#3 Truth and Kisses Read Online Free PDF Page A

talked, Billy scrunched up his forehead like he was thinking about something.
    â€œWhat?” I asked.
    â€œDo you think you could teach me to dance?” Billy asked.
    I laughed. We both know he’s a terrible dancer. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”
    Billy smiled into the phone. “I have moves that might surprise you, April.”
    â€œI hope I see them one day,” I said.
    Billy was still smiling as I hung up. He was teasing me like he used to when we went out.
    A good sign, I think.
    Friday, January 10, 10:04 p.m.
Text from Sophie
Sophie: How are the newlyweds?
    Me: IDK
    Sophie: For real?
    Me: Fine. I guess.
    Me: Haven’t seen them.
    Sophie: Don’t want to know why!
    Me: Ewww!
    Sophie: Ha ha! How are you?
    Sophie: And Billy? Or Matt?
    Sophie: Which is it?!?
    I was trying to decide what to write back, and I couldn’t. I didn’t know how I wanted to answer the question. Ever since I walked to school with Matt, I’ve been thinking about him and why he asked me to come to one of his baseball games. But I’ve been thinking about Billy too. It was just like old times when he FaceTimed me, and it was fun. Is it even possible to like two guys at the same time? I literally started six different texts to Sophie and kept erasing what I’d written. Before I sent anything, Sophie texted me back.
Sophie: DWBH
    Me: BFN
    The second I pushed send, I regretted it. I’d wanted to write something that sounded as cool and effortless as “Don’t worry, be happy,” but “Bye for now”definitely fell short. I feel like such an idiot. Not just because this was the first time Sophie and I have texted and I sounded like an idiot, but because I’m thirteen, almost fourteen, and I can’t even decide which boy I like.
    It can’t be normal to be that confused.
    Can it?

Get your facts first, then you can distort them as much as you please.
    â€”Mark Twain
    Monday, January 13, 6:45 p.m.
On the couch
    Today the dance team went to the Faraway Community Center and Ms. Baumann paired us up with the girls we’re supposed to mentor. When we first got there, the girls were all over the place with their books, phones, and snacks. They were talking and laughing and definitely not what Ms. Baumann calls “dance ready.” But it didn’t take her long to get everyone in order. She was pairing girls with dancers faster than most people brush their teeth. When she brought a tiny ten-year-old girl over to me and introduced her as Desiree, I thought the girl might be scared or shy. She had to be smaller than June, who is only seven.
    I gave her my best it’s-going-to-be-okay smile. “I’m April,” I said.
    â€œYou can call me Des.” She put one hand on her hip and grinned. It was clear Des might be small, but her personality wasn’t.
    I sat down next to Des when Ms. Baumann started to talk. She told the girls we would be working with them for the next six weeks to help them prepare for a dance show they’ll put on for the community. When she finished explaining the details, Ms. Baumann asked everyone to form three lines so we could begin rehearsal.
    â€œThere are two things you need to know before we start,” Des said as we walked to a spot in the back line. I raised an eyebrow. She continued. “Number one: I love to talk.”
    Ms. Baumann clapped her hands. “Girls, take your places.”
    I put my fingers to my lips. Des bit hers to show she got that when Ms. Baumann is talking, no one else should be. Ms. Baumann explained a plié and then demonstrated how to do one. “Now it’s your turn,” she said.
    Des just stood there. Her hand was back on her hip. I couldn’t figure out what she was waiting for. “So what’s the second thing?”
    Des grinned like she was glad I’d asked. “I hate to dance.”
    Tuesday, January 14
Study Hall
    This morning at assembly, Billy