threshold of acceptance. Back at the scene of the crime, I was facing the door to my future. I was no longer Jess Parker, persona non grata. I was Jess Parker, newly initiated Sister of the Society. The world was my oyster.
I slowed, feeling the tiniest bit overwhelmed and uncertain. And yes, a little melodramatic.
Sarah Jane glanced over at me. “Are you ready for this?”
“Only one way to find out.” I took a deep breath, pushed through the doors, and boldly stepped into my fabulous new life.
As rites of passage go, it was pretty anticlimactic. No one showered me with confetti or asked for my autograph. Noone knew there was anything different about me at all, save the fact that I’d shown up with Sarah Jane Peterson, resident it girl. The rest was status quo.
Which, on the one hand, was kind of a letdown. Would a little celebration have killed anyone?
“When do we get started?” I asked Sarah Jane as we waited in line. The nerves and anticipation combined to make me sound more like a six-year-old at Christmas than a sixteen-year-old Cinderella, but I couldn’t help it. Ever since Sarah Jane had given me the scoop on our Society and its ultimate life makeovers, visions of fairy godmothers had filled my head.
As far as I was concerned, we could skip lunch and hit the mall on empty stomachs. A new wardrobe was first on my makeover agenda, with shimmery amber highlights a close second.
“Let’s get our drinks first,” Sarah Jane murmured, turning toward the counter. “Hi, Audrey. I’ll have a tall mocha latte.”
“Hey, SJ. Coming right up.”
Audrey London moved with the kind of grace you’d imagine from a top model, though you’d expect to see it on a catwalk instead of behind the counter of an upscale café that was giving Starbucks a run for its money.
I started to ask, “Do you guys hang out here a lot?” but closed my mouth. Because, hello? Audrey London had called Sarah Jane by name .
I know! A two-time Sports Illustrated cover model who reportedly dated Matthew McConaughey (Sarah Jane says that’s just a rumor) and now owns a chain of super trendy coffee shops chatted with Sarah Jane like they were old friends.
The Grind in Mt. Sterling was Audrey’s first café and,since she’d become a franchising phenom, her headquarters. I’d read an article where she’d talked about her best friend being some big professor at Montgomery University. That was less than twenty minutes from The Grind. But still, settling in a small town like Mt. Sterling instead of kicking it in New York or Milan or her native Sydney?
Naturally, I thought that was mental. But then, I’d never had a best friend, so what did I know?
Audrey liked to stay visible, so it wasn’t unusual to see her behind the counter talking to customers. Which was part of what made The Grind the see-and-be-seen place for the entire MSH student body.
But when she asked about Sarah Jane’s boyfriend by name and how she did on her French final, my celeb-o-meter went on overload. I suffer from one of the worst cases of celebrity fright. I’m as much of a watcher as the next girl, but to actually be in the presence of one? Totally different story.
I got tongue-tied when it was my turn. After stuttering out my order, I played mute and listened to Sarah Jane finish her story as a counter guy handed Sarah Jane’s latte to Audrey. Aside from making the best pumpkin muffin tops in the world—according to Seventeen magazine—one of The Grind’s claims to fame was the picture they sprinkled on the tops of their to-die-for drinks. They held a cool shaker thing over the cup, gave it a quick tap, and you had a perfect image on the top of your designer coffee. I’d gotten everything from a butterfly to a megaphone to a heart on mine.
Audrey picked up a purple shaker I hadn’t noticed before and gave Sarah Jane’s coffee a topper. My extra-tall caramel latte came up next, and Audrey picked up the bright pink shaker I recognized as the
I slowed, feeling the tiniest bit overwhelmed and uncertain. And yes, a little melodramatic.
Sarah Jane glanced over at me. “Are you ready for this?”
“Only one way to find out.” I took a deep breath, pushed through the doors, and boldly stepped into my fabulous new life.
As rites of passage go, it was pretty anticlimactic. No one showered me with confetti or asked for my autograph. Noone knew there was anything different about me at all, save the fact that I’d shown up with Sarah Jane Peterson, resident it girl. The rest was status quo.
Which, on the one hand, was kind of a letdown. Would a little celebration have killed anyone?
“When do we get started?” I asked Sarah Jane as we waited in line. The nerves and anticipation combined to make me sound more like a six-year-old at Christmas than a sixteen-year-old Cinderella, but I couldn’t help it. Ever since Sarah Jane had given me the scoop on our Society and its ultimate life makeovers, visions of fairy godmothers had filled my head.
As far as I was concerned, we could skip lunch and hit the mall on empty stomachs. A new wardrobe was first on my makeover agenda, with shimmery amber highlights a close second.
“Let’s get our drinks first,” Sarah Jane murmured, turning toward the counter. “Hi, Audrey. I’ll have a tall mocha latte.”
“Hey, SJ. Coming right up.”
Audrey London moved with the kind of grace you’d imagine from a top model, though you’d expect to see it on a catwalk instead of behind the counter of an upscale café that was giving Starbucks a run for its money.
I started to ask, “Do you guys hang out here a lot?” but closed my mouth. Because, hello? Audrey London had called Sarah Jane by name .
I know! A two-time Sports Illustrated cover model who reportedly dated Matthew McConaughey (Sarah Jane says that’s just a rumor) and now owns a chain of super trendy coffee shops chatted with Sarah Jane like they were old friends.
The Grind in Mt. Sterling was Audrey’s first café and,since she’d become a franchising phenom, her headquarters. I’d read an article where she’d talked about her best friend being some big professor at Montgomery University. That was less than twenty minutes from The Grind. But still, settling in a small town like Mt. Sterling instead of kicking it in New York or Milan or her native Sydney?
Naturally, I thought that was mental. But then, I’d never had a best friend, so what did I know?
Audrey liked to stay visible, so it wasn’t unusual to see her behind the counter talking to customers. Which was part of what made The Grind the see-and-be-seen place for the entire MSH student body.
But when she asked about Sarah Jane’s boyfriend by name and how she did on her French final, my celeb-o-meter went on overload. I suffer from one of the worst cases of celebrity fright. I’m as much of a watcher as the next girl, but to actually be in the presence of one? Totally different story.
I got tongue-tied when it was my turn. After stuttering out my order, I played mute and listened to Sarah Jane finish her story as a counter guy handed Sarah Jane’s latte to Audrey. Aside from making the best pumpkin muffin tops in the world—according to Seventeen magazine—one of The Grind’s claims to fame was the picture they sprinkled on the tops of their to-die-for drinks. They held a cool shaker thing over the cup, gave it a quick tap, and you had a perfect image on the top of your designer coffee. I’d gotten everything from a butterfly to a megaphone to a heart on mine.
Audrey picked up a purple shaker I hadn’t noticed before and gave Sarah Jane’s coffee a topper. My extra-tall caramel latte came up next, and Audrey picked up the bright pink shaker I recognized as the
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