Read Online Poseur #4: All That Glitters Is Not Gucci by Rachel Maude - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachel Maude
Tags: JUV006000
Ads: Link
Troubadour
. You know Janis, like, practically
died
there, right?
Oh
,” she gasped, and grabbed her boyfriend’s thermal-clad arm, eyes alight. “Is it true Facehumpers might do a surprise set?”
“Wait a minute, you
heard
that?” Paul’s brow wrinkled with concern. “Oh,
man
. They approached us last week, but I was, like,
no. No goddamn way
.” He frowned. “Amelia better not be going behind my back, man.”
“Okay,” Petra pressed two fingers to her temple and closed her eyes. “Um, I thought they were, like, your favorite band of
all time?”
“Well, yeah,” he admitted. “I
used
to like them. But now,it’s, like, I listen to their music and it’s just so…” He paused to glance skyward. “
Angry
. It’s, like,
why
, you know? Why put that energy into the universe? It’s not helping anyone. It’s not helping
me
. It’s just… I want Creatures of Habit to be couriers of
beauty
, you know? Couriers of
peace
.”
You’re kind of being a courier of nausea right now
, Petra thought, heat prickling along her hairline like Malibu brush fire. Okay, she was code-red wigging out, and it wasn’t
just the chronic. She could deal with Paul’s new wardrobe—that was just superficial stuff—but denouncing the Facehumpers,
a staggeringly awesome band
he turned her on to
, because they were suddenly too
angry
? He had to be joking! It was one thing for Paul to give up studded belts and chipped black nail polish. But to give up on
anger
? What about the afternoon they spent smashing her parents’ wedding china in an alley? Or that night they ran screaming along
the beach, hurling rocks at the moon, cursing the names of those who’d dared to cross them? Was he planning to give that up,
too?
Thankfully, Petra’s cataclysmic thoughts were cut short by a deep buzzing in her crocheted hemp hobo bag. “Just a sec,” she
told Paul, sifting through a sea of rolling papers, gum wrappers, loose beads, and dollar bills to unearth her scuffed purple
Nokia. A text from Queen Moon (she’d entered her own name in Petra’s cell, and Petra didn’t care enough to change it):
CHECK EMAIL.
NYLON COVER NO GO.
WTF WTF WTF.
“What is it?” Paul inquired, noticing Petra’s solemn face. She sighed, showing him the tragic text. “Ah, man…”
“I know,” she agreed. Seriously? Melissa had sent
Nylon
the most persuasive e-mail of all time! “
Poor Melissa
,” she thought out loud. “She must be seriously buggin’.”
“Yeah, well,” Paul laughed. “That girl pretty much invented buggin’, so…”
“
Don’t be mean
.” Petra pushed his shoulder and beamed.
That he still had it in him!
She was endlessly relieved. “I know she comes off, like,
intense
or whatever. But that’s what’s so awesome about her. She’s passionate.”
“Well,” Paul responded in a gravelly voice, a promisingly naughty smile creeping across his gorgeous face. He gripped her
by the shoulders, pushed her up against somebody’s bougainvillea-covered four-car garage, locking her into his mismatched
gaze. “I guess I can identify.”
She smiled, a jolt of electricity surging through her entire body. “You can?” she almost whispered, lacing her voice with
sweetness.
He pressed his long and perfect body against hers, answering the way she hoped he would. More and more relief wrapped her
in its warm embrace, cocooning her from fear. His kiss was deep, exhilarating, and pure.
His kiss was real.
To my wretched and most wrong’d wrens:
It is with shock in my heart and outrage in my loins that I write to you of NYLON’S regrettable decision.
In a masterstroke of sartorial injustice, this
GAG-azine
has selected
Schizo Montana
to grace the cover of their
20 Under 20
issue.
Before this fateful day, I’d remained blissfully unaware of
Schizo Montana
and their nefarious misdoings. Fortunately, Mr. Gideon Peck, my faithful and formidable assistant, is a highly accomplished computer operator.
