Page 49 of The Academy
STARTERS
Colossal shrimp cocktail with three sauces
SALAD
Spinach salad with cherry tomatoes, warm bacon dressing or buttermilk ranch
ENTRÉES
Grilled rib eyes or cauliflower steaks, béarnaise or green peppercorn sauce
SIDES
Jacket potatoes, thick-cut onion rings, roasted asparagus, sautéed brussels sprouts
DESSERTS
Coconut cream pie, seven-layer chocolate cake
Fran Hicks, Mother of Charley
When Fran tells Joey that Charley is drawing a line in the sand—she won’t see Fran unless Joey leaves—Joey handles it with unexpected maturity. He says he’ll go back to the hotel (a Hampton Inn fifteen minutes south) and hit a Mickey D’s on the way, and then when Fran is ready, he’ll come back and pick her up.
Fran kisses him, grabbing the back of his newly shorn head. This haircut makes him look ten times as handsome, and apparently the female population of Tiffin agrees with her. Within seconds of entering the tent, Fran and Joey were surrounded by pretty young faces attached to nubile bodies clad in cropped sweaters and tight skirts. Were these friends of Charley’s? It didn’t seem so; one girl said she knew Charley from “around the dorm,” and another said “she reads a lot.” The girls, Fran realized, were hanging in their orbit because of Joey; one willowy blond girl asked if Joey was Fran’s son. Instead of slapping her, Fran offered a tight smile and said, “Husband, actually.”
“Thank you,” Fran says to Joey now, “for understanding.” She doesn’t remind him that this is why she begged him to stay in Baltimore.
“It’s chill.” His good mood is due, she’s certain, to his newfound popularity.
At the steak dinner, Fran and Charley sit alone at the end of one of the long tables. The family next to them has a third-form son whom Charley doesn’t know and also two daughters aged eight and ten, who are seated next to Fran and Charley. It’s a bit awkward—they’re isolated but not alone, so Fran doesn’t have a chance to find out how Charley is really doing. She asks about Charley’s participation in the school newspaper and Charley says, “I don’t participate. The editor is a direct descendant of Mussolini.”
Fran laughs. “Will I be able to read—”
“Absolutely not,” Charley says, and before Fran can react to having her head bitten off, a gentleman approaches the table, hand outstretched.
“You must be Charley’s mother,” he says. “I’m Rhode Rivera, Charley’s English teacher.” Mr. Rivera then goes on and on about how, when he accepted this job—he was a Tiffin alum himself, Class of 2003—he dreamed of having students like Charley, kids who are eager to engage with the material, kids with natural curiosity, kids who are motivated enough to do the extra reading. Charley is a superstar, he says.
Fran’s happy to hear this. She wasn’t sure Charley would continue to stand out once she got to Tiffin. Fran’s main argument for Charley staying home was big fish–small pond (appropriate for Fran, who knew a thing or two about ponds, haha). Charley is now a big fish in a more elite pond.
Mr. Rivera turns his attention to Charley, who is intent on scraping the inside of her baked potato skin clean. “Have you seen East?” he asks.
Charley’s head snaps up. “East? No.”
Mr. Rivera gazes over the rows of tables where, Fran notices, people are much more convivial; by comparison, she and Charley look like they’re awaiting dental surgery. “What about Miss Bergeron? Neither of them were at the reception.”
“I didn’t notice,” Charley says.
“Oh,there’sSimone,” Mr. Rivera says. He turns to Fran. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Excused,” Fran says. “It was a pleasure…” But Mr. Rivera is on the move.
An instant later, he’s replaced by the same blond girl who asked the obnoxious question about Joey.
“Where’s your stepdaddy?” she asks Charley. “Did he leave?”
“He did,” Charley says. “You’re free to go back to scheming Royce.”
“Awesome,” the girl says. “And you can scheme your fifth-form repeat. Hmmm, wonder who that could be?”
