Kristen by Lisi Harrison Read Free Book Online

slapped on her Cleopatra wig. There was no time for a wardrobe change, so instead of wearing the white Greek goddess dress, she tilted the computer’s camera up, hoping no one would notice her baggy gray cargo shorts and faded red hoodie.
    The screen came to life. And the members of the Witty Committee stared back at their alpha.
EINSTEIN (Layne Abeley)
BILL GATES (Danh Bondok)
Disguise: tweed coat, bushy mustache, wiry gray wig
Disguise: glasses, light blue button-down, dark blue blazer
Expertise: physics
Expertise: technology
OPRAH (Rachel Walker)
SHAKESPEARE (Aimee Snyder)
Disguise: wavy black wig, gold hoop earrings, pumpkin orange blouse
Disguise: gray bald-in-the-front, curly-in-the-back wig, mustache, white collar sticking out of a black cloak
Expertise: anthropology (the study of humankind, not the cute and affordable shabby-chic store)
Expertise: affairs of the heart and the Romance languages
    “What do we stand for?” Kristen asked, never tiring of the routine.
    “BOB,” they answered.
    “And what does BOB stand for?”
    “Brains over beauty!”
    She smiled, her stress melting like Creamsicle-flavored Glossip Girl in the sun. Nothing validated her more than the WC, not even David Beckham’s loving neck licks.
    “State the reason for this meeting,” Kristen insisted in her best robot-meets-no-nonsense-CEO voice.
    “We’ve been waiting for a progress report and never got one.” Oprah fiddled nervously with one gold hoop earring. “Did you take my advice? Did you and Ripple help each other?”
    “Looks like it,” Einstein snickered, straining to see beyond the camera’s reach. “What are you
wearing
?”
    “Hey, are those shorts from Quiksilver?” Bill Gates asked, nudging his round glasses a little farther up his shiny nose. “I have the same pair.”
    “You shop in the girls’ section?” Kristen asked.
    “No, you shop in the
boys’
,” he countered. “B-but they look good on you. I mean, you know, you can totally pull them off.”
    “You wish,” Shakespeare muttered.
    Einstein and Oprah giggled.
    Bill Gates turned red.
    “Wait!” he screeched. “I didn’t mean it like
that
. I meant—”
    “It’s okay.” Kristen hurried him along, angling the computer even farther up. “I
know
what you meant. And thanks for checking in, but I’m fine. . . . Actually, I’m late. Dune is at GAS Park right now, so I better go.”
    “Question.” Oprah’s round dark eyes seized Kristen, refusing to let her go. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
    Kristen nodded yes.
    “Then we’ll get moving on plan B right away,” Oprah announced.
    “What’s plan B?” Kristen asked. “Why are we moving to it? I never approved it.”
    “Because I’m not so sure plan A is working.”
    Kristen, about to protest, looked down at her outfit and sighed. She couldn’t argue with that. But Ripple had sworn by the dude-duds. And when it came to Dune, she was smarter than any of them. . . .
    Right?

GAS PARK
    HALF-PIPE
    Tuesday, July 21
    1:41 P.M.
    The way Kristen threw her leg over her bike, with uninhibited force, gave her pause. Usually she slid back on the gold banana seat, lifted on to her left toes, and swung her leg over with grace and modesty. Then she’d lower down and roll back her shoulders with the posture of a world-class gymnast. But something about the long, baggy shorts, formless sweatshirt, and fat black DC sneakers made her feel more lad and less lady. And she ambled into GAS Park with the side-to-side swagger to prove it.
    Skaters greeted her with respectful head-nods when she passed. Not because she was hawt, but because she was nawt. She was no longer a pretty blonde who could knock them off their boards with a suggestive half smile or a whiff of her citrus-scented body oil. Kristen was suddenly a girl they could hang around without feeling conscious of their back zits (bacne) or their mid-afternoon BO.
    She was a buddy, not a beauty.
    The realization was enough to make her want to hop back