“Oh, you like that?” Harrison asked. He took it off and started swinging it at her. She gasped for air. “Don’t mess with the sweater, Isabel a!” He swung it around and around, hitting her on her butt while she laughed.

“You know what?” Harrison said. “Just for that, I’m keeping it.” He folded it and put it on top of a pile on the couch. Isabel a lay on her back and wiped her eyes.

“No,” she said. “Don’t punish yourself just to get back at me.”

“Punish myself?” he asked. “I’m only going to wear it when we’re together. And then I’m going to hold your hand, so everyone knows we are a couple.”

“That should help us make a lot of new friends in Boston.”

“That’s my plan,” Harrison said.

“I’m worried that Winston isn’t going to adjust wel to the move,” Isabel a said. When she said his name, the dog tilted his head and looked at her.

“I’m sure he’l be fine,” Harrison said. “You worry too much about that dog.”

“He has his friends at the dog park here, and he’s comfortable here. He might hate Boston.”

“Do you think you’re projecting just a little bit?” Harrison asked.

“No,” Isabel a said. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Why do you stil have this?” Mary asked. She held an unopened bottle of tequila that Isabel a had gotten in Mexico during spring break of their junior year.

“I just never threw it out,” Isabel a said. “I kept moving it from place to place, but it seems ridiculous to bring it to Boston.”

“Your apartment is real y depressing with al of the stuff gone,” Lauren said, looking around. “I can’t believe you guys are sleeping on air mattresses tonight.”

“Me neither,” Isabel a said. They al sat in a circle on the floor of the empty apartment, with the bottle of tequila in the middle of them.

Mary looked closely at the bottle. “Do you think the worm is fake? Wouldn’t it have decomposed by now?”

“Alcohol keeps things fresh,” Lauren said.

“Is that why you’re stil so young-looking?” Isabel a asked her. Lauren swatted her butt and Isabel a shrieked and scooted forward. “Come on, you guys,” she said. “I think we should drink it. I’m not packing it. It wil be fun.”

“I’m pretty sure if we drink that, we’l die,” Mary said.

“Oh my God. Is that your plan? Do you want to kil us al so that you don’t have to move to Boston?” Lauren asked.

“You clever little bitch,” Mary said. “It wil look like a mass suicide.”

“You two are complete freaks,” Isabel a said. “You know that?”

“Look who’s talking,” Lauren said.

“Here,” said Isabel a. “I saved some random shot glasses just for the tequila. Come on, you guys, I’m moving tomorrow. Let’s just drink a little of it.

Here, I’l put the phone right here so that we can cal 911 if it’s poison.”

“Fine, fine,” Lauren said. “Let’s do this.”

They took the first shot, and Mary held the empty glass and sniffed it. “Can you imagine,” she said, “if my children had to go motherless because I died of bad tequila?”

“I think what would be more disturbing is if Ava found out that you named her Gertrude for three days before changing it,” Lauren said.

“She didn’t look like an Ava until we got her home,” Mary said. “I told you that.”

“Right,” Isabel a said. “Little Gertie wil total y understand that.”

“Let’s do another shot to little Gertie,” Lauren said. She poured more of the tequila into the glasses.

“Fine,” Mary said. “But stop cal ing her Gertie. It real y freaks me out that I named her that.”

Lauren picked up the bottle and swirled it around so that the worm swam in the tequila. “You know,” she said, “this was real y my bottle of tequila.”

“I know,” Isabel a said. “I remember.”

Their third night in Mexico, the three of them had fal en asleep on the beach and woke up with uneven streaks of sunburn and sand in their mouths. For two days, Mary lay on the hotel bed, moaning and covered in aloe. Isabel a stayed with her, burned and nauseous, refusing to go out until her streaks had faded just a little bit. Lauren’s burn turned quickly to a tan, and she resumed her spring break the next night, winning a bikini contest at the hotel bar. She came into the room that night wearing several strands of beads and carrying the tequila with the worm on the bottom.

“Look what I won!” she yel ed and jumped up and down on the bed until Isabel a threw up. Lauren apologized and gave her the tequila to make up for it.

“I can’t believe you entered a bikini contest,” Mary said from her spot on the bed. Her face was covered with a wet washcloth and her skin was tinted green from the aloe.

Lauren stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I’m an adult,” she said. “I can do whatever I want. I’m a grown woman.”

Slowly, Mary removed the washcloth from her face and whipped it at Lauren. “You are the drunkest grown woman I’ve ever seen,” she said.

For years, whenever one of them went on a rant about anything, one of the others would say, “You tel them. You are a grown woman!”

Isabel a poured three more shots. “To grown women,” she said, holding up her glass. She realized that it wasn’t as funny anymore. Maybe it didn’t always seem true, but they were no longer sunburned in Mexico. Somehow, in the past ten years they’d gotten from there to here.

They al took the shot. Mary stretched out her legs in front of her, and Lauren leaned back on her palms. “I think that Mark and I might get married,”

Lauren said. “We were talking about it the other day. We might go down to city hal and just do it.”

“Are you pregnant?” Isabel a asked her.

“Yes, Isabel a. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant, and so I decided to come drink a bottle of poisoned tequila with you and announce it.”

“What?” Mary asked.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Lauren said. “I’m not pregnant, you morons.”

“Oh,” Isabel a said. She shook the bottle and watched the worm swirl around. “That’s good news for baby.”

“So you real y think you’l get married?” Mary asked. “Are you going to have a wedding or what?”

Lauren shook her head. “No. No wedding. We were just talking about how we like living together and he suggested getting married, and I thought it sounded like a good idea.”

