Austensibly Ordinary Read Free Page B

Halloween. In Texas, where the heat hung on until mid to late October, Halloween was the official kick-off of fall, a mini-season bookended by festivities, with Thanksgiving on the tail end. Costumes and masquerades were Austin’s bread and butter—everyone wanted to be something they weren’t.
    I know I did. What I clearly didn’t know was how to deal with the obsession. Other than keeping secrets and second-guessing myself.
    I gazed at my reflection in the shop windows, remembering the moments just before the bell rang for my last class of the day.
    â€œWhy do you suppose Emma Woodhouse, the belle of Highbury, decided to befriend the common little nobody, Harriet Smith?” I’d posed the question in a rather distracted state.
    I stood at the front of the classroom, propped on the edge of my desk, gazing at them from behind black lacquer frames—my “teaching glasses.” Suddenly self-conscious in front of all those staring senior eyes, I crossed my arms over my chest, marking my place in my own personal copy of Emma. I tipped my head down, seemingly absorbed in the world of Jane Austen, but actually assessing my outfit. Taupe menswear trousers, sea green ruffly blouse, and teal suede flats. Cary Grant wouldn’t even give me a second look.
    I looked back up at the class, startled to see a few hands had gone up during my “lost moments.”
    â€œYes, Jordan?”
    â€œShe was trying to be charitable?”
    â€œPerhaps,” I allowed. “But I’m not sure I believe that.”
    â€œAlex?”
    â€œShe was bored.” He sounded as if he could relate. I commiserated, but only slightly. Emma may be, at its heart, a romance, but it is so much more than that. I’d even convinced Ethan to read it and then grudgingly admit that he’d enjoyed it—at least parts of it.
    â€œExcellent. Why do you suppose that was?” I fiddled with the ruby glass crystal that hung from a gold chain around my neck, imagining pencil skirts and push-up bras. And heels—definitely heels. Killer heels.
    Alex assumed he still had the floor and answered quickly, almost defiantly. “She was stuck with her father at Hartfield after Miss Taylor left, and teatime and archery just weren’t doing it for her.”
    I blinked at him, then narrowed my eyes slightly. I was relatively certain that Austen hadn’t mentioned archery in the text, but it had definitely featured in the Gwyneth Paltrow movie adaption of the book.
    â€œVery insightful,” I congratulated with a wry twist of my lips. “She needed a hobby . . . and decided to choose vicarious romance since movies weren’t an option.” I stared hard at Alex, but couldn’t detect even the slightest admission of guilt. “She didn’t need to marry—she was already rich. And other options . . .” I tipped my head to the side, willing them to follow the words I wasn’t saying, “weren’t available in the early nineteenth century.” They weren’t exactly lining up for me in Weird City either.
    The bell rang and I quickly outlined the homework. We’d continue our discussion of Emma tomorrow, and I’d find a way to out Alex for choosing the movie over the book.
    I was in a hurry to get to Mirror, Mirror and start scrounging for a dress to vamp me up a bit, but I needed to find Ethan before I left.
    I found him in The Cave, the tiny room allotted for the school’s IT guru. Ethan taught French for three periods, German for two, and he filled one as our IT guy, fixer of all things PC.
    â€œHey, Chavez!” I called, hefting my leather tote, crammed with term papers, up higher on my shoulder. “You winning?”
    He lifted his gaze a couple of inches and met mine. When he’d taken the job of IT guru, he’d rearranged the entire room to allow him to face the door, with a table of computers and network paraphernalia in between. His