It's Not Easy Being Mean by Lisi Harrison Read Free Book Online Page B

look at their creations. “Our uniforms are practical. Unlike
those.
“
    “These are more than practical. They're pract-
able
.” Massie paused. “Practical and ah-dorable.”
    “Point.”
    It was one thing for Kristen not to wear one of Massie's special-edition uniforms, but it would be quite another for her to criticize them in public. Especially since Massie, Alicia, and Dylan were the only three girls on the field who actually looked female.
    Their navy shorts had been ripped open by Massie's housekeeper, Inez, and sewn into A-line miniskirts. Cleavage-baring cuts transformed their boyish yellow tops into sexy V-necked tanks. And their boring white knee-highs had been cut into “sweat bangles” and moved to their wrists. Now the girls sported cute little tennis socks with fluffy lemon yellow pom-poms flopping around the heels of their cleats, introducing their harsh black sneakers to this spring's biggest “it” color. But the pieces de resistance were the numbers on their backs, which Inez had filled in with navy glitter. Massie put a hand on her waist—one foot out, and toes pointed—giving Kimmy and the other Sirens a moment to study the Pretty Committee's fabulousness. Alicia and Dylan did the same.
    “Can I order one?” asked Marta Williams, who was known for wearing a white do-rag over her unruly brown curls.
    “Me too,” added Jessi Rowan before crouching to tighten her black laces.
    “Everyone give Dylan your sizes and I'll see what I can do,” Massie announced, with an I-told-you-so smirk aimed at Kristen.
    “What happened to Siren pride?” Kristen asked her teammates as they formed a line in front of Dylan.
    “What happened to
female
pride?” Massie answered for them. “The boys are practicing a few yards away.” She pointed to the Briarwood Tomahawks, who were racing up and down the field, caught up in their morning drills. Uneasiness pinched her heart when she saw Derrington snaking around a row of orange pylons. Had he really lip-kissed Skye Hamilton? Quickly, Massie turned away, before full-blown sadness crept in and ruined her day.
    Kristen opened her mouth to speak, but Coach Davis beat her to it.
    “Line up,” announced the petite blonde in an old 2003 black Juicy Couture sweat suit, white clouds of air puffing from her wide mouth.
    Instead of moving, the girls stayed where they were and continued shouting their sizes at Dylan.
    “Line!” Her perfectly even teeth practically morphed into fangs. “Now!”
    The Sirens scurried into formation, a single row facing her. Massie edged out Kori Gedman, who was jockeying for a place beside Kristen, then grabbed Alicia and Dylan and pulled them beside her.
    “How ‘bout a strong Sirens welcome to Massie Block, Alicia Rivera, and Dylan Marvil?” The coach clapped her hands in a rhythmic staccato beat. Massie wondered if she had some sort of weird nerve disorder that prevented her from clapping like a normal, healthy person, until fifteen other girls joined in. Massie found their warm welcome more energizing than her morning Red Bull.
    “Thank you,” Massie mouthed.
    She glanced over at the Tomahawks, hoping Derrington would notice the team applauding her. But he was busy inside the net, blocking the hailstorm of balls being kicked at his face.
    Alicia nudged her “When should tell the coach I don't run?”
    “I have a feeling she'll figure it out.” Dylan fake-coughed while she opened a Ziploc baggie stuffed with bagel chips. Coughing again, she popped one in her mouth and held the bag out to her friends. “Carb-loading is the key to endurance.”
    “Shhhhh,” Kristen hissed, never taking her eyes off the coach.
    “We have high hopes for you girls,” smiled the coach. Her wide green eyes glistened like sparkling sea glass against her bronzed skin. If she'd traded in her vintage sweat suit for a modern Azzedine Alaïa gown, she'd have looked like a red-carpet regular or an
E.T.
correspondent.
    Assuming the adoration ran both