Penelope (18 page)

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Penelope.

“It’s all right, Guard,” said Henry Wills-Mather. “But just
because you are not saying anything doesn’t mean you can let your face go dead. What is going on in the mind of your character right now? You must always ask yourself that! You!” said Henry Wills-Mather, pointing at Catherine. “What is going on with your character? What are you thinking about during this scene? A couple of days ago I asked you both to write essays about this.”

“Well,” said Catherine. “Hold on, let me get my essay.” Catherine walked over to her bag and took a typewritten sheet of paper out of a binder. Penelope watched this with a heavy heart. This assignment had entirely slipped her mind.

“OK, so I was formerly a slave girl,” said Catherine, looking at her paper, “sold into slavery against my will to pay off some parental debts. I fell in love with a slave boy but he was killed in a gladiator fight. In grief I worked my way up to being a guard in Caligula’s army, where I hope to kill him.”

“Bravo,” said Henry Wills-Mather. “That is exactly the type of thing I am talking about. Specificity. What I want now”—he paused—“is for you to convey that to me.” He made a dramatic pinching motion with his hands. “Make the audience your captors. Engage with what Caligula is saying. If you are feeling homicidal, I want to see it on the stage, OK?”

“OK,” said Catherine, beaming.

“You,” said Henry Wills-Mather, pointing at Penelope. He was on a roll now. “How about you?”

“Me?” said Penelope.

“Who else would I be referring to, Guard?” said Henry Wills-Mather in an instructive way. “What is your character’s history? What brought you to this place, next to the Caligulas?”

“Um, well,” said Penelope. She had to think quickly. “Hmm.”

“Do you need to get out your character essay?” asked Henry Wills-Mather.

“No, that’s OK,” said Penelope. “It’s really just about, you know, being a guard.”

“OK,” said Henry Wills-Mather, smiling broadly at everyone. The cast giggled uncomfortably.

“On the Nile River,” said Penelope quickly. “Where a horrible shooting accident happens and someone dies.”

“Hmm,” said Henry Wills-Mather.

“It radicalized me, as a guard,” said Penelope. “A Belgian detective solves the mystery.”

“Bring that pain to your part,” said Henry Wills-Mather slowly and distinctly. He pinched the air with his hands again. They moved on.

Later that evening, Ted, Catherine, and Penelope were watching TV in Penelope’s common room. In order to keep Catherine’s antagonism toward her to a minimum, Penelope had hidden in her bathroom for most of the evening.

“Are you OK?” asked Ted, as Penelope was coming out of the bathroom after a particularly long stint inside.

“Oh, yes,” said Penelope. “I was just cleaning.”

“Really?” said Ted.

“Yes,” said Penelope. Actually, she was putting the original French text of
Caligula
into Google Translate to prove some theories.

“This show is ridiculous. Don’t you think so?” Catherine said to Ted. They were watching
Laguna Beach
at Catherine’s suggestion.

“I mean, sort of,” said Ted, still looking at the TV. “I can’t believe she goes back out with that guy.”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Penelope, sitting on the arm of the futon. “He has the charm of a man with a square hairline.”

“Do I have a square hairline?” asked Ted.

“I think you have a widow’s peak,” said Penelope

“I think you have a square hairline,” said Catherine. She sat on Ted’s lap.

Just then, Emma came into the room. She was wearing leggings tucked into riding boots and a large monogrammed ring on
her index finger. Once again, Penelope marveled at her ability to enter a room at just the right time. She laid her bag on the floor and sat down next to it.

“Hi, guys,” she said. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” said Penelope.

“Hey, Emma!” said Catherine. “Wanna watch TV with us?”

“I’m so sorry,” said Emma. “I’m always forgetting everybody’s names. Have we met? What’s your name again?”

“I’m Catherine,” said Catherine. “I’m in the play with you.”

“Oh, right,” said Emma. “I’m so sorry. I just meet so many people. I can’t keep anyone straight.” She did one of her hooting laughs, which succeeded in drowning out the sounds of
Laguna Beach
for a few seconds. “What are you guys watching?”

