Georgia Peaches and Other Forbidden Fruit Read Online Free PDF Page B

spirit.”
    My dad widens his eyes at me like he’s trying to get a silent response to what she just said. Three stops breathing for a sec, a sure sign she’s hoping I’ll say no way. Here’s the thing, though—this is actually a pretty great idea. If I can get in with a group of teens who are already spiritual and faithful, then it will give me a starting place—with my target audience. Besides, like Althea says, I am the perfect embodiment of God’s plan. There’s absolutely no reasonwhy I can’t be part of a Baptist youth group.
    â€œI’d love to attend.”
    â€œWhat?” Three sputters the word. “You don’t have to do that.” One strand of chestnut hair falls from her bun, like I’ve shocked it loose.
    I put on my sweetest smile. “No, seriously. I’m in a new town. Wouldn’t this be a good way for me to meet people?”
    â€œWhat about meeting people at school?” Three has that stricken look on her face again. It’s amazing, and kind of telling, how neatly this falls into my make-Three-miserable plan. And into my small town makeover.
    â€œElizabeth,” Mrs. Foley cuts in. “If the child wants to attend Foundation with us, I’m not sure why you’re trying to talk her out of it. She’ll meet some of the nicest folks in Rome.” Then she can’t resist a dig. “Certainly nicer than who she was socializing with in Atlanta.”
    Althea’s chuckling into her hand, trying to pretend she’s got a cough.
    â€œI can’t spend ten months in my room doing homework and listening to Taylor Swift.” As if. “It may surprise you, but I like going to church.” I turn to Mrs. Foley and lay on the molasses again. “And meeting the finest families in Rome sounds like the perfect way to get myself situated.”
    â€œThat’s right, baby,” Althea sings from her spot behind the reception desk. “You show them some Gordon style.”
    â€œWonderful.” Mrs. Foley puts her hands together lightly in a steeple. “We’ll see you Sunday with Elizabeth.”
    I put on my most beatific smile. “Can’t wait.”
    Three looks like she swallowed an egg. Whole.

Six
    B.T.B. HAS A SET OF elephant playing cards spread in his hand. Each one is drawn in colored pencil with a different circus or zoo elephant, its name, and its stats on the back.
    â€œYou made these?” I ask.
    He grins—well, he always grins—and nods. “Yes.”
    â€œWow, B.T.B., these are really good.”
    From across the common area, I hear the peal of feminine laughter. I look up. The girls grouped near the window are all in name-brand clothes with just the right amount of layering to make it look like they haven’t tried too hard. Their posture is straight and they’re not looking around to see who’s watching, because they know theydon’t have to. They’re watched all the time.
    One girl in particular stands out. She’s a tall, tanned white girl with cool tortoiseshell glasses and not quite straight, not quite curly honey blond hair that’s kind of mussed but on her looks more Ralph Lauren chic than messy. I stare for a second longer than I should and she happens to catch my eye. Then she turns and whispers something to her friends, who break out in peals of laughter again.
    â€œBitches,” I mutter, ignoring the cute-girl-alert flutter of my sadly misinformed butterflies.
    â€œNo.” B.T.B. puts his hand on my hand. “We don’t talk like that.”
    I squeeze his. “I know, B.T.B., but sometimes I mess up.”
    I smell the perfume before I see them. Two of the girls, a petite, pretty black girl and the mussy-haired blonde, are standing looking at B.T.B. The petite girl leans in. “You got a girlfriend, B.T.B.? She love those elephants like you?”
    The blonde says nothing but smiles at me like I’m a monkey at