Size 12 and Ready to Rock
me at the last lunch we had together that she’s pretty sure Tadd is going to propose (because she informed him that at their age, if there isn’t forward momentum in a relationship after three months, it only makes sense to break up), but she’s on the fence about accepting.
    “On the one hand,” she said over the healthy tuna salad wrap she purchased from the Pansy Café, “I’m not getting any younger, and since I definitely want kids, I might as well have them with Tadd. You know they’ll be smart because his IQ is through the roof, and we’ll save a lot on child care, since professors only work about three hours a week, so Tadd can stay home with them.”
    I’d been forced to admit this was true.
    “On the other hand,” Muffy said, “I’d always hoped to marry a rich man so I could be the one to raise the kids. I’m not sure what the girls back home will think when they hear I’m still working.”
    “Who cares what anyone else thinks?” I asked with a shrug over my not-so-healthy Pansy Café burger and fries. “It’s your life, not theirs. You love your job, don’t you?”
    “Yes,” Muffy said firmly.
    “Good,” I said. “Just make sure you love Tadd too before you say yes when he asks you to marry him, or I don’t think your plan has a very good chance at working out.”
    Now Muffy is looking at me with her perfectly made-up eyes glittering, bursting with eagerness to tell me whatever fabulous news it is she has to impart.
    “Heather,” she says, “I know how sad you were that your residence hall was closed for the summer, and ya’ll were left with nothing to do but twiddle your thumbs. Now you can stop twiddling, because Fischer Hall’s being officially reopened this weekend to host the first ever Tania Trace Rock Camp! ”
    I glance quickly from Muffy to Dr. Jessup to Stephanie, then to Sarah, then back again.
    “Wait,” I say intelligently. “What?”
    “Yes,” Sarah says unsmilingly. “Fifty fourteen-year-old girls here in the city for two weeks, living their dream of getting mentored by none other than Tania Trace. Isn’t it great? ”
    “They’re fourteen to sixteen years old, actually,” Stephanie says. She’s sunk down into a chair covered with blue vinyl—I watched Carl reupholster it myself, after mice ate through the original orange upholstery—and opened her tote. She pulls a brochure from it and hands it to me. I thumb through it as she talks. It’s a wash of bright vibrant colors, like Tania herself when she isn’t suffering from exhaustion. “You remember, Heather. I told you about it last week. Unfortunately, the Catskills location simply isn’t going to work anymore.”
    “Why?” I ask. “It looks perfect.” I point to a photo of a girl on horseback. “We don’t have horses.” I point to another photo. “Or an open-air amphitheater.”
    “We have plenty of performance spaces,” Dr. Jessup says. “Our drama school is one of the best in the country. Our theaters aren’t open-air, but it’s my understanding that that is Ms. Trace’s preference—”
    “Tania wants everything moved indoors,” Stephanie says crisply, plucking the brochure from my fingers.
    I’m more confused than ever. “Then how is it camp?”
    “It’s still camp,” Stephanie says. “It’s just inside camp.”
    “What’s ‘inside camp’?” I ask, bewildered. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
    “Of course it makes sense,” Stephanie insists. “It’s college camp. The girls are going to love it even more than they would have loved being at a resort in the Catskills. They’ll be experiencing life on a college campus years before their peers. And not just any college campus, but New York College, one of the top ten most-applied-to colleges in the country. Not to mention, of course, they’ll be spending every minute with Tania Trace. Or one of New York College’s prestigious music instructors. Mostly with one of them. But for at least an hour a day, they’ll

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