Girl's Best Friend by Leslie Margolis Read Free Book Online Page B

else … ”
    I shook my head. “You can’t even compare because you have no Ivy equivalent.”
    “So now you’re annoyed with me for not having enemies?”
    It’s true—everyone likes Finn. But the way he said this made me sound so petty. “That’s not what I meant.”
    Finn tapped his pencil against his Spanish book. My Spanish book, actually.
    “I still don’t get why you have to hate her so much.”
    I stopped myself from saying, “She started it,” because it sounded too babyish, although it’s completely accurate. “It’s complicated,” I said instead.
    It was enough to get Finn off my back. And it was the truth.
    Of course, at the time, I didn’t know how true it was.
    Or how much more complicated things were about to get.

Chapter 10
    ♦     ♦     ♦
    Turning twelve means you’re too old to have a party organized by your parents—with activities and games and goodie bags—and too young to know what you’re supposed to be doing at a party when no one is organizing it for you.
    It’s like one minute you’re knocking down a piñata and playing Duck Duck Goose and Musical Chairs, and the next minute you’re supposed to be playing Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes in the Closet and Five Minutes in Heaven. Or maybe it’s Five Minutes in the Closet and Seven Minutes in Heaven? Actually, they’re probably the same game and “closet” and “heaven” can be used interchangeably, but only in this one case.
    I cannot be certain, though, because I’ve never actually seen any of these games go down in real life. Finn and I had only heard rumors and we were not going to be the first of our friends to suggest playing. Because what if we went about it wrong? I couldn’t really imagine what wrong would look like, but it seemed like the kind of thing that would be hard to live down, so we were playing things safe. This was strictly a coed pizza party, with no kissing, or at least no kissing games.
    Of course, that didn’t mean we needed our parents hanging around. As soon as our dad headed out to pick up the food, Finn and I looked to our mom. “Okay, okay. I’m going,” she said, holding up her hands. “Now as agreed, your father and I will stay in our room.”
    “Behind closed doors,” Finn added.
    “Yes, behind closed doors. You won’t even know we’re home unless we hear something strange.”
    “Define strange,” said Finn.
    “Something that sounds like trouble,” she said.
    “That’s still pretty vague,” I had to point out.
    “Don’t you think your father and I have better things to do than eavesdrop on our children?”
    Neither Finn nor I answered.
    “Gee, thanks,” Mom said as she shook her head. “I’m outta here.” She squeezed my shoulder on her way out, adding, “Don’t forget to have fun,” with a meaningful wink.
    That morning, over breakfast, my mom had insisted that Ivy would only bother me if I let her. Also, that nothing would bother Ivy more than being ignored because, in being so mean, she’s merely acting out for attention and blah, blah, blah … Obviously it was advice she got from a book on “girl empowerment.” The kind that’s useless in real life—not that I’d tell her. Better to act like I was totally swayed, otherwise she might try and get me to read one of those books.
    So when Mom winked, I gave her a half smile, which might also be interpreted as a smirk, not bothering to point out that if someone needs to be reminded to have fun, the chances of that person actually having fun are probably not great.
    As soon as the doorbell rang at five after, my stomach cramped with panic. I guess I felt nervous that Ivy might show up first and make everything awkward. At the same time, I felt totally annoyed with myself for caring.
    Except I didn’t need to stress because it was only Red, and I should’ve guessed. Red’s always on time or early, which is funny because he lives the farthest away—all the way in Windsor Terrace, on the