But shoes are like the one thing you canât fake.â
âI know.â She buried her face in her hands. âI must look like an idiot.â
I sighed. âWhere in âyour clothes are really awesomeâ did you hear âlooks like an idiotâ?â
âOkay,â she said, and blushed. âIâm sorry.â
âIâd kill for some of the stuff youâve got.â
âReally?â
âTotally. The shoes are just the finishing touchâmy way of putting the icing on the birthday cake.â
She put the boots on and admired herself in the closet mirror. Downstairs, I could hear pots and pans banging. The house was starting to smell great, like slow-cooked meat and fresh bread. Through the window over Kathrynâs bed, I could see her father cutting the grass. Justlike any normal dad on a Saturday afternoon. My dad had never mowed a lawn in his life.
âWhat does he do?â I asked.
âHeâs an engineer. A surveyor, but he got laid off a few weeks ago.â
âOh,â I said. âIâm sorry.â
âItâs okay. Heâs thinking maybe heâll get another job soon.â
âHe seems nice.â
She pulled a skirt from her closet and held it up to herself, seeing how it looked with the boots. âHeâs okay, I guess.â
âYou donât get along?â
âWe get along fine, heâs justâ¦â She sat on the bed and started to unzip the boots. âAll of the firms in town get slow and then they have layoffs, and it always seems to be him theyâre letting go. I feel bad when it happens, but then heâs around a lot more than other dads would be, and he and my mom focus so much on my school stuff already that itâs just hard. Itâs like I dread when heâs out of work, because then it puts even more pressure on me, you know?â
I wanted to sympathize, but all I could think of was that she was crazy. Having my dad around all of the time was one of my biggest dreams.
âPlus, heâs a little corny,â she added. âI mean, he stillcalls me Sweetpea, like he thinks Iâm four years old or something.â
âBut thatâs cute,â I said. âHold on.â My BlackBerry had started to vibrate. I slid it out of my pocket and checked the screen.
Â
C.Romelli: Where r u, B?
Â
I hit delete. Two seconds later it buzzed again. This time I ignored it.
âDonât you want to get that?â Kathryn asked.
âNah,â I said. âItâs nobody.â Chloe had been chasing me around ever since Monday morning, when sheâd hatched her Senior Keg plan. So far Iâd managed to stay a few steps ahead, but every day there were more messages.
On the phone: âBrooke, itâs Chloe. Whereâve you been? Call me.â
In my email: OK, avoid me if you want. But you just donât want to admit our party was a success. We wonât bite your new friend, you know. See you tomorrow? I better!!! -C-
On IM:
CHLOECAT: Brooke?
CHLOECAT: B?
CHLOECAT: U there?
CHLOECAT: This hiding out crap? Getting old.
CHLOECAT: GROW UP!!!
CHLOECAT: Call me.
Â
And in texts, which by that point were getting pretty pissy. Another one came through while I was helping Kathryn put the tissue paper back inside the boots.
Â
C.Romelli: Traitor!!!
Â
I shut off the phone and stuffed it in the bottom of my purse, then I went back to spying on Kathrynâs dad. I knew why Chloe wanted to reach me. She couldnât stand that I had a new best friend. But I didnât want to share Kathryn. Chloe would never appreciate her the way I did.
Peeking around the curtains, I watched Mr. Pease finish the curbs. He turned off the mower and rolled it away toward the garage. A few minutes later, the front door slammed. Footsteps came up the stairs and went into the bathroom at the end of the hall. The shower started.
âDonât you ever help him
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