Sloane Sisters Read Online Free PDF Page A

lived next door to her in London for three years while his father was teaching at Oxford. They had become buddies, sliding down Kyle’s den stairs in their sleeping bags, making mud soup in Regent’s Park, loading up their buckets with dirt, sticks, and tulips. She hadn’t seen him since she was ten, more than two years ago, but they’d started talking online this summer when she found out she was moving. He’d told her about New York: how she had to make sure to look left, not right, before crossing the street, how her savings—all one hundred and six quid—was going to double ( Ur gonna be rich!!! $$$, he’d written). He’d even promised to take her to Madame Tussauds if she ever felt homesick—he’d said it was just as weird as the one in London.
    LOLABEAN: I’M HERE! NYC!
    STRIKER15: HEY! HOW’S IT GOING SO FAR!
    LOLABEAN: SO FAR…
    She paused and ran her fingers over the keyboard. So far only two out of the five people she lived with liked her—and one of them was her mom. But he didn’t need to know that.
    LOLABEAN: SO FAR SO GOOD. WANT TO HANG OUT
    AFTER SCHOOL ON MONDAY?
    STRIKER15: SURE, I CAN MEET U AFTER BAND PRACTICE.
    Lola laughed, imagining Kyle with his massive baritone horn case. He was so skinny his mum had bought him a little trolley to wheel it on.
    If Lola was uncool, then Kyle was a super geek. He wore thick glasses and had messy Harry Potter hair, a lanky body, and crooked teeth. In fourth grade he’d memorized all the constellations and had made Lola sit with him in the park for an hour while he found each one in the night sky.
    Lola breathed a sigh of relief. She and Kyle would hang out on Monday and keep on about missing Christmas crackers and Cadbury Twirl chocolate bars. He’d show her Times Square, even if it was the armpit of the city. And they’d drag that silly baritone horn around together, not caring if it was cool or not.
    Lola couldn’t wait.

EVERY PRINCESS HAS A PEA
    S aturday afternoon, Stella and Cate strolled up Madison Avenue, their arms laden with shopping bags. Cate had taken Stella to a sample sale at the Peninsula Hotel and picked a dress out for her, insisting it would go perfectly with Stella’s coloring. There were only three people Stella trusted with fashion advice: Bridget, Pippa, and her mum. But looking at her strapless turquoise Vivienne Tam dress nestled inside her shopping bag, she knew she could add Cate to that list.
    â€œIt really is a beautiful dress,” Stella noted.
    â€œI told you!” Cate singsonged, swinging her Hermès bag in the air.
    After the sample sale, Cate and Stella had stopped in all of Stella’s favorite shops: Dolce & Gabbana, Donna Karan, Coach. Then they’d lunched at La Goulue. Stella wanted to hate New York, she really did, but it was nearly impossible when Cate Sloane, connoisseur of fine food and clothing, was her personal tour guide.
    Cate squeezed Stella’s arm. “It’s so Zac-Posen-goes-to-Beijing,” she added approvingly.
    A group of sixth-grade girls zoomed past on their Razor scooters. A girl in an Ashton Prep tee stared intently at Cate and Stella, almost crashing into a parked Audi.
    Stella flipped her blond curls over her shoulder, buzzing from the attention. She could hardly wait to walk into her new school arm in arm with Cate. They’d spend all of English drawing pictures of Jane Eyre in Temperley dresses. They’d plan their shopping route in the cafeteria over Waldorf salads. Most of all, they’d dominate the ninth grade. They wouldn’t just be the best BFF pairing Ashton Prep had ever seen, because they were more than that. They were practically sisters. What could be better?
    They turned down Eighty-second Street, the humid August air making the city feel like one massive sauna. Cate pushed into the air-conditioned house and started up the staircase.
    â€œSo what are we doing tonight?”