According To Jane by Marilyn Brant

By Marilyn Brant

It starts off someday in sophomore English classification, simply as Ellie Barnett's instructor is assigning Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice". From nowhere comes a quiet 'tsk' of displeasure. the objective: Sam Blaine, the lovable undesirable boy who is teasing Ellie mercilessly, simply as he has considering kindergarten. completely unbidden, as Jane may well say, the author's ghost has taken up place of dwelling in Ellie's brain, and turns out made up our minds to stick there. Jane's clever and witty suggestion courses Ellie during the hell of formative years and past, serving because the voice she trusts, frequently excess of her personal. Years and boyfriends come and cross - occasionally a bit too fast, occasionally now not approximately quick adequate. yet Jane's assistance is continuing, and almost about Sam, particularly insistent. remain away, Jane calls for. he's your Mr. Wickham. nonetheless, all people has whatever to profit approximately love - even perhaps Jane herself. And in recent years, the voice in Ellie's head is being drowned out by means of one other, urging her to appear past every thing she idea she knew and search out her personal, very unforeseen, chuffed finishing.

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I smiled toothily at the other three and took a long swig of my wimpy wine. Crap. I wanted a margarita now, heavy on the Jose Cuervo Gold. If ever there was a time for strong drinks, this was it. Do whatever you must, Jane said, with hot fury in her voice, but get away from that despicable man. I wanted to listen to her. I really did. But my feet were rooted to the spot for the duration. Camryn’s gaze ping-ponged between her boyfriend’s face and mine. Her green eyes narrowed. “Pleasure meeting you both,” she said to Dominic and me, her gritted teeth indicating her definitive lack of enthusiasm.

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie Barnett,” she said. “What exactly is your problem? ” Jane chose this inopportune moment to chime in. This young woman hardly seems a paragon of virtue. What manner of conduct is this? I clutched my algebra notebook and pencil a little tighter, but I didn’t answer either of their questions. “You’re becoming quite a legend at school,” the leader said with her trademark mockery. She scanned me up and down, rolled her eyes and burst out laughing. “Just look at you! Scraggly hair.

It wouldn’t make sense. Journeys begin where journeys begin…and mine began with big hair, leg warmers and the musty smell of Mrs. Leverson’s English class, way back in the mid-1980s when I was all of fifteen. I was in sophomore lit then—midweek, early November, daydreaming of life after high school—when Sam Blaine made his first move and Jane Austen made her first comment. “Ellieeee,” the sinfully cute but annoying-as-hell Sam Blaine chanted softly from his seat behind me. ” He walked two of his fingers up the imaginary ladder between my shoulder blades until I shivered.

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