Jaine Austen 7 - Killing Bridezilla Read Online Free PDF Page A

such a whopper?” Kandi stared at me, wide-eyed. “Couldn’t you have made him something more believable, like a dermatologist?”
    “You’re missing the point here, Kandi. It doesn’t matter what sort of doctor he is. What matters is, he doesn’t exist.”
    I stared morosely at my Chimichanga Combo Plate. Why the heck had I ordered such a caloriefest? I should be eating something sensible like Kandi’s mahimahi if I wanted to look decent for the wedding.
    “I still can’t understand why you did it,” she said, taking a dainty bite of her fish.
    “I don’t know.” I sighed. “It was just like the time in high school when Patti and Denise cornered me in the locker room and asked me if I KILLING BRIDEZILLA
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    had a date for the prom. They knew I didn’t, but they wanted to see me squirm. So I lied and said I had one.”
    “How’d you weasel your way out of that?”
    “Well,” I said, thinking back to those long-gone days, “there was this guy at school I was interested in. His name was Dylan. He’d just transferred from back east. He had huge brown eyes and a sad soulful look. Everywhere he went he carried a copy of Nietzsche’s Thus Spake Zarathustra . For some reason, that impressed the heck out of me.
    I couldn’t believe that there among the beach bunny heathens at Hermosa High was an actual eastern intellectual.
    “So I decided to ask him to the prom. I figured what the heck. I had nothing to lose. I spent hours in front of the mirror, rehearsing what I was going to say. Finally I got up my courage to approach him. He was sitting in the schoolyard, staring out into the horizon, his copy of Nietzsche on his lap. Somehow I managed to sputter an invitation.”
    “And? What did he say?”
    By now Kandi’s mahimahi was forgotten on her plate. Kandi often forgets to eat, one of the reasons why she, unlike yours truly, can step on the scale at the doctor’s office without breaking into a cold sweat.
    “He said yes.”
    “Wow,” Kandi grinned. “So lying paid off.”
    “Not exactly,” I sighed. “Don’t forget, I’d never actually had a conversation with the guy. He showed up at my house the night of the prom reeking of marijuana. That Nietzsche book of his wasn’t a book at all, but a hollowed-out box 28
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    where he kept his drug supplies. The guy had a vocabulary of about six words and five of them were, ‘Hey baby, wanna get high?’”
    “Omigod, this is as bad as my prom. I went with my cousin Barry. I could’ve killed him. He spent the whole night at the punch bowl flirting with Mrs. Handler, my English teacher. When I think of all the hours I spent shopping for my prom dress—”
    “Kandi, could we please stick to my nightmare?”
    “Right,” she said. “Sorry. So what did you do?”
    “What could I do? I had to show up at the prom to prove to Patti and Denise that I had a date.”
    “Did they see you?”
    “They saw me, all right. In addition to being a pothead, Dylan was an awful dancer. And not just run-of-the-mill awful. Extravagantly awful.
    He spun and dipped and swirled me so much, I felt like a human salad spinner.
    “At a certain point, everybody cleared off the dance floor to watch us. I could see Patti and her gang standing on the sidelines, enjoying every second of my misery.
    “At last the song came to an end. And that’s when Dylan gave me one final spin. Only this time, he let go of my hand. And the next thing I knew I was spinning across the floor and straight into Principal Seawright’s lap.”
    “Omigod,” Kandi gasped. “You landed in the principal’s lap? What did he say?”
    “If memory serves, his exact words were: I believe this seat is already taken .”
    “Oh, wow.”
    “If I live to be a thousand, I’ll never forget the expression on his face. I practically got frostbite KILLING BRIDEZILLA
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    just looking at him. Honest, Kandi, I thought I was going to die.”
    Having finished my tale of woe, I picked up my fork to dig into