Second Skin (2 page)

Kylie cast a guilty look in Ella's direction. "Well, Tanner gave me a ride. It was on his way."

Jules giggled.
"Right.
He's so into you."

Ella's eyebrows met. "What about Matt? You know, he really likes you."

Kylie ran a hand through her hair. I wondered what it was like to have hair that slipped right through your fingers. The sort of hair that

"Matt's sweet," Kylie said. "But I think we're better as friends."

Ella shook her head and it suddenly occurred to me-I'd never even considered it before-that she might not be enjoying Kylie's royal status. She didn't look jealous, though. She looked worried.

"I totally called this," Jules crowed. She turned to Ella, triumphant. "Didn't I call this?" "You sure did."

Kylie sighed. "Stop it, okay, Ellie? Don't make me feel bad. I can see anyone I want."

"Of course you can, sweetie." Jules was practically glowing. She was always looking for ways to strip Ella of her "Kylie's closest friend" status. But even I knew this was a losing battle. Kylie and Ella had gone to the same grade school and had been best friends since kindergarten. And although Jules was indulged, Kylie seemed to hold her at a distance. But her voice-whether consciously or not-always warmed whenever she spoke to Ella.

"It's just-I don't know." Ella hesitated for only a second. "Tanner seems-"

Jules's eyebrows shot up. "Hot? Cool? Sexy?"

"Wait, isn't that the name of a Red Hot Chili Peppers album?" Kylie asked.

"Limited. Tanner seems limited," Ella continued, ignoring them both. Her lips dipped into a frown. "Look, do what you want, definitely. But don't you think you should make sure Matt's okay?"

"Why bother?" Jules snorted. "He saw you and Tanner talking last week. He's probably figured it out by now."

Kylie opened her mouth to say something then seemed to change her mind. "No, Ella's right. I should call him."

Jules's hand curled into a tight fist as her eyes flashed over Ella's skirt. "There should really be a law banning Jones New York for anyone under forty," she muttered, though I'm pretty sure I was the only one who heard her. When she spoke again, her voice was sweet and faux casual. "Sure. No biggie."

Kylie smiled easily. "I'll do it tomorrow night, after the move. Tonight's gonna be crazy."

"How about I come over and help?" Jules offered quickly, sniffing out another opportunity. "It'll be fun."
3

"Thanks, but you so don't want to go there. Everything's such a mess." Kylie's smile lit her sapphire eyes, making them glitter. "But you guys have to check out the new place, over on

The morning bell sounded, drowning out the rest of Kylie's sentence. I didn't care, though. I wasn't even listening. I was miles away, standing in front of my house at 176 Thorncrest Drive. It's pretty much your typical suburban home: white brick, split-level, clean lawn. Not the sort of place you'd see in
Architectural Digest.

But here's the thrilling part: turning just a half step to the left, I was now facing a large, empty redbrick house with a for sale/sold ! sign in the front yard-178 Thorncrest Drive.

My pulse quickened.

Kylie Frank-the Kylie Frank-was my new neighbor.

"It doesn't," I said in my best I-so-don't-care voice. "It's just nice to have a new neighbor."

We were sitting at our usual lunch table, toward the front of the cafeteria. I watched as Gwen carefully unwrapped her latest culinary masterpiece, a peanut-butter-swirl chocolate brownie. As usual, her thick brown hair was pulled into a messy, thoughtless ponytail, and

"Yum." She sank her teeth into the dense chocolate and swallowed. "Definitely beats last week's meringues. It's always best to go classic."

I pulled my own lunch from a recycled brown bag. Besides Gwen, whose refined palate couldn't handle frozen lasagna and Oodles of Noodles, I was probably the only kid at Woodlawn who didn't eat the crappy cafeteria food.

I sniffed my sandwich and dropped it onto the table. The only thing lamer than a bag lunch is a bag lunch containing tofu bologna.

"Want some?" Alex pushed his bowl of mac and cheese in my direction, spoon extended.

"Thanks," I said, grateful.

"I can see how it might be cool to have someone new move in," Alex mused, backing me up. "Everyone on my street's over eighty. I keep telling my mom we should open a Denny's."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Sure, having a new neighbor's great. Except when she happens to be the Wicked Witch of the West." She used her index finger to mop up some stray brownie crumbs. "Post-Zone diet."

