Miranda stood up to get a coffee. “It’s your turn to speak, Miranda,” said Felicia.
She nodded solemnly, still standing.
“He asked what my cross-streets were, and I knew he was going to judge me when I said 94th and Fifth. Dating is so hard,” Miranda said.
“What did you tell him?” Winston asked. He was on the edge of his seat.
Miranda let out a big sigh. “I lied. I said 97th and Fifth. He still thought I was rich, though.”
“What? That’s basically Harlem!” Winston exclaimed. He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry for what you had to go through. Thank you for being so vulnerable.”
Tate glanced nervously around the room. “You’re among friends,” Melanie assured him, and he nodded.
“My high school used to hire private buses to take us from the Upper East Side to Randall’s Island for soccer practice. Because I never took the public transit there, I never really knew where Randall’s Island was,” Tate said before taking a long pause. “And truthfully, I still don’t know. Is it North of Queens?”
The room applauded. Melanie gave his shoulder a warm squeeze. “Thank you for being so vulnerable,” she said.
“I’m scared to become a mom,” said Veronica anxiously, stroking her pregnant belly, “what if my baby has a heart problem like Jimmy Kimmel’s son, or what if she has to go to Dwight?”
“As a mom, I can assure you that you’ll learn to love her, even if she has a heart problem,” said Maureen confidently.
“I just don’t think the Hamptons are as nice as Nantucket. Why don’t they insist all the houses be the same color? It makes Nantucket look so quaint and relatable. Is that so wrong?” Abigail asked.
“Absolutely not,” said Xander supportively, “but I like that the houses in the Hamptons are different colors. It makes it look quirky, like Stars Hollow.”
“That’s a made up-town, Xander,” Penelope glared at him, “I agree with you, Abigail. Things should be the same color. Everyone knows Nantucket is nicer than the Hamptons.”
“But is is nicer than the Vineyard?” Asked Abigail.
She looked around the room at the silent, confused faces. No one spoke up. No one knew. Finally, Xander sheepishly raised his hand. “I prefer the Vineyard,” he said.
“Thank you for being so vulnerable,” the rest of the group responded, “But also, you’re wrong.”
“I never know if I’m a WASP or a JAP, can we review the acronyms again?” Susan asked. The rest of the room pulled their handbooks out from under their seats.
Parker took a big gulp of air. He stared intently at his feet while he spoke. “And so I signed up to volunteer for Habitat for Humanity,” he paused for applause, but received only looks of scorn and betrayal, “but while I was sitting on the roof, placing shingles that would later fall off, I thought to myself: will this really get me into Harvard? And for the first time in a long time, maybe forever, I was finally honest with myself. No, I said to myself, everyone knows it’s nearly impossible for white kids to get in. So I slid off that roof and went home.”
The rest of the Upper East Siders clapped as loudly as they could, which wasn’t very loud. Parker made eye contact with the cute Sotheby’s unpaid intern across the room, and she gave him a small smile. “Thank you for being so vulnerable,” she said.
“Some days, I think the Upper East Side should secede from anything East of 2nd Avenue,” Turner said.
“East of Lexington,” the rest of the room replied in unison.
“I don’t know the difference between the 4 and the 5 train,” Madison said, furiously flicking her fidget spinner, wishing she’d taken her Klonopin before the meeting. “I’ve only ever taken them above 14th street.”
“That’s very normal, I think we can all relate,” Stephen assured her, “but thank you for your vulnerability.”
“I’ve only taken each of them once,” Madison blurted out, her lack of impulse control on display.
“Really? What was it like? Is it true you sometimes can’t get a seat” Stephen asked her.