Kiss And Blog Read Online Free PDF Page B

always a dead giveaway.
    “Well, what is it?” she asks, rubbing her hands on her jeans and reaching for her reading glasses.
    I just stand there, anxiously watching her face as she reads it over, trying to gauge what her response will be. And with her lips pressed all firmly together, her eyes all narrowed, and her jaw gone all tense, I know it’s not gonna be good.
    “Oh, Winter, are you sure you want to do this?” she asks, gazing at me with a whole lotta concern and more than a little disappointment.
    But feeling surprised by her question, and fearing it’s a trap, I just nod without blinking.
    She looks at me for a moment, and then lets out a sigh that’s thick with resignation. “Okay,” she says, voice full of defeat. “Just get me a pen.”
    So I reach into my backpack and hand her a pen. And as I watch her sign on the dotted line, I know that this was just way too easy, and I’m braced for the inevitable lecture, the oft- repeated “free to be you and me, evils of conformity, corporate America is trying to homogenize us but we won’t let ‘em” speech. But surprisingly, it never comes.
    She just hands me the paper and goes, “Can you set the table for dinner? It’ll be just the two of us tonight, your sister has art class.”
    And as I head for the drawer where we keep all the natural fiber, vegetable-dyed placemats, I peek at my mom, waiting for something more. But she’s back to stirring the sauce, adding a pinch more thyme, and humming “Scarborough Fair” under her breath.
     
    The next day, I’m hanging out at my locker during the ten- minute break, eager to show Sloane the words to our cheer, which I finally finished during a
Catcher in the Rye
discussion in AP English. And I start to feel kind of anxious when I realize that break is almost half over and yet there’s still no sign of her. And after shaking my head and rolling my eyes, and basically just showboating my annoyance for the whole school to see, I suddenly remember that if I want people to like me, then I need to clean up my act, and suppress any and all emotions that don’t convey extreme happiness, wholesome sexiness, and out- of-control school spirit.
    So I make my posture a little straighter, smooth the wrinkles from my white Mossimo T-shirt, and tug on the waistband of my two-hundred-dollar Rock & Republic jeans that I totally splurged on even though I definitely couldn’t afford to. Then I concentrate on looking super, deliriously happy, which only results in me feeling like an idiot, standing around and smiling like that for no apparent reason.
    And just as I shut my locker and decide to go find Sloane, I see her approaching me. But it’s not until after I call her name and wave that I realize she’s not actually heading for me at all. In fact, she doesn’t even seem to be looking for me. She’s just walking along, taking her time, while all of her attention is focused on Ginny.
    “Hey, you guys!” I say, smiling and rushing toward them, wondering if this moment requires one of those big fake hugs, or if it’s better to just hang back and let one of them make the first move.
    But Sloane and Ginny just keep talking, as if I’m not even there. So I search Ginny’s outfit, quickly scanning it, looking for something to compliment since I saw firsthand just how well that strategy worked for Sloane. But since she’s dressed in her cheerleading sweater and skirt and those white, extrasupport tennis shoes (the same kind you see on nurses and the elderly), I know it won’t seem authentic. And since the last time I attempted this I totally failed, I’m really feeling the pressure to get it right this time, or not do it at all. And after looking her over a second time and realizing there’s nothing for me to compliment that won’t come off as either totally dumb or completely creepy, I settle for just standing there, like a total retard, waiting for one of them to notice me.
    So then finally Sloane gazes up at me and