The Queen of Cool Read Online Free PDF Page B

winter break and around after school and stuff,” he says.
    “Just ’cause I have this zoo internship doesn’t mean I’m not available,” I say.
    “Well, you can’t come to Disneyland with us. I mean it’s Junior Cut Day. It’s a tradition,” he says.
    “I have to go pick up my zoo uniform and get field observation training.”
    “See? It hasn’t even started yet and it’s already cramping your style.”
    “Oh, please,” I say. “Once you’ve seen the Disney Christmas parade, you’ve seen it.”
    He pulls me in for another kiss. I hold back my tongue.
    “Do you want to do it?” he asks, all low-like, trying to sound sexy.
    “No,” I say.
    But I let him put his hand down my pants.

    Tiny is by the flagpole at 2:45.
    The Santa Ana winds are blowing hard, and it looks like it takes an effort for her to keep her feet on the ground.
    She waves and starts walking over to me.
    “This way, my car is this way,” I say, forcing her back to the flagpole and into the parking lot. I don’t really want to be seen with her.
    We get into the car, and she pulls a triangular thing out of her backpack. She attaches it to the seat belt.
    “What are you doing?”
    “I’m too small for the belt. It’s a child belt adjuster,” she says. “By the way, can you turn this air bag off? It’s dangerous for small children and Little People; see, it says so right here.”
    “No, I can’t.”
    “Why not?”
    “’Cause, I don’t know how.”
    “Well, drive carefully then,” Tiny says.
    I set the car in drive and head toward the zoo.
    Then Tiny starts humming. Could she
be
more annoying?
    “Do you have an extra-small?” Tiny asks the zoo volunteer coordinator in charge of handing out the shirts.
    “One size fits all,” he replies.
    “Good thing I know how to sew,” Tiny informs him. “I’m on stage crew, and sometimes I have to help out with the costumes.”
    “Mmm-hmm,” he says.
    Why does she have to overexplain everything?
    “Looks like he’s going to have a problem too.” Tiny says, pointing to an extremely obese volunteer. It’s Fat Boy, from orientation.
    “Ready to go, Tiny?” I ask.
    “It’s
Tina,
” Tiny says. “Hang on just a sec.”
    I watch as Tiny goes over to Fat Boy and says something to him. He starts to laugh. I see her hold up her shirt, then he holds up his shirt, which looks like it will be ten times too small.
    She pats his arm, and she heads back toward me.
    “What happened there?” I ask.
    “I told Matthew that I’m going to alter my shirt to fit me, so I’ll save the extra fabric and alter his too.”
    “I don’t understand,” I say.
    “He’s big. I’m small,” Tiny says, like I’m slower than slow.
    “No, I mean, why do that for him? You don’t even know him,” I say.
    “Don’t you ever do anything for someone just to help them out?”
    “No,” I say.
    “Well, you should try it.”
    God. What does she want me to do? Like, good for her — she’s a nice girl. I’m not.
    “I don’t care what that guy says. Look around, open your eyes,” Tiny says. “One size does not fit all.”
    I really think about that for a minute.
    “It must be a drag to adjust the world to fit you everywhere you go.”
    “No shit, Sherlock,” Tiny says.

    “So then, by the teacups? Oh, my God! It was so funny,” Perla says.
    “What?” I ask.
    It is very boring to listen to the blow-by-blow account of a day that you did not participate in, especially when Perla is telling the story while sitting on your bed, painting her toenails “do me” red and dripping nail polish everywhere.
    Perla is not a good storyteller.
    “Hysterical!” she says. “Then Mike Dutko is like running alongside the parade, declaring his true love to Snow White, and she’s like looking at him like he’s crazy. And then we did the Tower of Terror like three times; I totally threw up, but Sid didn’t want to go the third time. He was like spouting some shit about something. So he just watched