Page 4 of Mean Moms

“Oh my God, look,” Clara said in a loud whisper, turning everyone’s attention toward a woman and her two children, a boy and a girl, walking toward Atherton’s main entrance.

She was in a form-fitting yellow dress, the color of a banana the minute before it turns brown, showing off a voluptuous, Kardashian-esque figure.

Her face, framed by glossy caramel waves, was hidden by large black sunglasses.

The beautiful little girl was in a smocked blue romper, and the boy resembled a Ralph Lauren model in khakis and a white polo.

This must be the woman Morgan had told them about: Sofia.

Belle had never seen anything like her. Not in Manhattan, at least. Not at Atherton, certainly.

Belle crossed her arms around her body, her straight, small-breasted shape, so fashionable in New York City, suddenly feeling boyish and unattractive.

“Holy shit,” said Frost in a whisper, her eyes glued to Sofia. “She’s amazing looking.”

“That’s definitely her,” said Morgan. “I heard she’s from Miami. It’s got to be.”

The other moms, in their Toteme flats, their The Row pants, their Rachel Comey jumpsuits, stared at the colorful zoo animal in their midst.

“Should we say hi to her? Be friendly?” asked Frost.

Clara had taken off, leaving the three friends standing alone.

Sofia and her children walked up the school steps, stopping in front of Atherton’s headmaster, Dr. Broker, who was greeting students as they entered for their first day.

Dr. Broker was in a worn plaid shirt and Levi’s that hugged his fit behind.

He had springy, salt-and-pepper hair, and bore a distinct resemblance to Patrick Dempsey.

He was unmarried, though definitely not gay—Belle had heard a rumor that he was dating a downtown actress—and he spoke to the moms with a combination of adoration, appeasement, and control that drove them all mad with lust. Frost liked to joke that Dr. Broker should put himself up on the auction block at the annual school fundraiser, generously fucking the mom who paid the most for the privilege.

The scholarship tuitions would be covered for years.

Sofia said something to Dr. Broker and then handed her kids off to him, kissing their heads and hugging them into her body before they disappeared into the grand building.

She slowly wound down the stairs, careful not to trip in her high heels, lifting her sunglasses and rubbing her eyes briefly, a gesture that could only mean she was wiping away tears.

Belle couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried when saying goodbye to Miles and Hildy.

Then Sofia was right in front of them. She paused, taking her phone out of her Gucci logo bag, checking something or other. Or maybe she was just stalling, without anywhere to go.

“Hi! I’m Morgan Chary!” Morgan extended her hand brightly, and, for a second, Sofia looked at it like it was a hot pan she didn’t want to touch. Then she seemed to remember herself, taking Morgan’s fingers in her own.

“I’m Sofia, it’s so nice to meet you. Are you all Atherton mamas?” Her voice was deep, with a hint of a South American accent.

“Yes!” they all said in unison.

Sofia took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were dark, with surprising yellow rings around her pupils that reflected golden in the light.

“My son is in fourth grade, and my daughter is in second. We’ve just moved from Florida. I’m so happy to have them at such a wonderful school. I’m a little nervous for them, being new.”

“Atherton is great at acclimating new kids,” said Morgan reassuringly. “I’m sure they’ll fit in just fine.”

Sofia smiled and a mysteriously creepy feeling came over Belle, her stomach dropping as if she were on a roller coaster. She had the bizarre sense that her head was lighter. Had someone cut off her hair? She reached back and felt its comforting weight.

“I’m Belle and this is Frost,” said Belle, trying to shake it off. “We’d love to get coffee soon and get to know you! We’ve been at the school since pre-K. It’s the best. It’s like this little safe haven in the middle of Manhattan.”

Their attention was then directed to a commotion at the entrance, some sort of scuffle.

Belle couldn’t see exactly what was happening, but it looked as though people had started to run in the other direction.

Someone let out a frightened squeal, and before the women could move, the homeless man, the one whom Belle and Hildy and Miles had passed by, was standing directly in their sight line.

Belle could have touched him, he was that close.

He was in a ripped black shirt and hospital scrubs, and was shoeless, his feet swollen and bloody.

His barnyard smell made Belle feel ill. Should Belle run?

Would he chase her? She momentarily made eye contact with him, breaking that cardinal New York City rule, unable to look away.

He winked at her. He winked! Then he made a strange gargling sound, deep in his chest, and abruptly coughed out a white ball of phlegm.

The spit went flying straight into Belle’s wide-open mouth, like a dart hitting its human bull’s-eye.

Belle stood there, stunned, trying not to swallow but feeling the slime slip down her throat. The man lurched toward her. She didn’t know what to do other than cover her face with her hands, closing her eyes in panic, hoping he somehow wouldn’t reach her.

“ Ayuda! Ayuda! ” Belle heard someone shout. There was a thud and then Belle felt herself wrapped tightly in an embrace. “ Te tengo ,” the voice said into her ear. “I’ve got you.”

Belle, relieved to be alive, opened her eyes to see she was entwined with Sofia, Sofia’s face so close to Belle’s that it felt like they were about to kiss. The man had vanished, leaving behind a pack of petrified women in sweaty designer clothing.

Frost joined them, taking Belle’s hands in hers. “Belle, Sofia whacked that crazy guy with her purse and then he took off running.” Sofia looked down at the ground shyly.

Dr. Broker arrived, taking in the scene. He put his hand on Belle’s shoulder and looked at her with deep concern.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. She shook her head, making sure her hair swung sexily as she did. It was an old trick she used when she wanted male attention.

“I’ve called the police,” Dr. Broker said.

Belle noticed, with interest, that Dr. Broker’s wrists were thick, before remembering that she’d nearly been mowed down by a vagrant.

Dr. Broker assured the parents that their children were safe, and that this would be taken care of.

“Atherton is on it,” he kept repeating to concerned sighs.

“Sofia, let us take you out for a drink sometime, it’s the least we can do,” said Frost.

“I’d love that,” said Sofia gratefully.

“Our hero!” said Frost.

“Our hero,” echoed Belle. She still felt a little trembly. What a disastrous first day of Atherton drop-off. On cue, a lanternfly landed on the sidewalk in front of the women. Belle squashed it with her Manolos, feeling it die beneath her Mary Janes with a satisfying crunch.