The Truth About Thongs (Mapleville High #1) Read online

  I immediately started walking forward of my own volition, as if I hadn't been trying to escape. Soon I was only twenty feet away from the stage. And from him. Oh, my gosh. He was watching me. And smiling.

  Oh, no. What was the smile for? Was he laughing at me? Smiling at Allie? Flirting with any one of the many gorgeous girls milling around? "I think my legs are going to collapse," I whispered to Allie, hoping she'd whisk me off to safety, but all she did was pat me on the shoulder and veer off to take a seat.

  She was definitely no longer my friend.

  How could she leave me on my own?

  With a guy.

  Who was totally cute.

  I lifted my chin. No, I could do this. I was a solo warrior. If I made it through this alive, Allie and Frances were going to pay for making me do this.

  And I was definitely going to ignore the fact that I had dragged them there in the first place with specific orders not to let me wimp out. Yes, sure, I had told them that, but they were supposed to realize when it was time to adjust the plans.

  All the rules had changed when a boy became involved. I hadn't even had time to check my hair. And it was too late now. The director was pointing me toward the stage and Perfect Boy was holding out his hand to pull me up.

  Oh, my gosh. Should I take his hand? Or should I go the long way around and use the stairs? Or maybe I should just pretend I don't speak English and I'm looking for the bathroom.

  No wonder everyone says high school is stressful.

  Chapter Two

  "Come on up." Perfect Boy smiled at me.

  At me.

  Smiled.

  And it was a nice smile.

  And I was pretty certain he wasn't laughing at me.

  Or maybe it was a hallucination. Maybe my mom slipped one of her new mental-clarity herbs in my vegan waffle this morning and it backfired, sending me into a delusional state. Maybe I was actually sitting in the principal's office about to get in trouble for passing notes in class and I'd slipped into some alternative reality to avoid facing the misery that was my life.

  "I'm Heath," he said. His voice was deep and rich, and it sent goose bumps down my arms.

  Heath. Perfect Boy had a name. It was Heath. Oh, my gosh. That was the sexiest name I'd ever heard. And he'd told me what his name was. Voluntarily. He couldn't be that horrified by me if he'd admitted his name.

  Unless his name was actually Patrick and he'd lied so I'd never be able to track him.

  "Come on." He was still holding his hand out, and still grinning.

  Okay. I was a freshman now. I was totally worthy of being onstage with sexy Heath. And even worthier of being pulled onto the stage by him. So all I had to do was put my hand in his… But my arm seemed frozen.

  Lift your hand.

  In an impressive show of obedience, my hand went up, and I caught a glimpse of bare fingernails as it passed my face. Why hadn't we gone to Natalie's mom's shop last night and gotten our nails done? Heath would not be impressed by a fourteen-year-old with a small chest and naked fingernails.

  But before I could yank my hand away and shove it in my jeans pocket out of sight, he grabbed it.

  Or rather, he settled his long, strong fingers around my hand, infusing heat through every pore of my body. He tightened his grip, smiled yet again, and nodded. "I've got you."

  He's got me.

  Oh, he had no idea.

  With an astounding lack of clumsiness, I managed to let Heath help me onto the stage. My hip brushed against his leg as he pulled me up.

  I will never wash these jeans again.

  The director shoved a script in my hand. "I'm Mr. Howland. Heath, you'll be reading the part of Vladimir. Blue, you'll be reading his mother."

  His mother? I had to be his mother? He'd never be able to look at me sexually again. It would be like incest! Why couldn't I read the part of his sexy lover? Maybe even get a good kiss in the script—

  Oh, my gosh. A kiss? He'd know instantly that I had no idea what I was doing. Could there be anything worse than having my first real kiss happen onstage? What if I did it wrong, and everyone was watching? Okay, never mind. The mother role was just fine. No kisses would be involved there. Or at least, no real kisses. Which were the type I was concerned about.

  I grabbed the script from Mr. Howland and started to scan the words...only, I couldn't focus on the words. My entire being was consumed with how amazing Heath smelled. He smelled amazing. Like he used aftershave or something.

