Snowsisters Read online

  I text Joey quickly, to tell him I don’t know how to make Chris work with us, and he texts back.

  [From Joey to Tess] What’s her problem?

  I don’t have time to text him again, so I shove my phone back in my pocket and go to break.

  Soph is there, but she’s already surrounded by people as we help ourselves to cookies and coffee or tea in the lounge with the big fireplace. Janaye shows Soph something on her phone, and even Orly is kind of stuck to her right shoulder. I stand next to Keisha and ask her about where she lives in Washington, DC. Her mom works for NASA, and her dad teaches at a university there. She tells me she’s a fan of The Witches’ Circle, and suddenly I can breathe again. I tell her about my story, and it turns out she knows it. Before you know it, we’re talking about the show and the fandom and the different stories she reads. For the first time since I got here, I think I might belong. Keisha takes me as seriously as Soph did this morning and she loves my latest story; she keeps telling me how cool it is to meet the author. No one has ever called me an author.

  When we go back into our groups, I think about what Joey texted and I try again with Chris.

  “Is there a problem with Orly? I mean, has she done something that makes you uncomfortable?”

  Chris frowns and shakes her head.

  “You don’t get it. He’s not a girl. I found out by accident because we’re roommates.”

  “Yeah,” says Keisha, “but did he—I mean did she do something to hurt you? She’s been totally nice to me. She lent me some Chapstick last night in the van.”

  Chris turns her attention to Keisha and rolls her eyes. “God, could you people be more naive?” She looks at both of us. Peggy sits silently. “This is an awesome story. This is supposed to be a conference to empower young women writers. So, first of all, it should be women. And second of all, what would y’all’s parents think about you rooming with a guy you don’t even know?”

  She has a point. If what Chris says is true, my dad would be furious if he knew I was rooming with Orly. But, even so, I don’t think that’s what Chris is focused on. I think she wants an article published somewhere. That’s what’s making me uncomfortable. I try to make her focus on the writing we’re supposed to be doing.

  “I think I get that you want to do some real journalism for this conference and we’re all fiction writers, but this is supposed to be a group project. Do you have any ideas for what we could do that could solve everyone’s problem and still have us work together?”

  She blinks at me and says, in that flat drawling voice, “Do your own project. I’ll do mine. No one tells. Everyone’s happy at the end. You put your names on your group project, and I send my work to feminist blogs and online magazines to expose how a supposed ‘women’s writing conference’ actually includes guys who put young women’s safety in jeopardy.” Without saying another word, she gets up and leaves the room.

  So much for working as a group. I’m clearly not able to lead Chris anywhere. I’m confused by her attitude, though. She isn’t saying she wants to switch rooms or tell Professor Forsythe about Orly. In fact, she wants us to keep her secret while she does her investigation. None of that sounds right to me. My dad might not want me rooming with Orly, but he sure as heck wouldn’t be happy with me doing it and spying on her behind her back at the same time. His voice comes back to me: “Make us proud, Tess.” I came to this workshop to learn how to write and to try to figure out how to answer that darn question about leadership. None of this mess is going to help me figure that out. Besides, I’m barely starting to make friends with my own roommate. Maybe I should focus on that for now.

  * * *

  From Soph Alcazar’s Writing Journal,

  February 11, 2018

  It’s good to be with fellow balladeers.

  But she, I sense, is not with musketeers.

  Chapter Seven

  From the Fan Fiction Unbound Archive,

  posted by conTessaofthecastle:

  The next morning dawned cool and cloudy. Astoria was quiet as they packed the remainder of their food and covered the campfire. Daphne tried to coax her into speaking while they walked away from camp, pointing out a red cardinal perched on a branch overhead. But Astoria shook her head silently.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Daphne finally said, picking her way over a fallen branch. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have come with me.”

  Astoria replied sharply, “Perhaps you shouldn’t doubt me.”

  Soph.

  Back in our room, Tess is intent on tapping out a text. While she does that, I google “discrimination in the armed forces” and find some articles. There are alarming statistics about how many women get assaulted. I knew there were problems, but I never really paid attention to it before now. I’m not going to say anything to Tess though, at least not yet.

  When she finishes texting, I pick up the thread of our earlier conversation. “I’m sorry, Tess, about disrespecting the military. I had no idea… Well, I don’t know anyone who’s doing that.” I don’t know what else to say.

  She sits up against the headboard of her bed and crosses her legs. She’s wearing purple fleece socks tonight. “It’s fine.” She looks a little confused and asks, “Do you really not know anyone who’s served in the military? Not your dad or your grandfather or an uncle?”

  I explain that I don’t.

  “Don’t you have any family traditions like with the king or something?”

  “Well, yes, sort of. Not military, though. I’m supposed to make my debut next winter. Both of my parents expect me to do that, but I’m not going to.”

  “What does that mean, ‘make your debut’? It sounds like something in a movie.”

  “It means being presented as a debutante, at a ball, in a white gown, all made up with the hair and nails. I’m not doing it. My mother doesn’t understand why I hate the idea.”

  “Wow!” She seems impressed. “A real ball, like the Disney movies? Did your mom do it?”

