troubles. As far as my mother was concerned, I was the
perfect child – stress-free, self-sufficient. “Nothing I can't
handle,” I said. My mother had a busy weekend; this wasn't
the time to bother her.
My mother beamed with pride. “That's my girl,” she
said, patting me on the shoulder. “You make any friends
today?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “There was this one girl in my
wrestling class...”
“Wrestling class?” My mother looked surprised.
“Yeah – it was the only class left with free spots. But
her name's Alice. She seemed nice. She lent me some spare
gym clothes.” I neglected to mention that the clothes gave
me the bust and rear end of a 1950's pinup girl.
“That seems nice of her,” said my mother vaguely. I
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knew the expression on her face. She was mentally
crunching numbers for the weekend parties. I was tempted
to ask her about the Cutter Scholarship, but I decided against
it. From the look on my mother's face, now was not the time
to have a serious conversation.
We arrived at the hotel and my mother took up
residence in her office, clearing away part of her desk for me
to use. This is what we'd always done, she and I – I'd done
my homework in some of the finest luxury hotels in the
world. We ordered from the restaurant, my mother eagerly
flashing her employee card, and set to work.
No sooner had I gotten through the first chapter of
Aeros history (“Pre-European Peoples in Aeros –
Settlements and Structures.”) than I was interrupted by a
knock on the door.
“Come in,” my mother said, not looking up from her
piles of work.
Antonio opened the door, and my mother leaped to
her feet.
“Don't get up!” he said. “Relax!” His eyes fell on me.
“Mackenzy! Just the person I wanted to see...” He laughed a
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little. “Well, actually, I came to see your mother – but seeing
you makes me think you might be a better bet.”
“What is it?” my mother took off her glasses.
“One of the servers for tonight's Bamford birthday
just called in sick – and the rest of the staff is working on the
Memberton Wedding on the other side of the complex.”
“The Bamford birthday? But that was supposed to go
off without a hitch – I confirmed their shifts this morning!”
“Last-minute allergy,” Antonio sighed. “I don't
normally handle the servers myself, but I ran into the girl
throwing up in the corner of the pool house and she told me
herself. Apparently she didn't realize the Polynesian rice dish
we served for lunch contained peanuts...”
“Oh, dear...” my mother said. “Do you want me to
telephone the reserve list? I'm sure someone could fill in...”
“Actually, I was wondering if Mackenzy might be up
to the job,” said Antonio. “You'd be paid, of course,” he
added quickly. “Server rates. And it might be a chance for
you to meet some of the younger staffers here at the hotel –
make some friends.”
I thought of Varun and my heart leaped. I was eager
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to see him again, I realized, even if he hadn't filled me with
the same frustration that Chance had done.
“Sure,” I said. “What time's the party?”
“It's at six,” he said. “Nothing too onerous – just
make sure none of the twelve-year-olds run off into the
woods, call the caterer if pizza's running low, dodge the food
fights, don' t burn yourself on the birthday candles. That sort
of thing. Do you think that you can manage?”
I thought once more of Chance.
“Do I have time to go back home to change?” I asked
my mother. This time, if I ran into either Chance or Varun, I
wouldn't be caught wearing undersized booty shorts.
I might even wear makeup.
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Chapter 7
I sprang across the lawn separating our cottage from
the main hotel. I had torn upstairs, ransacked my closet for
clothes, and done an emergency tweeze of my eyebrows. All
actions that I'd never normally bother taking – but somehow
tonight was different. If I ran into Chance again, I wanted
him to know exactly what kind of mistake he was making by
ignoring me. And if it took a little bit more mascara and a
slightly tighter dress to do that, then I was willing to put in
the effort. I caught a look at myself in the mirror and
frowned. My painted face, my two-sizes-too-small dress I
wore to the freshman dance – it didn't look like me. Some
other girl – more polished, but somehow less original –
stared back at me: a face that could have been any one of the
meticulously clad girls in Haven's retinue. I sighed – clearly
the over-the-top look just didn't work for me. I rolled my
eyes and returned to the bathroom sink, scrubbing off the
makeup and squeezing my way out of the old dress,
changing into a light blue-and-gold summer dress with a
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slightly vintage-looking skirt: one of my favorites. It may
not have had the oomph power of the other dress,
