American Beauty by Zoey Dean

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Sam feels something squishy. She jumps up. ” Jack recoiled. “This chick—” “Yep. Put dog shit on her chair,” Cammie filled in. “Like Sam wasn’t self-conscious enough in fucking white jeans already. ” Adam asked. Adam had been raised by two politically correct lawyer parents and was always trying to give people the benefit of the doubt. “Fuck yes. They were falling all over each other laughing. ” There was a long moment of dead silence. Then Adam spoke. ” “Stefanie Weinstock,” Cammie replied darkly.

The right skin stuff. We got her to stop wearing purple nail polish. We took her for her first body wax, for God’s sake! ” “She’s hirsute. ” Sam nodded. “She even came to sleepovers, where we told each other our deepest, darkest secrets. ” “Oh, you will. So, the mom married this asshole with a bad comb-over, who invented the dead-fish tie. ” Anna was totally lost now. “I have zero idea what you’re—” “The dead-fish tie,” Sam repeated impatiently. “Shaped like a dead bass. No one we know would wear one, of course, but they became huge in places you’d only go on a forced march.

Both, actually,” Anna admitted. “What made you choose that one? “No big secret. My favorite grandmother was from Florence. Angelina Principesssa Filipepi,” he explained. “Oh my God. ” He gave her a curious glance, then changed lanes to maneuver past a slow-moving truck full of gardeners and lawn equipment. ” “Botticelli’s birth name was Alessandro Filipepi,” Anna recalled. ” “Yeah. ” Anna waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, I’m a fount of useless information. ” “Impressive. Well, my grandmother fancied herself a distant cousin of the artist—I have no idea whether or not that’s true.