Read Online Poseur #2: The Good, the Fab and the Ugly by Rachel Maude - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachel Maude
Tags: JUV006000
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about it.” Charlotte offered her a wry smile. “Here.” She wrested the mojito glass from Janie’s nervous grasp and returned it to the table with a hollow
plunk.
“I wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid.”
Janie tried to laugh and failed. Charlotte’s acid comment was in reference to Jake, after all, who blamed and continued to blame Accutane for his out-of-control drunkenness at their launch party — a bout of bad behavior that included, as they were all too aware, tongue-banging a random eighth grader. Only now, in the wake of Charlotte’s wry aside, did Janie realize they’d never openly discussed it. Not directly, anyway.
Is
that
why Charlotte asked her here?
“How is he, anyway?” Charlotte popped open an exquisite black beaded clutch.
“He’s good,” she lied. Jake had been pretty much nonstop miserable for the past several days — Janie once caught him crying into his bowl of Cheetah Chomps — but she didn’t think he’d appreciate it if she told Charlotte
.
“He hasn’t even
talked
to that girl Nikki since that night,” she offered. “If it makes you feel any better.”
“Janie, ‘feeling better’ implies I feel bad.” Charlotte tilted her head, affecting the confused expression of a professionally adorable dog. She snapped open a polished rectangular silver case, revealing a tidy packed row of cigarettes. “And I
don’t
feel bad, I mean . . . isn’t that obvious?”
“Yeah,” Janie shrugged, confused. It was true. Charlotte
didn’t
appear to feel the least bit badly, and Janie couldn’t understand it. If it had been
her
boyfriend . . .
She stopped the thought right there. Already the hypothetical was too absurd.
“No offense but . . .” Charlotte extracted a gold-tipped Gauloise, and pinched it between two long fingers. “Your brother didn’t exactly challenge me. And in a way, I don’t know . . . I was, like,
relieved
when he cheated on me. I wanted a good reason to break up with him, and he
gave
me one.”
Janie played with her twisted twine belt, averting eye contact. She wanted to be polite, but at the same time she wanted to be loyal. “I’m glad it worked out for the best,” she declared, tying her belt into a knot.
“Yeah,” Charlotte sighed. “It did. I mean, it’d be so inconvenient if we were still together when . . .” She drifted off and smiled, stabbing her swamp-green brew with her stiff black straw.
“When what?”
Charlotte lowered her voice to a whisper. “I may have met someone else.”
Against her better judgment, Janie reached for the stranded mojito and took a sip. She realized she was supposed to ask Charlotte to whom she owed her pangs of
amour,
but she couldn’t. She
wouldn’t.
She was on a slippery slope: the more she knew, the more she’d have to tell Jake, and the more she told Jake, the more upset he’d be. Not a day went by that he didn’t regret that stupid kiss, and she genuinely felt bad for him. If he found out about this, he wouldn’t just cry into his Cheetah Chomps — he’d drown in them.
Time to change the subject.
“Mmm . . .” She returned the drink to the table. “Minty.”
“I’m in love with Jules!” Charlotte exploded, clapping her hands, and Janie blinked, horrified.
Seriously.
Was “minty,” like, Beverwil code for “spill the beans”?
“That’s great,” she replied dully.
Now she knew.
“Janie.” Charlotte pouted. “You don’t sound happy for me.”
“What?
No.
” In fact, she was weirded out. She’d always assumed Charlotte’s feelings for her brother, if completely annoying, had at least been geniune. But, if that was the case, how was she so, like,
over
it? When Ted Hughes cheated on and abandoned Sylvia Plath, the tortured author of
The Bell Jar,
did she get all
la-di-da
about some Aqua de Gio-marinated foreign exchange student? No. She stuck her head in an oven and baked herself to death.
Not
that Janie was suggesting Charlotte do
that
, but . . . couldn’t she
plunk.
“I wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid.”
Janie tried to laugh and failed. Charlotte’s acid comment was in reference to Jake, after all, who blamed and continued to blame Accutane for his out-of-control drunkenness at their launch party — a bout of bad behavior that included, as they were all too aware, tongue-banging a random eighth grader. Only now, in the wake of Charlotte’s wry aside, did Janie realize they’d never openly discussed it. Not directly, anyway.
Is
that
why Charlotte asked her here?
“How is he, anyway?” Charlotte popped open an exquisite black beaded clutch.
“He’s good,” she lied. Jake had been pretty much nonstop miserable for the past several days — Janie once caught him crying into his bowl of Cheetah Chomps — but she didn’t think he’d appreciate it if she told Charlotte
.
“He hasn’t even
talked
to that girl Nikki since that night,” she offered. “If it makes you feel any better.”
“Janie, ‘feeling better’ implies I feel bad.” Charlotte tilted her head, affecting the confused expression of a professionally adorable dog. She snapped open a polished rectangular silver case, revealing a tidy packed row of cigarettes. “And I
don’t
feel bad, I mean . . . isn’t that obvious?”
“Yeah,” Janie shrugged, confused. It was true. Charlotte
didn’t
appear to feel the least bit badly, and Janie couldn’t understand it. If it had been
her
boyfriend . . .
She stopped the thought right there. Already the hypothetical was too absurd.
“No offense but . . .” Charlotte extracted a gold-tipped Gauloise, and pinched it between two long fingers. “Your brother didn’t exactly challenge me. And in a way, I don’t know . . . I was, like,
relieved
when he cheated on me. I wanted a good reason to break up with him, and he
gave
me one.”
Janie played with her twisted twine belt, averting eye contact. She wanted to be polite, but at the same time she wanted to be loyal. “I’m glad it worked out for the best,” she declared, tying her belt into a knot.
“Yeah,” Charlotte sighed. “It did. I mean, it’d be so inconvenient if we were still together when . . .” She drifted off and smiled, stabbing her swamp-green brew with her stiff black straw.
“When what?”
Charlotte lowered her voice to a whisper. “I may have met someone else.”
Against her better judgment, Janie reached for the stranded mojito and took a sip. She realized she was supposed to ask Charlotte to whom she owed her pangs of
amour,
but she couldn’t. She
wouldn’t.
She was on a slippery slope: the more she knew, the more she’d have to tell Jake, and the more she told Jake, the more upset he’d be. Not a day went by that he didn’t regret that stupid kiss, and she genuinely felt bad for him. If he found out about this, he wouldn’t just cry into his Cheetah Chomps — he’d drown in them.
Time to change the subject.
“Mmm . . .” She returned the drink to the table. “Minty.”
“I’m in love with Jules!” Charlotte exploded, clapping her hands, and Janie blinked, horrified.
Seriously.
Was “minty,” like, Beverwil code for “spill the beans”?
“That’s great,” she replied dully.
Now she knew.
“Janie.” Charlotte pouted. “You don’t sound happy for me.”
“What?
No.
” In fact, she was weirded out. She’d always assumed Charlotte’s feelings for her brother, if completely annoying, had at least been geniune. But, if that was the case, how was she so, like,
over
it? When Ted Hughes cheated on and abandoned Sylvia Plath, the tortured author of
The Bell Jar,
did she get all
la-di-da
about some Aqua de Gio-marinated foreign exchange student? No. She stuck her head in an oven and baked herself to death.
Not
that Janie was suggesting Charlotte do
that
, but . . . couldn’t she
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