  While Mr. Howland rattled off instructions, I stole a very subtle look at Heath's face. I was quite certain I could see stubble! He shaved! He was so old! And I was standing next to him!

  Heath glanced at me and lifted an eyebrow.

  Oh, my gosh. He totally knew I'd been sniffing him like a dog. How much more undignified could I be?

  "Okay, start from the top of page three." Mr. Howland hopped off the stage and walked back to the first row of chairs. "When you're ready."

  Ready? For what? I had no clue. Obviously it would have been a much better plan to listen to Mr. Howland's directions instead of inhaling Heath.

  "This your first time?" Heath asked, looking right at me.

  Oh, my gosh. Heath was speaking directly to me, asking me a personal question, as if he really cared… Or was he reading from the script? I scanned page three, but I didn't see those words written anywhere. So was he just talking to me? On his own?

  I looked up, and he smiled. Again. Was that, like, ten smiles I'd received? That had to qualify as flirting, right? "Are you talking to me?" I asked.

  Oh, brilliant. Way to hide the fact I was an unsophisticated freshman who had never put any guy even close to the Ledge.

  Heath grinned. "You look nervous. Relax. Just read the words as if you really mean them. It'll be fine."

  He thought I looked nervous? He couldn't say, "Gosh, you look like a movie star." Or "Wow, I can't believe I've never met you before." Or "I don't think I can go another moment without your phone number." Instead, he said I looked nervous.

  At least he didn't comment on my naked fingernails.

  Then he touched my arm. On purpose. "Ready?"

  He touched me! I wanted to freak out, jump off the stage, and run over to Allie screaming that he'd touched me. But, that would probably not be the coolest thing to do, would it? Get it together, Blue. At least pretend your brain hasn't melted into a pile of goo. I managed a smile instead. I was so glad I had gotten my braces off before school started. One thing in my favor. "Sure. I'm ready."

  He nodded. "Let's hit it."

  Hit it? Was that like, "Let's get it right?" Or was that theater talk for, "Stop bugging me?" Or code for, "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and I'm too awed by your beauty to know how to tell you?"

  Then he looked down and started reading his first line.

  I could do this. I'd been reading since I was...well, before I can remember. I could read. I could speak. I could even tell funny stories. Therefore, I was perfectly capable of reading the lines out loud with expression.

  He looked up.

  Whoops. My turn. I looked down, read the words, and opened my mouth. And glory be, everything worked the way it was supposed to.

  The next seven minutes were the best seven minutes of my life.

  Heath and I had chemistry. We fed off each other's energy. We were destined to play opposite each other. He'd finish his line, and I'd be right there with mine. It was as if we each knew what the other was going to say before we said it.

  Okay, so we did know that.

  It was still amazing.

  Then Mr. Howland dismissed us. Just took our scripts and sent us on our way.

  Heath hopped off the stage first, then turned and held up his hand to help me down.

  As if I was going to turn down that offer.

  I'd touched his hand once and survived without my body exploding into sparks and ashes. I was a cool, sophisticated, experienced woman who was entirely capable of handling that ki
nd of stimulation twice in ten minutes without losing her composure.

  "Why, thanks, Heath." I put my hand in his and leaped ever so gracefully off the stage. It was amazing to think I'd acquired such finesse without years of dance.

  No doubt Heath was feeling the attraction.

  I landed beside him and beamed at him, waiting for him to make the move. Ask for my phone number. Invite me to a movie. Start my dating life off with the bang it deserved.

  "I'll see you around." And then he walked away.

  Without my phone number.

  Without any way to ever get in touch with me again.

  What?

  "I have to admit, Blue, he's pretty cute." Frances was already next to me, peering after Heath as he caught up with a group of girls. He even slung his arm over the shoulder of one of them.

  That was my arm! Not mine as in mine, but mine as in, it was supposed to be around my shoulder.

  "Nice job." Allie appeared on my other side. "I didn't know you could act."

