The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks Read Online Free PDF Page A

imagined Alpha Tesorieri as a five-o’clock-shadowed Italian bad boy wearing black leather and driving a motorcycle.
But he wasn’t.
He was—the boy from the Jersey Shore.
The one who had scrounged her frozen custard off her.
The one who had said, “It appears I can’t be trained.”
The one who had said, “I’m always hungry.”
Medium height and sandy haired, with a barrel chest and a baby face, Alpha wasn’t looking at Frankie. “Arggggh!” he yelled when he hit the ground. “That wall just kicked me from here to Tuscaloosa. I am hereby declaring war on that wall, Dean. Do you hear me? That wall is toast by the end of the semester.”
“You’re out of shape, dog.” Dean chuckled.
“It’s like I was lugging every dang coconut pie I ate this summer up that freaking wall.” Alpha threw himself extravagantly on the floor mats, face down. “I am just going to lie here and commune with the foot smell,” he announced. “That’s all I’m really good for at this point.”
“Dog, Livingston’s here with some girl.”
Alpha popped up. “Livingston!” he cried, rushing at Matthew. “Let me wipe my sweat on you as a gesture of fraternal love!” He rubbed his wet pink face on Matthew’s T-shirt. “How was the Vineyard?”
“Sheep everywhere, dog,” said Matthew. “Sheep as far as the eye can see. And then when there’s no more sheep, oxen.”
“I love oxen!” Alpha’s eye flitted to Frankie and back again. Did he recognize her?
“You would love oxen.” Matthew smirked.
“No really, they are so butch. Wouldn’t you love to be an oxen? An ox, whatever?” asked Alpha.
“An ox,” said Matthew. “That’s the singular. And no, thank you, I would not.”
“Who are you?” Alpha turned to Frankie. “Call me Alpha.”
“This is Frankie,” Matthew said.
So he didn’t recognize her. Frankie held out her hand and Alpha shook it. It was wet with perspiration, but she remembered the way it felt.
“Sorry about the sweat. Now I’ve wiped my sweat all over you; we’re bonded for life. Did you know that?”
She laughed.
“Seriously. I only do it to people I like. You saw me do it to Livingston, right? It’s like blood brothers.”
Matthew fake-kicked Alpha. “Don’t talk to her like that, she’ll never hang out with us again.”
“Oh, so are you with Livingston now?” Alpha asked.
“We just met, dog,” laughed Matthew. “Lay off.”
“He’s the handsomest one of us, though, don’t you think?” Alpha said, wiping his brow. “He’s like Adonis or whatever.”
Frankie couldn’t deny it. Instead she said, “I think I met you at the beach a few weeks ago.”
Alpha squinted at her, the same way he’d done the afternoon they first met. “I’m from New York City. No beach there, unless it’s Coney Island. But hey, any girl of Livingston’s is a friend of mine. Dean, meet Frankie, by the way.”
Dean walked over. “Hi, Frankie.”
“She’s Zada’s little sister,” explained Matthew. “You remember Zada?”
“You a freshman?” Dean asked.
“Sophomore,” Frankie answered.
“Funny,” Dean said. “I swear I’ve never set eyes on you in my life. I would remember you. I know I would.”
When Matthew hadn’t remembered her, Frankie had felt mildly pleased to have changed so radically that he didn’t even know she was the same girl; when Alpha hadn’t, she’d felt small. Just another girl he’d chatted up on the beach and then forgotten. But when Dean didn’t remember her, she got angry. “I ate lunch with you more than once,” she said, giving him an even stare. “Because I used to sit with my sister. We had a conversation one day about Pirates of the Caribbean.”
“The ride or the movie?”
“The ride. The old ride versus the updated ride.”
“I don’t remember.”
“I was telling you how there were hidden Mickey Mouses and shadows of Pluto on the old ride? How Zada and I looked them up on the Web before we went?”
Dean shook his head.
“The giant rock that looks