. You know Janis, like, practically
died
there, right?
Oh
,” she gasped, and grabbed her boyfriend’s thermal-clad arm, eyes alight. “Is it true Facehumpers might do a surprise set?”
“Wait a minute, you
heard
that?” Paul’s brow wrinkled with concern. “Oh,
man
. They approached us last week, but I was, like,
no. No goddamn way
.” He frowned. “Amelia better not be going behind my back, man.”
“Okay,” Petra pressed two fingers to her temple and closed her eyes. “Um, I thought they were, like, your favorite band of
all time?”
“Well, yeah,” he admitted. “I
used
to like them. But now,it’s, like, I listen to their music and it’s just so…” He paused to glance skyward. “
Angry
. It’s, like,
why
, you know? Why put that energy into the universe? It’s not helping anyone. It’s not helping
me
. It’s just… I want Creatures of Habit to be couriers of
beauty
, you know? Couriers of
peace
.”
You’re kind of being a courier of nausea right now
, Petra thought, heat prickling along her hairline like Malibu brush fire. Okay, she was code-red wigging out, and it wasn’t
just the chronic. She could deal with Paul’s new wardrobe—that was just superficial stuff—but denouncing the Facehumpers,
a staggeringly awesome band
he turned her on to
, because they were suddenly too
angry
? He had to be joking! It was one thing for Paul to give up studded belts and chipped black nail polish. But to give up on
anger
? What about the afternoon they spent smashing her parents’ wedding china in an alley? Or that night they ran screaming along
the beach, hurling rocks at the moon, cursing the names of those who’d dared to cross them? Was he planning to give that up,
too?
Thankfully, Petra’s cataclysmic thoughts were cut short by a deep buzzing in her crocheted hemp hobo bag. “Just a sec,” she
told Paul, sifting through a sea of rolling papers, gum wrappers, loose beads, and dollar bills to unearth her scuffed purple
Nokia. A text from Queen Moon (she’d entered her own name in Petra’s cell, and Petra didn’t care enough to change it):
CHECK EMAIL.
NYLON COVER NO GO.
WTF WTF WTF.
“What is it?” Paul inquired, noticing Petra’s solemn face. She sighed, showing him the tragic text. “Ah, man…”
“I know,” she agreed. Seriously? Melissa had sent
Nylon
the most persuasive e-mail of all time! “
Poor Melissa
,” she thought out loud. “She must be seriously buggin’.”
“Yeah, well,” Paul laughed. “That girl pretty much invented buggin’, so…”
“
Don’t be mean
.” Petra pushed his shoulder and beamed.
That he still had it in him!
She was endlessly relieved. “I know she comes off, like,
intense
or whatever. But that’s what’s so awesome about her. She’s passionate.”
“Well,” Paul responded in a gravelly voice, a promisingly naughty smile creeping across his gorgeous face. He gripped her
by the shoulders, pushed her up against somebody’s bougainvillea-covered four-car garage, locking her into his mismatched
gaze. “I guess I can identify.”
She smiled, a jolt of electricity surging through her entire body. “You can?” she almost whispered, lacing her voice with
sweetness.
He pressed his long and perfect body against hers, answering the way she hoped he would. More and more relief wrapped her
in its warm embrace, cocooning her from fear. His kiss was deep, exhilarating, and pure.
His kiss was real.
To my wretched and most wrong’d wrens:
It is with shock in my heart and outrage in my loins that I write to you of NYLON’S regrettable decision.
In a masterstroke of sartorial injustice, this
GAG-azine
has selected
Schizo Montana
to grace the cover of their
20 Under 20
issue.
Before this fateful day, I’d remained blissfully unaware of
Schizo Montana
and their nefarious misdoings. Fortunately, Mr. Gideon Peck, my faithful and formidable assistant, is a highly accomplished computer operator.
Similar Books
