged down the stairs from the second floor, book in hand. “Excuse me, Mother, but do I really need to attend? I already know all this stuff from the other years.”
    â€œWell, you need to bond with your sister Maids, don’t you, honey?”
    â€œI’m the alternate, Mother. I’m not that important.”
    Mizz Upton looked like her patience was being sorely tested. “Something might come up where you will be called upon to serve the Court and if that ever happens you need to be prepared to serve well, sweetie. So do sit down. Please.” The last few words probably would sound polite on paper, but trust me, said out loud, they were nails hammered into a coffin.
    I felt so bad for her, I said, “Yeah, come join us. Have a lemon