Those Girls Read Free Page B

decided that I was going to get a real boyfriend and try to do better in school this year, maybe attempt to get into a respectable college. I was tired of Mollie bragging about her
relationship
and thinking that because she and Sam went out to dinner together sometimesthat she was somehow a better person than I was. Plus, even I was getting bored with the whole party-girl thing, and I should go out on top, right? My Last Week of School party last year ended with five police cars, a pool full of blood, an illicit video, and a pregnant sophomore—where do you even go from there? I debated even having my First Week of School party, but my First Week of School party is a tradition, so
not
having it would be downright bad luck, right? That, and the big empty house was starting to get to me. I’d been home for only two days, and already my dad had left for Asia and my mom hadn’t left the gym or her new trainer, Roger. I was sort of looking forward to filling my house with warm bodies for a night, pumping some life back into that ancient history museum.
    We resumed discussion of the party on our way to tennis practice that afternoon.
    “Let’s keep it just juniors and seniors,” Alex proposed as she rummaged through leaves and papers and god knows what else to find cigarettes under the passenger seat of her car.
    I agreed. “Though your brother can come with a few sophomores if he wants,” I said.
    “I’ll mention it, but it’s always weird when I see him out. Let him stay home and play video games. Get his own damn life, like I had to.”
    We used to torture Josh Holbrook when we were little. Nothing permanently damaging, just things like telling him that his freckles were a highly contagious rash or that every time he sneezed the snot that came out was part of his brain. He was also undyingly, annoyingly, and obviously obsessed with Mollie.Freshman year, we found her picture in a drawer next to his bed. Mollie pretended she was grossed out by it, but continued to prance around the Holbrooks’ house in short shorts and skimpy tank tops anyway. Typical, hypocritical Mollie.
    “Aw! Come on. Isn’t that what big sisters are for? Inviting you to parties? Getting you hammered?” Mollie said.
    “You just want him there so he can fawn over you all night,” I said, regretting the amount of sass in my tone.
    Mollie spun around in the front seat, whipping her ponytail against her cheek. “Oh, stop it,” she said. “He’s like my second little brother.”
    I snorted.
    “Are second little brothers like second cousins? Ya know, the ones you’re allowed to bone?”
    “
End
of conversation!” Alex screamed as she slammed on her brake. “Neither the boning of second cousins nor my little brother is allowed, okay? Everyone? Veronica? Do I need to make you repeat after me?”
    “No boning your little brother or second cousins. Got it.”
    “Wait,” Mollie said. “Can she not bone
your
second cousin or
any
second cousins?”
    Gasping and giggling, we poured out of Alex’s car and onto the Crawford campus, where the tennis courts were. We composed ourselves, stretched, and breathed in the open wild of the boys’ school.
    Our tennis team practiced at the courts at the boys’ school because we didn’t have tennis courts on our campus. We barely had a gym, but something closer to a barn with a basketballhoop because, well, I guess athletics are not exactly a financial priority in an all-female education. The Harwin athletics department pretty much consists of a bunch of lesbians in kilts and knee socks snapping the branches off some old maple trees, handing them to us, and telling us to play some field hockey. No one admitted it, but the fact that we practiced at Crawford was the reason that we were all on the tennis team. Or at least it was the reason I was.
    I slid my new sunglasses on and puffed out my chest. I hadn’t seen any of the boys all summer, so I needed to make a good impression. I needed a
damn, Veronica