Pretty Twisted Read Online Free PDF

eyes, giving him an earnest look. He was also very skinny, making me wonder if he had some kind of eating disorder.
    As for Freya, she was stunning. She had the curves-in-all-the-right-places figure girls dream of and long hair with a thick fringe, the colour of corn. I wondered if it looked as glossy and smooth in real life. Her face reminded me of a figurine’s – a red mouth smiling sweetly, small nose, long eyelashes, pink cheeks. And I was fascinated by her outfit. It was too weird not to be retro – a skinny-rib sweater and a skirt that would probably have been called mini back in the sixties, fitted leather boots and lots of colourful jewellery. It should have been a mess, but she pulled it off.
    They both looked very grown-up. I was glad I’d lied to Jonathan about my age. He probably wouldn’t have stayed online with a fourteen-year-old, and I really liked talking to him, even if I had to Google some of the things he talked about. I’d had to think fast when he’d asked about my A levels, so I listed the subjects my sister was taking, adding art because it was my favourite.
    I realized I hadn’t typed a reply for a couple of minutes. I’d been too busy examining the photos. yeah shes pretty, I said.
    I’m really lucky. There are way better-looking guys who fancy her.
    ur not bad looking. In fact, I really liked the way he looked, especially his smile – genuine, but a little shy. Different from most of the guys I knew, who were all too full of themselves.
    That’s debatable. I’m definitely not in Freya’s league.
    guess u have lots in common.
    Music, mostly. We do – did – an act with our guitars, writing music and singing. Photo’s actually one we used for publicity. Making something and sharing your ideas with someone – that’s the best.
    i bet. I’d never really shared my drawing with anyone who understood. Abby and people in art class were impressed by my stuff, but they didn’t really get it.
    So, you’ve seen me. Do I get to see you?
    brb.
    I swivelled round in my chair, heart beating quickly.
    I hate the way I look. I’m not hideous, but there’s nothing about me that would make anyone look twice. Olivia, my sister, has exactly the same eyes and nose and mouth as I do, but on her face they’re beautiful. Her hair is a lovely bright brown – mine is mousy and cut like a boy’s. She has long eyelashes – I don’t. Worst of all, while she has a nice figure, mine has no curves at all. In fact I could be mistaken for a boy. When I wear skirts and jewellery and make-up I look like I’m in drag.
    I remember last Christmas when Dad took us up to Nottingham to stay with Gran and Granddad. Olivia and I were both given fifty pounds, and as there wasn’t much happening on Boxing Day we went to the shops. It was an agonizing morning. Everything Livy tried on fitted perfectly, whereas I just looked like a kid who’d broken into her mum’s wardrobe. I eventually spent most of my money on a figurine. She was wearing a ball gown like the one I graffitied on the wall.
    Was it silly that I didn’t want Jonathan to know all this? On the Internet I didn’t have to be me. I could be whoever I wanted.
    I searched through My Pictures for photos and found one taken of Olivia and me this summer in Greece. It showed Livy at her most glamorous in a strappy top and tiny shorts. I looked childish in combats and a dumb cartoon-character T-shirt.
    bak, I said. sorry, was findin a photo. sendin now. the kid is my sis. shes a pain.
    I awaited his verdict anxiously.
    You got all the looks then.
    Even though I’d asked for it, I felt crushed.
    After we logged off I looked at the photos again, in detail. Jonathan had sent me a few more pictures of Freya – he seemed sickeningly into her. What did she have that made her so attractive to him? OK, she was good-looking, sang and played the guitar and the violin, but what was that special thing? He’d told me they’d been going out for six months. Maybe it was