The Princess of Las Pulgas Read Free Page B

again. A few girls cast envious glances my direction. At least
one thing is still the way it should be. I’m still Carlie Edmund,
the girl who has Nicolas Benz’s attention. For one moment I’m
excited about the Spring Fling, then that moment’s gone. How am going to buy a dress?
    I should have kept that babysitting job New
Year’s Eve with the Franklins. If I could wheedle Mrs. Franklin
into hiring me again and her social life picks up I might be able
to make two hundred dollars in time for the dance.
    Lena waves at me across the
noisy room, her bouncy ponytail held high by a pale blue
ribbon.
    I weave through the crowded
tables and sit across from her.
    “I waited outside chemistry
for you and you, like, vanished.” She sounds pouty.
    “I took a break.” I remove
the top slice of bread from my sandwich and fold the bottom slice
over the lettuce and cheese.
    “Are you still on a
diet?”
    Lena knows way too much
about me. “I’m not hungry.”
    “I saw you with Nicolas. So
did he . . .?”
    “Not yet.”
    She places her bowl of soup
on the table and pushes the tray aside. “Were you, like, sick
Sunday? You didn’t answer your cell, and when I called your home
phone your mom said you were in bed.”
    “I was tired.” I bite into
my half sandwich.
    She dips her spoon into the
soup and stirs up rice and peas from the bottom. “So what's up with
you? I mean you seemed to be getting . . . well, better a few weeks
ago, and now . . . Do I have to mine for what’s going on or are you
going to volunteer something, sometime, before the world ends
maybe? Aren’t we still BFFs?” Lena spoons soup into her mouth and
fixes her eyes on me.
    “Of course we are. It’s
just that . . . We’re moving.” Those two words have been festering
inside my head for over a month and burst out from between my
lips.
    Lena’s hand halts half way
to her mouth, soup dripping from her spoon back into the bowl. “You
can’t move. Where will we have the end-of-the-year beach
party?”
    I crush the sandwich bag
and hope the moisture in my eyes will evaporate.
    “I’m sorry, Carlie. Really.
That didn’t come out right. I was so . . . Will you have to leave
Channing?”
    “To be determined. I have
to go.” I grab my backpack and walk out the cafeteria door as
quickly as I can without running. My life’s unraveling and I want
the threads to come apart in private, not in front of the entire
Channing student body.
     
    By the next week it’s
determined. Keith and I will have to change schools.
    At dinner, Mom sits at the
end of the dining room table where Dad used to sit. I hadn't
noticed until this moment how she'd moved from her end of the table
to his, how Keith had slid the extra chair on his side to the wall,
and how I'd started sitting across from him. The three of us are
clustered together—the incredible shrinking family.
    “The only place I can find
on such sort notice is in Las Pulgas.” Mom's face says what she
doesn’t. I’m sorry we have to move. I’m sorry it’s Las Pulgas. I’m
sorry.
    “Las Pulgas is the worst
place in the world. Flea Town’s a joke. Why would any place be
named after disgusting bugs?”
    “Carlie.” Mom frowns. “The
rent’s affordable, lets me pay off bills and still have something
to tuck away until I can get my realtor’s license and start making
a salary.” Behind her, boxes are stacked three high against the
dining room wall. She’s already removed the family pictures and
packed them. “Besides, they’ll allow one cat.”
    I push my salad around with
my fork. “When?”
    “I put down the cleaning
deposit and the first and last months’ rent today.” Mom’s eyes
glisten, but she stabs a last bite of chicken on her plate and says
a little too loudly, “We can move in by the fifteenth.”
    My fork clatters onto my
plate.
    Keith reaches for another
roll and slathers it with butter. “How come we can’t finish the
year here?”
    “For one, you’re not going
to be in the