Snark and Stage Fright Read Online Free PDF Page A

was the part of the story you found unbelievable? Not the orphanage for failed models?” I laughed.
    “I’m finding this whole situation pretty unbelievable, to tell you the truth.” She shook her head. “Don’t you find it an eensy weensy bit surprising yourself?” she asked me and then sat there with two fingers poised like pincers a few millimeters apart to indicate the “eensy weensy-ness” of my chances of being with Michael.
    “What’s that, Catalina? Your cup size before the surgery?” I blurted out—just as Michael showed up.
    “Everything okay here?” he asked after he dropped a cloth shopping bag filled with some crusty bread, cheese, and a bunch of big green grapes onto the towel.
    I waited for Catalina to burst into wounded tears. But she chirped, “Georgia is sooo funny,” as if we had just been laughing and braiding each other’s hair in one of history’s finest moments of girl bonding.
    Interesting ploy.
    Michael raised one eyebrow at me as a frown pulled at the corner of his mouth. But he shrugged, handed me a jar of peanut butter and a knife, and explained, “Quickest thing I could grab.”
    “Peanut butter?” Catalina gasped as if he had presented me with a banana slug on a plate.
    “Georgia’s a vegan,” he said simply.
    “Oh, poor you ! You’re going to miss out on Dr. Endicott’s lobster feasts.” She pouted in sympathy and batted her eyes a few times, which was something I thought only happened in cartoons.
    I assured her, “I’ll survive without seeing his dad throw a living creature into a pot of boiling water, thanks.”
    Michael looked at me, brows raised in surprise, and I just shook my head quickly and hoped he knew how much I really like and admire his dad despite his cruelty to crustaceans.
    Catalina informed me as she placed a hand on his shoulder, “Well, Michael loves lobster.”
    “I know. But he has many fine qualities despite that flaw,” I said, and he pulled a piece of hair off my cheekbone and laughed at that.
    Catalina examined a second grape between two fingers and then asked, “Are you still in high school, Georgia?” sort of the way you would ask someone if they still had to report to their parole officer.
    “Yes. And what are you going to do now that you’re out of school, besides posing for pictures in overpriced clothes and inducing bulimia in preteens?” I asked, and Catalina’s eyes narrowed and her lips mashed together for a second.
    “Hey, George,” Michael said, rising suddenly. “We really should head up to the house to get ready for the big dinner.” He stooped to begin putting the bunch of grapes and the bread and cheese back into the bag and said to Catalina, “Rose is getting married tomorrow, and the rehearsal dinner is at my aunt’s house tonight.”
    “I know. God, I love your aunt’s house,” she said, keeping her eyes on me while she helped Michael fold the beach towel. Meanwhile, I tried to get the umbrella to collapse and it did, right on my fingers, pinching the flesh in the mechanism, but I willed myself not to howl in pain. “I’ll be there tomorrow, at the wedding and the reception,” she promised and gave Michael a kiss on the cheek as he pulled the bag and the umbrella over his shoulder. Then she wiped his cheekbone slowly, to cleanse it of any lip gloss. I was surprised she didn’t want to leave her mark. “See you tomorrow, Georgia!” she called after us, and I think I shuddered visibly.
    As we climbed the weedy bank, he was impossible to keep up with. Michael’s a fast walker under any circumstances but I kept getting slowed down by bucketfuls of sand filling my flip-flops and when I removed them the sand stung my hand where the umbrella closure had cut into it, slowing me down even more. When I finally reached him at the top of the hill and started on the stone path to the bungalow, I said, “You’ll be happy to know Catalina thinks you make an ex cellent boyfriend.”
    “Is that why you had to