Kitty Kitty by Michele Jaffe Read Free Book Online Page A

T-shirts, or putting peaches on ice cream—UNSPEAKABLY WRONG. My mind was screaming, But I was a Model Daughter! I was Trouble-Free Zone! Tiny children could play near me and be safe! And for what? EVIL HENCH TWINS!
    Oh, well. At least now I’ll have more time to work on my college essays , I thought.
    Or at least, that is what I should have thought. That is what a mature, self-actualized person would have thought. But I wasn’t feeling mature or self-actual. I was feeling my heart trying to plummet through my chair, and my throat closing up, and my eyes getting all throbby, and I realized I was about to cry. I know that sounds spoiled. I mean, it’s not like I’d lost a limb in a tragic badminton accident defending my country’s honor (like the girl Jack might at that moment have been meeting), but I couldn’t help it. I’d been so sure I was going to get to go to California. And so excited. And so ready to see my pals. And Jack.
    And so ready to not feel lonely all day every day for at least a little while.
    We all sat down then and my father proposed a toast and there was much merriment and lighthearted banter and commenting on how good the tortellini were, but it went on without Jas as a participant. I was making a pact with myself never to try to read anything in a mirror again, because clearly the itinerary I’d seen that said CALLIHAN on it had been theirs and not mine.
    I tried to console myself by remembering that although officially Veronique was Alyson’s Evil Hench Twin, she’d turned out to warrant only a MAY CAUSE DISORIENTATION label and could be nice. Esque. To prove it, she leaned over and gave me a little hug and squealed, “I’m so glad to see you, Jas. You look really good.”
    Causing me for one misguided moment to think, Maybe this will not be as completely and utterly horrible as I thought . Which is the kind of thought that might signal a rip in the universe.
    Fortunately, everything was returned to its normal place when Alyson turned her Hench Gaze in my direction and said, “God, Calamity, you’ve been here six weeks and you still dress like an American. Where did you get that outfit, Antiques Roadshow Last Year edition?”
    Little Life Lesson 11: People in pinafores should not attempt to crack wise about other non-pinafore-wearing people’s outfits.
    “I am sorry, Holly Hobbie. We cannot all be putting the IT into Italian Fashion the way you and your fancy pants are.” I admit it was not my snappiest comeback, but my eyes were busy trying to flee into my brain to protect themselves.
    Veronique said, “They’re called bloomers.”
    And because there is no snappy comeback for that, I said, “How was your trip?”
    “Totally Visa,” Veronique said. “We met this gigacool guy.”
    One of the nicest things about the Evil Hench Twins is that they speak their own language, which forces mere mortals like me to ask what they mean, so they can roll their eyes at us as though we were born with baby-bird brains. “Gigacool?” I asked.
    Alyson eye-rolled. “Um, Jas, have you been eating Cream of Moron soup? Iper-slash-very cool.” Another nice feature of the Evil Hench language is the use of slashes tolink words together for extra emphasis.
    “He’s totally two commas,” Veronique said. “You know, has a bank account with six zeroes behind it,” she translated politely.
    I nodded like I had any idea what she was talking about. “Where did you unearth-slash-exhume him?”
    “We met him waiting for the water taxi at the airport,” Veronique explained.
    “Um, we?” Alyson asked. “I think I was the one he started talking to.”
    “Actually, he talked to me first,” Veronique corrected.
    “Only because you asked him to fix the clasp on your necklace.”
    “You pretended to have something in your eye.”
    “I did have something in my eye. That weird mascara you lent me.”
    I hadn’t expected to enjoy my time with the Evil Hench Twins quite so much. I guess twelve hours on