Queen of Broken Hearts Read Online Free PDF Page A

mean to be an actress, exactly. We’d just finished a seven-hour drive and lied our way onto a set for the free food. They mistook my mother for an extra, and she just sort of… went with it. And people fell in love with her. One invented identity and twenty roles later, and she was a movie star famous for her tear-jerking family values flicks.
    I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not jealous of the families in those movies where she plays the perfect mother. I don’t want the perfect mother. I just want my imperfect one.

    The phone rang a few hours later. I snatched it up before it could wake my mother. “I said no, Pak.”
    “Great, I’m happy for you. But this is Sam, from Cheesey’s. You left your purse here yesterday. I just found your cell and thought I’d try calling your home number.”
    “You touched my stuff?”
    “You left your stuff on my table, so yeah. Are you coming down here for it or what?”
    “Sure thing, Samantha. Be there in twenty.”
    “It’s—”
    I hung up.

    The sun was setting by the time I got to Cheesey’s.

    Stop rolling your eyes, Chad. This part is totally relevant.
    Where was I?
    Cheesey’s. Right. So I walked in and my purse was sitting on the counter.
    “Do I get a free hunk of pizza for the inconvenience?” I asked.
    “I was the one inconvenienced. I am not giving you free food, too.” Sam was spraying down the counter with what looked like and probably was just water.
    I grabbed my purse. “You better not have gone through it.”
    “I had to get it back to you somehow. Did you really see We Bought a Zoo three times?” Sam rested his elbows on the counter.
    “I’m not dignifying that with a comment.”
    “And whoever Pak is, he’s called you, like, five times. Though I guess you already told him no, so it doesn’t matter.” His smile was uncertain.
    I reached into my purse to check my cell phone. “It’s a long story. He’d wreck my reputation.”
    “Ah. So you’re one of those.” He scrubbed at the counter with an already dirty towel.
    “One of what?” I snapped my purse shut.
    “One of those girls who wants the perfect boyfriend to marry and have two point three kids with.”
    “Two point five .”
    “I guess I’m a statistical rebel.” His eyes were dark. Not quite as dark as the black hair I suspected was a bad dye job, but still. Dark. And… the only word I could think of to describe them was sparkly .
    “So, rebel.” I leaned my elbows on the counter. Probably a bad move, hygiene-wise.“If your entire school went from believing you’re royalty to thinking you’re a convict, what would you do about it?”
    He blinked. I guess it isn’t the most common question to ask purse thieves. “Depends. Which one is true?”
    “Neither. Well, the convict part might be a little true.”
    “I’d tell the truth.” His mouth set in a strangely serious line, as if he believed the words.
    “I can’t do that. But thanks anyway for your non-advice.” I swung my purse over my shoulder and headed for the door.
    “Anytime.”

    When I got home I decided it was time to send a signal of my own. That night I snuck out my window and headed to the playground.
    A broken bar tore at my sweat pants on my way up the monkey bars. I’d have to toss them in the kitchen trash when I got home so Mother wouldn’t notice. I got to the tiles and made a square with the x ’s, leaving the o in the middle. It was our version of a bat signal, but the people it gathered were much crazier than Batman. I was calling a meeting of the Stone Throwers. Hollywood save us all.

Birdie Tells All

Episode 2: Part 1

    I waited for them in the clubroom the next day after school, clubroom being a loose term to describe the art room we took over when we met up.
    Annabelle showed up first and claimed a spot sitting on the table in the back. I still couldn’t see her eyes. “Let me guess, you called this meeting?”
    “What makes you think that?” I knew I should’ve owned