  “Oh yes, of course. She did, and so did her mother and every woman on my father’s side. I don’t think it’s like your family’s tradition, Tess. We’re not serving a country or anything.”

  “What’s so bad about it? When I was a kid I used to watch those movies and I always wanted to go to a ball with all the gowns and tiaras and chandeliers. It looked magical.” The dreamy expression on her face irritates me.

  “It totally objectifies women! It’s like being presented as the prize pig of the county fair! And the crowd there, lily-white, über-rich, all social register. It’s totally elitist, very white privilege.” That snaps her out of her daydream. Her eyes focus on me. She picks up her water bottle and takes a sip, as if she’s trying to figure something out.

  “I don’t think it sounds so terrible, Soph. You said earlier that you liked traditions. Your parents must think it’s important. Is it that different from taking your first communion?”

  I don’t know how to explain this to her. If I told her about how it was something my family’s been doing for hundreds of years, let alone that people with titles will be there, she’d think I was crazy not to go. “Well, making your debut is not religious. And you have to be proposed and approved by a committee.”

  “Hmm.” She giggles, a funny noise that at first makes me wonder if she’s making fun of me. But she’s not. “That sounds familiar to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I’ll probably end up enlisting in the army when I finish high school, but I’m applying to West Point first. If I get in there, they’ll give me a free education, and then I’ll serve. They would even let me major in English, so I could become a better writer. But first I have to impress the admissions committee. My interview is in two weeks, and I’m pretty nervous.”

  “West Point is the one near the City, right? It must be hard to get in.”

  “Yes.
The application process is long and pretty complicated. A candidate has to prove a whole bunch of things, like athletic ability and leadership. Plus, you have to be nominated by someone in the government. You need nominations from a congressman or a senator. Or,” she gives me a sad smile, “the vice president or president, if you’re lucky. Less than ten percent of the applicants become cadets. I’m really worried about the interview. My grades are pretty good, and I have some of the things they want for extracurriculars, but they ask all kinds of questions that I don’t have good answers to… I probably won’t get in.” She shrugs as if she doesn’t care, but her face is flushed and she hugs her chest to her knees.

  Tess doesn’t look at all like my idea of a military cadet, but this gives me an idea. “Hey, maybe I could help, Tess. My friend Mibs, her uncle is the vice president. I could text her now, and I bet she would ask him to do it—”

  Tess’s face stops me. Is she mad? I’m trying to be nice.

  “You know the vice president?” she asks.

  “Well, no, not personally,” I say, “but my friend Mibs does, and I’m sure I could get her to ask him to write you a letter.”

  “Soph, I barely know you, let alone your friend or the vice president. Thanks, but I wrote to my congressman and our senators. If one of them comes through for me, that will be the best I can do.”

  The expression on her face is skeptical, so I try again.

  “Tess, I swear, the vice president is her uncle. He’s her mother’s brother. He got them into the White House to meet the president. If the vice president’s recommendation would help you get into West Point, why shouldn’t I ask her to call him for you? I can text her right now.” I pick up my phone and wait.

  She looks at me like I’m an idiot, and I fume. But then she sighs and straightens her legs, flexes her feet, and points her toes. I’m not sure why, but I can’t stop watching her purple feet, flexing and pointing.

  “Soph, it’s the military. If they let me into West Point and I actually manage to graduate, I’ll have a commission in the Army as a second lieutenant.”

  I start to say I get it, but she interrupts me. Her expression is intense.

  “That question I have to answer? For the admissions panel in a couple of weeks? That question is about leadership.” She leans over the side of the bed and rifles through her knapsack until she finds a crumpled piece of paper, which she reads. “Describe a recent incident where you took the lead.” She peers over the paper as if she just explained something very important. I don’t know what it is. She sighs, props her back against her headboard, pulls her knees up under her chin, and hugs them.

  “If a war broke out, Soph, I would need to be a leader of my troops. They would depend on me to make the right calls. And if I didn’t make the right calls, those troops would obey me anyway. I have to know what I’m doing, and the Army has to know that I’m the right candidate for that kind of responsibility. The reason it’s so hard to get into West Point is because they are making sure they pick the right people to lead. It’s not about knowing the right politician. It’s not about being able to fake who you are. It means something to hold a command. If the wrong person holds it, soldiers die.”

  Tess.

  Even though both Soph and I seem to be trying, we don’t seem any closer to figuring each other out. I’m not sure why that’s bothering me so much, but it is. I still haven’t mentioned Chris to her. I go down to dinner a little early, leaving Soph texting someone on her phone. I want to ask one of the instructors if there is a computer I can use this week. Orly is in the lounge reading a book, and I’m about to go say hi when Chris comes up behind her and asks her questions, which seems weird, because they room together. I don’t understand why Orly is reading down here or why Chris followed her.

  Chris asks, “What was it like growing up outside Atlanta, Orly?”

  Without knowing why, I step back into the hall so they can’t see me. I should not be eavesdropping, I know that. But I can’t seem to turn away.

