Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
The teacher seated me behind her on that first day, and of course I was so nervous, not knowing what to expect—it was public school, after all! Those first few hours, no other students spoke to me at all, until math class when the teacher played a short video about multiplication. Jenna turned around and said, “Hey, do you like Lemonheads?” and I said, “Yeah.” She handed me a few, and we sat there smiling at each other while we sucked on the sour candy in the darkened classroom until our taste buds were raw.
At recess, I plastered myself up against the brick wall near the playground, determined not to stand out. Jenna was having none of it. Blonde and tiny (which she still is), she came marching up to me in her floral dress and grabbed my hand, forcing me to play Statue Maker with a small group of girls. I remember it well—her whipping me around by the arm until I got dizzy, then unexpectedly letting go of my hand so I went sprawling on the ground. For the record, I never in any way resembled a statue. Ugh, I used to get so mad at her.
But man did I love that stupid game.
Best friends ever since.
Leisurely unpacking my bag, I spread out my beach blanket, snapping it open on the sandy shore. Off comes my skirt, and of course, my tank top. I pull it over my head and toss it so it lands strategically on top of my bag. Score! (Yes, in case you were wondering, I am one of those people who gloat when their wadded-up paper makes it successfully into the garbage can).
I adjust the straps on the bikini top I purchased just last week. It’s a triangle bikini in a bright emerald green that really compliments my tan (and my hair) and ties around my neck. Even though I don’t have the struggles many of my friends have with their weight, I’m not the most confident person in a two-piece swimsuit, so I hurry to lie down.
“Look at Britney Renken drooling over Weston. Ugh, nauseating.” Jenna is mumbling to herself, disgusted. I turn my head and look at her over my sunglasses as she continues ranting. “And what is she wearing? Like a guy wants to see her ass cheeks hanging out.”
Um, actually that’s exactly what guys want, I stop myself from pointing out, and Alex confirms it by snorting out his nose. However, I keep my mouth shut and raise my head to watch the bubbly blonde grinning broadly at Rick and Weston. She’s petite, cute, and running her hand up and down Weston’s arm. My stomach does a flip-flop and something happens to my breathing that I can’t put a finger on.
What does jealously feel like?
Can you even be jealous over something you don’t have? Over a guy you don’t even know?
Is…he…someone I want for myself? He’s so far removed from everything I know, which tends to border on, well, boring. For now, I’m just going to lie here and pretend I’m alone on the beach with Jenna. Oh yeah—and Alex.
Er, and everyone else.
Too chicken to make a move, my butt stays glued to my blanket until my mom texts me to get home.
CHAPTER 4
MOLLY
“Sometimes you just have to put yourself out there. And do something with your hair. Also, showing some boob doesn’t hurt either.”
– Maddie, our other friend
It’s early Wednesday morning, and I dress for the day with care. I’ve risen before the sun with a mission: to be just a little unforgettable…
Pulling the white eyelet sundress I laid out last night off the hanger, I check it over once more for stains. It’s my favorite dress, and I slip it over my head before eagerly walking to the mirror. I gaze at my reflection, all but nodding approval at my own appearance: spaghetti straps and a deep V neckline (just appropriate enough for school) with lace trim that emphasizes my curves nicely. There is a small set of pearl buttons up the front, right under my breasts, and the skirt flares out to the middle of my thighs. It’s just stark white enough to set off the tan I’ve been cultivating on the weekends.
Slipping on a delicate silver chain bracelet and matching silver hoop earrings, I wander into the closet and stare at my shoes. Do I wear a high wedge sandal to elongate my legs or go with something a little edgier?
I’m smiling now as I pull out my well-worn pair of turquoise and brown cowboy boots. When my parents bought me them for me last year for Christmas, I became the envy of all my friends. That’s how spectacular they are. They make me want to dance, and paired with this dress, I feel feminine, and kind of like a knockout, actually.