“What the hel ?” Mary said. She looked at Lauren and then she looked at the bottle. Her eyes were pointing in different directions. “I think the worm just moved.” Mary hiccupped and laughed, then gagged.

“Sweet Jesus,” Isabel a said, looking at the bottle. “You’re right. The worm turned.”

Acknowledgments

This book is dedicated to my parents, Pat and Jack Close, who deserve a mil ion thanks for their support and encouragement over the last few decades. M&D, you are the best.

I am also forever thankful to:

Kevin Close, for always wanting to read what I wrote and for thinking I’m funny.

Chris and Susan Close, for so many things but especial y for giving me Ava Jane Close, the most adorable niece and goddaughter ever.

Carol and Scott Hartz for opening their home to me, offering me legal advice, and most important, for welcoming me into their family.

Sam Hiyate, a wonderful agent and friend, for taking a chance on me and my writing.

Moriah Cleveland, for answering late-night e-mails about story ideas, editing at a moment’s notice, and just general y keeping me sane.

Lee Goldberg, one of the first people to see this, who helped shape it early on and gave me reassurance that it was, indeed, a book.

Steve Almond, a teacher that every writer should be lucky enough to have.

Helen Schulman, who always told me to take a deep breath and start over.

Margaret Kearney Hoerster, for eighteen years of best friendship.

Mairead McGurrin Garry, Erin Murphy Claydon, and Erin Foley Bradley, for making me laugh al through col ege, and ever since.

Wrigley, the Yorkie, who sat on my lap as I wrote most of this book. A more loyal writing partner wil never be found.

Megan Angelo and Jessica Liebman, who offered early insights and edits for this book and were just as excited as I was every step of the way.

Jon Claydon, for helping me to understand the life of a first-year lawyer.

Jacob Lewis, the best boss ever and a good friend.

Joanne Lipman, for hiring me at Portfolio, even though I said I wanted to be a fiction writer.

My friends at Politics and Prose, who taught me more about booksel ing than I ever knew there was to know.

Everyone at Knopf who has championed my book and made it better with each step: Sonny Mehta, Chris Gil espie, Pat Johnson, Paul Bogaards, Ruth Liebmann, Julie Kurland, Abby Weintraub, Mol y Erman, and Andrea Robinson. I am so lucky that my book found a home with al of you.

My incredible editor, Jenny Jackson, who understood the Girls immediately, got this book into shape, and was able to see what I wanted to do before I even knew. I am so thankful to have you as an editor and friend!

And final y, al my thanks and love to Tim Hartz, who cheered me on and calmed me down in al the right places, listened to me read sentences out loud with a great amount of patience, and always believed. You are truly my favorite.

A Note About the Author

Jennifer Close was born and raised on the North Shore of Chicago. She is a graduate of Boston Col ege and received her MFA in fiction writing from the New School in 2005. She worked in New York in magazines for many years and then in Washington, D.C., as a booksel er. Girls in White Dresses is her first book.

Girls in White Dresses

By Jennifer Close

Reading Group Guide

ABOUT THIS READING GROUP GUIDE

The questions, discussion topics, and reading list that fol ow are intended to enhance your reading group’s discussion of Girls in White Dresses, Jennifer Close’s rol icking, irreverent, and poignant debut.

ABOUT THE BOOK

“Girls in White Dresses is about a group of smart, funny, unapologetical y grouchy, always-hungover female friends who kvetch their way through one another’s weddings and showers, stare blearily at one another’s offspring, sometimes barely tolerate one another’s men but nonetheless have one another’s backs through thick and thin. Jennifer Close has written an unsentimental, frank novel about female friendship—its permanent, lifelong loyalties and unconditional love.”—Kate Christensen, PEN/Faulkner Award–winning author of The Great Man and The Astral Wry, hilarious, and utterly recognizable, Girls in White Dresses tel s the story of three young women grappling with heartbreak and career change, family pressure and new love—al while suffering through an endless round of weddings and bridal showers.

Isabel a, Mary, and Lauren are going to be bridesmaids in Kristi’s wedding. On Sunday after Sunday, at bridal shower after bridal shower, they coo over toasters, eat tiny sandwiches, and drink mimosas. They’re al happy for Kristi, but they do have the ups and downs of their own lives to cope with. Isabel a is working at a mailing-list company, where she’s extremely successful, and wildly unhappy. Mary is in love with a man who may never love any woman as much as he loves his mother. And Lauren, a waitress at a midtown bar, finds herself drawn to a man she’s pretty sure she hates.

With blind dates and ski vacations, boozy lunches and family holidays, relationships lost to politics and relationships found in pet stores, Girls in White Dresses pul s us deep inside the circle of these friends, perfectly capturing the wild frustrations and soaring joys of modern life.

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

1. Which character did you relate to most closely, and why?

2. How does Close use humor to convey character? Are the women themselves funny, or the situations they find themselves in?

3. Ambivalence—toward jobs, men, apartments, and children—is a recurring theme in Girls in White Dresses. Why do you think that is?

4. What did Isabel a learn from JonBenét?

5. Several of the characters keep some pretty big secrets, such as the way Abby keeps her friends away from her hippy parents. How does this affect Abby’s life? How do the book’s other secrets affect the characters?

6. What is the metaphor of the peahen?

7. On this page, Isabel a thinks about her young nephew, Connor, “Al he wanted was to know what to expect. His world didn’t look like he’d thought it would, and she understood. How could he keep calm if he couldn’t see?” Who else does this describe?