Survival of the Fiercest Read Online Free PDF

that.” Kyle stepped out onto the sidewalk and smiled, a deep dimple in his right cheek. Then he took off toward Fifth Avenue, his bag swinging behind him. Andie pulled the sweatshirt off and held it in her hands, just staring at it. It was Kyle Lewis’s sweatshirt. The same Kyle Lewis whom Lola had grown up with in London, skating in Hyde Park and playing Ghost in the Graveyard in their parents’ gardens. The same Kyle Lewis Lola had gone to Madame Tussauds with just last week. And the same Kyle Lewis who was K.L.—the only boy who made Andie wish she went to Donalty.
    It was wrong of her to think his dimples were adorable. Or that he was talented and sweet and all the things she wanted in a boyfriend. It was wrong of her to like him—but she couldn’t stop herself. She hugged the sweatshirt to her chest, smiling as she breathed in a mixture of boy scent and Old Spice deodorant. If it was so wrong…why did it feel so right?

ONE OF THESE THINGS IS NOT LIKE THE OTHERS
    L ater that afternoon, Lola stood in the poorly lit hallway of a building in SoHo, wearing her pink Speedo and a Gap white linen sundress. She stared at a door labeled PACIFIC SUNWEAR . The next time she was on Ashton News , she’d be in a Prada evening gown, strutting down the runway in Bryant Park, Betsy Carmichael running commentary on Ashton Prep’s newest It girl (Days-of-the-week knickers have been selling out all over the city! The fashion world speaks: Stop flattening your hair! Dumbo ears are so IN!). The rag mags would finally have something to talk about other than her parents’ divorce (The Childs’ Child Following in Mum’s Footsteps!) , and Kyle Lewis, her childhood friend turned crush, would finally forget she was ever just his clumsy mate “Sticks.”
    She adjusted her cloth headband so that it held down the tops of her ears and entered the room, which smelled like a strange mixture of hair spray and baby oil. It was bustling with teenagers, all over the age of sixteen, and all looking like they had taken abreak from surfing in Malibu to stop by the casting call. In the corner, a few girls examined themselves in Clinique compacts. Lola couldn’t have gotten her skin that brown if she’d spent the entire summer roasting on a beach in Spain. The boys were uniformly handsome, reminding Lola of the small army of Ken dolls she had when she was little. Hearing the door shut, they all turned in unison like a herd of beautifully tanned, blond deer. Their blue eyes stared at Lola.
    She pulled at the straps of her Speedo one-piece, realizing it probably wasn’t exactly what Ayana had had in mind when she’d said “beachwear.” She shifted around in her sundress, trying to cover the bright pink straps. “I’m here for the Pacific Sunset casting?” she said in a small voice.
    Everyone was completely silent. “No way—did she just say Pacific Sunset ?” a girl with a sunburned nose asked. She patted it with powder as she let out a loud cackle.
    A pretty bloke with wavy, bleach blond hair eyed Lola’s Speedo, which was still visible beneath her sundress, and her pale, freckled legs. He whispered to the bloke next to him. Then he turned to Lola. “Are you sure you’re in the right place?”
    Lola blushed so much her ears turned red. Everyone there had tiny button noses and golden brown skin, the color of chocolate chip cookies that had been in the oven just a little too long. None of them had bumps on their noses, none of them had skin so white you could practically see through it, and none of them had to wear a cloth headband just to pin back their bloody ears. “Maybe I made a mistake…” Lola mumbled, feeling for the door behind her.
    As she turned quickly to leave, she felt her dress catch on the doorknob. There was a horrid ripping sound, then laughter. She felt a cool breeze on her legs and looked over her shoulder to see a