The Flip Side by Shawn Johnson Read Free Book Online Page B

around.”
    I turn to Bobby. “Thanks for the popcorn.”
    â€œSure.” He points a finger at me and winks. “Don’t forget the badge.”
    Then he and Michael walk off, back toward the theater lobby. I have a feeling they’re buying another set of tickets to the action flick.
    â€œWhat badge?” Zoe asks.
    I shrug. “It’s just a little joke.”
    â€œThe two of you have an inside joke already? Do you like him?”
    â€œI don’t not like him.”
    â€œI think he likes you.”
    I don’t want to admit that I kind of wish he did. I head for the door. “He was just being a good friend to Michael.”
    She catches up to me. “But I saw the two of you talking.”
    â€œIt would have been rude to ignore each other.” I shove open the door and step out, and immediately see Zoe’s sister sitting in a car at the curb.
    â€œYou won’t say anything to my sister about Michael, right?”
    â€œYour secret is safe with me.”
    â€œThanks. You’re the best friend in the whole world.” She leans in, a mischievous glint in her green eyes. “And admit it—it was exciting having a date.”
    â€œIt was exciting in the way that having a heart attack is exciting. I was totally unprepared.”
    â€œOkay. Next time I’ll give you some warning.”
    â€œThere better not be a next time.”
    Her sister honks.
    Laughing, Zoe sings out as she races to the car, “We’ll see!”
    I rush over to join her, a part of me hoping that there will be a next time.

Chapter Seven
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    â€œI can’t believe she did that!” Gwen exclaims with a laugh.
    â€œI know. It was totally crazy. But that’s Zoe.”
    I’m sitting with Gwen on a soft leather couch in the near dark in the Gundersens’ media room, sipping a kale shake, trying not to remember the soda I had the night before. The room has an awesome sound system, and we use it when we’re trying to select the music we want to use for our floor routines. Everyone in levels one through five has the same floor music and the same routine. It’s not until the optional levels, six through ten, that gymnasts get a chance to choose their own music. Gwen and I take choosing our music very seriously. But before we started listening to various possibilities, I told Gwen about the unexpected date night.
    â€œShe seems like so much fun,” Gwen says. “I’d love to meet her sometime.”
    Doing something with my two best friends would be awesome, but—
    â€œIt might get complicated trying to come up with an explanation for how I know a famous gymnast.”
    She snorts. “I’m not famous yet.”
    â€œBut if she did an Internet search on your name . . .”
    â€œWhat if she does one on yours?” Gwen asks pointedly.
    â€œSearching for ‘Charlotte Ryland’ brings up pages for only Charlotte Ryland. ‘Charlie Ryland’ brings up results for Charlie and Charles. No Charlotte. So I don’t think people are going to connect thick-framed-glasses Charlotte with ponytail-wielding Charlie.”
    She laughs in disbelief. “You actually did a search?”
    â€œI started worrying about it.”
    Gwen releases a scoff that echoes with disapproval. “I don’t know why you’re not proud of your accomplishments.”
    We’ve discussed this ad nauseam. “I am proud of them. I just like having a safe place where I don’t have to deal with the pressures of pending fame every minute.”
    â€œSearch engines will probably connect the two names when you’re standing on the podium at the next Olympics,” she says.
    â€œI know, but until then I have a little bit of anonymity.”
    She starts to chuckle.
    â€œWhat so funny?” I ask.
    â€œI’m imagining someone at the breakfast table, looking at your picture on a cereal box, grabbing a marker,