How The Cookie Crumbles Read Free

fitted waists and flippy skirts in a rainbow of colours. My wardrobe used to consist of too much slimming black, so I avoided it now. And I had always loved shoes and hated being short, so I already had a full selection of lovely high heels.
    If only dating after losing weight could have been as easy as whipping up a new wardrobe. It took me a full year of social adjustment before I got into a relationship with Adam. Initially I had some trust issues. After I lost the weight, I was excited to go back to high school in the fall. I was Frankie Taylor: New and Improved, Now with 30% less fat. But all the guys seem to see was Frankie Taylor, now hot with big breasts. Ugh. If guys that used to be mean to me or ignored me asked me out, I found that kind of phony. Because, hello boys, elephants do have good memories. And besides, I did have my super-picky boyfriend checklist. I had lots of guy friends, and guy friends who wanted to be more than that, but I was looking for the complete package. That might be why although I had gone on zillions of first dates, I had had only two serious relationships my whole life. It made me sad to think how perfect Matt had been, but in the back of my mind I wondered if his good looks had led me to overlook some of his lesser qualities. Unfortunately in my current state of upset, all I could think of were his good qualities.
    When I started at U.B.C., I had left home and moved into residence right away. The commute from North Van to U.B.C. was a brutal one even if you had a car, which I did not, and besides I wanted to be independent. I loved my family and I didn’t want to move far away, but a little distance was perfect. Now going into my fourth year, I shared an apartment with two friends, but I was still close enough to come home occasionally for dinner and a bit of spoiling. My mom, feeling extra sorry for me because of the breakup, had already handed me a twenty and told me to get myself a treat. I planned to go straight to Shoppers Drug Mart and blow it on a bag of chips, a fashion magazine, and some red lipstick. And now, having been fed and coddled, it was time to go back to my apartment.
    “Um, can someone give me a ride home?”
    There was a dead silence. Then the excuses began.
    “I have to mark exams,” said my mother, which was true even though it was a Saturday night. My grandmother didn’t drive anymore, which was something all of Vancouver should be thanking us for.
    My dad, Glen, and Allan all looked at me, aghast.
    “Frankie, hello? In five minutes it’s game two of the playoffs, Canucks vs. Kings! Nobody wants to drive you home during the game, afterwards, sure. Why don’t you watch the game with us anyway?”
    So I ended up in the family room, watching the game with the boys. Maybe it was better that I wasn’t alone, wallowing in self-pity. If Matt were still here, it’s probably what we would have done anyway. I had just forgotten about the playoffs, which was apparently a huge sin. I know the basics of the game and who the cute Canucks are, but I am not really a hockey fan. Unlike my roommate and good friend, Bianca Leung, who is a complete hockey fanatic. In fact, she was one of the fortunate 16,000 to actually be at the game tonight.
    My indifference to hockey began when I had to drive my younger brothers to their games. Mom had insisted that I stay and cheer their feeble efforts on. Glen was not bad, but Allan was too much of a dreamer. He had once scored when a puck hit him on the helmet and then went into the net. And then he expected me to compliment him on the way home! After I said, “Way to stand in the right spot and have a hard head,” he started whining and told Mom on me when we got home. Little brothers. These days, I avoided hockey whenever I could, which wasn’t easy in Vancouver.
    One ridiculous thing that happened when guys watched hockey was that they stopped speaking English. And it didn’t help that Glen’s best friend, Mitchell, was here