Read Online The One and Only Zoe Lama by Tish Cohen - Free Book Online
Authors: Tish Cohen
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plan is flawed on so many levels, I can barely stand straight. But you have to take baby steps with Annika. “Actually, it’s a little late for a prenup now. But I could do up a nice little postnup.” I glance around the neighborhood and nod my approval. “We’re dealing with some prime real estate here. Now that you’ve gone to all the trouble of moving in and redecorating, you might have some ownership rights. Certainly the longer you live together, the more you’re entitled to. Are you really prepared to give up the locker without a fight, should something happen?”
“It won’t. Justin and I love each other. Besides, DevonSweeney said prenups turn relationships sour. She’s seen it happen.”
This Devon is taking things too far. It’s one thing advising people on sheepskin boot colors and guinea-pig care. But now she’s endangering people’s housing rights! “Annika, let’s remember that Justin does have a history of being less than gentlemanly with you. Remember the incident last month involving the bottom of your soiled shoe and your soiled heart?”
With this, Annika bursts into tears. “Ooh, this is so confusing! Devon said as long as I anticipate his bad behavior, I can change it! That all I have to do is praise him lavishly when he gets it right and he’ll turn out just fine.”
I squint, tumbling Devon’s words around and around in my head. Something’s twisted up and wonky here, but I’m too clammy under the arms to tell what, exactly.
Amateur Orthodontia Is Not Permitted in the Cafeteria
Laurel, Sylvia, and I watch in horror as Smartin plops down onto the bench beside Susannah. On his lunch tray are four things: an apple, a squashed milk carton, a plastic fork, and a stapler. Susannah slides her lunch tray away from his and says, “There are rules at this table, Smartin. If you sit here, you obey them.”
“Lay them on me, cover girl.” He opens the stapler and shakes all the staples onto his tray, where they land in a puddle of milk.
“No licking of body parts, yours or anyone else’s,” Susannah says.
“Ouch, that hurts me where I work.” He holds up his hand to Susannah. “High five.”
She ignores his hand and continues. “No shoes on the table and no chewing of any table legs.”
“I was kind of thinking your leg…”
“Ugh.” She swats him off and inspects her shoulder for rubble.
“So anyway,” says Sylvia as she bites into another dustyrice cake, “right after I finished my homework, I asked my mother—”All of a sudden she starts coughing and reaches for her milk container, only it’s empty.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She nods and croaks, “I just need a— cough, cough —drink.”
I grab my milk, then Laurel’s. Both are empty. I start to reach for Susannah’s but she sets her hand on it. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’s January and my skin needs the vitamin D.”
Sylvia stands up and points toward the far end of the cafeteria table, where Brandon and the other LameWizards are shoveling chili into their mouths and shouting while they battle dragons or goblin commanders or jack-o’-lopes. She says with a gravelly voice, “Brandon usually shares his leftover milk with me.”
After she leaves, we glance back at Smartin, who is cramming staples between his teeth. Every time he jams in another one, he looks up and gives us a big metal freakshow grin. “You never said anything about do-it-yourself retainers,” he says with a lisp.
“Ugh,” I say. Who would have thought I’d need a rule for this? “Unwritten Rule #14. Amateur orthodontia is not permitted in the cafeteria.”
He looks at me and whispers, “Your face is not permitted in the cafeteria.”
A lunch lady stops beside our table and looks around. “Who said that?”
Laurel, who never eats cafeteria food on account of the scarcity of blue-food options, is staring into the porthole of wickedness itself, Smartin’s foul mouth. She crinkles her nose. “I think you have one
“It won’t. Justin and I love each other. Besides, DevonSweeney said prenups turn relationships sour. She’s seen it happen.”
This Devon is taking things too far. It’s one thing advising people on sheepskin boot colors and guinea-pig care. But now she’s endangering people’s housing rights! “Annika, let’s remember that Justin does have a history of being less than gentlemanly with you. Remember the incident last month involving the bottom of your soiled shoe and your soiled heart?”
With this, Annika bursts into tears. “Ooh, this is so confusing! Devon said as long as I anticipate his bad behavior, I can change it! That all I have to do is praise him lavishly when he gets it right and he’ll turn out just fine.”
I squint, tumbling Devon’s words around and around in my head. Something’s twisted up and wonky here, but I’m too clammy under the arms to tell what, exactly.
Amateur Orthodontia Is Not Permitted in the Cafeteria
Laurel, Sylvia, and I watch in horror as Smartin plops down onto the bench beside Susannah. On his lunch tray are four things: an apple, a squashed milk carton, a plastic fork, and a stapler. Susannah slides her lunch tray away from his and says, “There are rules at this table, Smartin. If you sit here, you obey them.”
“Lay them on me, cover girl.” He opens the stapler and shakes all the staples onto his tray, where they land in a puddle of milk.
“No licking of body parts, yours or anyone else’s,” Susannah says.
“Ouch, that hurts me where I work.” He holds up his hand to Susannah. “High five.”
She ignores his hand and continues. “No shoes on the table and no chewing of any table legs.”
“I was kind of thinking your leg…”
“Ugh.” She swats him off and inspects her shoulder for rubble.
“So anyway,” says Sylvia as she bites into another dustyrice cake, “right after I finished my homework, I asked my mother—”All of a sudden she starts coughing and reaches for her milk container, only it’s empty.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She nods and croaks, “I just need a— cough, cough —drink.”
I grab my milk, then Laurel’s. Both are empty. I start to reach for Susannah’s but she sets her hand on it. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’s January and my skin needs the vitamin D.”
Sylvia stands up and points toward the far end of the cafeteria table, where Brandon and the other LameWizards are shoveling chili into their mouths and shouting while they battle dragons or goblin commanders or jack-o’-lopes. She says with a gravelly voice, “Brandon usually shares his leftover milk with me.”
After she leaves, we glance back at Smartin, who is cramming staples between his teeth. Every time he jams in another one, he looks up and gives us a big metal freakshow grin. “You never said anything about do-it-yourself retainers,” he says with a lisp.
“Ugh,” I say. Who would have thought I’d need a rule for this? “Unwritten Rule #14. Amateur orthodontia is not permitted in the cafeteria.”
He looks at me and whispers, “Your face is not permitted in the cafeteria.”
A lunch lady stops beside our table and looks around. “Who said that?”
Laurel, who never eats cafeteria food on account of the scarcity of blue-food options, is staring into the porthole of wickedness itself, Smartin’s foul mouth. She crinkles her nose. “I think you have one
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