Read Online The Chic Shall Inherit the Earth by Shelley Adina - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shelley Adina
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national championship. Again. But looking was all I ever did.
I wondered if the committee would expect me to come up with a big-name date for the Cotillion now that I was senior consultant and the all-too-visible person who would be emceeing the gig. Not that it would change my mind. I had Kaz, and no matter what anyone said, he was going with me. When he put his mind to it, Kaz cleaned up as nicely as anyone—and a lot nicer than some.
Eggplant Vindaloo was an odd choice for a midmorning snack, but hey, we’d made it ourselves, so we ate it. The instructor tasted a helping from a dish presented by each quartet of students and pronounced ours A-worthy. Which was kind of amazing, considering how distracted I’d been.
I was still living in my head when it was time for Phys.Ed…. not a safe place to be when the rest of your body is on the volleyball court.
“Ow!” Vanessa spiked the ball straight into my face. If I hadn’t ducked at the last millisecond, it would have broken my nose rather than bouncing painfully off my shoulder and into the back row, where Christine Powell dove for it and missed. “Watch it!”
“Pay attention, Mansfield,” the ref called. I glared at Vanessa through the net, where we were both playing the front row.
“You heard what she said, Barbie. Or were there too many syllables for you?”
“You didn’t have to—”
“Fourteen serving five,” the ref called. “Game point.”
I already had a bruise on my arm from diving fruitlessly after another of Vanessa’s spikes. Clearly, once morning sickness was over for the day, it didn’t get in the way of her game—or her bad attitude.
Call me naïve, but part of me thinks that when you do something for someone, that person will thank you for it. Or at least not call you names for doing it. I didn’t expect Vanessa to throw aside her animosity and declare undying friendship in return for a bowl of consommé, but it seemed possible she might at least call a halt to the hostilities.
I cradled my arm in the other hand as we lost the game and trailed into the dressing room.
Evidently not.
Chapter 8
O N THE BRIGHT SIDE , the committee meeting that afternoon went well. It took me a little while to convince Ashley and the others that they could have ideas of their own and that every word I said was not martial law. But once I got them deprogrammed, I could see that we were going to work well together and make this the best Cotillion ever.
At four I went back to my room to change and found Gillian already there. But for once, she wasn’t surrounded by textbooks, hunched behind her laptop like a warrior in a tower. She lay flat on her back on the bed, still in her uniform. At first I thought she was sleeping, so I tiptoed around, putting my stuff away and opening the fridge door as quietly as possible as I got a bottle of water. But then she sighed and I realized her eyes were open.
“Did I wake you up?” I asked.
“I wasn’t asleep.”
I don’t think I’d seen Gillian lying in one spot doing absolutely nothing in all the time I’d known her. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me where it hurts.”
I thought she’d laugh, but instead, she fisted one hand and thumped it gently over her heart.
“Aw, Gillian.” I sat on her bed next to her feet and rubbed her ankle in sympathy. “What happened? Did you get bad news from home?”
She shook her head. “Nothing like that.”
“Then what is it?”
“The same old thing that’s been on my heart for weeks.”
If Shani was right, there was only one thing that could be. My hand stopped the comforting motions. “Jeremy?”
Her face crumpled and she rolled over to face me, all curled up. “I think I have to break up with him.” A tear spilled down her cheek.
“You think you…”
Wait. Start again
. “Break up? With Jeremy?”
“He thinks everything is fine. But I…” She huffed a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to do it.”
“Then don’t.”
I wondered if the committee would expect me to come up with a big-name date for the Cotillion now that I was senior consultant and the all-too-visible person who would be emceeing the gig. Not that it would change my mind. I had Kaz, and no matter what anyone said, he was going with me. When he put his mind to it, Kaz cleaned up as nicely as anyone—and a lot nicer than some.
Eggplant Vindaloo was an odd choice for a midmorning snack, but hey, we’d made it ourselves, so we ate it. The instructor tasted a helping from a dish presented by each quartet of students and pronounced ours A-worthy. Which was kind of amazing, considering how distracted I’d been.
I was still living in my head when it was time for Phys.Ed…. not a safe place to be when the rest of your body is on the volleyball court.
“Ow!” Vanessa spiked the ball straight into my face. If I hadn’t ducked at the last millisecond, it would have broken my nose rather than bouncing painfully off my shoulder and into the back row, where Christine Powell dove for it and missed. “Watch it!”
“Pay attention, Mansfield,” the ref called. I glared at Vanessa through the net, where we were both playing the front row.
“You heard what she said, Barbie. Or were there too many syllables for you?”
“You didn’t have to—”
“Fourteen serving five,” the ref called. “Game point.”
I already had a bruise on my arm from diving fruitlessly after another of Vanessa’s spikes. Clearly, once morning sickness was over for the day, it didn’t get in the way of her game—or her bad attitude.
Call me naïve, but part of me thinks that when you do something for someone, that person will thank you for it. Or at least not call you names for doing it. I didn’t expect Vanessa to throw aside her animosity and declare undying friendship in return for a bowl of consommé, but it seemed possible she might at least call a halt to the hostilities.
I cradled my arm in the other hand as we lost the game and trailed into the dressing room.
Evidently not.
Chapter 8
O N THE BRIGHT SIDE , the committee meeting that afternoon went well. It took me a little while to convince Ashley and the others that they could have ideas of their own and that every word I said was not martial law. But once I got them deprogrammed, I could see that we were going to work well together and make this the best Cotillion ever.
At four I went back to my room to change and found Gillian already there. But for once, she wasn’t surrounded by textbooks, hunched behind her laptop like a warrior in a tower. She lay flat on her back on the bed, still in her uniform. At first I thought she was sleeping, so I tiptoed around, putting my stuff away and opening the fridge door as quietly as possible as I got a bottle of water. But then she sighed and I realized her eyes were open.
“Did I wake you up?” I asked.
“I wasn’t asleep.”
I don’t think I’d seen Gillian lying in one spot doing absolutely nothing in all the time I’d known her. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me where it hurts.”
I thought she’d laugh, but instead, she fisted one hand and thumped it gently over her heart.
“Aw, Gillian.” I sat on her bed next to her feet and rubbed her ankle in sympathy. “What happened? Did you get bad news from home?”
She shook her head. “Nothing like that.”
“Then what is it?”
“The same old thing that’s been on my heart for weeks.”
If Shani was right, there was only one thing that could be. My hand stopped the comforting motions. “Jeremy?”
Her face crumpled and she rolled over to face me, all curled up. “I think I have to break up with him.” A tear spilled down her cheek.
“You think you…”
Wait. Start again
. “Break up? With Jeremy?”
“He thinks everything is fine. But I…” She huffed a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to do it.”
“Then don’t.”
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