Tricks by Ellen Hopkins Page B

imagining
    I have some fictional brother who is doing unmentionable things with my best friends. I steal a covert glance
    *
    at Paige, who is def not noticing the guy (who is def not my brother) at all, let alone having sex with him.
    I need food. Haven't eaten today.
    *
    As Paige and I go inside, I can feel
    not-brother's eyes crawling all over my back. I nudge Paige. "Psst. Did
    you see that cute guy checking us out?"
    *
    What guy? She turns, and I follow her eyes, only to find his eyes
    locked on me. Well, he's def
    checking you out. Talk about
    *
    robbing the cradle, or wanting to.
    Like, totally tasteless. C'mon. There's a pair of skinny jeans with my
    name on them right over there.
    125
    Someone Should Tell
    Paige that "skinny jeans" are most def not her best friend.
    She and I are the same age, and about the same height.
    *
    But she's got a lot more
    curves. In a way, I envy that.
    Paige looks more like a woman.
    I, on the other hand, look like a girl.
    *
    Skinny jeans work better for girls.
    Still, Paige manages to pour
    herself into a pair. Do they
    make my butt look big?
    *
    Well, duh. But I'm not about to say so. Friends
    don't tell friends they look
    fat. Or even curvy. "Nah."
    *
    Cool. So what are you waiting
    for? Try some on. Check it out:
    Thirty percent off. She stands, hands punctuating well-defined hips.
    *
    Debate is useless. I slip into a pair and have to admit they
    look pretty good. Oh, why not?
    What's a trip to the mall for?
    126
    Shopping with Paige
    Reminds me of that TV show:
    TLC's What Not to Wear.
    Paige has spent big bucks, and what does she have to show for it?
    *
    A couple of pairs of too-tight
    jeans, three blouses guaranteed to show too much tummy and/or
    cleavage, and a pair of hot pink
    *
    sneakers with soles as thick as six hundred-page novels.
    Now we're leaving Claire's, where I'm pretty sure Paige
    *
    took advantage of a five-finger
    discount. Not that she can't afford a cheap pair of earrings. But ripping
    them off gives her a total rush.
    *
    Hurry up, she urges, glancing
    nervously over her shoulder as we hustle toward the food
    court. Talk about obvious!
    127
    Still, by the time yummy scents of fat-laden foods entice our noses, we see no sign of security on our
    tail. Way to "borrow," Paige.
    *
    What do you want to eat? asks
    Paige, sniffing the air. Subway?
    Pizza? Hey you know what sounds
    delish? A hot dog on a stick.
    *
    The built-in joke is just too good to pass up! "Damn, girl. You really do
    need a boyfriend, you know?" We both
    snort into gut-busting, pee-your-pants
    *
    laughter. "Oh... my... God!"
    I stutter. "I have so got to pee."
    I turn, ready to run. And who's
    sitting at a table nearby, grinning
    *
    like an orangutan--a very hot
    orangutan? The guy. The cute
    not-my-brother weirdo. And he's checking
    me out again. Is he, like, stalking me?
    128
    I Still Have to Pee
    But before I do, I have to say
    something to the hot monkey.
    Ooh. That was a very bad thought.
    Wonder how hot his monkey is.
    *
    Okay. Way worse thought.
    What's up with me? "That guy is over there, staring," I tell
    Paige. "Let's go talk to him."
    *
    She pulls her eyes away from the Hot Dog on a Stick sign.
    What? Hey. No. That's stupid.
    He might get the wrong idea.
    *
    Or exactly the right idea. "Yeah, maybe. But don't you want to know where he's coming from?"
    I don't wait for her to answer.
    *
    I pull myself up very tall, take
    dead aim at my stalker. Behind
    me comes the sound of Paige, scrambling to catch up. Wait.
    *
    Almost to his table, my courage
    dissolves and I think seriously about turning around, grabbing
    Paige, and hauling buns out of there.
    129
    Too Late
    The guy looks up, and the warmth of his smile melts all thoughts of running. Hello. One word out of his killer mouth, I think I'm lost.
    *
    "Oh. Hey." Now what do I say?
    "I... uh... just wondered if you were looking at anything special."
    Totally brilliant. Set myself up.
    *
    But he knows just what to say.
    Well, actually, yes. was