Everything You Want Read Online Free PDF

the streetlight.”
    “That is so cool ,” Tiffany says. “Oh, and it’s yellow! I love that.”
    “You guys can borrow it any time you want,” I say grandly. “A mobile love nest.”
    Tiffany turns beet red. Matt laughs and shakes his head. He still doesn’t quite know what to do when I say something outrageous, though he’s getting better at not treating me like a girl. I didn’t make a big deal about it when we first met and he treated me like he treats Tiffany—gentlemanly, but careful and a little condescending. I just let him see that I didn’t need for him to open doors for me or not swear in my presence and, after a while, he started treating me like a regular person, at least most of the time.
    Of course, as Jules is always pointing out to me, making boys treat you like a regular person doesn’t do much for your love life. Like I haven’t figured this out myself. I mean, look at what happened with Josh. And boys here are hardly breaking down my door. The only shred of possibility for a date I’ve had all semester was Tiffany’s idea to get Matt to fix me up with one of his fraternity brothers, which completely terrorized me. All I could think of was Josh finding out and giving the guy some friendly advice. Like, get out of it if you possibly can.
    “Sure, uh-huh,” I said about the first ten times she offered. “Supposing Matt tried to talk some guy into taking me out on a blind date, what would he say to describe me? She’s large and blond? She’s got a really fun personality? I ask you, is that not the kiss of death?”
    Tiffany said, “You are not large, Emma. You’re tall. And you’re very pretty. If you just paid a little attention to yourself, you’d look great.”
    After a while, I took to saying things like, Dang! I promised Brangelina I’d babysit this weekend. Or, I’d love to, but I absolutely cannot break another date with Johnny Depp.
    “Oh, Emma,” she’d say. And she’d go back to doing her nails, or whatever.
    You’ve got to love Tiffany, though. It occurs to me now, scarfing down the last of the pizza, that as determined as she’s been to help me get a social life, she’d never in a million years even think to say, “Gosh, Emma, I know you can get some dates now that you’re rich.”
    God. It occurs to me that I probably could get some dates because of it. There’s a depressing thought! Supposing some guy ever does ask me out: how will I know it’s really me he’s interested in, and not the money? Suddenly, I feel electrified. What if finding out about the money gave Josh second thoughts about me ?
    “Emma?” Tiffany says. “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah, yeah,” I say. But I’m not, because I’m thinking about Josh Morgan again , tumbling backwards to meeting when we were on the cross-country team together freshman year in high school, what a kick Josh got out of the fact that I decided to run the same distance as the boys in practice. We bonded instantly, ran together on weekends and off-season, hung out at his house or mine, talking, watching movies. We raced go-carts together, rode miles and miles on our bikes. For three whole years, I counseled him through romances with cute, bitchy girls. I understood when he cancelled something we’d planned to do to be with them, listened when they broke his heart.
    “You’re the best, Emma,” he’d say. “All girls should be like you.”
    I knew what he meant. More importantly, what he didn’t mean. Girls should be fun and easy to talk to, but also small and cute, with bodies to die for. Still, I couldn’t help falling in love with him. I couldn’t help being hopeful that one day he’d wake up and see that he loved me, too.
    Hadn’t Mom always said real love was no more than a charged friendship? And hadn’t she always said that both real love and real friendship depend on people trusting each other enough to share how they feel?
    That’s what got me in trouble. I really believed that.
    His parents were