  Orly is noncommittal. “Probably a lot like it was growing up in Dallas, Chris.” She’s clearly uncomfortable.

  Chris is not letting up. “Are you from a suburb or a small town?”

  Orly fidgets in her chair, but she answers, “A small town.”

  Then I figure out exactly what Chris is doing. She’s conducting an interview, for her secret investigation. But Orly doesn’t know what’s going on. I’m about to go back in and interrupt when Professor Forsythe sweeps in from the hallway behind me and calls out to Orly. I cringe, hoping Professor Forsythe doesn’t realize what I was doing. I make a mental note to try to avoid Professor Forsythe.

  “Chris, excuse us, I need to steal Orly away for a bit. We’re working on a revision before supper.”

  Orly grabs her laptop and closes her book. She and Professor Forsythe walk down the hall to one of the empty conference rooms.

  Chris eyes me sharply as I come tentatively into the lounge. “What was that?” she asks me. “Now they’re giving him private writing instruction?”

  I want to tell her to stop this, now. Instead I shrug and turn away without answering.

  The other girls file in for dinner. I turn to say hi to Gabriela and Yin, as Soph comes down the stairs with Clover. She’s practically bouncing on her feet as they laugh together. Janaye taps her shoulder at the bottom of the stairs to share something on her phone.

  A few minutes later they open the dining room, and Professor Forsythe and Orly come back down the hallway talking to each other. Chris types something into her phone before sitting down.

  I miss Joey.

  * * *

  From Soph Alcazar’s Writing Journal,

  February 11, 2018

  Again, I try to get where she comes from.

  But when I can help, she tells me I’m dumb.

  Chapter Eight

  From the Fan Fiction Unbound Archive,

  posted by conTessaofthecastle:

  After walking quietly for a couple of hours, Astoria stopped to adjust her shoe. While Daphne waited for her, Astoria said, “Daphne, you have to stop believing you forced me to leave the Coven. If you don’t understand why I needed to come with you and take this risk, you won’t ever believe that we will succeed.”

  Daphne thought about protesting, about explaining why she felt responsible, but Astoria’s fierce expression made her stop.

  “All right,” Daphne said after a pause, “but I need you to be honest with me. If you ever want to turn back, you must let me know.”

  “Trust me to speak my own mind.” Astoria moved past her on the narrow path.

  Soph.

  We have free time after dinner. Professor Forsythe suggested we use it for “independent study and socializing,” so I go to the lounge and sit on a couch. I’ll try to find out more about Yin and how she got to know “Helen” Forsythe. Janaye sits next to me with her laptop.

  “Seriously, that dinner?”

  I know what she means. Chris and Orly served us chili tonight, but it wasn’t very good. I don’t know where they ordered it, but the delivery menu should be burned. “Yeah, not like El Original, right?”

  “Don’t know it, Soph. Is that one of your Uppah East Side things?”

  “No,” I protest, even though I know she’s kidding. “It’s Tenth and Forty-Eighth! They have awesome nachos, too.”

  Gabriela walks in. She must have overheard us. “They tried. Maybe the ingredients were bad—or the recipe.”

  Janaye shrugs.

  I smile and try to pretend I knew they cooked it themselves. “I ate the cornbread. It was so sweet it was like a cupcake!”

  Yin sits down on the other side of the lounge. While I try to figure out how to draw her into our conversation, Gabriela saves me by calling to her, “What’s up, Yin? We’re rudely complaining about dinner.”

  Yin mak
es a face. “I’m still hungry.”

  “Does anyone feel like going out?” I ask.

  “You mean out to walk in the snow?” I guess there aren’t many restaurants where Gabriela lives in Connecticut.

  “No, I was thinking just go out somewhere and get something to eat. You know, there must be someplace.”

  Janaye is in. “Sounds cool to me. I’ve been sitting all day.”

  “No thanks. I’m beat. I don’t think there’s any place to go anyway.” Gabriela’s out.

  I try Yin. “Do you want to join us?”

  “Where is there around here?”

  “I don’t know. I can ask my roommate. She’s from around here. Let’s go!”

  We leave Gabriela and traipse up the stairs. Tess looks up when we walk in. “Tess, we want to go out. Do you know any place around here?”

  “Joey and I drove past a pizza place on the way in. It wasn’t far. But I don’t think we’re supposed to leave the lodge without talking to Professor Forsythe.”

  Janaye isn’t having any of that. “We won’t tell them. If we go around the lounge to the front door, no one will notice.”

  “Pizza sounds really good right now,” Yin says.

  Tess looks around at all of us.

  I’m impatient. “Tess, c’mon. We need you to show us where it is.”

  She hesitates, then gets up. “Oh all, right. They never actually said we couldn’t go out.”

  “Should we invite anyone else?”

  “How about Orly?” I don’t wait for an answer. I stride across the hall and knock on Orly’s door. She laughs when I tell her the plan.

  “I know that dinner wasn’t great, but you want me to go out? In this cold? No, thank you!”

  “Orly, it will be fun. A bunch of us are going. You can borrow one of my scarves.” She glances at the group coming out of our room and relents with a nod. We agree to meet at the front door.