"You really should let us approve of that bathing suit," Dylan says.
"If you think I'm trying it on for you, you are delusional," I roll my eyes.
"Try it on!" he commands.
"You realize you're not really my father, right?" I quirk an eyebrow as I walk away from the store.
"I demand you try it on," he says in a false authoritative voice.
"You aren't a king either," I call, walking ahead of them.
"Where are you going?" Blake shouts drawing the attention of many bystanders.
"To the food court. Duh," I nod ahead of me.
"Finally," I here Nolan groan as they catch up to me.
"You could have gone whenever you liked," I laugh.
"Dylan wouldn't let me," he sighs.
"Dylan, you aren't his father either," I scold.
"You're right. I'm his mother," Dylan pretends to flip his hair over his shoulder.
"There is something wrong with your brain," Blake mutters as we arrive at the food court.
"Are you going to get pizza? Again?" Blake raises an eyebrow.
"No...I'm going to get French fries," I say and head over to the Chick-fil-a which is one of my favorite fast food places. When I turn around, they're still behind me. They're like my own little person pack of bodyguards.
"Why are you still here? Go get something to eat," I point to the rest of the food court.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Blake asks.
"I'm pretty sure I'll be fine if you aren't breathing down my neck," I roll my eyes.
"Cool," he says and everyone leaves but Aaron.
"That means you too," I stare at him.
"I actually want Chick-fil-a," he says sheepishly.
"Oh," I shrug.
I order my fries and just to be polite, wait for him while he orders. When he's finished, we walk, trying to find the rest of our friends.
"Don't you want anything else?" he asks, nodding at the fries.
"No," I shake my head.
"Why?" he asks, clearly confused.
"Do you see anyone we know?" I change the subject.
"Yeah, Atlanta and her friends are over there. And I think that's Blake," Aaron points over to them with his free hand.
We start walking in their direction. Blake, Dylan, Jack, and Nolan sit at a table close to Atlanta and Stacey but not with them. Aaron takes a seat next to Jack and motions for me to sit on the end with him and Blake on either side of me.
"So why nothing else?" Aaron repeats his question from earlier.
I inwardly groan. This was one of my least favorite things to talk about. I hated it. It took forever to explain because people just can't wrap their heads around it.
"I, um, don't exactly eat meat," I duck my head.
No one says anything for a second.
"What do you mean 'exactly'?" Dylan asks putting air quotes around exactly.
"I don't eat any type of meat," I sigh.
"Ever?" Blake's eyes are huge.
"Ever," I nod.
"So no steak," Aaron asks and I shake my head.
"No ribs?"
I shake my head.
"No chicken?"
I shake my head.
"No chicken nuggets?"
I shake my head.
"Who doesn't like chicken nuggets?" Blake asks.
"Um, me," I shrug awkwardly.
"So you're a vegetarian?" Nolan inquires.
"No, I just don't eat meat," I sigh.
"Are you a vegan?" Jack whispers.
"No! I just don't eat meat. Or salad. Or a bunch of stuff. But that doesn't mean I'm a vegetarian or a vegan," I snap.
"Why? Wait, are you one of those people who's all about saving animals?" Dylan gives me a flat look.
"No, I think it's fine if we kill animals. I mean, I wouldn't want to eat or dog or cat or anything but as long as there's enough animals around, I think we should eat them. I just prefer not to," I shrug.
And that is why I hate telling people. See, they just couldn't wrap their minds around it.
"Add that to the pile of weird things you do," Blake mutters and I slap his arm.
"Don't damage the merchandise," he brushes himself off.
"What merchandise?" I scoff.
"Um, these," he starts flexing.
"I still don't see anything. Oh wait, you meant your invisible muscles," I laugh.
I hate to admit if but he does have muscles. I just wish he would put them away.
"Ha ha, very funny Tanner," he scowls.
"Pleasure doing business with you Price," I smirk.
"Are you guys on a last name basis now?" Aaron raises an eyebrow.
"Shut up," we say in unison.
"Stop that," we say again.
"No, you stop," we say again.
"This is weird," Nolan whispers.
"No chizz," I snap.
"Did you say 'chizz'?" Blake seems to be holding back a laugh.
"Yeah, I don't like to cuss. And my parent's don't like it. So I don't cuss," I shrug.
