Read Online The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart - Free Book Online Page A

snob, I’ll say that,” said Matthew, consoling him. “Frankie, we drove across the country this summer for three weeks trying to eat as many different kinds of pie as we could—”
“I—”
“What?”
Frankie had been going to say, “I know,” but had thought better of it. “Nothing.”
“Anyway,” continued Matthew, “Alpha was a completely egalitarian pie lover. He liked everything. Whereas by like, day three, Dean had narrowed it down to only one kind he liked enough to be eating every day.”
“Which was?”
“Lemon meringue. But then he’d only eat half of it anyway.”
“That was abnormal,” said Alpha. “I mean, I ask you: is it normal to eat only half a piece of pie?”
“I don’t think so,” said Frankie. “If it’s in front of me, I want it.”
“What about ice cream?” asked Alpha. “Or frozen custard?”
Frankie was speechless for a moment.
Alpha did remember her.
That day on the beach.
She had figured he did. Probably.
But it was good to be sure.
Though now, it wasn’t something they could talk about. Because she was with Matthew.
She had picked Matthew. Or he had picked her.
Or Alpha had picked the she-wolf. Or something.
“I’ve eaten half a frozen custard before,” Frankie told him. “But custard has a cold factor. It’s never too cold or too warm for pie.”
“It’s never too cold for custard, either,” said Alpha. “Not in my universe.” He reached into the glove box and shuffled through the CDs. “If you don’t like food, you don’t like sex,” he continued. “I bet that’s Dean’s problem. His grades are so excellent because he’s completely repressed.”
“I doubt that,” said Matthew.
“Why do you think he’s going out with that ball of fluff half his age? Sorry, Frankie.”
“Star’s all right.” Matthew turned off the highway.
“You don’t like Star?” Frankie asked. She’d seen Star sitting at the senior tables more than once, talking and laughing with Dean’s friends.
“Oh wait, she’s not a ball of fluff, she’s a DOD,” said Alpha. “Like she’s fine, she’s okay, but she’s not— delicious. Which is perfect for Dean, because he’s so repressed anyway, he’s not interested in delicious.”
“That has nothing to do with her being a sophomore,” Frankie argued.
But she was out of her depth.
They pulled into Luigi’s, which turned out to be a dark place with red Formica tables and a pinball machine in the back, catering to the late-night crowd from the bar next door. NO PIZZA TILL NOON, read a sign on the counter.
“Is there really no pizza?” Matthew asked a busboy.
“The guy who makes it didn’t come in,” was the answer. “Sunday morning, nobody wants to get up and make pizza. We got soda. We got garlic knots.”
“I’ll take garlic knots,” said Alpha. “Let’s get, I don’t know, what? A dozen of them to go.”
There was a Ms. Pac-Man machine in the back of the restaurant. Frankie felt in her bag for some quarters and fed them in. While her little Pac-lady chomped energy pellets, she listened to the boys talk. They were sitting in a booth near the front.
“Those are like the ultimate DODs,” said Matthew. “All dough, no tomato, no cheese.”
“No, they’re BODS,” said Alpha. “Balls of dough. But”—he sniffed the bag—“these have got a serious garlic punch, I’d say. We shouldn’t underestimate them.”
“Lemme smell.” Matthew stuck his face in the bag.
“What do you want to bet your new girl doesn’t eat them?” Alpha said to Matthew under his breath.
“I don’t want to bet,” said Matthew, taking one out of the bag and popping it into his mouth. “I never bet on what girls will eat.”
“That’s the thing about women,” said Alpha, drumming his fingers on the Formica tabletop. “They’re not voracious.”
“You don’t think?”
Alpha ate another garlic knot. “Maybe they are, somewhere inside. But they don’t act on it. They’re always eating half the custard and then giving