Page 48 of Mean Moms

Hildy Redness was liking her new school, Brearley, even if it meant she had to wear a uniform: an A-line skirt or khaki pants and a collared shirt.

Honestly, wearing a uniform wasn’t that bad, though she’d never admit that to her mom, who was so happy that Hildy couldn’t wear a hoodie to school ever again.

If Hildy really thought about it, she supposed she missed Atherton a little.

She’d been there since pre-K—it was basically her second home.

But this year wouldn’t have been the same, even if she’d stayed.

For one thing, there was that new headmaster, Dr. Cherry, an old dude who’d replaced Dr. Broker, who’d moved to Boston or something after he’d gotten better.

He’d actually been poisoned —someone had been dripping drain cleaner into his drinks or something awful like that.

But Hildy had heard he wasn’t pursuing it legally and had just wanted to leave the city right away. Poor Dr. Broker.

And most of her friends had left Atherton, too, scattering off to other private schools.

A couple of Atherton girls were at Brearley with her now, and it was always nice to see a friendly face in the hallway.

It was like they all spoke the same language (and had gone through the same traumatic shit with their parents).

It was weird to think that Atherton wasn’t, like, Atherton anymore.

And sad. But Hildy had moved on. Miles was at St. Bernard’s, so their mom could pick them both up on the days they were leaving school around the same time, swinging east from Ninety-Eighth and Fifth with Miles in tow.

Her mom wasn’t as, like, involved with the Brearley moms as she’d been with that group at Atherton, and that was fine with Hildy—it felt healthier, really.

In many ways, her mom seemed better? Like nicer and less focused on herself.

Oh, and she’d kept her hair short, if you could believe it. Hildy preferred it that way.

Her mom was also being kinder to Hildy’s dad.

Rubbing his shoulders when they were watching TV and doing weird shit like that.

Hildy had heard them talking about their couples therapist, which, in Hildy’s opinion, was a healthy way for married couples to continue communicating (she’d learned that from some therapy TikTok).

Plus, Belle was working on a new home design company, which she was calling American Forest. This one had a “The Pillow,” or whatever.

And that was taking up most of Belle’s time.

They still saw Frost and her family occasionally, which was good for Miles, because he seemed to miss Alfred and King.

The twins had transferred to St. Paul’s and so were living in New Hampshire mostly.

Frost kept talking about how much she missed them but how great it was for them to be surrounded by other sporty boys.

In hindsight, Frost had said, Atherton probably hadn’t been the right choice for their family in the first place.

She’d also heard her mom and Frost speaking about Sofia.

Her mom had said something to Frost about the “unexpected success” of Sofia’s travel agent business, and that she was hiring people under her and that “all the chic downtown moms were signing up to be her clients.” Sofia’s kids were now at Friends Seminary, and “Sofia rules the school.” Good for Sofia, Hildy thought.

She’d always liked her. She was so pretty and fun.

Oh, Frost had also mentioned something about Sofia’s boyfriend, some guy named Michael, whom all the coolest moms were hiring as their new trainer.

Hildy had never gotten the real story about what happened last year, beyond that Frost and Belle hadn’t pressed charges against Morgan for whatever it was she’d done.

“I just want to move on with our lives and forget that this year even happened,” her mom had said to her dad one night when they thought Hildy was asleep. Honestly, Hildy didn’t blame her.

As for Morgan, well… Hildy hadn’t told anyone this, and she never would, but she’d run into Morgan on the street the other day, uptown, near Brearley, when Hildy was walking to lacrosse in Central Park with a group of friends.

She’d thought that Morgan had moved away—Belle had said the family had left for California after Art’s embarrassing lawsuit thing.

Apparently, Art had been ousted from his own company, which was something Hildy didn’t even know could happen!

But maybe Morgan was back to take care of some business, or to go to a doctor.

Morgan had seen Hildy first, and had approached her, saying something like—“Hildy Redness! Just who I wanted to see! You look amazing!”—which was strange.

Hildy’s friends had looked at her, like, “Who’s this intense blond lady? ”

Then Morgan had kind of, like, dragged her aside and interrogated her, asking questions about her mom and Frost and everything else.

Hildy answered to the best of her ability, but she just wanted to end the conversation.

Morgan was acting a little manic, and she looked super skinny, like too skinny, probably from those weight-loss drugs that everyone was on now.

Hildy remembered to ask after Gertrude, which she proud of herself for doing (Morgan said Gertrude was “doing great at her new school,” though Hildy didn’t believe it; Gertrude was delulu, and not in a cute way).

Then Hildy said she had to get back to her friends, and Morgan said something like, “How are your mom and dad? Any news with them?” And Hildy just said nope and shrugged.

Morgan looked really pissed about it all.

Hildy waved bye and booked it, a little creeped out, and also knowing she’d keep it all a secret from her mom.

Belle would freak out if she heard, and Hildy just didn’t want to deal with that.

Hildy now had her own friend dynamics to survive; she was in eighth grade, and some girls were starting to act crazy.

Hildy tried to stay above the fray, and she was pretty good at it, unlike her mom, who definitely got sucked into drama.

If Hildy and her mom were the same age, Hildy didn’t think they’d be friends.

She’d never tell her that, of course. She tried to protect her mom.

For example, last year, Hildy had been doing schoolwork on her dad’s computer and had flicked over to his Chrome.

His Gmail was up, and right before she was about to close the tab, she’d seen a message come in with the subject line: “Your wife is fucking the headmaster.” Hildy had clicked on it in a second—what the hell?

—and it opened to reveal a series of pictures of Belle, some in that hideous tree costume she’d worn to one of the theme parties, some in that pink suit that Hildy hated.

In a few of them, it looked like Belle was kissing Dr. Broker!

In one, he was kneeling near her, about to do something nasty.

Hildy had closed the email as quickly as she’d opened it.

No kid should have to see her mom like that .

Hildy had assumed they’d been deepfaked, just like those naked pictures of her had been, maybe even by the same person.

Hildy couldn’t even imagine the meltdown her mom would have had about it, on top of everything else she’d been going through.

So Hildy had deleted the email. And then had deleted it from her dad’s deleted folder.

Done and done. No one the wiser. What kind of sicko would have faked pictures of her mom and the headmaster, well, Hildy just didn’t want to know.

Growing up in New York City was a trip. Everyone was either really rich, like Hildy and her family, or really poor.

There didn’t seem like there was much in between.

Even people with real jobs seemed to be hurting; Hildy had seen that detective guy, Greg Summerly, walking dogs near her school. How funny was that?

Hildy felt lucky for everything she had, she really did, but sometimes she looked at her parents’ life, and especially at her mom and her friends, and she’d think to herself: No, not for me.

Just no. Maybe Hildy would move to another state, somewhere like Ohio or something.

Someplace where people were nice to each other.

Was that a thing? She’d find out soon enough.

Four more years at Brearley and then she’d be done.

Hildy had a bright future ahead of her. She was a good kid.