Odd Girl In Read Free Page B

the girls’ locker room when I got there, smiling at her reflection in a bathroom mirror.
    â€œHello, Alexis,” she said, catching my eye.
    I’d given up long ago on getting her to call me Alex. She refused to believe I could use a boy’s name and not automatically sprout a beard.
    â€œHi, Em,” I said with a smile.
    She cleared her throat. “It’s Emily .”
    â€œIt’s Alex,” I said, pointing to myself.
    Emily turned from the mirror to face the real me. “I like Alexis better.”
    â€œThan Emily? Me too.” I smiled again to show I was joking, but she just rolled her eyes.
    â€œAre you going to Chloe’s slumber party this weekend? I mean …” She glanced around nervously. “You did get invited, didn’t you?”
    Since I wasn’t in a particular clique, I was seen as a safe bet for most social invites, but Emily wasn’t wrong to ask. I’d turned down every girlie event since the start of the school year.
    â€œYes, I got invited,” I said, opening my locker. “But I’m not going. The invitation mentioned nail polish and pillow fights. I’m pretty sure there’s going to be giggling, too.”
    Emily frowned. “You do realize that’s what normal girls our age do?”
    â€œWhat’s normal?” I shrugged and changed into my gym clothes. “I’m just not into that kind of thing. I’d rather shoot spitballs at the ceiling.”
    Emily wrinkled her nose. “Classy.”
    â€œHey, I use fancy cocktail napkins,” I told her. “ And they’re recycled, so I’m being eco-friendly.”
    â€œWhatever,” said Emily. “I really think you should go to the party. You don’t socialize enough, and that can be unhealthy.”
    I raised an eyebrow. “Well, thank you for your professional opinion, doctor .” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “You know, since you’re giving out advice, maybe you can answer something else.”
    A flicker of surprise crossed Emily’s face, but she stood a little taller. “Of course, Alexis. What is it?”
    Glancing around, I pointed at a spot on my wrist. “Does this mole look like a chocolate chip to you?”
    â€œUgh!” Emily straightened and stalked away.
    â€œBecause I thought it was at first,” I said, following her onto the gym floor, “but it really hurt when I bit it.”
    That at least got her to stop talking. We joined the line for badminton, our sport of the month, if it could be called a sport. Only two people in our class were any good at it: Emily, of course, and Chloe Stroupe.
    Chloe was the ultracompetitive type, the girl who joined any and every team that had a chance of winning a trophy. She even dressed like a boy once to score extra medals at a track meet. Normally she was a nice person, but if someone stood between her and glory, they wound up facedown with her sneaker marks on their back.
    I was up first against Chloe, so I grabbed my favorite racket out of the bin. I could tell it was mine because one side was warped from where I’d banged it against the gym floor every time I missed the birdie. I might not have beengood at badminton, but I didn’t like to lose either. My mom had always stressed how important it was to be the best at whatever I did. She probably would have made a great Champs coach.
    The gym teacher blew her whistle, and I walked to one side of the net while Chloe readied herself on the other. Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned to see Emily twirling a shiny, dent-less racket that she’d brought from home.
    â€œKeep your eye on the birdie,” she said. “Every time you serve, you stare at your racket like you’ve never seen one before.”
    A couple of people in line snickered while I tried very hard for something less than a frown.
    â€œOkay,” I told Emily. “Thanks for the tip.”
    She smiled