Shelves: ya-contemporary Rating: 1. The majority all of the characters annoyed the hell out of me at one point or another, there a lot of stupid situations, and not many good developments of anything, but at least there are a few keyword: few Rating: 1. In this school there are many rich kids, famous kids, kids with famous parents, etc. One of them is Derek, son of the hottest couple in Hollywood. Tun Tun Tun. Not The biggest problem I had with this book is that all the characters were morons, seriously.
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Another fifteen minutes went by before Layla finally showed. Layla reached up to touch her eyelid absently. What are you, a dog? Can we just go home, please?
Incredulous, I grabbed my messenger bag and dashed after her, Juliana close behind. It was a couple of the other girls—their smoke got in my clothes. That was when I noticed her pockets. Maybe they just look like yours. The cars instantly became less fancy and more utilitarian. Ours stood out among the countless gray-toned and indistinguishable small Japanese cars; it was one of only a few minivans, and uniquely bright green.
Layla was already tugging impatiently on the door handle. My bag weighs a ton. We had driven in with Mom that morning, but she had told Juliana to take us home. As Layla tossed her book bag inside the car, I came up behind her.
She glanced down at her legs like she had never seen them before in her life. I had no idea. They were in my room, so I just assumed they were mine. I grabbed her arm—not gently. We both bent down to grab it, but I was faster. I snatched it up and showed the open cigarette pack to Juliana.
I swear. Derek quickly drove away. Trust Layla to make me look bad. It was a talent of hers. Meanwhile, she was clambering happily into the car. When she heard the names, she bounced up excitedly in her seat. Do you guys know who Derek Edwards is? But once in a while. With his parents. That is so fucking cool! You guys are such prigs. Kids here swear all the time.
She was frowning a little and I understood why. Hey, Layla? Do you get free food and stuff? Then she giggled much too loudly about it even though no one else was amused, and Chelsea, who had been near the line of fire, was shooting her venomous looks. By the end of the meal, two things were clear: 1. I love having three sisters.
Dad trudged in from the garage, shoulders hunched, looking pale and worn-out and older than his fifty-one years. My mother was always trying to get him to go for a run—she seemed to think exercise was the cure for what ailed him—but he always responded in more or less the same way, with a politely impassive look that said, And why exactly would I want to do that?
And a little worrisome. Take a look at this. He had stood in front of every class he taught in that sweater. Tthe man never looked in a mirror. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to me. I opened it: two neat columns of names followed by phone numbers. I handed it back.
His graying eyebrows drew together. An intellectual laziness. And guess who we met today? Thank you for putting my mind at ease on that score. What do you think we should do? I have a lot of work to get through tonight. I heated up a slice of pizza and brought it to his office, where he sat at his desk, absently rubbing his temples as he worked on his lesson plans.
Up until recently, my sisters and I all had to share one computer, but Juliana and I had successfully lobbied to get our own laptops by quoting the Coral Tree Prep handbook, which said that most high school assignments were posted online.
Layla tried to get in on the action, but my parents said she could wait one more year, so she was still sharing the household PC with Kaitlyn. We had a no-chatting-until-homework-was-done rule, so I headed in to tell her to keep it down before someone less sympathetic i. The family room was crammed full with two large sofas, a half dozen side and coffee tables, and several rugs with clashing patterns that overlapped, creating long bumps perfect for tripping us up.
We had taken all our furniture with us, and our Amherst house had been twice the size of this one.
Epic Fail by Claire LaZebnik - PDF free download eBook
But I was less thrilled to read that Coral Tree was "basically a country club masquerading as a school. And even an AP math student would lose count of the Louboutins on the girls here. But while I was clicking around that site, I learned about another private school in L. She started and looked up at me, slightly panicked. On a good day. When the light hits me right.
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