Rule #9 by Sheri Duff Read Free Book Online Page A

I’m not going to the concert,” I told her.
    “Oh, yes you are.” Gaby had found tickets. She knows a ton a people, including a local DJ. So not only did we go to the concert, but I got to go to the meet and greet. My signed t-shirt now hangs in my room. I posted pictures of the band and me to my photo site.
    Then I tagged Blake.
    After the concert, Bagel Shop Girl ditched him.
    Just like my father went running back to my mom after his skanky girlfriend dumped him, Blake tried to reconcile with me. It was hard not let him back in. Not impossible, though. I wanted him back. I missed having a boyfriend. It still didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t going to stay with someone who cheated.
    Mom swore I deserved better than Blake, but she also said that I needed to make the final decision. “Sometimes you have to let people go. And sometimes they never come back. Sometimes it’s better when they don’t come back. And no, I’m not talking about your dad.”
    My hair is starting to grow out. I’m totally over Blake. I gag a little every time I hear his name. It does suck not having a boyfriend, though.
    In the beginning, he would tweet the most random sweet things:
    My girlfriend is the bomb @massietrask
    How I feel all weak when I leave @massietrask —then he’d insert a picture of Sponge Bob and Patrick with a caption that read True Friends .
    @massietrask you’re my everything
    He was sweet. Was is the word of the day, the week, the month. And soon will be the word of the year, as soon as I really get over him.
    It will happen. I’m strong. I don’t need him. And I only think about him when I’m sad and I feel alone. So I just need to stop feeling sad and alone. But I don’t need to run off and find a new boyfriend right away, either. It’s not like I’m thinking about anyone in particular.
    Who am I trying to fool?

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Lunchtime on a Tuesday, Vianna, Natalie, and I sit at the metal table outside the commons in front of the school. My jacket covers the steel so I don’t burn my legs. Nobody has reminded Mother Nature that it’s time for a cooldown. My father’s truck is in the student parking lot, which means he’s taken the day off work and is hanging out with the football coaches. When I see him walking out of the building, I rethink my choice to sit outside. I should’ve known better. The athletic wing is too close to the commons area, and to this part of the outside seating.
    My dad spots us and walks over to our table. He sits next to me. He relaxes his forearms on the hot table, elbows and all. “Ladies. Couple more weeks until the big game. Let’s fill those stands.” He fist-pumps the air, then relaxes his arms back on the table.
    “We will, Mr. Trask,” Vianna answers him.
    I kick at her under the table, but I miss. My father is the lineman coach, and during the fall he spends more time at my school than I do. It sucks. At least it’s a short week. The freshmen started yesterday; the rest of us came to school today.
    My father keeps talking like he’s part of our group. “Alicia’s best friend from high school moved to Pine Gulch with her husband. She has a brother your age staying with them.”
    Why is he telling me this? I know I want him to pay attention, but he really needs to learn when it is appropriate. When I’m at school, it isn’t appropriate. One would think he would learn something from his young wife.
    At least he’s not going to give me the details about the honeymoon. Not that he would. Guys don’t do that sort of thing. Honeymoons are girlie stuff.
    Besides, my father doesn’t know how to have a conversation unless it revolves around football. When he talks about football, he doesn’t leave a detail out. Dates, times, who ran the winning play at the third game of his second year of coaching flag football at the recreation center—he’ll pause to get every detail correct even though I don’t care.
    My father keeps moving his mouth. “Kotenko