The One and Only Zoe Lama by Tish Cohen Read Free Book Online Page B

chauffeured all the way to the front doors of the school like Susannah will be when she’s in the movies.
    I have to turn on the classroom lights because Mrs. Patinkin isn’t even here yet. After I hang up my backpack and my coat, I blow Boris a kiss that I hope he’ll remember when he’s at Devon’s house all weekend, then I head for my desk. Which I just now realize has something shiny and hot pink on it. And so does Laurel’s. And Susannah’s. And every other desk in the entire class, including Mrs. Patinkin’s.

    I scoot into my seat and pick it up. It’s a fancy folder and it says, “Devon Says.”
    She wrote down her crappy advice and had it professionally bound? In pink?
    I refuse to open it. In fact—I drop it on my desk—I refuse to even touch it.
    Riley thunders into the room and tugs on my hair twice as he passes me. “Whoa,” he says. I don’t turn around because I can hear him picking up the…thing. “Devon wrote a book!”

    I cross my arms across my chest, but don’t turn around. I huff out a little puff of air. “It’s not a book, it’s a folder.”
    He whistles. “Still. Kind of fancy. It has all her rules in it.” Then he pokes me in the back with the thing. “See? Someone beat you to it. I’ve been telling you for years to write down your rules.” He makes a hissing noise with his tongue. “Now it’s too late. It’s all over.”
    I don’t respond.
    His head pokes over my shoulder. “Why so silent? You’re not jealous of Devon Sweeney, are you?”
    I toss my hair, which might not behave as well as Devon’s, but definitely has more personality. “Not a chance.”
    He grins slyly and drops back into his seat. “I’m not sure that twitching eyelid of yours agrees.”
    M rs. Patinkin is the last one in the classroom. She waves hello with her fingers, then picks up her copy of “Devon Says.” First she looks at the cover, then she flips it open and thumbs through the crummy pages. “Well, well, well. We have a published author in our midst. Tell me, Miss Sweeney—would you be willing to sign my copy after class?”
    Devon blushes—for a change—and nods. Then she holds up a sparkly pink pen that’s hanging from her neck. “I brought my favorite gel pen. Just in case.”

    Ugh. Susannah, who hasn’t touched her copy out of respect for me, leans close and says, “Don’t worry. No one who’s anyone autographs in pink anymore. It’s so grade school.”
    Then Mrs. Patinkin says, “Well, it’s all very professionally done. It makes Devon’s unique points of view very official, don’t you think, class?” Then she turns around and writes Official and Published Author on the chalkboard. I don’t have to turn around to see Devon beaming. Her smile is spreading through the air like tuberculosis.
    I hiss to Susannah, “My rules are every bit as official as hers! I just chose the less traditional and more mysterious route of refusing to print mine. Writing them down makes them overly accessible.” Which means people want to throw up from hearing them over and over.
    Susannah lowers her glasses to show this is, in fact, one very serious conversation. “It is my personal belief that you have much more prestige by refusing to publish yours, and that you are, in fact, every publicist’s dream.”
    I rub Susannah’s shoulder. “You’re good people, Barnes.” Then I look over at Laurel to make sure she agrees and actually catch her peeking into Devon’s book—I mean, folder! I smack my hand down on it and Laurel jumps back and shrugs as if to say she couldn’t help herself.
    My eyelid twitches even harder.
    Mrs. Patinkin taps her ruler against her desk. “Zoë Monday Costello! I’ll thank you to share your secret musings with the rest of the class.”
    Normally I don’t mind when she does this. I just whip a superslippery compliment out of my sleeve, Patinkin practically weeps with appreciation, then she forgets all about whatever I got Zoë-Monday-Costello’d for