Deadly Little Secret by Laurie Faria Stolarz Read Free Book Online Page B

phobia, you dumb-ass.” She swats his head with her rhinestone purse. “The poor boy doesn’t have a fear of rabbit wool.”
    “Don’t you think it’s weird he’s hanging around you all of a sudden?” Wes asks.
    “He’s not hanging around me ,” I snap.
    “First, the parking lot,” Kimmie begins. “Then you guys are conveniently paired up as lab partners.”
    “So he can poke you with his test tube,” Wes chimes in.
    “Right,” Kimmie says. “And don’t forget this morning in front of the school. We saw the way he rubbed up against you in the doorway.”
    “He didn’t rub up against me,” I bark. “We bumped into each other.”
    “Call it what you will,” Wes says, “but that move would be considered illegal in some states.”
    “What, are you guys spying on me now?”
    “Well, the mauling in lab class is public knowledge,” Wes explains. “As for the doorway incident, Kimmie and I were on our way to say hi, but you and Ben the Butcher—that’s what people are calling him, FYI—were looking a little too chummy for a party.”
    “And that was just in a doorway,” Kimmie adds.
    “Right,” Wes continues. “Just imagine what could happen if we left you two alone in an entire foyer.”
    “Definitely peculiar,” Kimmie says.
    “Whatever,” I say, refusing to get into it. I turn and head toward Ben.
    But he’s no longer anywhere in sight.

17

    After finding Wes the perfect non-third-grade school-picture-day outfit, complete with Adidas sneakers to replace his “two decades ago” boat shoes, and Abercrombie jeans in lieu of the Dickies, Kimmie and I drop him off at the arcade and make a plan to meet him at the food pavilion in a half hour.
    Meanwhile, we make our way to the lingerie store.
    “They can’t just be any undies,” Kimmie explains, picking through the pile of cotton briefs. “They have to call out to me. They have to say, ‘I. Am. Worthy.’ I mean, we are talking about my caboose here, right?”
    “Right,” I say, playing along, trying not to laugh out loud, even when she gives her caboose a shimmy-shake.
    While Kimmie continues to look around, I decide to check out some pj’s. I find a really cute pair—a snuggly pink hoodie top with matching fleece shorts. I hold them up to myself in the mirror.
    “Too cute,” Kimmie says, sneaking up behind me. “That’s what you want to be wearing when the fire department rescues you in the middle of the night from the window of a blazing building.”
    “Exactly what I was thinking.” I roll my eyes.
    “So, I got the goods.” She jiggles her shopping bag at me, having already paid.
    “And did they call out to you?”
    “These babies didn’t just call; they screamed.”
    “Well, unfortunately, my wallet is screaming, too.” I reluctantly return my pj’s to the rack, and we head out to meet Wes, lingerie catalog—the price we’re paying him for being our taxi this afternoon—in hand.
    We end up making a couple more stops, including a trip to the drugstore for some self-tanner, which, according to Kimmie, is exactly what Wes’s “pale-ass” complexion could use.
    “You’ll be stylin’ in no time,” she tells him.
    “I’d better be,” he says. “Because if I don’t start bringing some girls home soon, my dad’s gonna sign me up for Girl Scouts. No joke. He’s already threatened it twice.”
    “Well your dad’s a psycho,” Kimmie says.
    “A psycho who wants his son to be a stud, maybe. Did I ever mention he got voted Best Looking and Most Datable in high school?”
    “About a thousand times,” she drones.
    “He expects me to be just like him,” he continues.
    “Furry, fat, and bald?” she asks. “Honestly, try the self-tanner. Then we’ll work on getting you a date.”
    * * *
    When I arrive home, Matt is already waiting at the dining room table for our study session.
    “Am I late?” I ask, checking my watch. It’s barely six thirty.
    He shakes his head. “Your mom let me in. I just thought