Revenge of the Snob Squad by Julie Anne Peters Read Free Book Online

Prairie’s.
     Lydia said in a sigh, “I don’t think my mom would let me go out after dark to TP a house.”
    “Would she let you out to firebomb it?” I asked.
    Lydia sneered.
    Max said, “Don’t tell her what you’re planning to do—” I know she wanted to add something like “wart head.”
    “I mean, I don’t think she’ll let me out at night, period.”
    That was a problem. Even if I had a Big Mac attack an hour after dinner, I couldn’t go out alone at night either.
    “Can’t you sneak out?” Max said.
    Lydia didn’t answer. Neither did I. Confirming we were wimps.
    Prairie said, “W-why d-don’t we have a sleep-over or s-something? That’d be a g-good excuse.”
    “A sleep-over,” I repeated. “Here at Max’s. Brilliant, Prairie. As usual. Have a Tootsie Roll Pop.” She selected grape from
     the open plastic package that I’d pulled from my backpack. Maybe in a group, maybe with a purpose, I could stand going near
     Ashley’s house again.
    “Sleep here?” Max’s voice cracked. “At my house?”
    “Sure,” I replied. “We can all bring sleeping bags and spread out in your living room.”
    “No!” Max’s face took on a shade reminiscent of Grey Poupon. “It’s Friday night. We can’t do it here. Not in my house. No
     way.”
    We all looked at Max. She just kept shaking her head and saying, “No way. Not tonight. It’s Friday night.” I wondered what
     went on in her house on Friday nights. Apparently it was something bad. Something she didn’t want us to see. Maybe Friday
     was the night Scuzz-Gut Baggied up body parts.
    Prairie piped up, “W-what about sleeping out here? In the van?”
    We arched hopeful eyebrows at Max.
    Her eyes darted around. “Yeah, I guess that’d be okay. As long as you didn’t go in the house to go to the bathroom or anything.”
    We looked at each other. “No problem. We’ll hold it. Right?” I was kidding, sort of.
    Max said, “What do you do at a sleep-over anyway?”
    Lydia scoffed. “You don’t know?” She turned to me. “Tell her, Jenny.”
    My face seared fireball red. “How should I know? I’ve never been to a sleep-over.”
    Prairie piped up, “M-me neither.”
    I couldn’t believe it. I thought I was the only one in the world who’d never been to a sleep-over. “Any-way,” I said, “it’s
     not a real sleep-over. It’s a TP party. You eat and drink. Tell ghost stories. That kind of stuff.”
    “No ghost stories,” Max said in that voice that made us cower.
    “Okay,” I said. “Then we’ll just eat and drink. But we won’t drink much, so we won’t have to go to the bathroom.” That seemed
     to relieve Max. I added with a smile, “And we’ll plot revenge on Ashley Krupps.”
    “Yeahhhhh,” Lydia breathed.
    “Have another sucker,” I offered.
    We all got permission from our parents to sleep over at Max’s, believe it or not. Even Lydia, although her mom had to call
     Max’s mom to confirm and tell her that Lydia had asthma and if she had an attack not to worry, that Lydia would bring her
     inhaler. And that Lydia had to be in bed by nine because she had an early piano lesson the next day. “Blah, blah, blah,” Lydia
     mocked her mother. “Sometimes she drives me crazy.”
    Which made me laugh. Then Lydia got the joke and laughed, too.
    When I told my mom about the sleep-over, she started to cry. “Oh, Jenny.” She hugged me. “How great.” Like I’d never been
     to a sleep-over.
    “So you’ll cancel my appointment with the shrink?”
    She blew her nose. “No.”
    Geesh, what did it take?
    The plan was to bring as much toilet paper as we could stuff into our backpacks and sleeping bags. The TP supplies at home
     were running low, so on the way back to Max’s I made a pit stop at Wal-Mart to pick up a twelve-pack. Angel Soft, my TP of
     choice.
    Max told us to wear black, which made us look like terrorists in training. Which we were. My black sweat suit was a bit snugger
     than I remembered, but it