The Popularity Spell Read Online Free PDF Page A

Dad frowns as soon as he sees me. “Cleo, you are not wearing a ski mask when you meet Terri.”
    “But I like it!” I say. “What’s the matter? Doesn’t she like monkeys?”
    “It has nothing to do with monkeys.”
    “You shouldn’t date her if she hates monkeys.” I’m making a cute face underneath my mask, but Dad can’t tell because he can only see my eyes and mouth, not the whole package.
    “Cleo.” Dad sounds upset now. “Take it off or no millipede.”
    I lift off the mask. It makes my hair fly in every direction, but I don’t care. I don’t care what I look like when I meet Terri, and I don’t talk at all on the ride over. When we get there, Dad walks up to the front door of a small house, rings the doorbell, and there she is.
    She’s got long red hair like Toby—but she’s nowhere near as cute as he is. Terri is a grown-up like Dad, but she’s wearing jeans and sneakers like a kid would, and she’s also wearing a T-shirt with a cartoon monkey on it! She might have liked my monkey hat, but now we’ll never know.
    Dad walks up to my side of the car and opens the door. “Cleo, this is Terri.”
    “Hi,” she says with a little wave. I mutter “hi” back but Dad says, “How about you say, ‘Nice to meet you’?” This is pretty silly because Terri can hear that Dad
told
me to say it, and obviously
I
don’t think it’s nice to meet her at all. But I say it anyway because I want a millipede. She says it’s nice to meet me too, but I don’t believe her.
    “Cleo, why don’t you get in the backseat now?” Dad says.
    “Why?” I ask. “I got in the front seat when we got in the car and you didn’t tell me to get in the back.” I know it’d be easier to do what he says, but this is my seat!
    “Yes, but Terri’s here now. She gets to sit in the front because she’s an adult.”
    That’s true, but I have a better argument. “Right. But I’m your
daughter.
”
    “Cleo, this is not up for discussion. The grown-ups sit in front. Now move to the back or no millipede.”
    Ugh. I can’t wait to get this millipede so Dad can stop using it to make me do things I don’t want to do. Then he says, “I’m sorry we wasted your time, Terri. We’re not going to Pets! Pets! Pets! tonight. I’ll call you later.”
    “Okay!” I don’t want to, but I give in, unbuckling the seat belt. I climb out the open door and squish my long legs into the seat behind Dad’s.
    On the way to Pets! Pets! Pets!, Terri and Dad talk about boring adult things like work and schedules and ways to drive to places. I stare at the back of Terri’s head like I’m the voodoo doll with his button eyes, trying to make her nervous. One time she catches me. She turns around and smiles but I only frown back.
    I feel a little better when we pull into the parking lot of Pets! Pets! Pets! with its big glowing sign of a cartoon dog and cat. As soon as the car is parked, I jump out and run to the door. Dad shouts, “Be careful!” from way behind me, but I don’t need to be careful because I’m already there.
    Pets! Pets! Pets! has the best smells in the world, like wood chips for guinea pig cages and barrels of doggie treats and big bags of cat litter. It must be the expensive kind of litter, though, because there’s a box of it in the cat cage and there’s hardly any smell of cat poop or pee.
    “Hi! Welcome to Pets! Pets! Pets!” says a worker in a green apron with a spotty teenage face. “My name is Lyle. What can I help you with this evening?”
    “We’re looking for a millipede,” Dad says. Terri is standing next to him. It’s dumb that she needs to be so close. If I were a ring-tailed lemur, I’d rub a millipede on me to keep her at a distance.
    “Oh, we’ve got millipedes!” says Lyle. “They’re in the back corner; I’ll take you there.”
    I’m ready to go but Terri taps Dad’s arm. “You know, millipedes aren’t really my thing. I’m more into soft and cuddly than creepy and crawly. Why