  He was leaving.

  With that girl.

  And she was giggling at something he'd said.

  What guy liked a girl who giggled?

  Frances touched my arm. "Blue? You there?"

  "He didn't take my number."

  Allie and Frances both stared at me as if I'd lost my mind. Then Allie grinned and nudged Frances. "Blue's in love."

  "I'm not in love." That was ridiculous. No one fell in love in seven minutes.

  "No? Have you ever cared whether a boy had your phone number?"

  Heath disappeared out the door with that girl, and I finally focused on my friends. "He smells amazing. He shaves."

  Frances lifted her dark eyebrows. "He has a nice voice, too."

  Allie grinned. "His name is Heath Cavendish. He's a senior. He doesn't have a serious girlfriend at the moment. And he has a car."

  I gaped at Allie. When it came to boys, she was a serious asset. "How'd you find that out?"

  "While you were gazing into his gorgeous eyes, I was working." She winked. "It's amazing what kind of information a little cleavage can get you."

  Frances scowled. "Did you use your body to get information?"

  Allie tossed her hair with a sparkly grin, giving us a looksee of how she'd done it. "Of course. Boys are so easy to manipulate."

  "That's immoral. Or unethical. Or illegal. Or something." Frances donned her schoolteacher look. "You should get ahead on hard work alone."

  Frances's parents were very hard workers, and they'd made it their mission to instill that work ethic in Frances. Personally, I thought Frances needed to lighten up a bit. Allie and Natalie agreed, and we'd been working on a plan. Or we were going to work on a plan. It'd been a little crazy with the start of school and stuff.

  And now that I'd met Heath Cavendish, how was I ever going to concentrate on anything else?

  I had to find a way to run into Heath again. Only this time I was going to make sure my nails were done and that I was coherent enough to persuade him that my brain actually functioned. And I needed to get bigger boobs.

  Not sure which of the last two was going to be tougher. They were both going to be pretty much impossible. So, yay me.

  A half hour later Allie and I stopped at the end of my driveway. "Nearly seven-thirty." I grimaced. "Dinner was at seven."

  "Your mom will flip," Allie said.

  Understatement of the year.

  My parents believed that all of the world's problems, including poverty and war, stemmed from the breakdown of family. This social disaster included parents who don't have time for their kids, bad parents in general, and kids who weren't taught the value of family. Therefore, in the Waller household, family dinners were required. Period. The only acceptable excuses for missing them were death or coma, neither of which applied in this particular case. And since Allie had been a fixture at our family dinners ever since her parents got divorced and her mom hit the dating scene, she was going to be in just as much trouble as I was.

  Six years ago, Allie's mom got a divorce and moved into a "me" phase. Translation: she had no time for Allie or Louisa, leaving them home alone most nights while she went out and worked on her social life. The instant my mom found out that Allie was eating by herself a lot because her mom was off on another date, she ordered Allie to attend our family dinners any evening her mom was out. Obviously bringing Allie into our family circle was the only way to ensure Allie didn't become a mass murderer, which was what her fate would have been without regular family dinners.

  Have I mentioned that my parents are eccentric?

  The front door slammed open.

  I jumped. Allie grinned.

  Allie loves my parents. She has actually admitted to being jealous of me because I have people who keep track of everything I do. She has no appreciation for how lucky she is that she can do anything she wants anytime she wants. Well, except for when my mom interferes in her life. Then she's subject to the same strictures as I am.

  "Hi, Dad." He was wearing a tie-dye shirt and a pair of billowy pant things that were all poofy around the knees. Why couldn't I have a dad who worked at a law firm and wore suits every day?

  "Inside." He held open the door and tried to look stern.

  My dad is a terrible disciplinarian. He's too much of a softy. My mom has even bought him books on tough love, but they didn't really make a difference, thankfully. Unfortunately, it isn't a problem my mom has.

  Allie and I slinked past Dad, but Mom was waiting. Hands on her hips, a legit scowl on her face. She was wearing black. She always puts on black when she's in a bad mood.

