Lovestruck Summer by Melissa Walker (the best motivational books TXT) 📗

boobs won’t sag. 3) Penny also sleeps in her teeth-whitening strips, although her dentist told her not to and her teeth sometimes tingle painfully. 4) Penny is contemplating a boob job, but one of her “sisters”just had a scary anesthesia episode, so she might hold off for now. And, oh yeah, number one most horrifying revelation on the car ride: 5) Penny is the newly elected president of a powerful University of Texas sorority—the UT Tri-Pis. I half thought she was kidding about the sorority thing, but when we walk into the condo, I realize that she is dead serious. Above the faux-marble mantle, there are metallic purple letters that say PI PI PI. Atop every surface in the living room—from end tables to window- sills—are framed photos showcasing the elec- tric smiles of groups of girls in rainbow-colored dresses with cookie-cutter guys at their sides. Each one marks an idiotically named event: MAY 5TH BOOZE CRUISE!, DECEMBER 4TH HOLIDAY HOEDOWN, OCTOBER 28TH PUMPKIN PROMENADE. And on the coffee table, I spy a book called Rules for Rush. There is a TOP SECRET stamp across the cover. Somehow I don’t think it’s ironic.

12 I drop my duffel bag on the ivory carpet and sit down, fi ghting a pang of panic. I will my mind to search for things that are positive, things that are right about the situation I’m in. I look around quickly and mentally note three: 1) The AC in here is way good. It’s, like, sixty-fi ve degrees. 2) I see a huge bowl of fruit through the kitchen door, so I know Penny grocery shops and isn’t a huge fast-food junkie like lots of col- lege students I’ve heard about. 3) This couch is pretty comfortable. Okay, I’m calmer. “It’s great here,”I say, grinning up at Penny with what I hope is a winning expression. “Thanks!”says Penny, kicking off her shoes and joining me on the couch. “This is really soft,”I say, patting the pastel blue cushion underneath me. “I know,”says Penny. “I knew you wouldn’t mind sleeping on it! My friend Chrissy said you’d be annoyed, but I told her it was a really plush couch.”Hold the phone. “I thought this was a two- bedroom,”I say in my just-wondering-not- getting-aggressive voice.

13 “It is,”says Penny, glancing upstairs. “But Miss Tiara is so used to sleeping in the second room that we can’t really upset her routine.”I follow Penny’s eyes. Is there a beauty queen roommate too? “Miss Tiara?”I ask. “I’ll bring her down!”says Penny, standing and bounding upstairs. She comes back down twenty seconds later with a fl uffy white dog in her arms. “She’s a little precious doll, yes, she is,”Penny is baby-talking to the fluffball. “Miss Tiara, meet Quinn!”She makes the fake-looking dog fake-wave to me. I plaster a smile on my face. “Does Miss Tiara wanna give Quinny a tour?”asks Penny, still baby-talking. Then she answers her own question: “Yes, she does! She sure does!”I guess that’s my cue to stand up and follow my sorority-girl cousin and her room-stealing dog around the condo. After we’ve baby-talked through the kitchen, which has a marbled pink backsplash behind the stove, we check out the downstairs half bath, which will be my main port of call as resident couch-sleeper. At least

14 the mirror opens up to a space large enough to hold my deodorant and fl oss, I note. We head upstairs, and after seeing the Pepto-Bismol tidal wave of a room that Penny sleeps in, I’m a little scared as she opens the door to Miss Tiara’s abode. There are more purple metallic letters—this time they simply say MT, and they hang on the blissfully white far wall. In the center of the room, there sits a large, lacy pillow surrounded by picture frames with photos of Miss Tiara in various states of accessorizing—sun hat at the beach, pearls for a formal event, even tiny glasses for what must have been a studious day. “It’s not fully decorated,”says Penny-the- obvious. I realize my jaw is a little open and I shut it. “Cool,”I say, because, I mean, what am I supposed to say? Should I voice my objec- tion to the fact that the dog has a room to her- self with one pillow in the center of a small shrine while I am relegated to the completely un-private living room downstairs? I guess that might be rude when Penny’s taking me in rent free. In the condo that her parents, my aunt and

15 uncle, bought for her. And one that she prob- ably doesn’t have to pay for at all anyway. Oops, was that a negative rant I just went on? I’m working on that. “We three are going to be just like sis- ters here!”Penny giggles. “Well, sisters and a brother.”Please don’t tell me there’s a frat boy in the closet. “Brother?”I ask. “Oh, Miss Tiara’s a boy,”whispers Penny, covering the dog’s ears. “He just likes to be in drag, and he prefers to be referred to as ‘she.’There’s a really cool cross-dresser named Leslie who walks around town, and Miss Tiara has just taken to him as a role model.”I laugh. It’s the fi rst thing my cousin’s said all day that’s weird in a good way. “Want some fruit?”asks Penny. I nod as she puts down Miss Tiara and we head downstairs. I look at the couch—my bed—as we pass through the living room. It is pretty plush. And I notice that there’s a cord on the stereo next to the TV, where I can plug in my iPod and listen to music. There’s even a slid- ing glass door past the kitchen that leads out

16 to the deck in the back, which looks like a nice spot to hang out. “Honeybell orange?”asks Penny when we get to the kitchen. She’s holding out a bulbous citrus fruit. “They’re a cross between tangerines and ruby red grapefruit.”We settle onto two barstools and share our fi rst Austin snack.

17 Chapter 3