Page 72 of Devil in Disguise
It was a dilemma,she thought as she rinsed off under the outdoor shower with Annabelle, then ran back into the house again. Owen had been right—she wished he’d stop being right; it was annoying—that Annabelle needed her. But Owen was over there, waiting for her, and …
One thing at a time,she told herself.Also, this way he gets to anticipate. He’s always making me wait. Maybe tonight I get to makehimwait.She stuffed her still-damp self into a pair of PJs, grabbed a towel for her hair, and headed into Annabelle’s room.
“All right,” she said, plopping herself down in the middle of the bed the way it felt like she’d done a hundred times before—because Annabellehadbecome her sister over these past months—and wrapping a fluffy throw around herself, due to the freezing thing. “Here you go. How you get to know people, if you like them? You just kind of start talking to them. See, I didn’t even know I knew this stuff, except that I just realized some people did it to me up at U-Dub.”
“So I go up to them and say, “Hey, I’m Annabelle? TheyknowI’m Annabelle. They’re in my classes. And trust me, they’re unimpressed.”
“No, they’re not. They laughed at your joke. Well, your insult, but that’s just as good. Laughing at your jokes is the true test of friendship potential. But that’s why you need another approach. On your way out the door after class, you say, ‘I never really understand metaphors. I think they’re kind of boring, too. Are they going to kick me out of English if I say so?’ Like that. Or just, ‘Did you get the homework? I forgot to write it down.’ Or even something about how the person made a good point in class, if you can do it in a non-ridiculous way. Probably don’t do that one with the guy, though. If you do, he’ll expect you to keep flattering him, and—nope. But then the person has a chance to talk to you.”
“But they’re notnew,” Annabelle said. “They’re not the shy ones. How come they aren’t talking tome, if they like me?”
Dyma stared at her. “You really don’t know?”
“What, the Harlan thing? But he’spopular!Everybody likes Harlan!”
“No.” Dyma sighed. “Look. You’re about eleven feet tall—”
“Iknow,”Annabelle said.“Thanks.”
“No, in a good way! You’re five-ten—”
“And ahalf.My feet are size eleven, though. My feet areboats.I’m basically a mutant.”
“No, you’re not. You’re a supermodel.That’swhy they aren’t talking to you yet. Also because—all right. (A), you’re Harlan Kristiansen’s sister, and he’s seriously hot and seriously rich.”
“This is a wealthy school district,” Annabelle said. “I told you. You should see the parking lot. Let’s just say it’s not North Dakota.”
“Yeah, but he’s richandhot,” Dyma said. “Almost nobody’s richandhot. Their dads aren’t hot.”
“Ew,” Annabelle said.
“See, but that’s mypoint,”Dyma said. “Harlan’s not, like, somebody’s son who has a fancy car because his parents have money.Hehas money.”
“Except that as you would say, (A), he’s married.”
“And a father. Somehow, that always fades away in the picture for people, though. Like, he looks like Chris Hemsworth. Chris Hemsworth has three kids. Do you go to a movie with him where he has his shirt off—and really, does he make any other kind?— and think, ‘Oh, I’ll bet he’s a great dad?’ No, you do not. You look at him and think, ‘I have a lady boner for you.’”
“Ugh. He looks like mybrother.I donothave a lady boner for him.”
“OK, then, who?”
“Charles Melton, maybe. But only with long hair and kind of dirty,” Annabelle hastened to add.
“So does he have a girlfriend?”
“What?” Annabelle stared at her. “I’m not going to gofindhim or something. I just said he’s attractive.”
“See?” Dyma said. “You don’t care if he has a girlfriend, because he’s not a real person to you. He’s a fantasy object.”
“OK, (B),” Annabelle said.
“B?”
“(A), I’m Harlan Kristiansen’s sister, which is somehow off-putting. So what’s (B)?”
“Very good logic-following,” Dyma said. “You’re going to do great in AP English. (B), you’re incredibly good-looking. Oh, wait, I said that first, the supermodel thing. Oh, well. It’s still (B).”
“Excuse me? Giraffe?”
