Under My Skin by Judith Graves Page B

it in different directions to get the most face-hiding coverage.
    I stared at the floor, horrified, as a trio of cute shoes (shoes I could never wear because what was cute in a size six was fashion blasphemy in a size ten) cat-walked up the aisle and stopped at our table.
    Brit cleared her throat, so I lowered my napkin and said, “You know, Brit, you’re right. These really are made of recycled paper.” I handed it to her. “There’s a little doohickey stamp on each one. It’s barely visible.”
    Brit contemplated the napkin while Paige and her groupies regarded us with loathing. Unless the sneers on their faces were supposed to be model-like pouts. Better yet, it could have been gas. I sucked back a snort of laughter. This was one cluster of girls I wouldn’t try too hard to save from a perfectly good werewolf munching.
    “Oh, Paige, how great to see you here.” I tried to ignore Brit, who let me know what she thought of my recycling cover story by wiping her nose with the napkin, before crumpling it and tossing it over her shoulder.
    I rested my arm along the back of the chair next to me and acted as if the possibility of running into Paige, at the school we both attended, had never occurred to me and wasn’t one of the reasons I’d avoided the cafeteria until now.
    “Brit and I were discussing the benefits of using recycled products. Fascinating stuff,” I said. “Wanna join us?” I nudged one of the empty chairs at our table with my foot, and it scraped along the floor in a noisy invitation.
    “What? Are you kidding?” Paige’s face puckered. “I’m not here for a social visit, cousin.” She spit out the word as if saying it might bring on a contagious disease. “Frankly, I’m surprised you got up the nerve to eat lunch outside of the library. But since you did, I thought it only fair to warn you. You guys better stay away from my table. Don’t get any ideas. Just because we’re related doesn’t mean I have to introduce you to my friends.”
    “Duh.” I snorted. “I’ve been here for a week already, Paige, and this is the first time you’ve spoken to me in public. I think I got the message.” I rolled my eyes at Brit. “Paige likes to state the obvious.” I spoke behind my hand. “She gets it from her mother.”
    Brit smacked her palm on the table and let out a bark of laughter. Even Paige’s groupies snickered. Maybe they’d had Mrs. McCain for kindergarten too.
    Paige shut them up with a glare.
    The blondest one tried to redeem herself. She eyed my shirt. “Hey, Paige, isn’t that the top we bought at the thrift store when we were shopping for Halloween costumes? You planned to dress up like a scarecrow, remember?”
    Paige gave the girl an approving smile. “Why, Michelle, you’re right. I couldn’t bring myself to wear it. I mean, eww, someone else sweated in that shirt.” She shuddered. “I was hoping no one would notice, for Eryn’s sake.” She shot me a pitying glance. “But now it’s out of the bag. You see, Eryn lost all her luggage at the airport, so she has to wear clothes I give her. Isn’t that sad? I’ll tell you all about my loser cousin when we get to our table. Everyone’s got to hear this.” She linked arms with the girls and walked away without another word.
    They joined a table overflowing with half-a-dozen other girls, more like THEM, the would-be-cheerleader type. Redgrave High barely had the population for a basketball team, let alone frills such as girls bouncing around in micro-mini skirts. Paige’s brood giggled and whispered behind their hands, and, from their glances in our direction, I could tell she was filling everyone in on her woeful little cousin. Why were helpless little Dodo birds extinct while girls like that walked the earth? Seriously, they rendered the entire feminist movement moot.
    I turned back to Brit. “Is it just me, or do you feel unclean?”
    She grimaced. “I can’t believe you guys are related.” Her jaw dropped.