A Pretty Little Parody [PLL]

8. Sasha Not-So-Fierce

As soon as Henna reached the Cockcutoff house, I was out the door and racing through the garage to get inside the house. I had a date and there was no time to waste.

“Where are you going?” she called after me. “This isn’t your house.”

“I know!” I called back. “I need your brother for something.”

I kicked off my new bright neon pink Abercrombie Kids flip-flops at the entrance and took the stairs two at a time. Moby’s house was a brand-new McMansion just like mine, and my feet pattered on the shiny marble stairs. “MOBY!” I hollered. “MOBIAS COCKCUTOFF! I NEED YOUR ADVICE!”

Mrs. Cock appeared at the top of the stairwell, dressed in a regal-looking business suit with her cell phone in her hand. “Sasha!” she hissed. “Aren’t you supposed to be home with your family?”

“I need Moby for something!” I hissed back.

“All right, but keep it down,” she said. “Some people are trying to work.”

I rolled my eyes. Once I got to Moby’s room (I knew it was Moby’s because there was a huge whale sticker on the door that read MOBY’S ROOM: KEEP THE F**K OUT on it in huge bubble letters), I flung the door open. Moby was sitting in the corner facing his three huge computer screens, playing some nerdy video game with his headset in. It figured.

“Moby!” I karate-chopped him on the back, hard, and he jumped up. His face was red and he looked like he’d been caught doing something illicit.

“What the eff was that?” he asked angrily. “Ali? Since when did you come over to my house without texting me first?”

“I did text you,” I said pointedly. “You just weren’t checking your phone. I just got asked on a date and I need your fashion advice.”

He stared at me. “With who?”

“Some guy named A. He showed up at the parking lot when I was waiting for Henna after cheer practice and we totally hit it off. He knew my sister.”

“Okay, and?” Moby said, clearly still irritated that I’d interrupted him. “What’s the big deal? You get asked out on dates all the time.”

“Yeah, but this guy’s really hot.” I smiled dreamily as I thought about him in all his black finery. “Even you’d like him, Mobes. He’s the creepy type.”

“Oh, Lord.” My thing for creepy, obsessive stalker guys was constantly a threat to my facade as Sasha, because my sister had been into loud, egotistical douchebags like Mason Richards. Thank God I’d gotten rid of him at the beginning of the year. One more Pinkberry date and I would’ve been ready to shoot myself in the head. “He doesn’t go to Rosebush Day, does he?”

“Nope.” I’d made it a point to know everybody at school, and A was definitely not a student there. If he was, I’d have gotten to know him long ago. “He’s totally hot, though.”

“Reaaalllly. What does he look like?” Moby yawned and climbed up to the top bunk of his big-boy bunk bed. “Is he tall? Short? Blond? Dark? Lean? Built? Blue eyes? Brown eyes?”

I followed him up. “Uhh, he’s a little taller than me. I think he has dark hair, and I have no idea if he’s lean or built or what his eye color is.” I smiled sheepishly as Moby’s eyes lasered into me. “What? I can’t notice everything, you know.”

“Leave it to you to not even know their body type,” Moby muttered. “What was he wearing? You of all people should at least remember that.”

“All, complete, head-to-toe black. Black gloves, black pants, black hoodie, black Ray-Bans.”