Page 39 of The Academy
Charley is supposed to be writing the “In” and “Out” columns for the fall of 2025. Charley has, ironically, put “in and out lists” in the “Out” column. Below that, she has written, “Family Weekend.”
Ravenna reads over Charley’s shoulder and barks out a laugh. “Funny!” she says—and for a second, Charley feels seen. “But you can’t put Family Weekend in the ‘Out’ column. Parents are boomers, and boomers are sensitive.”
“Millennials are sensitive,” Charley says. “They’re the ones who got all the trophies. My mother is Gen X. She doesn’t have feelings.”
“My mother is Gen X too,” Levi says. “She was a latchkey kid who ate Stouffer’s French bread pizza and watched reruns ofThe Brady Bunchafter school.”
“That sounds tragically suburban,” Ravenna says. She turns back to Charley. “Put some things in the ‘In’ column.”
“Like what?” Charley says. “Stanley cups? Ten-year-olds shopping at Sephora?”
“Why did I put you in charge of this list?” Ravenna says. “You don’t have the first fucking idea what’s in. I’ll have to do it.”
Charley doesn’t take offense; Ravenna is right. Though Charley takes a certain satisfaction in knowing what will be in next semester if East is to be believed—Saturday nights at Priorities.
The night before Family Weekend, Cordelia Spooner and Honey Vandermeid are eating dinner at Moon Palace, a kitschy Chinese restaurant they frequent in Capulet Falls, which is one town over from Haydensboro. Honey feels Haydensboro is too close to campus, someone might see them, and for Honey, privacy is very important.Tooimportant, in Cordelia’s opinion. Who cares if someone sees them? But Cordelia likes Moon Palace; the hostess, Pammy, always gives them the same red leather booth and without asking knows to bring them a chardonnay (Cordelia) and a Manhattan (Honey) and a dish of the crunchy wonton snacks, which Cordelia will devour and Honey won’t touch.
This dinner is meant to be a chance to connect before they’re pulled in two different directions this weekend. Cordelia will serve as Audre’sconsigliere,and Honey… well, poor Honey will be dive-bombed by every sixth-form parent in attendance. Honey’s especially dreading her interactions with Annabelle Tuckerman’s parents—both Princeton alums—who will grill Honey on Annabelle’s “chances.” Honey will think but not say,It depends how much you’ve been donating the past eighteen years.There’s nothing worse for Honey than a student who has her heart set on one school. Annabelle has no interest in attending her targets or likelies; she wants only Princeton. And Princeton is a reach.
Cordelia and Honey raise their glasses. “To surviving,” Cordelia says. “It’s only two days.”
“Easy for you to say.” Honey takes a sip of her cocktail, then pretends to study the menu, though they always order the same things: the egg rolls to share, the Singapore chow mei fun for Cordelia, and the shrimp with lobster sauce for Honey.
Cordelia reaches across the table for Honey’s hand, but Honey pulls away as Pammy approaches to take their order. Cordelia tries not to take offense, though she feels the chasm between herself and Honey growing greater and chillier with each passing day. Honey hasn’t come to Cordelia’s cottage even once—she’s too busy with sixth-form application deadlines, hunting down teacher recs, analyzing their test scores, editing their essays, prioritizing their extracurriculars, and managing their expectations, not to mention all the responsibilities that come with being a dorm parent for two-thirds of Classic South. Cordelia and Honey haven’t been together in weeks, since they sneaked down to God’s Basement under the guise of checking for students who were “making a public space private,” and where they then proceeded to do that themselves, furtively getting each other off on an old recliner that groaned under their weight.
When their egg rolls are delivered, Cordelia dips one into the apricot-hued duck sauce and then takes a bite, even though it’s so hot she burns her tongue. She tends to eat too quickly when she’s nervous, and she’s very nervous now. She wants this dinner to go smoothly; she wants to get their glow back.
“How is Simone adjusting?” Cordelia asks. She tries to keep her tone light, though Simone’s mere existence is a pebble in Cordelia’s Skechers. Sultry, nubile Simone, whose sexual orientation has yet to be determined, sleeps in a room directly below Honey’s three floors down. There are limitless chances for a rendezvous, something Cordelia obsesses about as she shivers alone in her bed halfway across campus.
“The girls love her,” Honey says. “Because why wouldn’t they? She’s fun, she’s beautiful…”
“She’s their age,” Cordelia supplies.
“They look up to her the way we used to look up to our babysitters,” Honey says. “They’re positively obsessed with her love life. They’re all convinced Rhode Rivera wants to fuck her.”
Before Cordelia can stop herself—she had a glass of chardonnay (two) before she came out tonight, so she’s feeling both uninhibited and combative—she says, “Doyouwant to fuck her?” Her cheeks immediately burn with embarrassment. Revealing her jealousy only gives Simone—and Honey—power.
Honey laughs. “Everyone wants to fuck Simone,” she says.
When their meals arrive, steaming and fragrant, there’s a flurry of activity—unsheathing chopsticks, passing the sticky bottle of soy sauce between them—and although Cordelia wants to stop talking about work, she can’t help but say, “Jesse Eastman isn’t coming to Family Weekend.”
Honey blows on a shrimp. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Not kidding. He has business in Tokyo. Audre is relieved and so am I.”
Honey frowns. “Sometimes I don’t understand you, Cord.”
“What? The guy is a megalomaniac.”
“He’s afather,” Honey says. “How do you think East feels about him not showing up?”
Cordelia admits she hasn’t considered East. She didn’t think she needed to consider East—he’s the most independent, self-sufficient student at Tiffin. He’s nineteen, an adult.
“There are other parents who won’t come,” Cordelia says, though she knows that historically over 90 percent of students have at least one family member in attendance. Davi Banerjee’s parents fly in all the way from London.
“The parents have already shipped their kids off for someone elseto raise,” Honey says. “The least they can do is clear their schedules one weekend a year. Taylor Swift had ‘business’ in Tokyo, she was on tour, and she made it to Vegas to watch her boyfriend play in the Super Bowl.”
“Jesse Eastman is no Taylor Swift,” Cordelia says. She makes a clumsy attempt to snatch up noodles with her chopsticks, then gives up in frustration—she only uses them to impress Honey—and spears a sliver of pork with her fork. They have arrived at the launchpad of their favorite argument: Why do parents send their children to Tiffin? Cordelia believes that the parents see it as a sacrifice made in service of their child’s education. Kids who attend boarding school not only face greater academic rigor than their public school counterparts, the course offerings are wider and deeper. Cordelia hears from former students all the time and, to a person, they tell her that Tiffin was more challenging than college. Another advantage is that the students learn how to converse with adults. The relationships between students and teachers are more intimate than at public schools, thanks to the small class size (an 11:1 ratio, as Cordelia tells parents in the information sessions, with some classes as small as eight students).No one falls into the cracks at Tiffin,Cordelia had been fond of saying—though she hasn’t used that line this year because of what happened with Cinnamon Peters. Boarding school also teaches kids how to live away from home; it fosters independence and self-reliance. Cordelia wholeheartedly believes that sending a child to boarding school is an act of selfless love; the parents have only their child in mind.
