Float

Original Edition: Chapter Eleven

"So?" I asked her.

A mischievous, slightly frightening grin spread across Lena's face.

"This is perfect," she cackled.

Lena grabbed the magazine in one hand and my wrist in the other. We plopped down on the floor between two aisles of shelves, which I had to admit hurt quite a bit since my rear end was still bruised from my unfortunate accident the day before. 

Stupid Blake Hamilton and his stupid car horn, sneaking up on innocent girls.

Hidden between the bookshelves, Lena and I started running through the list of Seventeen Magazine's pranks, stopping at one that sounded particularly hilarious.

"How about number fourteen?" Lena suggested.

"We can't afford that much cottage cheese," I told her.

"You're probably right. What about number thirty-seven?"

I shook my head. "Too time-consuming."

"Forty-nine?"

"Too illegal."

"Fifty-one?"

"Too much pretending to be French."

Lena let out a long, loud, overdramatic sigh. "You aren't helping here, Waverly!" 

"Well, sorry!" I cried exasperatedly. "I've never pranked anyone before. I'm an only child; we're a civilized breed. And, speaking of which, care to tell me why Jesse dyed your pants purple in the first place?"

"Because he's an asshole," Lena said immediately. Then, after a moment of consideration, she added reluctantly, "And because I may have swapped out his regular man-scented aftershave with some of my perfume."

Finally, the truth came out.

I cackled. Lena ignored me and grabbed the magazine, her eyes ablaze as she skimmed the list of possible pranks. I glanced up at the pink-rimmed clock mounted on the wall across the store and sighed. It was already noon. Which meant that, in three short hours, I'd be at the Holden Public Pool with none other than Blake Hamilton.

"What's wrong?" Lena asked. "You look troubled."

"No I don't," I replied a little too quickly.

"Um, yeah, you do," Lena insisted, one eyebrow arching skeptically.

"I just remembered that I need to... find a bikini?" The way I said it made it sound a little more like a question than a statement. But it was true—I wasn't about to wear Rachel's neon pink bikini again. And I wasn't exactly excited about swimsuit shopping.

"Alissa has some!"

"She what?"

Lena scrambled up and ducked behind the cashier's desk. I sat there for a minute before deciding it was time for me to get up off the floor. I used a shelf to pull myself up, wincing as I felt the effects of having a bruised butt. I tried to walk normally, not waddle, to where Lena was riffling through cabinets.

"Alissa practically lives here," she muttered.

"I can't just steal one of her bathing suits, Lena."

There was no way it'd fit.

"She won't know! She's addicted to shopping and tanning during our lunch breaks. Trust me—she won't miss one of these. What color do you want?"

"Not pink," I said immediately.

"Well, that knocks out about eighty percent of the options. How do you feel about lime green?"

I gave Lena a pointed look and she put her palms up in defense.