Thirteen Read Online Free PDF

Dinah went on.
    â€œWhich is my point exactly,” I said. “Being fierce in love isn’t always the best solution!”
    â€œDude,” Cinnamon warned, her expression shifting.
    It was unnecessary. My super-ultra-sensitive Lars radar had kicked in the very same second, noting even before Cinnamon did that he was strolling into the cafeteria. I turned into hyper-Winnie, putting on a show.
    â€œ Di nah!” I exclaimed, slapping her hand as it snaked for another fry. “Leave some for me, will you?” I laughed stupidly and loudly, monitoring Lars’s progress from the corners of my eyes.
    â€œYou’re a freak,” Cinnamon said. “You know that, don’t you?”
    â€œSilly Cinnamon!” I said, smiling as if I were a Miss Universe contestant. Was Lars watching? Did he see me?
    â€œHe’s coming ov -er,” Dinah said.
    My heart went bambitty-bam. “Teeth?” I said, baring my lips.
    â€œThey’re fine,” Dinah said.
    â€œExcept for the wad of spinach,” Cinnamon contributed.
    â€œDo you see any spinach on my plate?” I asked. Anything to keep talking—this was not the time to be unanimated. “No, you do not.”
    â€œThen it must have been from dinner last night,” she replied.
    â€œI think it’s time for you to be quiet,” I sang. I turned around, glowing (hopefully) with wittiness and joie de vivre. “Oh! Lars! Hi!”
    He was behind me, his hands jammed in his pockets. “Hey, Win,” he said. He jerked his chin at my friends. “Hey, Cinnamon. Dinah.”
    â€œHey, Lars,” Cinnamon said. “What’s kickin’?”
    What’s kickin’ —she cracked me up. Only I was too jittery to enjoy it. This was what happened when a boy held your hand and then inexplicably never did again. You started to doubt yourself. You stopped finding the humor in everyday life. Curse false-hand-holding boys!
    Except not really. I wanted to touch him, not curse him.
    â€œNot much,” Lars said. He focused on me. “You finish the French assignment?”
    â€œ J’aime le hotdog ,” I said in reply. I cleverly translated it for the others. “That means ‘I like the hot dog.’”
    â€œI bet you do,” Cinnamon said under her breath.
    I drove my sneaker into her shin. “Our assignment was to pretend we were at a sporting event? Okay?”
    â€œShe uptalks when she’s nervous,” Cinnamon said to Lars. He chuckled, but her comment made me mad. And embarrassed.
    â€œI’m not nervous ,” I said.
    â€œI like hot dogs,” Dinah offered. When we all looked at her, she said, “What? I do!”
    â€œ Thank you,” I said. I wasn’t sure for what; maybe just for being Dinah. For being…without guile. Sometimes, with Cinnamon, it was like she fell into this “impress the guy” mode and forgot the primary rule of friendship, which was to make your bud look good in front of her boy. Not stupid.
    â€œSo,” Lars said. “See you in class?”
    I rose above my embarrassment and put on my game face: flirty, but casual. Or at least the illusion of casual. I hoped.
    â€œIf you’re lucky,” I said.
    â€œOoo!” Cinnamon crowed.
    Lars’s mouth did an adorable sideways quirk-thing. “Oh, is that how it is?”
    â€œUh-huh.” There was that fun, amped-up charge between us, and I willed him to take that energy and run with it. Tousle my hair , I commanded him telepathically. You’re standing right there. Do it!
    â€œWell, here’s hoping I get lucky,” he said.
    Cinnamon hooted again, and I was aware of Dinah giggling. I grinned up at Lars, and he grinned back. It was nice.
    But I wanted more.
    Â 
    On Tuesday, Ty asked me what he could do to make Lexie like him. I said, “I don’t know, ask Sandra.” Then I remembered that she and Bo were having their little tiff