Crazy People: The Crazy for You Stories by Jennifer Crusie Page A

Steph, a woman who was thoughtless in the best sense of the word, living in the now with such fervor that sometimes she forgot there could ever be a tomorrow. I wonder now if I should have made Caroline Quinn’s other BFF instead of Stephanie; I think the simplicity of Stephanie’s outlook on life made her much easier to cut from the novel than Caroline’s whacked-out view of men and relationships would have. And as a side note, if you’ve read
Crazy For You
and don’t remember Caroline and Stephanie, it’s because they were cut from the novel.

    1967
    I am at my sister’s wedding, looking stupid in a pink lace dress with a lot of ruffles and a butt bow, and I’m feeling putrid since I barfed up half a bottle of pink champagne an hour ago, and of course, my father saw me, but that’s my life for you.
    My sister, being my mother’s daughter, would never do anything like that. Stephanie is no rocket scientist, she just married Andy the Slime and the ink on her high school diploma is still wet, but she always does the right thing about people and clothes, two things I am never going to understand but that my mom and Steph just know.
    Like she picked a wedding gown and matching bridesmaids dresses with ruffles across the boobs, and I know she did it so I wouldn’t look so flat because she has plenty up there, more than the other bridesmaids, and the ruffles on her look sort of too much. I saw her during the fittings trying to smooth them down, so I know she noticed. I mean, she did that for me, got a wedding gown that wasn’t exactly what she wanted so I’d look good and everything would match. I get fed up with her because she’s eighteen and I’m fifteen, and she’s supposed to be the mature one, and I have to tell you, she’s totally dumb, but nobody ever said she wasn’t a really good person.
    I’m not a good person but I’m interesting, like my dad, who’s really smart, so whenever I say anything good, my mother sighs and says, “Caroline, you’re just like your father,” like that’s not a compliment, which I guess it isn’t to her and Steph. But it’s not like I have a choice. I tried to be like them last night and look where it got me. Andy is the scum of the earth and I hate him and I hope he dies.
    But, as my father says, at least he’s a primate.
    The reason I hope he dies is that the rehearsal dinner was last night, and that’s when I decided to see if I could do the Stephanie thing, you know, be charming and good, since I was going to be dressed for it, Steph having picked out my dress again. It was blue this time with more ruffles, but I didn’t look so tall and skinny in it, and I thought I might have a shot at the girl thing. Steph made sure I was paired with the tallest usher (as my father says, beanpoles should have my reach), and he looked nice even though he was one of Andy’s cousins, so I thought I might have a chance.
    But then instead of letting Steph introduce me, Andy grabbed me by the arm and dragged me over and said, “Scott, this is Steph’s titless little sister, the giraffe. You’re stuck with her and her zits for the night.” Then he laughed like he was hilarious and staggered off to evolve or something.
    I don’t care what you say, not even Steph could come back from that one.
    Scott tried to help me. He said, “The family doesn’t claim Andy much,” but I couldn’t say anything for the rest of the night, and if I can’t talk, there’s not much to me. Steph says Andy gets defensive because he thinks Dad and I don’t like him, and we don’t, but I never did anything to deserve that. I mean, I wanted to say, “Oh, yeah, well, Andy, I may be titless, but you’re stupid, and I might grow tits someday but you’re screwed for life,” but I didn’t think of it until I was sitting up in bed at one this morning, still thinking about how dumb I must have looked when he said that.
    Thank God my father didn’t see me just stand there like a dumbass.
    Since I