Pretty Little Things. Jilliane Hoffman

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СКАЧАТЬ a good thing now that her mom was gonna be home soon …

      The front door opened and Lainey prayed it wasn’t her mother. It closed with a slam. Thirty seconds later gunfire erupted in the living room as Brad resumed blowing away cops on Grand Theft Auto, the dumb video game that he had to play at full blast just to annoy her. Anger quickly displaced relief and she regretted wasting a good prayer on her brother’s obnoxious wellbeing. At least he was home and she hadn’t lost him. She raised the volume on her Good Charlotte CD to drown out the screams and machine-gun fire and turned her attention back to the computer. She so needed to stay in the moment or she’d never be able to do this.

      The picture on the screen glowed in the dark room, waiting impatiently to be shot off into cyberspace. A pretty girl she barely recognized, with sleek dark hair and smoky eyes, smiled provocatively back at her. A pretty girl Lainey still sheepishly thought looked nothing like her. Tight jeans and a midriffbaring T-shirt showed off a slim but curvy shape. Full, glossy red lips matched equally glossy, long red fingernails, which were posed confidently on her hips, like an America’s Next Top Model contestant – her friend Molly’s idea. Normally Lainey didn’t like how she looked in any picture, but, then again, normally she didn’t look anything like she did in this picture. Normally her waist-length unruly chestnut hair was pulled back in a low ponytail or put up in a clip, her boring brown eyes hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses. Normally she didn’t wear any make-up or jewelry or high heels or long red fingernails. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she wasn’t allowed.

      But besides looking a little older than she was – and a little, well, sexy – Lainey rationalized that the picture wasn’t that bad that she wouldn’t want to see it in the newspaper. Some MySpace photos were a hell of a lot worse than this. It wasn’t like she was naked or doing porn or anything. The most you could see besides her stomach and the fake belly-button ring was the pink outline of the padded bra she’d stolen from her older sister Liza, under the white T-shirt that she’d also stolen from Liza. Maybe the jeans were kinda low and the shirt kinda tight, but …

      Lainey shook the creeping, noisy doubts out of her head. She’d already taken the picture. She’d already broken the rule. And the truth was, she looked pretty hot, if she did say so herself. The real worry at this point was, what would Zach think when he saw it?

      Zach. ElCapitan. Just the thought of him made Lainey’s hands sweat. She looked at the picture taped to the side of the computer screen. Blond hair, bright blue eyes, the quirkiest, sweetest smile, and just the cutest shadow of face gruff. And muscles … wow! She could see them even through his Hollister T-shirt. Nobody she knew in seventh grade had even the hope of either a muscle or a hair on their scrawny bodies. Since she’d met Zach a few weeks ago in a Yahoo chat room for the new Zombieland movie, Lainey had been forming a mental picture of what he might look like. This fabulous, funny guy who liked the same movies – even the really bad ones – listened to the same music, hated the same subjects, distrusted the same type of plastic people she did, had the same problems with his own parents. It would be too much to ask for him to be anything more than a geek with bad acne and even worse hair and an uncle who’d pulled strings to get him on the varsity football team. But then last Friday Zach had finally sent her a picture, and the very first thing she’d thought was, ‘Oh my God, this guy could model for Abercrombie & Fitch!’ He was that amazingly good looking. And what was even more amazing was that this totally cool, freakin’ captain of the football team with model looks liked her. That’s when she knew reciprocating with a snapshot of her own boring self just wasn’t gonna happen, especially since that self was still three years away from the sixteen she’d told him she was. A small fib that would definitely matter to a senior in high school being scouted by colleges. She knew he’d never be into that, and their friendship – or whatever it was that was happening between them – would be over before she could hit the reply button to his Dear Jane email. If he even bothered to send her one.

      She nibbled off the last chunk of nail and spat it in the garbage. The entire fake set had taken her and her best friend, Molly, hours to put on last Saturday for the ‘photo shoot’, and only a few short seconds to rip off this morning in gym class. The nails were her favorite. Long and pointy and oh-so red. More than the shoes or make-up or wearing Liza’s clothes, it was those nails that had made her feel so … glamorous. So grown-up. She loved tinking them on glasses and rolling them impatiently on tables. It’d taken her the whole weekend to figure out just how to pick up a piece of paper! And now, like Cinderella’s ball gown and crystal coach, they were just a memory. At least Cindy got to keep a glass slipper as a memento of her time as a princess. All Lainey got was a chunk of chewed acrylic.

      And, of course, a picture.

      She stared at herself on the screen. That was it. If she thought about it any more she’d never do it. She closed her eyes, said a prayer and clicked the mouse. A little envelope zipped across the monitor.

      Your message is on its way!

      The cell phone in her back pocket buzzed and Gwen Stefani belted out ‘The Sweet Escape’. Molly. She blew out a long held breath. ‘Hey, M!’

      ‘Did you send it?’ an excited voice asked.

      Lainey sighed and flopped back on her bed. ‘Finally, yeah.’

      ‘And?’

      ‘I haven’t heard back yet. I just sent it, like, two seconds ago.’

      Molly Brosnan had been Lainey’s best friend since way back in kindergarten, and everyone – teachers, coaches, friends, parents – everyone always said, if the two of them looked even a little bit alike, they’d be identical twins. That’s how close they were. Or used to be, anyway. It was no coincidence Molly had called at almost the precise moment Lainey had clicked ‘send’. Things like that happened all the time – Molly thinking what she was thinking and vice versa. That’s what made this year suck so much. No matter what her mom said, different schools meant different lives. She picked the fuzz off her alien-green shag pillow. ‘I’m so nervous, M.’

      ‘What took you so long to send it?’

      ‘I’m a chicken.’

      ‘You have to call me the second you hear from him, Lainey.’

      ‘I will, I will. What do you think he’s gonna think?’

      ‘I already told you. You look hot. I mean it. He’s gonna love it.’

      ‘You don’t think I look fat?’

      ‘Please!’

      ‘Stupid?’

      ‘I wish I looked that dumb.’

      Lainey sat up and stared at the computer across the room. ‘If I don’t hear back from him soon, M, I’m gonna freak! This waiting sucks.’

      The bedroom doorknob suddenly began to violently jangle back and forth. ‘Lainey!’

      ‘Get lost, Brad! I mean it,’ Lainey yelled. ‘Get out of my room!’

      ‘You’re not allowed to close the door! Or lock it! Mom says!’

      ‘G’head and tell Mom, you tattle-tale! Lotta good it’s gonna do you, ’cause she’s NOT HERE! And I can’t wait till I tell her about you playing that video game you’re not supposed to play till after you’ve done your homework!’ she added as she fell back down hard on the bed.

      ‘Is that The Brat?’ Molly asked. СКАЧАТЬ