Read Beyond Clueless for Free Online

fingers instead. Yeah: awkward. I started thinking maybe this was all a mistake. I mean, there was a definite risk that Xiang would never speak to me again after meeting my dorky dad. He finally released her hand and turned down the music (Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” as it turned out—no further comment necessary).
    “Nice meeting you,” he said. “It’s great to see that our Marty is making friends at her new school.” I glared at him, using my (unfortunately feeble) psychic powers to try to shut him up. God, could he be more lame? I wanted to send Xiang some sort of physical signal, to make it crystal clearthat I was
not amused
by my dad, but she was busy rummaging in her purse.
    She took out a tube of lipstick and started applying it as my dad peered at her through the rearview mirror. “Do your parents want you back by a certain time?”
    Xiang made a pouty face. “Yeah, if I’m not back here by four, it’s likely the planet will explode.”
    My dad smiled. “Rightee-oh. Then we’ll shoot for three thirty to be safe. I mean, we have seven billion lives to think of—it’s quite a responsibility!”
    Groan.
    Xiang moved on to applying mascara. “Um, thanks,” she said.
    Needless to say, I couldn’t have been more relieved when the car finally pulled up to the mall entrance.
    “Now, you girls be good. Marty, you got your cell?” I rolled my eyes and nodded. “Great. So I’ll see you at this entrance at three o’clock sharp, ’K? Oh, and remember what I said about talking to—”
    “Bye, Dad!” And with that, the door was closed, and I was pulling Xiang away from the car. The giant glass doors to the mall mercifully slid apart, allowing us to get
away
from that man. I let out a heaving sigh.
    Xiang, weirdly, couldn’t see how completely irritating my father was.
    “Your dad is sooo nice,” she said. I had no idea what she was talking about—her parents must torture her with yodeling or electric forks or . . . something.
    Then
she said, “And he is so cute!”
    With those words, I spontaneously combusted into a mushroom cloud of fire all over the entrance of the mall, inflicting third-degree burns on a dozen nearby shoppers and melting several fake palm trees.
    “
Excuse
me? You need help. Serious, long-term, psychiatric help.”
    Xiang tossed her hair and smiled, apparently demonstrating that she was quite happy, thank you, to be mentally ill.
    Whatever.
    We headed straight for the food court—we were starving, and since we only had three hours to power-shop, we definitely needed to load up on calories. We snagged a table by the fountain, with excellent people-watching potential. Xiang offered to hold the table while I got the food.
    “Um . . . could you get me . . . a seven-layer burrito from Taco Bell? With a Coke. Oh, and a pintos-and-cheese, too. And four mild sauces. Oh, heck, get me a Meximelt, too. I’m hungry enough.” Clearly, the girl wasn’t afraid to eat. I loved it.
    But when I finally made it back, I nearly died of shock. Our table was crowded . . . with six boys! Xiang was holding court over the group, and I had to squeeze myself past them to put the tray onto the table.
    Xiang grinned at me. “Oh, Marty—great! Thanks,” she said, but there was something weird about her voice; it was unnaturally babyish. “Let me introduce you to the guys!”
    The
guys
? Like, her posse? Xiang is nothing if not full of surprises. First Jimmy and his “guys,” and now Xiang—what was going on?
    “This is Tim, that’s Parker, Kevin, Chris, and Billy, and—ack, I forgot your name!”
    A small, brown-haired fellow’s face flushed. “George.”
    “George! Of course.” Xiang turned to me. “He’s in percussion, so we can’t really even see each other at rehearsal.”
    Ohhhhhhhh. This was a Cleveland Youth Orchestra contingent. The world made sense again. They all looked like nice enough guys, but after a quick scan, I knew I wasn’t looking at my future husband among them.