8
The next afternoon, I tried to get out of going to the club with my mother. She’d made arrangements with her friends to bring their daughters, have tea, and a nice chat. Have a pleasant afternoon, as she’d said it.
Yeah, right.
I squirmed in my seat each time Megan mentioned the dresses she had bought for the upcoming parties and ball. I lost count on her twelfth. Meanwhile, her mother complained about the club’s employees.
“The quality hasn’t been the same,” she said.
Of course, my mother agreed, and promptly they came up with a plan to write to the club’s president about how he should better the service before they canceled their membership.
One hour of this and I stood up. “Excuse me,” I said, retreating from the table. I weaved my way to the restroom, but once in the hallway, I
