Read Online I'm So Sure by Jenny B Jones - Free Book Online

step in my path to maturity.
    Budge readjusts his backpack over his shoulder and bumps knuckles with a passing friend. “So far this reality show crap is lame, man.”
    “Um, did they get footage of you getting bathed in horse tinkle? I don’t think so.” Who knows what else they have.
    I stop in my tracks at the tap on my shoulder.
    “Are you Bella Kirkwood?”
    This question always fills me with dread. Especially when asked by a girl in a dog collar who clearly just escaped from a punk rock video. Or prison.
    I turn around and hope my eyes are not bugging. “Yes, I guess I am.”
    “I’m Ruthie McGee. You might have heard of me.”
    I’m not sure what the right answer is here. “Uh . . . no.” The girl in front of me has the most remarkable hair of black and white, like an irate skunk roosted on top of her head. It stands in spikes that defy the laws of gravity.
    I look back, thinking Budge took the opportunity to escape, but he stands behind me, frozen. Unable to move, suspended in a trance of hair and black leather.
    “I need your help.”
    My next words take all the courage I’ve got. “I don’t work for free.” Please don’t kill me.
    Ruthie chews on a wad of gum, her black-lined eyes narrowed into slits. I take a step backward.
    “Fine.” She pops a bubble. “I’m willing to pay, but I don’t want you to take on any other cases—just mine. And I’ll make it worth your while, but only half now. The rest when the mission is accomplished. Here’s my problem.” She jerks her head toward Budge. “Is he just gonna stand there and eavesdrop?”
    My stepbrother’s mouth is open so wide, drool is bound to start pooling any second. I nudge him with my elbow.
    “Ignore him. He won’t repeat anything you say.” Plus, I think he’s too scared to move.
    “I’m running for prom queen.”
    I process this. “Do you need assistance with your updo?”
    She laughs, great rolling barks that come from deep within her throat. Then she sobers. “I need help clearing my good name.” She shoves a piece of paper in my face. “This was on my bike when I got out of school yesterday.”
    “You don’t really strike me as the ten-speed type of girl.”
    “My motorcycle.”
    “Right.” I look the paper over. It has a color picture of Ruthie making out with a guy. I lift a brow in question.
    “It’s not me.”
    I check the paper again. “The face is kinda blurry . . . but that is definitely your hair.”
    “I’m telling you, that isn’t me!” Ruthie reaches for her shirtsleeve, where she’s got a small box rolled up. She shakes her head and drops her hand. “No, I’m trying to cut back.”
    “Marlboros?”
    “No.” Her face scrunches. “That stuff will kill you. Breath mints. I eat ’em when I’m stressed. I went through twelve boxes just last night.”
    “There is a pleasant aroma of spearmint about you.”
    “The picture, Kirkwood. Focus on the picture. That is not me. Someone is trying to destroy my good name.”
    “Why would they do that?”
    Her look says are you stupid? “Because they’re jealous, that’s what. I got the bod, the skills, the looks.”
    And a few tattoos.
    “This note was with the picture.”
    Drop out of the prom queen race or prepare for the consequences.
    I study the writing, but can’t determine if it’s from a male or female hand.
    “Ruthie, it’s not that bad. I mean, so you’re kissing a guy here. Big deal.”
    “Big deal? This wacko is going to send this to everyone I know. The photo’s been doctored, but no one will believe it.”
    “Who’s the guy?”
    “My best friend’s boyfriend.”
    “Oh.” Not good.
    “My daddy’s gonna freak.”
    “I’m sure he’ll understand.” With a kid like you, he can’t be expecting an angel.
    “Just tell me you’ll investigate and find out who’s doing this.” She stuffs the papers in my purse. “You don’t know my dad.” And she stomps off in her black spike-heeled boots.
    I laugh and look at Budge,