that things never really changed。 “After all； it’s really you
who are deserting your job—you forced her to fire you。 But no；
I don’t think she’s a vengeful kind of person。 Just charge the
change fee and I’ll figure out a way to put it through。”
“Thanks； Em。 I appreciate it。 And good luck to you； too。
You’re going to make a fantastic fashion editor someday。”
“Really？ You think so？” she asked eagerly； happily。 Why my
opinion as the biggest fashion loser ever to hit the scene was
at all relevant； I didn’t know； but she sounded very； very
pleased。
“Definitely。 Not a doubt in my mind。”
Christian called the moment I hung up with Emily。 He had；
unsurprisingly； already heard what happened。 Unbelievable。 But
the pleasure he took from hearing the sordid details； bined
with all sorts of promises and invitations he offered up； made
me feel sick again。 I told him as calmly as possible that I
had a lot to deal with right now； to please stop calling in
the meantime； that I’d get in touch if and when I felt like
it。
Since they miraculously didn’t yet know that I’d flunked out
of my job； Monsieur Renaud and entourage fell all over
themselves on hearing that an emergency at Home demanded I
return immediately。 It took only a half hour for a small army
of hotel staff to book me on the next flight to New York； pack
my bags； and tuck me into the backseat of a limo stocked with
a full bar bound for Charles de Gaulle。 The driver was chatty；
but I didn’t really respond： I wanted to enjoy my last moments
as the lowest…paid but most highly perked assistant in the
free world。 I poured myself one final flute of perfectly dry
champagne and took a long； slow； luxurious sip。 It had taken
eleven months； forty…four weeks； and some 3；080 hours of work
to figure out—once and for all—that morphing into Miranda
Priestly’s mirror image was probably not such a good thing。
Instead of a uniformed driver with a sign waiting for me when
I exited customs； I found my parents； looking immensely
pleased to see me。 We hugged； and after they got over the
initial shock of what I was wearing （skintight； very faded D&G
jeans with spike…heeled pumps and a pletely sheer
shirt—hey； it was listed in category； miscellaneous；
subcategory； to and from airport； and it was by far the most
plane…appropriate thing they’d packed for me）； they gave me
very good news： Lily was awake and alert。 We went straight to
the hospital； where Lily herself even managed to give me
attitude about my outfit as soon as I walked in。
Of course； there was the legal problem for her to contend
with； she had； after all； been speeding the wrong way down a
one…way street in a drunken stupor。 But since no one else was
seriously hurt； the judge had shown tremendous leniency and；
although she’d always have a DWI on her record； she’d been
sentenced to only mandatory alcohol counseling and what seemed
like three decades’ worth of munity service。 We hadn’t
talked a lot about it—she still wasn’t cool with admitting out
loud that she had a problem—but I’d driven her to her first
group session in the East Village and she’d admitted that it
wasn’t “too touchy…feely” when she came out。 “Freakin’
annoying” was how she put it； but when I raised my eyebrows
and gave her a specialty withering look—à la Emily—she
conceded that there were some cute guys there； and it wouldn’t
kill her to date someone sober for once。 Fair enough。 My
parents had convinced her to e clean to the dean at
Columbia； which sounded like a nightmare at the time but ended
up being a good move。 He not only agreed to let Lily withdraw
without failing in the middle of the semester； but signed the
approval for the bursar’s office saying that she could just
reapply for her tuition next spring。
Lily’s life and our friendship seemed to be back on track。 Not
so with Alex。 He’d been sitting by her side at the hospital
when we arrived； and the minute I saw him I found myself
wishing my parents hadn’t diplomatically decided to wait in
the cafeteria。 There was an awkward hello and a lot of fussing
over Lily； but when he’d shrugged on his jacket a half hour
later and waved good…bye； we hadn’t said a real word to each
other。 I called him when I got Home； but he let it go to voice
mail。 I called a few times more and hung up； stalker…style；
and tried one last time before I went to bed。 He answered but
sounded wary。
“Hi！” I said； trying to sound adorable and well adjusted。
“Hey。” He clearly wasn’t into my adorableness。
“Listen； I know she’s your friend； too； and that you would’ve
done that for anyone； but I can’t thank you enough for
everything you did for Lily。 Tracking me down； helping my
parents； sitting with her for hours on end。 Really。”
“No problem。 It’s what anyone would do when someone they know
is hurt。 No big deal。” Implied in this； of course； was that
anyone would do it except someone who happens to be
phenomenally self…centered with whacked…out priorities； like
yours truly。
“Alex； please； can we just talk like—”
“No。 We really can’t talk about anything right now。 I’ve been
