The View from the Top by Hillary Frank Page B

that Lexi loved—the Anabelle who’d improvised a scene with her in theater class about a chameleon complaining to a shrink about how he can’t stop blending in. The Anabelle who used to hang out with Lexi every day after school until her brother swooped in and somehow made himself Anabelle’s Boyfriend For Life.
    â€œOkay,” Anabelle said, mid-laugh, “I’m going for it.” She held the boob up to her face as if it were a mirror, then stuck the nipple between her teeth and bit, snapping off the rounded chocolate nub.
    â€œMan, I can’t believe you went straight for the nipple!” Lexi cried.
    Anabelle put the boob back on the counter. “What was I supposed to do?” she asked, examining her melty-chocolate-covered palms. “It’s the only part sticking out!”
    â€œEven so!” Lexi said, grabbing one of Anabelle’s gloppy hands. “Don’t you want to save the best for last?” She leaned in and sucked the chocolate off of Anabelle’s thumb with her best approximation of over-the-top movie-star sexiness. “What kind of lesbian are you?”
    Anabelle stared at the finger that was covered in Lexi’s saliva. That lesbian comment seemed to be sticking with her. But Lexi couldn’t tell from Anabelle’s squinty-eyed face what she was thinking.
    This was a flawed plan, Lexi thought. It was never going to work. As if eating a chocolate boob was really going to lead to an honest conversation about how nice real boobs were, and about everything that had been on Lexi’s mind for the last year and a half.
    Anabelle’s jaw came unhinged, as if she was about to ask a question. But all she could get out was “Are—” before the phone rang.
    Of course, it was Matt. And of course he wanted to talk to Anabelle. And of course he was pissed at her over God knows what.
    As if Matt had anything to be pissed about. For the past week he’d been in Boston with their dad, finding an apartment for next year. Their dad had insisted that Matt not go to college right away, that he have some “much-deserved time off.” Whatever that meant. Dad always gave them whatever they wanted. As if trampolines, electric guitars, or city apartments could make up for his leaving them for Bridget, the Swedish au pair who used to vacation with them here—back when the Normal house was just their summer place.
    Lexi stomped into the living room and threw herself on the couch.
    Through the doorway, she could hear Anabelle’s bummed-out mm-hmms and desperate no, I love yous. It was hard to make out exactly what else she was saying, but it sounded like she was defending herself.
    Lexi didn’t even realize she’d been nervously rooting around between the couch cushions until her hand came upon something that crunched against her fingers. It turned out to be a piece of grody brownish popcorn. Man, her brother was a slob. She’d been finding random pieces of popcorn all over the living room lately.
    Suddenly, over in the kitchen, Anabelle’s voice rose and Lexi distinctly heard, “How many times do I have to tell you? We’re just friends.”
    Lexi shot straight up. Was it possible, she wondered, that Anabelle was talking about her?
    For over a year now there had been rumors circulating that Lexi was a lesbian. She’d often heard her nickname, Lexbian, whispered or fake-coughed as she walked down the halls. At first she’d chalked it up to catty girls being jealous over a starring role going to a sophomore. But the thing was, the more she thought about it, the more Lexi wondered if maybe the rumors were true. Yeah, she found girls attractive. But she also found guys attractive. She’d never kissed a boy, only a girl—a girl with freckles on her lips named Jamie. That was back in eighth grade at drama camp. They hadn’t labeled it as anything. Not dating, not fooling around even. It was just