  Have I noted that my parents can be total freaks sometimes? What do you expect from parents who could name their child Blueberry? I had no chance from the start.

  "To the table."

  My seventeen-year-old brother, Theo, and my little sister, Marissa, were already at the table. Marissa looked worried—she idolizes me, so no doubt she was worried for my safety. Theo, on the other hand, looked very pleased. He probably figured Mom would be too mad at me and Allie to notice his latest escapade.

  I stuck my tongue out at Theo as we sat down, but he just grinned.

  Dad appeared behind Mom. "Can we eat now? I'm starved."

  Oh, great. She held dinner for us. No doubt trying to rally the troops against us. That's another one of my mom's theories about effective parenting. Teach kids to think about how their actions affect others. By making the entire family suffer because I was late, I should feel even worse about my actions and never do it again.

  As if I'd ever feel bad about making Theo suffer. That's what brothers are for, aren't they?

  "Yes, you can eat."

  It took less than five seconds after dinner started for Mom to go on the offensive. "I thought you two were dead," she said.

  Guilt trip ahead. I shifted in my chair. "Sorry, about that. I'm not dead," I said. "Neither is Allie."

  Allie just smiled, no doubt thrilled that a parent had noticed her absence enough to worry about her being dead.

  "School got out hours ago," my mom said. "Where were you?"

  "Tryouts," Allie announced.

  Guess I should have told her I wasn't going to tell anyone about the tryouts. No need to have to explain when I didn't get the part.

  "For what?" my mom asked.

  "Musical," I muttered.

  "You can't sing." Theo looked delighted that he'd had the opportunity to share that little nugget.

  I really wished I could break out into magnificent tune and show everyone. Unfortunately, this was the world of Blue Waller and that wasn't going to happen. "It's a non-singing part," I admitted.

  "Why didn't you tell us?" My mom asked. "We would have loved to come watch. Marissa and I would have cheered you on. Family supports each other, you know."

  Oy. I would have died if they'd been there. They probably would have stood on their chairs and given me a standing ovation and screams of admiration when I finished my tryout. My humiliat
ion would have been complete. My reputation as a loser would have been permanently entrenched, and I'd be stuck with it for the next four years. Blue "the loser" Waller. Yes, that's exactly what I've been dreaming my high school existence would be like. "That's why I didn't tell you," I said. "I can't have you guys watching me try out. I'm in high school, Mom. I need my freedom."

  She lifted her eyebrow. "Is that what this late-for-dinner thing was tonight? To show your independence?"

  "Um..." Of course, I hadn't been late on purpose, but maybe it would be a good opportunity to show my parents that I was an adult now, and that they had to start treating me like one. "Yes, yes, it was. I need more flexibility in my life."

  "You're fourteen." She said it like fourteen wasn't even old enough to cross the street by myself.

  "Exactly." I said it like fourteen was old enough to move out of the house and abandon all parents forever.

  My mom leaned back in her chair and gave me a speculative look. Not exactly mad. More like she was trying to anticipate the next move I was going to make and prepare herself to handle it. "Next, you're going to tell me you want to start dating."

  "I should be so lucky," I muttered.

  Allie kicked me under the table, no doubt to remind me of Heath. As if there were a chance I would have forgotten about him.

  My mom and dad looked at each other. "Your dad and I are going to have to discuss the repercussions from tonight."

  Uh-oh. Repercussions were never good. "Listen, I'm really sorry. It won't happen again." I picked up my napkin and laid it across my lap, trying to show them that I wasn't in danger of becoming a morally devoid youth as a result of being thirty minutes late for dinner.

  "If you get the part in this play, will you be missing dinner on a regular basis?" Mom didn't look too happy with that idea.

  "Um... probably."

  Marissa giggled at me, and gave me a thumbs up, no doubt thinking it was totally cool that her big sister was causing trouble. Marissa adored me, and thought everything I did was awesome. The poor kid was going to be in trouble later in life if she tried to model her life after mine, that was for sure.