Queen of Babble by Meg Cabot Read Free Book Online Page A

Andrew.
    “Ladies in the front seat,” Mr. Marshall goes on with a smile at me. “And gentlemen in the back.”
    “Liz, I thought you were a feminist,” Andrew says (only it comes out sounding like,Liz, I fought you were a feminist ). “Are you going to stand for this kind of treatment?”
    “Oh,” I say. “Of course. Andrew should sit in front, he’s got longer legs—”
    “I won’t hear of it,” Mr. Marshall says. “You’ll muss your pretty Chinese dress, climbing about.” Then he shuts my car door, firmly, for me.
    Next thing I know, he’s come around the right side and is holding the driver’s-side seat back for Andrew to crawl behind. There’s a brief argument I can’t really hear, and then Andrew appears. I don’t really know any other word I can use to describe the expression on Andrew’s face except peevish.
    But I feel bad for eventhinking Andrew might be feeling peevish about me getting to sit in the front seat.
    Most likely he’s just embarrassed about not having his own car to pick me up in. Yes, that’s probably it.
    Poor thing. He probably thinks I’m holding him to American standards of capitalist materialism! I’ll have to find some way to assure him that I find his poverty extremely sexy, seeing as how all the sacrifices he’s making, he’s making for the children.
    Not Andrew Jr., Henry, Stella, and Beatrice, of course. I mean the children of the world, the ones he’ll be teaching someday.
    Wow. Just thinking about all the little lives Andrew’s going to improve with his sacrifices in the teaching profession is making me kind of horny.
    Mr. Marshall climbs into the driver’s seat and smiles at me. “Ready?” he asks cheerfully.
    “Ready,” I say, and I’m filled with a spurt of excitement despite my jet lag. England! I’m in England at last! I’m about to be driven along the English countryside, into London! Maybe I’ll even see some sheep!
    Before we’re able to pull out, however, an SUV drives up behind us, and a back window powers down. Marnie, my little friend from the plane, leans out the window to yell, “Good-bye, Jennifer Garner!”
    I roll down my own window and wave. “Bye, Marnie!”
    Then the SUV pulls away, Marnie beaming happily in the back.
    “Who in heaven,” Mr. Marshall asks as he backs out, “is this Jennifer Garner?”
    “Just some American film star,” Andrew says before I can say anything.

    Just some American film star? Just some American film star who happens to look exactly like your girlfriend!I want to shriek.Enough so that little girls on airplanes want her autograph!
    But I manage to keep my mouth shut for once, because I don’t want Andrew to feel inadequate, knowing he’s dating a Jennifer Garner look-alike. That could be really intimidating, you know, for a guy.
    Even an American one.

    In contrast to Egyptian costume, in which there was a distinct division in style between the sexes, the Greek costume during this same period did not vary between men and women. Large rectangles of cloth of different sizes were draped across the body and fastened only with a decorative brooch.
    This garment, which is called a toga, went on to become a favorite costume of college fraternity parties, for reasons this author cannot fathom, as the toga is neither flattering nor comfortable, especially when worn with control-top underwear.
    History of Fashion
    SENIOR THESIS BY ELIZABETH NICHOLS
    4
    Men have always detested women’s gossip because they suspect the truth: their measurements are being taken and compared.
    —Erica Jong (1942– ), U.S. educator and author
    Idon’t see any sheep. It turns out Heathrow airport isn’t exactly that far out in the country. As if I can’t tell I’m not in Michigan anymore from the way the houses look (many of them are attached, like in that movieThe Snapper …which, come to think of it, was actually set in Ireland, but oh well), I definitely know it from billboards that flash by us. I can’t tell, in