Braless in Wonderland Read Online Free PDF Page A

people in line were a blur. I shouldered them out of my way, ignoring the whines of “Hey, she’s cutting.” Finally, I got to her, right at the front of the line. My hands were balled into fists. “Did I get a phone call last night?” I shouted in her face.
    She looked at me with horror. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œA phone call. Did I get one?”
    She answered through her trophy smile. “I don’t know. Can we like, discuss this later?”
    I knew we were being watched by the people behind the table, but I didn’t care. “I can’t believe you! Your dumb friends were so important you couldn’t get off the phone for one second to tell me John called?”
    â€œAllee—”
    â€œHe called to ask me out. Me, not you , for once. How could you not tell me?”
    â€œAllee, not now,” she said, still in stiff-lipped ventriloquist mode.
    â€œHow many times have I given you your messages, Sabrina? How many times? I always, always give you your freaking messages!”
    Her smile was gone. She whispered, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, just don’t do this now.” Unbelievable. She was still only thinking of herself. I hoped I’d blown this for her. I really did. It would serve her damn self-centered selfish self right.
    I was about to storm off when I heard, “Holy handbag, Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.” A man wearing blue eyeliner and blue-tinted aviator sunglasses perched on his completely bald head was sitting behind the table. He touched the arm of the man sitting next to him. “Jay, look what the wind blew in.”
    â€œHallelujah. It’s about time,” Jay said. He was African-American, with a platinum blond coif. He smiled up at me. “What’s your name, honey?”
    Normally if a man had addressed me as “honey” I would have written him off as a sexist Neanderthal, but seeing as this Jay person was, in a sense, one of the girls, the rules didn’t apply. Besides, his smile was open and friendly. He looked nice. “Allee,” I said.
    â€œI’m Jay.”
    â€œShe’s just my sister,” The Fluff said, shouldering me off to the side a little. “I’m Sabrina. Did you see the close-up picture of me?”
    â€œJust a sec, honey.” He looked me up and down, then said to Baldie, “This one’s got snap, crackle, pop, all right.”
    â€œFo sho,” agreed Baldie. “And at least she’s not wearing one of those long dresses like all these other girls. Those were like, two years ago in Miami.” Did he momentarily forget about The Fluff standing in front of him wearing one? “I can’t wait to get out of the boonies.”
    Shame. Shame on my sister’s face, painted in salmon-colored splotches all over her cheeks. And shame on me and my total freak-out explosion, stealing her moment. She really wanted to be chosen. She was too innocent to realize this was all bogus.
    My rage was gone now, replaced by something else I could only describe as a blood-is-thicker-than-water, sistah-sistah protective instinct. I wanted to tell Baldie that he didn’t know anything, that Sabrina Rosen, aka the fresh frosh, was a trendsetter at our school and an A-list hottie whose butt they should have been kissing. I opened my mouth to tell him all that when Baldie grabbed my arm. “Wait. Don’t you have any snaps?”
    â€œSnaps?” I asked.
    â€œSnapshots, as in photos,” he answered with clipped precision, the way you speak to a child of the special needs variety. “Where are your pictures?”
    â€œShe didn’t bring any,” The Fluff said, pushing her way in front of me. “It’s mine you want to see, remember?” She tapped on the table where her pictures were scattered. “I know the flyer said to bring two, but I thought you’d have a better perspective of