“Laguna Beach,”
said Ted.

“And your name is?” asked Emma, looking at Ted.

“Oh, this is Ted,” said Penelope.

“Oh, I remember this season,” said Emma. She resituated herself so she was sitting in front of the TV. “I wish I could watch it. I’m going out pretty soon. Maybe I can stay for just one episode.”

“Where are you going?” asked Penelope.

“Oh, I am going to this party at the S—. I’m waiting for Bitty. She went to this drinks thing at the Pudding that I couldn’t go to because I was working. Once she texts me, I’ll head out.”

“OK,” said Penelope.

Emma settled on the floor and the group continued watching TV—Penelope sitting precariously on the arm of the futon, Catherine lying on Ted’s lap.

“There are so many girls like that in California,” said Emma after one girl vomited from drinking too much.

“I know,” said Catherine, who nodded. “They’re so cheap. I get sick of looking at them. Those sandals are like what a whore would wear.”

“I’ve never been to California,” said Penelope.

“It’s weird,” said Emma authoritatively. “It’s like a different
culture. Like all the girls here from California have breast implants. It’s like, can you imagine going to Harvard and getting breast implants?”

“Sure I could,” said Penelope.

“I’ll leave in a second,” said Emma.

For the next two hours Emma, Ted, Catherine, and Penelope watched an entire season of
Laguna Beach
. Emma checked her phone approximately every five minutes to see if anyone texted her to go to the S— party. No one did. Once they had finished the final DVD, she seemed at a loss for what to do.

“I don’t know why no one has texted me to go to the S— party yet,” said Emma as Penelope ejected the DVD and put it back in its case.

“That is weird,” said Penelope.

“I know,” said Emma. “It’s probably because it’s hard to get service in the clubs. I bet that’s it, actually.”

“I’m sure it’s that,” said Catherine sympathetically.

“Maybe I should just head over. What do you think, should I head over?” asked Emma.

“I would,” said Ted.

“I hate to go to things alone though.”

“It does suck,” said Penelope. “Do you have a game on your phone?”

“Oh God, I don’t know what to do,” said Emma in a distressed tone.

“Penelope could go with you,” said Ted, lightly punching Penelope’s arm. Penelope was not displeased with this suggestion. It was a much more sound excuse than a parade. She wished she had thought of it.

“Well, you couldn’t go,” said Emma. “They don’t let random guys inside.”

“I know,” said Ted. “That’s why I said Penelope should go.”

“Or I could go,” said Catherine loudly.

“OK,” said Ted. He seemed even more pleased by this idea. “Penelope and I will just stay here.”

“Actually,” said Catherine, “maybe Penelope should go to the
party. I should probably stay with you.” She got up, straddled Ted, and kissed him on the lips.

“Well, OK,” said Emma. “Penelope, do you want to come with me?”

“Sure,” said Penelope.

“OK then,” said Emma, as if resigned to fate.

“I’ll get my coat,” said Penelope.

Penelope went over to the coat rack near the door and put her coat on. She found lipstick in one of the pockets and applied it lavishly. Emma gathered her belongings and joined Penelope near the door.

“Well, bye, Ted. Bye, Catherine,” said Penelope.

“Tell me how it is when you get back. I’ll probably be up,” said Ted.

“I will be too!” said Catherine.

“OK,” said Penelope.

“This won’t be so bad,” said Emma.

“Maybe not,” said Penelope, thinking about lesser evils.

Emma and Penelope walked over to the party in silence. Emma tried fruitlessly to call people. Penelope trudged beside her. It was cold out. Penelope was vaguely regretting this endeavor.

“We’re almost here,” said Emma suddenly. They were on a wide street. It was lined with different kinds of brick buildings, some apartments, some Greek Revival–type houses. They stopped in front of an anonymous-looking edifice of the latter description, one side of which seemed to be a German bookstore.

“Just say you’re my roommate.”

“I will,” said Penelope.