"Could we cuss-," Dylan goes to ask but I reach across the table and slap his arm.
"Don't even think about it," I bark.
"But if we did-," he goes to say again.
"If you did, I would break every limb in your body. Then I would tear off all of your skin and let my brother use it in a soup," I scowl.
"Wow, violent," Blake mutters.
"Blake?" a squeaky annoying voice says.
Both Blake and I turn to look at who called our name. And, of course, it had to be Olivia. Olivia was pretty good friends with Stacey. When they were little, I heard they did cheerleading together at the rec or something.
"What are you doing here?" she gushes.
"Eating. Obviously," I gesture to our food.
"I wasn't talking to you," she snaps.
"You did call my name," I scowl.
"No, I called his name," she points to Blake.
"We have the same name," I growl.
"Really? I thought yours was Bleak?" she furrows her eyebrows pretending to think.
"For the millionth time, it's Blayke," I bark.
"Anyway, what are you doing here?" she turns her attention back to Blake.
"Um, getting school supplies for a project," he spits out his phony excuse.
"Olivia?" Stacey says and runs over to give her a hug.
"I wish I could break all of their limbs," I mutter chomping on my food.
"Why?" Aaron whispers.
"Have you seen the way they act?" I motion to them with my fork.
"Okay, yeah. You have a point. Why don't you?" he wonders.
"Stacey is Atlanta's friend and Olivia...well I could go to jail," I sigh.
"Yeah but you definitely wouldn't go to jail if you did that to one of us," his voice is full of sarcasm.
"Have you met my friend Blake?" Stacey pulls him out of his seat, forcing him to stand beside her.
"This is my friend Blake. We go to school together," Olivia yanks him over to her.
"Well, we were eating together." He's yanked back over to Stacey.
"Well, I have his number."
"He's mine."
He's pulled over to Olivia again and I hear him whimper. I would have laughed but it was just too pathetic. He's yanked back and forth, even when he protested. His eyes land on mine and are pleading. I'm not sure what I could do, when he points to his ring finger. Why would he...oh. No! I mouth. His eyes grow bigger and he lets out an even louder whimper when Stacey yanks him.
"Go help your friend," I command Dylan and Aaron.
"It's funny," Dylan laughs.
"Do. It," I glare.
"Fine, fine," they hold up their hands in surrender.
"Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but I'm pretty sure he would like to eat the rest of his food," Aaron says grabbing one of Blake's arms.
"Yeah, and you might be hurting him," Dylan says taking his other arm.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Olivia gushes and I roll my eyes. Of course she is.
"It's fine," Blake rubs his arms as he sits down.
"Why didn't you go with my plan?" he hisses.
"We aren't married," I whisper back.
"It would have worked," he says.
"But then the whole school would think we were married," I snap.
"That wouldn't be so bad," he smirks and I smack his arm.
I pull out Cinder from my bag of books and open it to the first page. On it, not only does it say Cinder but there's a note. It reads:
I hope you enjoy Cinder. Maybe we can talk about it. Here's my number.
And next to it is a number. Wyatt. I smile down at the book before taking out my phone and entering his number into it.
"Watcha doing?" Aaron peers at my phone.
"Entering someone's number," I shrug.
"We haven't given you our number. Well, except Dylan," he shrugs.
"I never said it was one of you," I snap.
"Who's is it?" Blake asks.
"None of your business," I scowl.
Blake snatches my phone out of my hand and reads the contact name.
"Is it that dude from the bookstore?" he raises an eyebrow.
"Maybe," I retort.
"How did you even get his number?" Nolan asks.
"I saw her smiling at her book," Aaron reaches for my book but Dylan's faster.
"Awww," he says and reads the note out loud.
"Give it back," I snatch it back and shove it into my bag.
"He has no chance with you," Blake laughs.
"Why would you say that?" I quirk an eyebrow.
"Well, because you're you and he's...," his voice trails off when he notices my glare.
"Never mind," he mutters.
"That's what I thought," I snap.
***
The rest of the day goes by fast. We walk around the mall, Dylan bullies little five year olds at the play ground, and then eat dinner together. Olivia decided to stick around but thankfully didn't want to go look at tennis shoes (that's what Blake told them we were doing).
It's Sunday night, I'm lying on my bed while Atlanta paints her toenails in the corner of my room. She's into that kind of stuff while I'm not. I'm about to turn on the TV when I get a text. It's from an unknown number.
