When he glanced at the number on the screen, he excused himself from the table.
Whew.
“I had to walk my little sister to her dance class,” James explained, unfolding a copy of the Onion in his lap.
Terrifie. On top of everything else, he had to be the perfect big brother. Couldn’t he have said he’d been at rugby practice and totally turned me off?
“You’re right on time,” Francesca breathed, smiling at James. Was she flirting with him? Maybe she’d noticed his secret hotness too. But wasn’t she more into Griffin? “I was just about to give my ideas for the next meeting,” she added coyly.
Who asked you? I thought. We hadn’t even discussed the first book yet. I felt it in the pit of my stomach: Things were going downhill, and fast.
Tossing her hair, Francesca unfolded a pink piece of paper and carefully read out loud: “ The A-List, The Au Pairs, Summer Boys, South Beach, Sloppy Firsts, The Devil Wears Prada —”
“Whoa,” I cut in, taken aback by her chick-lit bonanza. I thought I saw James glance at me and smile, but then he went back to reading the paper.
Francesca narrowed her eyes. “Are you making fun of me, Norah?”
“No, but you just listed like a million books!” I replied, rolling my eyes. Paranoid much?
Audre, who was already in a pissy mood after seeing Griffin quickly kiss Francesca on the lips when she’d arrived that day, crossed her arms over her chest, her red plastic bracelets clinking together. “You mean you actually care what we read?” she asked Francesca.
Oh, boy. Here we went again.
Francesca’s gray eyes blazed. “ Excuse me ?”
“How about Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep ?” Neil piped up, still clinging to his sci-fi dreams.
“I’ve read that already,” Francesca said distractedly, clearly eager to get back to Audre. Then her cheeks turned pink and she glanced quickly at Neil. “Or not ,” she added snidely. “Why would I bother with some ridiculous book about androids ?”
I studied Francesca, wondering why she’d snapped at Neil so abruptly.
But Audre didn’t seem to notice; she was on a roll. “We all know why you really joined this group,” she told Francesca.
Francesca’s normally tan skin looked paler than usual as she turned back to Audre. “What … are you … talking about?” she whispered.
“You joined for college, right?” I jumped in, hoping to stop Audre before she went off on a Griffin rant. “I mean, to put on your record? That’s why I—”
“No,” Francesca replied curtly. “I already got in early to Dartmouth.”
Dartmouth? How? Had she slept with the admissions officer?
Then, for a crazy second, I wondered if Francesca had been sentenced to this book group by some vindictive guidance counselor. Maybe she’d gotten into trouble at school and this was her punishment—a kind of community-outreach to geeks.
“Please. The real reason is Griffin,” Audre spat. “All you care about is getting your claws into—”
“I heard my name.”
Griffin, forever the master of bad timing, appeared, carrying a bunch of steaming coffee mugs. He set them down and stole a piece of chocolate bark from Audre. “How are my favorite book lovers?” he asked with a wide smile.
All of a sudden I felt like crying. Griffin had been so sweet helping me start the group, and now the whole thing was going down the toilet. Nobody liked the first book. Scott was too busy. Francesca and Audre were going to strangle each other. Neil only lived for sci-fi. And James … James was weird and unpredictable, and my crush on him was only going to lead to disaster when he inevitably rejected me.
I made an executive decision.
“We’re done,” I announced, pushing my chair back. I thought of Ms. Bliss. Good-bye, Vassar . My voice wobbled a little, which made me feel even worse. “The book group is over. Fm calling it
Heather Gunter, Raelene Green