Survival of the Fiercest by Anna Carey Read Free Book Online Page B

“I don’t really like basketball but those Haverford jerseys are hot.” Betsy Carmichael even had a special segment on the Ashton News where she named members of the team M.A.P.s (Most Adorable Players).
    â€œGood work,” Cate said, digging through her black and white Balenciaga bag. She pulled out a picture of Lola and one of her friends on Hampstead Heath in London. Cate had plucked it from her bulletin board that afternoon. Lola was wearing shorts that came down past her knees, and her fried hair was tucked behind her huge ears. Lola was more awkward than a fart in an elevator. It was kind of amazing that someone had a crush on her. “Try not to slobber all over it. I’m also ninety-nine percent certain she does not have a date to the Haverford formal.”
    Danny shoved it in his backpack. “Thanks.” He smiled, pushing his dark curls out of his eyes. “Eli should be here in five minutes. He was just leaving the locker room when I saw him.” Then he took off down the street, leaving Cate to her research.
    According to the folder, Eli ate a turkey burger with Swiss every day at lunch, always kept the top button of his shirt unbuttoned, and had been spotted hanging out on the grass outside the Museum of Natural History after school. He had three basketball games in the next two weeks, he wasn’t good at long division, he bought his socks at American Apparel, and he might need glasses ( the Eagle seen squinting at the blackboard ).
    Cate smoothed down the skirt of her Diane von Furstenberg chiffon dress. Stella had helped her pick it out after dinner, saying she’d worn something similar when she went to the movies with her sixth-grade boyfriend. Whenever Stella brought up boys, Cate tried her best to keep up, offering the occasional I so know what you mean , or totally! But the truth was, she so didn’t know what Stella meant. Cate had spent every second of middle school with the Chi Beta Phis, planning brunches at L’Absinthe and picnics by the Turtle Pond. Every Valentine’s Day Cate exchanged gifts with Blythe, Priya, and Sophie, making them cheesy doily paper cards. She hadn’t even gotten her first kiss until this past summer. Now she was fourteen, Chi Beta Phi-less, and playing a serious game of catch-up. While everyone else was sprinting toward second dates, serious boyfriends, and hookups, Cate was still at the starting line, trying to figure out when the gun went off.
    Across the street, Mrs. Ashford watered her window boxes, singing to her mums like they were small children. Cate let out a deep breath as a boy turned down Eighty-second Street. It was Eli—she recognized him immediately. He was still in his Haverford warm-ups, his blue pants making a swishing sound as he walked.
    She’d had this conversation in her head a thousand times in the last two days, when she was brushing her teeth, blow-drying her hair, and in the last moments before she fell asleep. She imagined bumping into Eli on the crosstown bus, or catching him peering over the roof deck wall at her, as she lay out in her Theory bikini. You live next door—right? she’d casually say, shooting him her most flirtatious, I haven’t been stalking you smile. But now that he was actually here, walking toward her—in real life—her mouth felt dry, like she’d just eaten an entire box of saltines.
    Eli pushed his thick black hair off his forehead and looked up at Cate’s town house. “What’s up… neighbor? ” He let out a little laugh.
    â€œHey.” Cate held on to the wrought iron fence, steadying herself. “Yeah, I meant to introduce myself the other day. I’m Cate—Cate Sloane.”
    â€œI’m Eli. I would shake hands, but I’m a little sweaty.” Cate studied him as he ran his thumbs along the straps of his backpack. His dark eyes were surrounded by a thick curtain of black lashes, and he was the three