How To Train Your Boyfriend

Chapter 7: I'll Tell You Something

I'll Tell You Something

On Sunday morning I stood on Mia Khan's doorstep wondering if I looked as poor as I felt.

Mia Khan's house was huge. It was a perfect example of "New Money"; it burned fast in the pocket and made people like Francie roll their eyes in annoyance. When Mia opened the door and welcomed me inside, I noticed that the entirety of my dad's house could fit into her foyer alone.

"Sutton!" Mia said, looking picture perfect in her yellow sundress. "I'm so glad you made it!"

"Thank for inviting me," I replied. I tried my best to hide my awe as I followed her, heels clicking on the granite floors. Two staircases led up to the second floor and an enormous glass chandelier illuminated the center of the room. The chandelier was a beautiful and frightening thing, hanging from the arched ceilings like a crystal weapon. The house seemed to rotate around it, bending and arching to avoid the touch of its glittering points. It didn't surprise me that the Khan's had their own sun.

"Everyone's out back," Mia was saying as we made our way through the halls. "I didn't tell anyone that you were coming, so be prepared. I think you may have some . . . fans."

At once I felt both relaxed and tense. Mia hadn't told anyone I was coming, which meant that she hadn't spilled any details on the relationship she had with James, or the relationship that I was currently developing with James.

The second part of her statement, the part that caused my shoulders to roll back and my lips to tighten, wasn't as much of a shock to me as it was a mild annoyance. I was known by the majority of teenage girls in the area, both at my school and the neighboring ones. Sometimes the girls could be a little too . . . admiring. Some even tried to replicate what I was doing - what I had been excelling at for two years - only to realize that it wasn't something you could just pick up for extra cash.

"Lovely," I said, not hiding the wary tone in my voice. We reached two sets of french doors and Mia pushed them open, revealing a marvelous back patio and an even more marvelous back yard. Green stretched out for as far as the eye could see, with intricate water fountains and precisely placed shrubbery accenting the perfectly trimmed yard. On the porch was a spread of every breakfast food you could ever dream of, along with trays of macaroons and mimosas, because of-fucking-course.

Tables had been set up, and women in designer sundresses and pearls strode from table to table, laughing and looking like a scene straight out of Southern Living magazine. Their elegant, stylish appearances at once made me feel self conscious about my own simple sundress that I had thrown on at the last minute. Obviously I should have payed more attention to this month's Ralph Lauren catalog.

"My mom kind of overdoes it," Mia said with a small smile.

I looked at her, ripping my eyes away from the scene in front of me. "Kind of? Did I miss the red carpet?"

Mia laughed and motioned for me to follow her down the porch steps and into the garden. We arrived at a long glass table, where a dozen girls around my age sat. I recognized half of them, mentally noting that they went to Oakland Prep, and assumed that the other half went to the private schools nearby.

"Guys, this is -"

"Sutton Wright!" Mia blinked at the interruption, turning to the culprit with one perfectly plucked eyebrow raised. The speaker was a small girl, no more than five feet tall, with light blonde hair and wide eyes. "It's so nice to meet you," The girl continued, shoving a manicured hand at me. "I'm Abby. Abby Welsh."

I hesitantly took her hand and shook. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm a huge fan," Abby said, talking as if I hadn't said anything at all. "What you do is just . . . so inspiring. And empowering. And just, like, awesome!"