Vegan Virgin Valentine Read Online Free PDF

to log off when one sentence popped up.
    I can see u haven’t changed.
    I was tempted to hurl my stapler through the monitor, but instead I grabbed my keys and cell phone and stomped out to my car. If I was determined to beat Travis for valedictorian before, now I wanted to kick his salutatorian butt all the way to Princeton, New Jersey.
    As far as V, well, I was too pissed off to even think about her.
    I was still angry when I got to the college for my improv dance class. Not a good idea. Even when I’m feeling fine, I hate this class. I wish I’d never registered for it, but SUNY Brockport has a renowned dance program, so I figured I should cash in while I had the opportunity. Big mistake.
    The teacher is Dr. Hendrick. He used to be in the chorus of a Broadway musical several decades ago, so he still thinks he’s hot stuff. The only hot thing about him is that he sweats like an ice cube on a summer day.
    We’ve had four classes so far this semester, during which he’s spent the entire fifty minutes calling out things like, “Be a pine tree!” “Be somber!” “Be a baby bird!” A guy pounds on drums in the corner, and all the students sway and mope and tweet accordingly.
    Today was more of the same. We’d just finished our stretches when Dr. Hendrick shouted, “Be a gazelle running through the wilds of Africa!”
    The drummer pounded a steady rhythm. Everyone started springing around the room, chests forward, feet flying. I slunk after them, looking more like a deer in the woods.
After
it’s been shot. Maybe I’m uptight, but I just can’t get into the whole hippie-dippy-let-loose thing.
    Dr. Hendrick trotted after us, his forehead glistening. “Be popcorn sizzling on hot oil!”
    Everyone flung their bodies around. I shook my arms a little. I glanced in the mirror. I looked like I was having a seizure.
    “Now close your eyes and move like you do when you’re happy. Do happy, however you interpret that.”
    I shut my eyes. The drummer began a frenetic rhythm. I stood still for a few seconds before peeking. The whole class was swaying and bouncing and twirling. Even Dr. Hendrick was galloping around, his eyelids scrunched shut, sweat drenching his underarms.
    Then he opened his eyes, and I was busted.
    “Ms. Valentine, why aren’t you doing happy?”
    As my classmates jiggled and the drummer pounded, I stared at Dr. Hendrick.
Doing happy?
Today of all days, I’m supposed to be
doing happy
? Besides, I’m just not the happy sort of person. Sure, I feel good when I get an A or when someone compliments me on what I’m wearing, but if you’re looking for Mary Poppins or the von Trapp family, you’re not going to find that in me.
    Dr. Hendrick and I stared each other down for a moment, and then he shouted to the class, “Stop doing happy and start being radishes. Not Saran-wrapped and miserable in the grocery store, but radishes in a garden. A lush, fertile garden full of radishes.”
    This guy was definitely a freak.
    When I got home, V was in the kitchen, swigging directly from the carton of milk.
    “Stop it,” I said. “That’s disgusting.”
    She gulped for a few more seconds before smiling at me, a white mustache spreading across her upper lip. “What do you care? It’s not like you even drink milk.”
    “I care because it’s unsanitary.” I unlaced my boots and set them in the laundry room. “Besides, if you do it with the milk, you’re probably doing it with the orange juice and the lemonade.”
    “Yeah, I’m a real refrigerator slut,” V said.
    “Take out the ‘refrigerator’ part and you’re right on target.”
    V reached into the cupboard and pulled out the Oreos. She split one apart and scraped off the filling with her teeth. “What are you talking about?”
    “I’m talking about Travis Hart.”
    “So that’s his first name?” V sat on one of the stools. “I couldn’t remember.”
    I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “So it’s true?” I asked, furiously.