This was nothing new. To Gwen, all A-listers looked mean and disgustingly malnourished. A serious foodie, she spent most of her free time perfecting her soufflé and dreaming of the French Culinary Institute. By the third week of school freshman year, she was already counting the days until graduation. She hated Woodlawn. Of course, she claimed that it hated
her
first, but at this point it didn't really matter who'd started it up. She was definitely holding a grudge.

"Come on," I said. "You don't even know her."

As if on cue, the three of us turned our heads toward the back of the cafeteria, where Tanner Mullins was trying to pull a shrieking Kylie onto his lap. Everyone around them was laughing as if it were the funniest thing they'd ever seen.

Gwen snorted. "Believe me. I know enough."

It was useless. I loved my friends. They were great-so smart and funny-but they were completely closed off to all things high school. Gwen was practically married to her kitchen, and Alex

And neither Gwen nor Alex ever thought about their nonexistent social lives. They embraced their fringe/loser status as if it weren't at all important.

This
killed
me.

Okay, so maybe people hassled Gwen about her weight. They called her Pot Roast Connolly and made fun of her 36DD chest. It was totally rude, but did she have to write off
all
of high school just because football players were jerks? And Alex actually looked sort of cute when he remembered to cut his hair and change his T-shirt. Couldn't they try to be a little more upbeat? It was only sophomore year.

I watched as Tanner pretended to pour a Red Bull over Kylie's head. She was leaning back, her face tilted up to the ceiling. Her hair tumbled down her back in a long yellow free fall, loose and natural.

Alex nudged me with his elbow. "You're drooling, you know."

I turned my head and blinked. "Wait, what?"

Alex got a weird look on his face, like he'd just eaten something really sour. "You know. Tanner Mullins, all-star male bimbo. You're practically foaming at the mouth." He sounded impatient, almost annoyed.

Gwen looked at us and groaned. "Come on," she said to me. "You should be happy you're not over there, Sam. You're way too cool."

"Here it comes." Alex shook his head but he was smiling now. His voice sounded relaxed.

I shot my hand up in mock protest, relieved that his tone had lightened. "No! I take it all back, okay? Just no theory.
Please."

Last year, after a particularly humiliating gym class starring Gwen and a very broken sports bra, she'd formed a simple theory about the four years commonly referred to as high school but which she called hell. The theory, she claimed, was grounded in fact and based on extensive research (personal experience in the form of cruel

Following this logic, any. truly cool person could never ever be appreciated at Woodlawn. Similarly, everyone at the top of the food chain was completely soulless and moronic.

Convinced her theory was genius, Gwen invoked it at every opportunity. Alex and I had heard the same lecture so many times that just mentioning it made us laugh.

"For your information," Gwen announced, "I wasn't even thinking about that." She smiled grandly. "But now that you mention it..."

I giggled as Alex made fake vomiting noises.

But to be honest, my heart wasn't really in it. A part of me was already walking to the back of the cafeteria, ready to join Tanner and Kylie and the Red Bull. Apart of me had already decided.

I was going to find a way in. I'd make it work. Kylie's move
was
the best thing that could've happened to me.

I'd show them.

But I, Samantha Klein, could sure put together a killer gift basket.

When I got home from school that afternoon, the moving vans were parked in Kylie's new driveway. For two solid hours I watched as furniture and boxes were lugged into the big brick house.

As soon as things calmed down, I got to work.

Project gift basket was my first take-charge move. And phase one of the plan--putting together the actual basket-was simple. A little tissue paper, some of Gwen's gourmet brownies and a big Welcome! card purchased at one of those fancy stationery stores my mother despised, and I was in business. No problem.

Phase two, however, was a little more difficult. Said gift basket had to be given. This meant that I had to actually visit the most popular girl in school. At her house. Completely uninvited.

This was why I found myself standing on Kylie Frank's new front porch admiring the bounty I was supposed to be delivering but absolutely unable to deliver it.

I lifted my arm but hesitated when I read my watch. It was seven. What if the Franks were eating dinner? Or what if they hated unexpected guests, even ones bearing dessert?

Maybe it was best to leave the gift on the porch.

I tried to lower the basket to the floor but this voice-this
really annoying
voice--started to swirl around inside my head.