around for the last year waiting to talk to you—begging；
sometimes—and you haven’t been all that interested。 Somewhere
in that year； I lost the Andy I fell in love with。 I’m not
sure how； I’m not exactly sure when it happened； but you are
definitely not the same person you were before this job。 My
Andy would have never even entertained the idea of choosing a
fashion show or a party or whatever over being there for a
friend who really； really needed her。 Like；really needed her。
Now； I’m glad you decided to e Home—that you know it was
the right thing to do—but now I need some time to figure out
what’s going on with me； and with you； and with us。 This isn’t
new； Andy； not to me。 It’s been happening for a long； long
time—you’ve just been too busy to notice。”
“Alex； you haven’t given me a single second to sit down； face
to face； and try to explain to you what’s been going on。 Maybe
you’re right； maybe I am a pletely different person。 But I
don’t think so—and even if I’ve changed； I don’t think it’sall
been for the worse。 Have we really grown apart that much？”
Even more than Lily； he was my best friend； of that I was
certain； but he hadn’t been my boyfriend for many； many
months。 I realized that he was right： it was time I told him
so。
I took a deep breath and said what I knew was the right thing；
even though it didn’t feel so great then。 “You’re right。”
“I am？ You agree？”
“Yes。 I’ve been really selfish and unfair to you。”
“So what now？” he asked； sounding resigned but not
heartbroken。
“I don’t know。 What now？ Do we just stop talking？ Stop seeing
each other？ I have no idea how this is supposed to work。 But I
want you to be a part of my life； and I can’t imagine not
being a part of yours。”
“Me neither。 But I’m not sure we’re going to be able to do
that for a long； long time。 We weren’t friends before we
started dating； and it seems impossible to imagine just being
friends now。 But who knows？ Maybe once we’ve both had a lot of
time to figure things out 。 。 。”
I hung up the phone that first night back and cried； not just
for Alex but for everything that had changed and shifted
during the past year。 I’d strolled into Elias…Clark a
clueless； poorly dressed little girl； and I’d staggered out a
slightly weathered； poorly dressed semigrown…up （albeit one
who now realized just how poorly dressed she was）。 But in the
interim； I’d experienced enough to fill a hundred
just…out…of…college jobs。 And even though my résumé now
sported a scarlet “F；” even though my boyfriend had called it
quits； even though I’d left with nothing more concrete than a
suitcase （well； OK； four Louis Vuitton suitcases） full of
fabulous designer clothes—maybe it had been worth it？
I turned off the ringer and pulled an old notebook from my
bottom desk drawer and began to write。
My father had already escaped to his office and my mother was
on her way to the garage when I made it downstairs。
“Morning； honey。 Didn’t know you were awake！ I’m running out。
I have a student at nine。 Jill’s flight is at noon； so you
should probably leave sooner than later since there will be
rush…hour traffic。 I’ll have my cell on if anything goes
wrong。 Oh； will you and Lily be Home for dinner tonight？”
“I’m really not sure。 I just woke up and haven’t yet had a cup
of Coffee。 Do you think I could decide on dinner in a little
while？”
But she hadn’t even stuck around to listen to my snotty
response—she was halfway out the door by the time I opened my
mouth。 Lily； Jill； Kyle； and the baby were sitting around the
kitchen table in silence； reading different sections of
theTimes 。 There was a plate of wet…looking； wholly
unappetizing waffles in the middle； with a bottle of Aunt
Jemima and a tub of butter straight from the fridge。 The only
thing anyone appeared to be touching was the Coffee； which my
father had picked up on his morning run to Dunkin Donuts—a
tradition stemming from his understandable unwillingness to
ingest anything my mother had made herself。 I forked a waffle
onto a paper plate and went to cut it； but it immediately
collapsed into a soggy pile of dough。
“This is inedible。 Did Dad pick up any donuts today？”
“Yeah； he hid them in the closet outside his office；” Kyle
drawled。 “Didn’t want your mother to see。 Bring back the box
if you’re going？”
The phone rang on my way to seek out the hidden booty。
“Hello？” I answered in my best irritated voice。 I’d finally
stopped answering any ringing phone with “Miranda Priestly’s
office。”
“Hello there。 Is Andrea Sachs there； please？”
“Speaking。 May I ask who’s calling？”
“Andrea； hi； this is Loretta Andriano fromSeventeen magazine。”
My heart lurched。 I’d pitched a 2；000…word “fiction” piece
about a teenage girl who gets so caught up on getting into
college that she ignores her friends and family。 It had taken
me all of two hours to write the silly thing； but I thought
I’d managed to strike just the right chords of funny and
touching。
“Hi！ How are you？”
“I’m fine； thank you。 Listen； your story got passed along to
me； and I have to tell you—I love it。 Needs some rev