The Boy Recession Read Online Free PDF Page B

student senate. I’m not—”
    “Tall, good-looking, funny, sexually experienced…”
    From the second level of the bandstand, where he’s been pacing, Eugene kicks me in the back. “Stop!” I tellhim, falling over onto my side, half laughing. “Stop! I think those are my kidneys!”
    “Seriously, Huntro,” Eugene says, sitting down next to me. “I’ve been investing in the stock market since I was eleven, and I know a good opportunity when I see one. This is my chance. I’m going to that barbecue, and I’m gonna show Bobbi that I’m a good guy. I would do anything for this girl, Huntro. Anything.”
    I look over at him. He’s completely serious, despite the glitter on his face.
    “All right, Mr. Pluskota,” I say, kicking off my leather flip-flops. “I’ll go with you. When is it?”
    “Tomorrow night.” Eugene claps me on the shoulder. “Your confidence means a lot, man.”
    I don’t tell him the reason I’m gonna go to this barbecue is to watch him crash and burn. But who knows? It doesn’t have to be a disaster. Bobbi Novak’s a pretty nice girl. I think she’ll let him down gently.
    “So what’s the plan?” I ask. “What’s the game plan, stud?”
    “I’ve been asking around to find out what girls are into,” Eugene tells me, really pleased with himself. “So I’m gonna get a spray tan and make red-velvet cupcakes.”
    Well, this barbecue should be interesting.
I’ll get to see if Eugene’s boy-recession theory pans out. And if it doesn’t, at least I’ll get a cupcake out of it.

CHAPTER 5: KELLY
    “Boy Recession 101: How Julius Girls Can Make the Best of a Bad Ratio”
    Aviva Roth for
The Julius Journal
, September
    I ’m gonna punch Diva Price in the face,” Aviva announces, coming back from the s’mores table with three marshmallows on a big pointy stick, which she’s waving around in a way that makes her threat actually threatening.
    The back-to-school barbecue is the only Julius event other than graduation during which it’s warm enough to wear short shorts—which is why it’s Aviva’s favorite. It’s one of my favorites, too. I love that good bonfire smell, the picnic setup, and the s’mores, especially the ones with marshmallows that are burned on the outside and super-gooey on the inside. I’ve eaten two of them already tonight, and I want another one.
    “Hey, watch that thing.” Darcy grabs the end of Aviva’sstick. “No one is losing an eye tonight.
Or
getting punched in the face.”
    I guess Darcy wants to keep marshmallow-related violence to a minimum, seeing as it’s her first back-to-school barbecue as school president. But she kept a pretty close eye on things last year as vice president, because Charlie Devine was too busy popping the collar of his polo shirt to be very effective.
    “What did Diva do?” I ask Aviva, pulling the top marshmallow off her stick and popping it into my mouth.
    “She Tweeted that I lied about being biracial now that it’s cool because of Obama.”
    “It’s not
cool
because of Obama,” Darcy says. “The fact that we have a biracial president has political ramifications beyond—”
    “Just ignore her,” I tell Aviva, cutting Darcy off. “Diva is so ridiculous with her Tweeting and her creepy close-up Facebook pictures. The only reason anyone friends her is to mercilessly mock her.”
    Diva Price is one of the notorious Julius spandexers. Her name is actually Dina, but after she starred in a lice-shampoo commercial when she was nine, she started making everyone call her Diva because she considers herself an actress/model. None of us consider her an actress or a model, seeing as that lice-shampoo commercial was her only gig ever, but we do consider her to be a diva, so that’s what we call her. Diva is the chief inquisitor of the panty-line persecutions, and she squeezes herself into the tightestsynthetic pants possible and wears them stubbornly through the Wisconsin winter, when everyone else throws in the