Page 47 of Mean Moms

Girthy Gertrude!

For the past year, Gertrude Chary had been conducting a private experiment.

A few times a week, she’d come home from school and cry to Morgan over tales of bullying, stories of torture, episodes of sadness and depression.

She’d planted seeds in her mother’s brain and then had carefully watered them, waiting for them to grow.

It hadn’t been easy to play such a long game.

Gertrude knew that she and Morgan had the same illness, had the same drive to hurt.

Morgan had tried to hide herself from her daughter, but Gertrude was too smart for that.

Little things had tipped her off: Morgan surreptitiously kicking a stray dog when they were in the Caribbean; Morgan lying to people’s faces about random, unimportant things only Gertrude knew to be untrue; Morgan’s dead-eyed stare in the face of touching tributes.

Gertrude had once seen her mother flick a baby in the face when she thought no one was looking.

Perhaps, though, Morgan was too blinded by her love for Gertrude to see the truth about her own daughter.

Or maybe she was in on the con, Gertrude fabricating and Morgan purposefully taking the bait.

Either way, it had been a fun mother-daughter bonding exercise, Gertrude eagerly waiting to see what her mother would do with this false information.

Was this what other girls felt like when they went shopping with their moms or got their nails done together?

Getting Morgan to hate Belle had been easy; Gertrude just painted Miles Redness out to be an asshole.

Little, harmless Miles, who’d always been kind to Gertrude.

Ha. Girthy Gertrude. Yeah, right. Frost had been a bit more difficult, though Gertrude’s opportunity came when she’d found out her idiot father was sleeping with her.

He’d barely even tried to conceal the affair; Gertrude saw their emails to each other on her father’s Gmail app.

What a dummy. Gertrude had been sure her mother would have found out eventually, but she’d hastened the reveal, spraying Blush by Marc Jacobs over a pile of his discarded clothes, knowing Morgan would understand exactly what that meant.

And then Gertrude had watched in awe as her mother had gone to town.

Something in Morgan had been unleashed, though it wasn’t from the Wegovy (the side effects included nausea and lightheadedness, not “embracing your inner sociopath”).

Gertrude had been hearing all the moms talk about perimenopause, so maybe it was a hormonal thing, Morgan going through some kind of “change.” Gertrude, for her part, was still waiting desperately for her period to come.

She was one of the last girls in her class without it.

She and Hildy Redness, of all people. You could orchestrate many things but unfortunately not your own body chemistry.

Gertrude had loved this year, loved witnessing her mother’s power.

Gertrude had all of Morgan’s log-ins and passwords—they were variations on Gertrude’s name and birthday—and she would scour her mom’s communication while Morgan was at exercise classes.

She even had Morgan’s phone passcode (it was the date she and Art had met), which is how Gertrude learned about Dr. Broker.

He liked to leave Morgan long, er, impassioned voicemails, the likes of which made Gertrude giggle.

Morgan sent illuminating email after DM after Signal message after text, leaving Gertrude a trail of delightful terror.

The creativity Morgan had displayed through it all was truly impressive, and Gertrude had made mental notes the entire way. Morgan had dismantled Frost and Belle piece by piece, setting up Sofia, covering her tracks, making it seem as though Morgan, too, was a victim.

Gertrude was in her own room now, sitting on her fluffy bed, an end-of-year slideshow of evil running through her mind. Belle’s hair! Frost’s accident! It made Gertrude excited to think about it, like how other girls in her grade felt about expensive skin care.

She heard a light knock on her door, and then Morgan peeked her head in.

“Can I come in, sweetie?” said Morgan. Gertrude nodded.

Her mother sat next to her. Gertrude knew that her weight bothered Morgan, and so recently she’d been siphoning off doses of Morgan’s Wegovy for herself.

She’d learned how to administer it on YouTube and had come to enjoy the weekly ritual of sticking herself with that tiny, sharp needle. She’d already lost ten pounds.

“I have some news, and I’m not sure you’re going to like it,” said Morgan, stroking Gertrude’s hair.

“You look great, by the way.” Gertrude smiled.

The school year was over. It was time for the game to end.

Gertrude was now ready to share it all with her mom, to have her be as proud of Gertrude as Gertrude was of her.

“We’re going to look at other schools for next year,” said Morgan, staring out the window instead of at her daughter.

“I haven’t been thrilled with Atherton, and I think there are places that might be a better fit for you.

Maybe one of the all-girls schools uptown. People love Spence and Nightingale.”

Gertrude knew that this meant something must have gone wrong. Gertrude didn’t care which school she went to, but it hurt her to hear that her mother had somehow failed. To cheer her up, Gertrude said, “And I want you to know that I’ve been helping you!”

“Oh, how so?” said Morgan.

“First of all, with Hildy. Those nudes?” Gertrude winked. Morgan didn’t say anything, but Gertrude thought she saw her mother’s lips flirt with a smile.

“Also with Dr. Broker. I mixed some of your special tea into his coffee. I’ve been doing it for months now. The day of Sofia’s party, I gave him quite a lot.” Gertrude had thought it would be a nice touch for the celebration, a fun addition to the confusing chaos.

“Okay, honey, I was wondering about that,” said Morgan, continuing to pet her only daughter, her face betraying no surprise.

“It wasn’t the exact timeline I was going for—I was going to have Paul finish out the year, then gradually feel too ill to return to Atherton in the fall. But your way worked, too.”

Gertrude glowed with happiness at the compliment. “You’ve done it all perfectly, Mom. I’m really impressed,” said Gertrude, which was true.

“Well, not everything,” said Morgan. Gertrude’s room was right at the tree line, and the greenery was at its gorgeous West Village peak. They sat there for a few minutes, both thinking about their next moves.

“Mom, I also did something to Dad,” said Gertrude.

Morgan frowned.

“What?” Morgan didn’t look pleased, and that frightened Gertrude.

“I sent a picture of him with that Tilly girl to a few people at Welly. He’s so stupid. I think we’re better off without him.” Morgan didn’t say anything for a minute. “I learned it all from you, Mom!” said Gertrude, a little desperately.

“You are a special girl,” said Morgan finally. Then she got up and left, shutting the door behind her.