I do not own Mona Lisa Smile.

I never thought of this before. And now I love it.

Not All Who Wander Are Aimless

*Racial slur not mine. Only used to clarify how far Betty has come since escaping her mother.*

Not Perfect

It's not, of course.

Perfect.

Nothing is.

Sometimes it's so hot she can barely breathe.

She and Giselle buy a fan for the table, ice cubes from the corner.

They put them in a bowl and sit in front of the weak breeze it creates, faces flushed with the heat.

"That's it! I'm going native!"

"Giselle, no!"

But Giselle Levy, that bold and brash and darkly beautiful New York kike, is already unbuttoning her shirt, flinging it down onto the couch, pointed white bra revealed for . . .

". . . all the world to see!"

"I don't care! I'm not asking anybody to look, that's their business! My business is cooling down before I drop dead on the floor!"

And Betty Warren . . .

"Well, don't ask me to get naked with you!"

"The thought never crossed my mind."

. . . stays meltingly hot.

They do have good times.

Sometimes almost against Betty Warren's will.

"My mother always said never piece your ears, only bad girls pierce their ears."

Giselle Levy raises a beautiful Italian eyebrow as she breaks into a mischievous smile.

"Anytime you say 'my mother always said never', we're going to do exactly that!"

And they do, Giselle with an ice cube and a sewing needle, heated over their two burner stove.

Betty pressed against the wall, eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched.

"Okay . . . there you go."

Betty dares to peek open an eye.

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's it. Except . . ."

"Except what?"

"We need ice cream."

And they trot down to the soda shoppe on the corner like teenage girls, well, what Betty might have done as a teenage girl if she hadn't had her mother for a mother.

"My mother said it was unladylike to eat ice cream on a cone."

"Two scoops please! In cones!"

And that's their supper. For the entire night.

They completely ruin their appetites.

"Giselle, I can't believe we did that!"

"I can! It was delicious! Don't you think?"

"Well . . . yes, but my mother always said-"

"Yessss?"

And that was how it went.

There are boys that mock them, whistle, catcall on the corner.

"Hey, ladies, want some fries with that shake?"

And Betty flinches, completely unprepared for life outside of well-to-do, upper crust Massachusetts.

"No, keep going, don't make eye contact."

Giselle puts her arm through hers and guides her casually away.

And they do, they keep going.

The first few times.

But Betty Warren . . .

"Hey, doll, wanna shake a leg with me tonight? I gotta a sweet ride for ya!"

. . . has never been silenced in her life for long.

"Excuse me, . . ."

Not even by her mother.

"Betty, no-"

And certainly not by Giselle Levy.

". . . what makes you think you have the right to talk to a woman like that?"

And the greaser grins, all slicked hair and leather jacket, he thinks he's got the world on a string.

"Hey, baby, I just calls 'em like I sees 'em!"

Until Betty Warren cuts it.

"Ah. I see."

And leaves him dangling.

"And you think this sort of behavior is going to get you a girl then?"

By his own shorthairs.

"I do alright with the ladies."

Not that she knows what that phrase is.

"And this is evidenced by the complete lack of aforementioned ladies I don't see swarming around you right now?"

But he does.

"Perhaps they didn't get the memo."

And he certainly . . .

"Hey, honey-"

. . . feels it.

"Do yourself a favor. Improve your attitude and appearance and learn to speak appropriately to a woman or you'll be standing on this street corner by yourself for a very long time indeed."

And is rendered . . .

"Good day."

. . . utterly speechless.

And down goes Fraser!

;)

Anyway, thanks for reading!