What are you doing? it reads. Deciding because I don't know who it is, I'll reply with weird answers.
Balloon farting, I answer.
Balloon farting? it asks.
Yeah, it's like my favorite hobby, I laugh as I send this text.
Do you eat the balloons and then fart them? it sends.
No, I fart into the balloons, I reply.
"What are you doing?" Atlanta asks.
"Some random person texted me so I texted back weird stuff," I laugh.
That sounds fun, I get another text.
Obviously, I reply.
Do you know who this is? the mysterious texter asks.
No. But I'm guessing it's Santa Clause, I respond.
I'm not fat, they reply.
How would I know? I can't see you, I answer.
Do you want me to call you? the person asks.
No, you could be a creep, I reply back.
It's Blake, he says.
I was right. It is a creep! How did you even get my number? I wonder.
I'm at a party at Dylan's, he responds. Curse Dylan.
"Do you know who it is?" Atlanta asks.
"Yes, unfortunately. It's Blake," I scowl taking a sip of water.
"Aw, come on. I know you like him! It's obvious," she smirks.
I choke on my water. I cough but Atlanta does nothing to help me.
"You done?" she quirks an eyebrow. Finally, I'm able to breath again.
"Me? Like Blake?" I scoff.
"Isn't that what I said?" she gives me a flat look.
"I don't like Blake. At all," I snap.
"Yeah, sure. I'm-," she's cut off by my phone doing the Hunger Games whistle. She quirks an eyebrow at me. I glance at my phone and recognize it as Blake's number.
"This is Olivia," I change my voice to match Olivia's. It doesn't exactly work.
"Who is that?" Atlanta asks loudly.
"I can here Atlanta in the background," Blake says though I can barely hear him. There seems to be music in the background and lots of talking.
"Thanks a lot," I scowl at Atlanta but she just smiles.
"What?" he yells.
"I can't here you," I yell back.
"Okay, how bout now?" he asks. The background noise is still there but I can here him.
"What do you want?" I snap into the phone.
"Um. Well, I was playing truth or dare and someone dared me to call you and say every cuss word I could think of. But I thought better of it because I don't want to die," he yells the last part.
"You thought correct. Who dared you to do it?" I say into the phone.
"Dylan," he says immediately.
"Did he want you to die?" I laugh glancing over at Atlanta. She's kissy faces. I throw a pillow at her.
"So what are you doing?" he asks.
I debate whether or not I should reply with a smart comment or answer honestly.
"Watching Atlanta paint her toes," I go with honesty.
"Fantastic," he drawls.
"Yeah, I know," I laugh.
"As fun as that sounds, why don't you guys come to the party," he suggests.
"What type of party?" I lift an eyebrow but then realize he can't see me.
"Well, people are playing truth or dare, dancing, partying," he says.
"I don't know," I reply.
"You've never been to a party have you?" he asks.
"Do my birthday parties count?" I ask.
"No."
"Then no," I sigh.
"You're coming," he says.
"We're going," Atlanta says.
"No," I shake my head. She rips the phone out of my hand.
"We'll be there," she says and hangs up.
"But I don't want to go to a party," I whine.
"Come on, it's fun," she insists.
"Have you been?" I ask.
"Yeah," she nods.
"Will people be drinking?" I quirk an eyebrow.
"Most likely," she nods.
"Are you going to drink?"
"No," she shakes her head.
I'm against drinking. I don't think you should harm your body like that. It might be fun in the moment but it'll end up hurting you. So I don't drink. I decide to go to this party just so I can get rid of all the alcohol.
"Fine, I'll go," I agree.
"We need to get ready," she squeals.
shirt but Atlanta says no. She picks out a dress and I say no. I insist on wearing pants. She picks out a pair of light washed ripped jeans and a black shirt that looks too big for me but fits.
She forces me to curl my hair. Thankfully, my hair can't hold curls so it falls into pretty waves. I do my makeup. Only mascara, as always. When we're finished, we run down the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Matt calls as we reach the door.
"Somewhere," I reply vaguely.
"A party?" he asks.
"Maybe," keeping my answers vague.
"Can I go?" he yells.
"Nope," I shake my head as I grab my eyes.
"Be home by 12:00," he calls as we shut the door.