Meanicures by Catherine Clark Read Free Book Online Page A

away. “I want us to have a good-bye party for them.”
    “A party with them?” Olivia asked. “Are you nuts?”
    “She didn’t say
with
them,” Taylor pointed out. “She said
for
them. As in, good-bye. To get them out of our lives. Right?” She looked at me, and I nodded.
    “Well … how?” asked Olivia.
    “That’s the part I don’t know yet,” I said. “I was hoping we could use your computer and look up some ideas. I mean, I know we can have the party at my house. We have a fireplace and we can definitely burn their names. But what else?”
    “Let’s see.” Olivia had her computer on the counter, where she often sat to do her homework while her parents worked. She looked over at the two of us. “What are we talking here? A witch thing? Witch dot com?”
    “No, no.” I shook my head. “Something more civilized.”
    “Definitely,” said Taylor. “I am not into potions and spells.”
    “Me neither. I couldn’t even read the first Harry Potter,” said Olivia.
    While we were talking, Olivia found some articles on self-help sites about how to deal with negative energy and get rid of “toxic” people. We weren’t really sure if that’s what we meant.
    “Let’s plan on the name-in-flames stuff,” Taylor said. “But what else can we do for a good-bye party?”
    I pictured tossing Bar Harbor Barbie into the fire. Probably that would create an environmental disaster. So maybe we wouldn’t burn everything—maybe we’d burn the names, but just put away a box of things from the time when we were BFFs.
    “Whatever we do, it will have to involve lots of snacks and a movie,” said Olivia.
    “Why?” I asked.
    “Because all our fun nights do,” she said. “Duh.” She reached for a small bowl of mixed nuts on the counter and took a handful.
    “Then we’ll eat anti-mean snacks,” I said.
    Olivia’s forehead creased in thought. “What are anti-mean snacks?”
    “I don’t know. Sweet things? Anything with lots of sugar?” I guessed. “Do I have to come up with everything?”
    “How about ‘mean-free,’ ” Olivia suggested. “You know, in the tradition of sugar-free, gluten-free …”
    “Sounds good,” said Taylor.
    “What night should we have the party?” I asked.
    “Saturday?”
    “I can’t Saturday,” both Olivia and Taylor said at the same time.
    “Okay … how about Friday?”
    “Well, what are the chances we’ll go to the dance Friday?” asked Olivia.
    “Uh, slim,” I said. I thought about Hunter and how Cassidy had pushed me to talk to him about the dance,when all he wanted was my homework so he could go to the dance. With someone else.
Her
, probably.
    “What’s so special about it, anyway,” commented Taylor. “I bet it will be totally boring.”
    Suddenly Olivia turned to us with a deadly serious expression. She looked pained, like she had just bitten her cheeks with her braces.
    “What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
    She adjusted one of her earrings, which had gotten tangled in her hair. “You know that old saying, don’t shoot the messenger?”
    Taylor and I both nodded.
    “Madison, I really don’t want to show you this. But I have to,” Olivia said. “I was looking for stuff about the eighth-grade dance, just in case, you know, we wanted to know more … and I came across this. It’s like … evil.”
    She turned the computer toward us, and I saw in big letters: PAYNESTON PEEPS. That’s our school’s social networking site.
    And right below that, under Today’s Update (still not favorite words of mine):
    GOING ATTRACTIONS
    WHAT SEVENTH GRADER RECENTLY LOPPED OFF HER MARTIAN-GREEN LOCKS? WE THINK SHE LOST HER BEST FEATURE, BUT YOU BE THE JUDGE
.
    VOTE ON “BEFORE” AND “AFTER”!
    View results here.
    “Before” was the picture Alexis had taken of meoutside school that morning. Hunter was standing behind me, holding up his fingers in a V above my head.
    I really did hate him now.
    Wow. It really was
that
green
, I