Charming as Verb: Chapters 5–10

She speaks in the same succinct intonation as her mother 
but with far less polish.

She speaks in the same succinct intonation as her mother 
but with far less polish.

Corinne is smart, meticulous, and outspoken, and while her level of intensity may not
 serve her socially, her commitment to her academic pursuits is
 undeniable.

I made it out of her two history classes with an A- 
and a B+ respectively, but even I know that Mrs. Carroll is not 
to be trusted.

She might as 
well have put a red ‘Do not admit: Social Pariah’ sticker on my
 forehead.

“But colleges like Princeton don’t have to make concessions, 
Haltiwanger!” she snaps.

“Oblique pop culture references do seem to be a cornerstone of social language, actually,” Corinne says, as if making a
 mental note.

“You think Mrs. Carroll will see you with a group of pals 
in the hallway and rescind the letter she already sent to Princeton?”

“Maybe! Maybe seeing me with more kids will cause her to
 change her mind. It would at least let me make a better case for
 myself instead of storming her office and calling her a bitter, 
incompetent hack, which was my first impulse.”

“You crossed a big threshold this week,” Dad says through 
the door.

Doni
elle Kempf was a character, and I did technically elicit a lot of 
laughter throughout the exchange.

Maybe Ma is not entirely wrong when it comes to my bathroom grooming habits—although, I take exception with the 
word “preening”—but there’s nothing wrong with that.

A limited edition that somehow made it from Switzerland, where they were released, to a serendipitous fire sale at an East Village sportswear store going out of business last summer.

Ming wasn’t explicitly invited, but he and I come in a pair;
 Evie knows that by now.

Cori doesn’t even have access to that
 unhinged level of psychosis.

“You’re watching her like a hawk too.
 You must be smitten. Evie will be heartbroken.”

I’ve seen Marvyn slapped across
 the face twice before, and I can’t think of a better person to
 make it three for three than Corinne, should he try his chauvinist crap on her.

Before I can answer, the door of her room swings wide open,
 bathing us both in entirely unsolicited, retina-scalding light.

“Now
 who’s the prude?”

“Just hormones and an understanding?” Corinne nods pen
sively.

I take the handshake with some apprehension.

He’s been known to put a handful of FATE 
athletes on the Olympics path for a variety of sports and two 
years ago, the class valedictorian apparently tearfully thanked
 him during her graduation speech for making all her dreams 
come true.

“So, one interview and, what, my chances are shot? There’s 
no leeway? That’s draconian!”

“I, erm, I don’t have the right pedagogical skills to deal
 with students when they make that face.”

Up close, the curly, unmanaged hair he had the last time 
I saw him, when he’d just started this job, is now in a clean
 cut with immaculate fades that admittedly looks a lot more at
 home across the marble counter.

I roll my eyes as Lion blatantly checks her out.

“She’s definitely unlike anyone else at that school. And she’s got 
this super overbearing mother who’s a Columbia dean and—”

He widens his eye and adopts a straitlaced version of his 
own voice that sounds like it was born and bred somewhere in
 Connecticut.

“Check your phone,” I say, sidling up to Corinne, causing
 her to jolt like a possum.

There’s nothing conspicuous about it, 
but something about their shared smile makes me think that I
 should follow up with Evie.

“I’m not being self- deprecating. I’m like number seven. 
Tops. There’s Oliver, Abdel, Marvyn...John-Paul…”

You think you’ve got her completely
 figured out, accidentally launching her into a diatribe about the 
uglier, brushed-over parts of American history—which seems
 to be a particular area of interest of hers—and suddenly, she’ll 
be up on her feet and holding the subway doors open with both 
elbows to give turned-about tourists time to hop back on the 
train after they realize they’ve gotten off at the wrong stop.

“Holy crap, this is good,” Corinne exclaims after another
 voracious bite.

He changes his affectation for the last statement, implying 
it to be a verbatim quote.

He changes his affectation for the last statement, implying 
it to be a verbatim quote.

Just because you’re a sneaker
 aficionado doesn’t mean you enjoy touching strangers’ used
 footwear.

Ming 
sighs, checking the stitching of a decent Jordan high-top with a 
sole that’s unfortunately too worn out to warrant the scrutiny.

As far as I can tell, Ming’s parents have always been open 
about his adoption, but his mom is also probably apoplectic about her only son moving across the planet.

I didn’t plan on it becoming a factor, with a bonus
 debate practice in two hours while in another borough with 
Ming.

“Greg is probably going to kill you, yes,” Ming posits calmly.