Even Brooke was developing normally. While she stood on the cusp of womanhood with guns blazing and heart pounding, I seemed to be stuck in the land of bubble gum and lollipops. I still had to pray every night for the girl-part fairy to get off her butt and do her job. I just wasn’t blossoming like the others. And to top it all off, I had infuriatingly curly hair that resembled rusted metal, gray colorless eyes, and translucent skin the sickly tone of baking flour. Other than the fact that my chin was too small, my eyes were too big, and my mouth was too wide for my face, I didn’t have a lot going for me. Unless looking like an elf suddenly took the fashion industry by storm.
But Brooklyn Michelle Prather was gorgeous. An exotic blend of ethnicity gave Brooke an air of dark mystique. She had almond-shaped brown eyes, long black hair, and a delicate feminine build. I had a build too, just not a particularly feminine one.
“Have you heard anything I’ve said?”
I shifted back to the present and squinted at Brooklyn’s cinnamon eyes as they questioned me. I said, “Sorry, I was calculating how much this whole pasty-white-girl thing sucks.”
“Uh-oh.” She turned to Glitch. “She’s on her pasty-white-girl kick. She needs chocolate.” She peeked at the ever-popular snack counter. “Cover me.”
Glitch watched the crowded lunch hall with narrowed eyes, searching for possible enemies. “Okay, but hurry before she starts mentioning the girl-part fairy.”
I chuckled and stayed Brooke with a hand on her arm. “I’m fine.”
With a doubtful expression, Glitch reached over and pulled my lower lid down to study my eye. That’d help.
“Yeah, all right. She looks okay.” He shrugged and added, “Least her eyeball does.”
I stole another fry and leveled a baleful look at him. “No one asked for your opinion, Casey.”
Brooklyn snorted. “I love it when you call him Casey.” She reached over and stole a piece of chicken off my salad. Eating at our table was kind of a communal effort.
“I don’t,” Glitch said with a pout. “How am I supposed to embrace my Native American ancestry with a name like Casey?”
“Well, maybe your Native American ancestry will benefit from a little Irish temperament thrown into the mix,” she said. “You guys are so calm.”
His eyes widened in horror. “Are you psychotic?”
“You mean today or just in general?”
He glanced around to make sure no one overheard her. “You can’t say crap like that. Do you want to get me killed?”
“You should totally talk with an Irish brogue,” she continued, unconcerned.
“That’s a great idea.” I nudged him and wriggled my brows. “Brogues are sexy.”
He shuddered in disgust. “I’m going to be tomahawked before the day is over.”
“So, did you get a chance to have that little talk?” Brooke asked me, able to switch subjects in a single bound. In all honesty, I hadn’t seen Cameron since he stood glowering at me through the plate-glass windows.
“What little talk?” Glitch asked, his voice muffled from a mouthful of hamburger.
“No, he hasn’t been in class all day.”
“Who hasn’t been in class?”
“I just don’t know about that boy.” Brooklyn shook her head and added a few tsks to emphasize her disappointment.
“What boy?” Glitch took a noisy gulp of soda, then glared at us, annoyed that he’d been left out of the loop.
As I thought about the inevitable confrontation with Stalker Boy, a sickly kind of dread consumed me. What did one say to a stalker? Um, pardon me, Mr. Stalker, but could you, like, not? Frustrated, I let a sigh slide through my lips. “Why does he have to be stalking me?” I half questioned, half whined. “Why couldn’t it be someone like Jaredan Scott or Joss Duffy?” Or Jared, I thought, but dared not say aloud. I could totally deal with Jared Kovach stalking me.
Glitch’s eyes hooded. “Didn’t Joss Duffy try to paste your eyelids shut in kindergarten?”
“Stalking is stalking,” Brooklyn said after licking salt off her fingertips. “Doesn’t matter who it is, it’s creepy. And wrong.”
She had a point.
“Okay,” Glitch said, holding up a finger to get our attention, “I’m going to take a shot in the dark and ask, is someone, perhaps, stalking you?”
“Glitch,” I said, finally glancing his way. “There are some things you just don’t need to know until we’re in trouble and we need your boy abilities.”
That struck a chord. An evil grin spread across his face. “Speaking of my boy abilities,” he said under his breath, “they’re available to either of you twenty-four slash seven, for a small processing fee.”
“Noted,” Brooklyn said. “Next time I need a jar opened…”
He raised his hands and mimicked choking her.
I couldn’t help but snicker as my two best friends went at it. I also couldn’t help my gaze from roaming the area for the thousandth time, looking for Riley High’s newest arrival, wondering where he might be. It hadn’t escaped my attention that Tabitha Sind was absent as well. If he was with her, who could blame him? Tabitha was gorgeous, even with her bobble head. It was hard to compete with near physical perfection. Now, if Jared was more interested in IQs, I might have a chance.
“That’s an interesting look for them.” Brooklyn gestured with a nod toward the door as the Southern twins, Ashlee and Sydnee, walked in. They looked utterly exhausted, their clothes disheveled and their hair barely combed. Until about a month ago, the Southern twins rarely looked like anything less than cover models, but lately, they looked more like homeless teens. Since their father was the richest man in town and they rarely wore anything but designer shoes, I doubted they’d gone belly up. Their shoe collection alone could buy me a new wardrobe. Or a car. Or a house on the Riviera.