Dreamland Read Online Free PDF

girls were intimidated by her looks, or thought she was too pushy, or just flat-out feared for their boyfriends—it never bothered me. I never missed having a wide, thick circle of girlfriends: Rina was more than enough. We were comfortable with each other’s flaws and weaknesses, so we stuck together and kept to ourselves. And once my mother realized that I wasn’t going to start wearing tight skirts and dating half the basketball team—so Rina-esque—she relaxed and got used to her as well. She always liked to see Rina as needing structure (it was all those divorces), so she took to inviting her to dinners and holidays and on our yearly beach trip, folding her into our extended family.
    Now, as we walked into the gym, a pack of girls by the bleachers turned to look at us, narrowing their eyes, mouths already whispering. This was the standard reaction to Rina, anywhere we went, from Wal-Mart to the movies, from both strangers and schoolmates. It always bothered me—I was protective of her—but she didn’t even seem to notice anymore.
    â€œI don’t want to do this,” I complained, even as she was writing both our names down at the sign-up table, which was manned by Chelsea Robbins, head cheerleader, runner-up to Cass for Homecoming Queen the year before.
    â€œSure you do,” Rina said easily, flashing her million-dollar smile at Chelsea, who smiled back just as fake, tossing her blond ponytail. “It’ll be fun.”
    â€œSo Caitlin,” Chelsea asked me, “how are you doing?”
    I looked at her. Her head was cocked to the side, her face serious. “Fine,” I said.
    She nodded, sympathetic, and dipped her blond head and her voice a little lower before adding, “I can’t believe it about Cass. I mean, she never struck me as that type.”
    I had a sudden flash of Chelsea standing on the Homecoming Float, in her runner-up sash, waving with a perky smile that couldn’t completely hide the fact that she was bitter she’d been beaten. “What type is that?” I asked her.
    Her big blue eyes widened. “Well, I mean, I just think ... she was going to Yale and all. She like, totally, flaked out, right?”
    â€œCome on, Caitlin,” Rina said, locking her fingers around my wrist.
    What I was feeling was new for me, a bubbling up of anger, mixed with so many images from the last two weeks: my mother weeping; my father running his hand over his head, closing his eyes; Cass’s name doodled on the back of that envelope; her inscription to me in blue ink: See you there.
    Rina yanked me by the arm, hard, and began to pull me away.
    â€œGood luck,” Chelsea yelled after us, and I tried to turn back but Rina held me tight. Someone was blowing a whistle: Tryouts were starting.
    â€œCaitlin,” Rina said in a low voice. “I like a good fight as well as the next person, but—”
    â€œDid you hear what she was saying?”
    â€œShe’s a bitch,” Rina said flatly, plopping down on the bleachers and crossing her legs. Two heavyset girls sitting farther down looked over, their eyes traveling up and down Rina from her face to her toes. She ignored them. “We knew that already, right? But starting something now would blow our chances at cheerleading, and we don’t want to do that, do we?”
    â€œYes,” I said.
    She sighed, reaching up to fluff her curls. “Do this for me, okay? I promise you’ll thank me later. Trust me.”
    I looked at her. Those two little words had gotten me into more trouble than I cared to remember.
    â€œOkay, fine,” she said quickly. “Do what Cass would do, then.”
    â€œAnd what’s that?” I said.
    She shook her head. “You don’t know?”
    From the middle of the gym floor, Chelsea Robbins began clapping her hands. “Okay, ladies, it’s time to get started! We’re going to show you a basic routine to learn for