Beauty Read Online Free PDF Page A

face-to-face with the yellow fish. Warm light poured out of it, washing over me, and—
    BEEEEEP!
    I jumped awake with a start, my hand slamming down on my alarm clock to turn it off. My heart was racing, my breath was ragged, and my head was pounding so much, it felt like it was stuck in an anvil. Slowly I stood up, shaking out my limbs. It had been a dream. Just a dream. I glanced at the clock. A dream that had kept me sleeping through my alarm for twenty minutes ! Which left me with fifteen minutes max to get ready and meet Kemper out front.
    I hurried to the bathroom and hopped in the shower, turning it on full blast. I still felt a little groggy from my dream, like I couldn’t quite shake the sleep off me, so I held my face up to the water and let it stream down, shocking me awake. By the time I got out, the bathroom was so steamy I couldn’t even make out my reflection in the mirror as I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair. There was no time for makeup or blow-drying. My hair would just have to air-dry on the way to school.
    Throwing on some clothes, I grabbed my backpack and pounded down the stairs. “Want some cereal, Mol?” my mom called out from the kitchen. I glanced down at my watch: t minus one minute until I had to meet Kemper.
    “No time,” I called back. “I’ll grab something at school!” I hurried out to the front yard, yelling, “See you later,” as the door slammed shut behind me. Pulling my bike out of the garage, I rolled it onto the front lawn and stood still for a second, breathing in deeply. It was one of those perfect spring days. The sun was hanging full and content in the sky, like it had just eaten a huge breakfast. Yellow buds were bursting into bloom on the ground, birds were twittering in the trees, and the air had a fresh smell to it, like a newly unwrapped gift.
    Kemper rode up just as I was climbing onto my bike. “Morning,” I said. I bent down to tinker with my brake, which kept getting stuck lately.
    “I’m in protest,” Kemper announced, in typical why-bother-with-hello Kemper fashion.
    “And what are you protesting this time?”
    “Hayley,” she announced. “And her backstabbing. See the shirt?” I straightened up, grinning at her. The red streak in her hair was now coal black, like someone had taken a permanent marker to it, and she was pointing to a gray T-shirt she was wearing under a thin green cardigan. JUST SAY NO, it read in big block letters. Her eyes fell on me, widening a little as if in surprise. “And I even re-dyed my hair,” she continued slowly, sounding distracted all of a sudden. “As a, uh, statement, since you know how she, uh, hates anything goth …” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Okay, did you do something this morning, Mol? You look … I don’t know … different.”
    I shook out my wet hair as we pedaled off down the road. “I call it the I-had-fifteen-minutes-to-get-out-the-door look,” I said sourly. I grimaced a little as I realized I hadn’t even grabbed cover-up to bring to school with me. Which meant my zit would be alive and kicking all day long.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Kemper stealing a curious glance at me. Was my zit that awful? “No,” she clarified. “Not different bad. Different … great, actually.”
    I rolled my eyes—like come on —but the funny thing was, now that I was awake and moving, I felt a little different too. Lighter, somehow. “Maybe it’s all the sleep I got last night. I slept like a rock . I could barely get up this morning.” I paused. “Guess that’s what a good old- fashioned night of humiliation will get you.” I’d meant it as a joke, but Kemper didn’t laugh, and it just hung there in the air between us, stiff and silent.
    “About last night,” Kemper said softly. “I really am in protest. I can’t believe what Hayley did.”
    I kept my eyes down, watching the road fly by beneath me. “I don’t know, Kemp. It was kind of absurd that I thought