Pretty Little Things. Jilliane Hoffman

muscle or a hair on their scrawny bodies. Since she’d met Zach a few weeks ago in a Yahoo chat room for the new Zombieland movie, Lainey had been forming a mental picture of what he might look like. This fabulous, funny guy who liked the same movies – even the really bad ones – listened to the same music, hated the same subjects, distrusted the same type of plastic people she did, had the same problems with his own parents. It would be too much to ask for him to be anything more than a geek with bad acne and even worse hair and an uncle who’d pulled strings to get him on the varsity football team. But then last Friday Zach had finally sent her a picture, and the very first thing she’d thought was, ‘Oh my God, this guy could model for Abercrombie & Fitch!’ He was that amazingly good looking. And what was even more amazing was that this totally cool, freakin’ captain of the football team with model looks liked her. That’s when she knew reciprocating with a snapshot of her own boring self just wasn’t gonna happen, especially since that self was still three years away from the sixteen she’d told him she was. A small fib that would definitely matter to a senior in high school being scouted by colleges. She knew he’d never be into that, and their friendship – or whatever it was that was happening between them – would be over before she could hit the reply button to his Dear Jane email. If he even bothered to send her one.

      She nibbled off the last chunk of nail and spat it in the garbage. The entire fake set had taken her and her best friend, Molly, hours to put on last Saturday for the ‘photo shoot’, and only a few short seconds to rip off this morning in gym class. The nails were her favorite. Long and pointy and oh-so red. More than the shoes or make-up or wearing Liza’s clothes, it was those nails that had made her feel so … glamorous. So grown-up. She loved tinking them on glasses and rolling them impatiently on tables. It’d taken her the whole weekend to figure out just how to pick up a piece of paper! And now, like Cinderella’s ball gown and crystal coach, they were just a memory. At least Cindy got to keep a glass slipper as a memento of her time as a princess. All Lainey got was a chunk of chewed acrylic.

      And, of course, a picture.

      She stared at herself on the screen. That was it. If she thought about it any more she’d never do it. She closed her eyes, said a prayer and clicked the mouse. A little envelope zipped across the monitor.

      Your message is on its way!

      The cell phone in her back pocket buzzed and Gwen Stefani belted out ‘The Sweet Escape’. Molly. She blew out a long held breath. ‘Hey, M!’

      ‘Did you send it?’ an excited voice asked.

      Lainey sighed and flopped back on her bed. ‘Finally, yeah.’

      ‘And?’

      ‘I haven’t heard back yet. I just sent it, like, two seconds ago.’

      Molly Brosnan had been Lainey’s best friend since way back in kindergarten, and everyone – teachers, coaches, friends, parents – everyone always said, if the two of them looked even a little bit alike, they’d be identical twins. That’s how close they were. Or used to be, anyway. It was no coincidence Molly had called at almost the precise moment Lainey had clicked ‘send’. Things like that happened all the time – Molly thinking what she was thinking and vice versa. That’s what made this year suck so much. No matter what her mom said, different schools meant different lives. She picked the fuzz off her alien-green shag pillow. ‘I’m so nervous, M.’

      ‘What took you so long to send it?’

      ‘I’m a chicken.’

      ‘You have to call me the second you hear from him, Lainey.’

      ‘I will, I will. What do you think he’s gonna think?’

      ‘I already told you. You look hot. I mean it. He’s gonna love it.’

      ‘You don’t think I look fat?’

      ‘Please!’

      ‘Stupid?’

      ‘I wish I looked that dumb.’

      Lainey sat up and stared at the computer across the room. ‘If I don’t hear back from him soon, M, I’m gonna freak! This waiting sucks.’

      The bedroom doorknob suddenly began to violently jangle back and forth. ‘Lainey!’

      ‘Get lost, Brad! I mean it,’ Lainey yelled. ‘Get out of my room!’

      ‘You’re not allowed to close the door! Or lock it! Mom says!’

      ‘G’head and tell Mom, you tattle-tale! Lotta good it’s gonna do you, ’cause she’s NOT HERE! And I can’t wait till I tell her about you playing that video game you’re not supposed to play till after you’ve done your homework!’ she added as she fell back down hard on the bed.

      ‘Is that The Brat?’ Molly asked. ‘What’s he doing in your room?’

      ‘He’s not. He’s just outside the door. I can hear him breathing heavy through the crack. I wish I had some bug spray.’ Lainey squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I hate him sometimes, M. I swear it.’ Molly had a little brother, too, but hers was nice. Most of the time.

      ‘What’d he do now?’

      ‘He went through my books again. He drew mustaches on all of my Betty and Veronica comics and ruined them. Totally ruined them. He’s such an asshole.’

      ‘Did you tell your mom?’

      ‘Like that’ll do any good. Please. She probably gave him the comics and the marker ’cause the poor baby was bored.’ She sat up and reached for the bottle of nail polish on the cardboard box that was supposed to be a nightstand. She shook it and started to paint her toes.

      ‘You should tell her,’ Molly sniffed. ‘He shouldn’t be able to go into your stuff.’

      ‘She’s not home. She’s still at work.’

      ‘What about Todd?’

      Todd was her stepdad and an entirely different story. If her mom babied Bradley, Todd definitely played favorites, which made sense, since Bradley was, after all, his kid and she wasn’t and that was life. ‘He’s not home yet, either, thank God. I’m babysitting.’ Lainey looked over at the door with a frown. ‘Not that he listens to me.’

      ‘Babysitting? Oooh. That means you’re in charge. My mom told Sean that corporal punishment is legal in Florida, which means she can use her hairbrush on his ass and you can beat Bradley’s with a belt.’ They both laughed.

      ‘If the prince gets a single bruise on his milky-white butt cheeks, I’ll be grounded till high school. Nice idea, but I’m just gonna IGNORE HIM while he breathes under my FREAKIN’ DOOR like a FREAKIN’ WEIRDO!!!’

      The computer melodically blurped. An incoming IM.

      Lainey looked over at the computer, her heart suddenly racing once again. She knew right away who it was.

ElCapitan says:

r u online?

      ‘Oh my God, M!’ she whispered into the phone. ‘He just IM’d me. What do I do?’

      Molly laughed. ‘Tell him hello!’

      ‘Yeah, but that means he must’ve got the email.’

      ‘No it doesn’t. Maybe he’s IMing you from his BlackBerry.’

      ‘He doesn’t have a BlackBerry,’ Lainey stated defiantly, then added after a second, ‘at least, I don’t think he does.’

      ‘Whatever. You get my point. You don’t know he’s seen the picture.’

      Lainey stood up and paced the room. ‘He wants to know if I’m here.’

      ‘Just say hi, you dork. Do it. Do it now.’

      ‘OK, OK …’ Hitting letters on the