The Weird Sisters
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when she discovered how to sneak out of the house on Friday and Saturday nights and follow the sounds of hysteria and beer, she had learned to flirt through the haze of smoke and noise, how to kiss without making any promises, and how to reel a man across the room with only a look.
when I am waiting in line, at the gym, on the train, eating lunch, I am not complaining about the wait/staring into space/admiring myself in available reflective surfaces? I am _reading_!
she’s with Lyssie (short for Lysistrata – whenever we complain about our unfashionable names, we remember that we could have been the daughters of a classics professor)
Cordy was sorely underprepared for the fact that her smile and her ability to get an entire room full of Shakespearean scholars to do the Macarena (true story) would not necessarily guarantee her perennial success.
This is our mother. The four horsemen of the Apocalypse could be bearing down hard and fast upon us, and she would want to make sure our father had eaten. So he wouldn’t, you know, get hungry in the afterlife or something.
She read her way through Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, and looked for clues everywhere she went, noting them down in her _Harriet the Spy_ notebook, though she found their unwillingness to add up to anything a perennial disappointment.
she knew it was crazy and stupid, and completely unlike her, and conceivably that is why she agreed to go along with it.
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