Babe in Boyland Read Online Free PDF Page B

just finished recapping my disastrous foray into investigative reporting. “The whole night was a total bust. Either they told me what they thought I wanted to hear, or they were suspicious and clammed up. Nobody said anything worth writing down.”
    It’s almost two in the afternoon on Saturday, and we’ve finally finished cleaning Darcy’s house, erasing all signs of the party so her parents won’t freak when they come home Sunday night. Now we’re finally getting around to breakfast. I’m washing and slicing the strawberries while Darcy makes waffles and Chloe brews another pot of French press Sumatra.
    “Call me crazy,” Chloe says, “but maybe a kegger isn’t the most scientific environment for research.”
    I wave this concern away. “If they’re not comfortable telling me the truth after a couple beers, they sure as hell won’t open up anywhere else. No, I don’t think the environment was the problem.”
    “So maybe it’s your technique.” Chloe’s always eager to offer a little brutal honesty.
    “Maybe, but I doubt it. I tried all kinds of approaches: sexy, friendly, intimidating—nothing worked. I’m starting to think there’s an invisible force field that prevents honest communication between X and Y chromosomes.”
    The waffle iron beeps and Darcy opens it, impales the waffle, deposits it on a plate. “Chloe, you take this one. If you get too hungry you’ll be bitchy.”
    “Don’t you mean bitchier?” I correct.
    Chloe shoots me an evil look and takes the plate from Darcy. She smothers it in strawberries and syrup, pours herself more coffee, jumps up on the counter beside me, and digs in. I watch, envious, breathing in the sublime smell.
    “Oh, and to make things worse, I had a delightful conversation with Summer.” I make my voice all fluttery like hers. “‘It’s so amazing playing Cecily again! It’s just a mazing what you can learn when you do the same role twice.’ I was like excuse me, I just puked inside my mouth. ”
    Chloe swallows hard and glowers at me. “Hello! Some of us are eating.”
    “I wish you were in the show with us instead of her,” Darcy says. “You should have auditioned! You totally would have gotten it.”
    “She didn’t last time,” Chloe says.
    “Thanks!” I bump her with my shoulder.
    Chloe holds up a hand. “You didn’t let me finish! I was going to say you didn’t get it last time because you let Malibu Barbie psyche you out. She’s not half the actress you are and you know it.”
    “Being in a show at Underwood is so fun, Natalie.” Darcy’s tone is sincere—she’s not rubbing it in, just telling it straight. “The campus is gorgeous and their theater’s so big. Their guys are better actors too.”
    “It’s true. Plus they’re much more hygienic.” Chloe licks the syrup from her lips. “I challenge you to find anyone half as perfect for me as Josh. He’s so polished.”
    “And clean,” I remind her.
    Darcy giggles. “He’s almost as anal as her.”
    “What is it with you people?” she scolds. “First ‘puke,’ now ‘anal.’ You know how sensitive my gag reflex is.”
    Chloe has an incredibly weak stomach. In the sixth grade, when we got a perfunctory lecture on menstruation from Mrs. O’Malley, Chloe threw up. There have been countless other incidents over the years. Just about any mention of bodily fluids or the digestive process sets her off.
    “Maybe you could go to rehearsal with us sometime at least,” Darcy suggests. “I know you’d love the campus. And the guys. You ready for your waffle?”
    I just sit there, blinking at her. I’m getting an idea. A wonderful, awful idea.
    “Natalie?” Darcy asks. “You okay?”
    “Why didn’t I think of this before?” I spring off the counter and do an impromptu Snoopy dance. “Oh, God, it’s brilliant! It’s so perfect!”
    “What?” they ask in unison.
    “Underwood! I’ll get my story at Underwood!”
    Darcy tilts her head sideways. “You’ll