Outside the door of this establishment was a man sitting on a chair. He was about forty, tan, pockmarked, and wearing a leather jacket. He was holding a sheaf of papers.

“Hi,” said Emma. “Emma Green.”

“Are you on the list?” asked the guy, looking at the papers.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Hmm … There you are,” said the guy, checking her name off with a pen. “Who’s this though?”

“This is my roommate,” said Emma.

“Is she on the list?” asked the guy. “What’s her name?”

“She’s not on the list, but can she still come in with me?”

“I don’t think so,” said the guy, who Penelope realized was a bouncer, hired for the occasion. “You’re gonna have to check with one of the members. We’re pretty full.”

“Oh, please!” said Emma.

“I’m sorry,” said the bouncer.

“I’ll call the guy I know,” said Emma. She looked like she was about to cry.

“I can just go home,” said Penelope.

“Could you?” said Emma.

“Yeah, def,” said Penelope. “I definitely could.”

“Oh, hey, Evan? Is that you?” said Emma into her phone. “I have a friend here, and I need to get her inside. Will you come out here and tell the guy outside that it’s OK? Oh, you will? Thank you so so much!” Emma hung up the phone, elated.

“Evan will be down in a minute,” said Emma to the bouncer. He shrugged.

“It’s cold out,” said Penelope to the bouncer.

“Yes,” said the bouncer.

“Do you have gloves?” asked Penelope.

“I don’t have circulation in my hands,” said the bouncer.

Evan opened the door. He was wearing pleated pants, a polo shirt, and a blazer. He was suffering from a terrible case of cystic acne.

“Thanks so much, Evan,” said Emma. She hugged him. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Next time you should call me earlier if you are going to bring a guest,” said Evan. He beckoned both Penelope and Emma inside, and shut the door quickly behind them. They stood in a dark hallway. The music, an anonymous yet menacing techno, was quite loud.

Evan looked at the two girls. He stood on one foot. Then he switched to the other foot.

“How are you doing, Emma?” he said after a pause.

“Oh, great, well, not that great. I have a ton of work,” said Emma.

“Me too,” said Evan.

“Ha ha,” laughed Emma.

“Well, I guess we should really go inside. We don’t want to just keep standing here,” said Evan. He walked down the corridor without waiting for an answer.

Emma grabbed Penelope’s arm and started walking with her down the hallway. They followed Evan closely.

“Evan’s father is the head of this bank in New York,” Emma whispered into Penelope’s ear. “His mother is Donald Trump’s sister, I think.”

“Oh,” said Penelope.

They walked into the foyer of the club, which was forest green and adorned with a decorous smattering of dentil molding. To the left of the foyer was a billiards room, which had been converted into a dancing area with the help of a strobe light. It was stuffed with people bouncing up and down and, in the process, bumping roughly against the pool table in a way that looked like it hurt. On the right side of the foyer was a staircase. Every available wall was covered with either the head of a dead bear or a drawing of a live bear.

Evan started to go up the stairs. Emma grabbed his wrist.

“Can we go upstairs, Evan?” asked Emma. She held his hand in hers and looked at him pleadingly.

“Uh, sure. Yeah, definitely,” said Evan.

“Yay!” said Emma. She hugged him. She and Evan climbed the stairs, arm in arm. Penelope trotted behind them.

This was probably the nicest house that Penelope had ever been in in her life. It was rather shabby, of course, but only in the way that truly grand things are shabby. On every table, there was something old and mildly valuable, like a vase or a tiny statuette of a bear doing ballet. Penelope wondered how a group of eighteen-year-olds was expected to keep up something like this, but apparently they were quite good at it.

When they go to the top of the staircase, Evan and Emma led Penelope into a large room. Unlike the rest of the house, this room had all the lights on. Small groups of people were playing
antique board games, like cribbage, at tables designed for such a purpose. One side of the room housed a grand piano and a couple of settees. The other side of the room featured a gigantic stuffed bear poised in the position of attack.

Emma and Evan went to the piano side of the room when Emma spotted Bitty, who Penelope remembered played one of the Caligulas.