Note to self: learn social skills

Chapter 17

Christmas break is supposed to be relaxing. A time when students enjoy freedom from the stress of high school. Alas, my break is not. From the minute my feet hit the floor on Saturday morning, Grumpy has me in lessons. Lessons all about fitting in the Monroe house.

At breakfast she ties my shoulders back against the chair. She tells me this is to correct my posture. But there's nothing wrong with my posture. It's perfect for violin. Then, I have to pick my way through multiple forks and spoons. Why on earth does it matter if I use the same fork to eat fruit and meat? O, but it does. After my very slow and sparse meal I meet Julio, my new personal trainer, who looks like a wimpy gay guy, but is really a scary ex-marine who has me running all around Grandma Monroe's house gym until I collapse from exhaustion. Seriously, I fall flat on my back.

Julio stands over me, "You are a wuss." He says.
"I know." I pant. "I like being a wuss."

"Get up and prove you deserve to be a part of this family."

When I don't move he actually picks me up and drags me to a bicycle and starts yelling at me until I peddle the stupid thing.

After my session, Grumpy walks in and smiles, "You will do this every day from now on. No one attached with my family will look any bit out of shape."

I'm too busy wondering if my sparse breakfast is coming back up to care what she's saying. Until, that is, she hands me a pair of stilettos.

"I took the liberty of replacing your shoes with these. You will wear heels at all times now except for when you sleep, shower, and exercise. You must get used to wearing them."

I protest. I kick. I shout. But ten minutes later, I'm tripping into the library in my new stiletto heels.

"Please don't break something before our next date. I'm attractive and everything, but I can only do so much with a girl in a cast."

I glare at Hal who is sitting in a chair with a book.

"Please don't burst your mind with all of that exercise your giving it. I know it's not used to being used."

He grins and sets the book down, "Why don't we exercise another body part that's gotten sparse use lately." He says, patting his lap. Like, he's actually asking me to sit in his lap.

"Unlikely." I say, trying to walk smoothly away. Which of course, only happens in movies. So instead I wobble just enough for Hal to grab me and yank me into his lap. "Let me go you Neanderthal." I say, struggling.

"Unlikely." he replies, wrapping his stupidly muscular arms around me.

"You suck." I say.

"No, that's the woman's job."

My mouth hangs open in disbelief a moment before I hit him, "You are so disgusting. Don't talk about a woman's job."

"Well, I just think, if you're going to be a woman in this family, you ought to play the role. And a woman's role is clearly defined."

"And that role is, what? Cooking? Cleaning?"
"That's what servants are for." He says, ignoring my look of outrage, "A woman's job is to extend the family name."

"No woman would ever want to extend your name, trust me."

"Despite how... unfeminine you tend to be, dear Kate, women are made to bare."