Read Breaking Up Is Really, Really Hard to Do for Free Online Page B

said. “It's almost like a poem.”
    Lina hoped Dan would be just as impressed.
    Mads and Holly had gone home by the time Dan responded. Lina was glad. His answer was short and sweet, and she wanted to keep it private.
    Dear Lara,
    It's late at night, and I know I might regret this in the morning…but I have to tell you, you are amazing. You have such a beautiful way of looking at life. I don't want to rush things, but I sincerely hope we will meet someday.
    Yours, Beau

6
    Portrait of the Artist as a Teenage Girl
    To: mad4u
    From: your daily horoscope
    HERE IS TODAY'S HOROSCOPE: VIRGO: People often underestimate you; but you're determined to show them they're wrong. It's a lost cause, but I guess I can't stop you from trying.
    S tand against that white wall,” Mads told Holly. She pressed Holly against the wall in the art room. “Okay, look right at me,” Mads instructed. “Don't smile. Good.” She took a picture with her new digital camera. “Now let's try a few where you're smiling.”
    Stephen worked on the other side of the room, constructing his bedroom installation. Mads could feel him half-watching and half-listening.
    “Why don't you pose her like Venus?” he suggested. “Like that famous painting.”
    Mads knew the one he meant, where Venus is standing on a giant seashell. “You mean, naked?” Mads asked.
    “I'm not posing naked, even for you, Mads,” Holly said.
    “No, but looking as if she's coming out of the sea, maybe a fan blowing her hair back—” Stephen said.
    “Sorry, but that's, not my vision of Holly,” Mads said. “And, anyway, I'm not sure I could draw that.”
    Stephen shrugged. “She reminds me of that painting, that's all.”
    Mads stopped and looked at him, surprised. Did Stephen have a thing for Holly? He had turned back to his work, so Mads couldn't tell. But saying a girl looks like Botticelli's
Venus
was a pretty high compliment, especially coming from an arty guy like him.
    She looked through the photos she'd taken and chose a pretty shot of Holly with a half-smile on her face, tugging on a strand of hair. She loaded it onto the computer and printed out a copy to work from.
    “Can I stay and watch you work for a few minutes?” Holly asked.
    “Sure,” Mads said. “You can help me plan my party. Should I send out real invitations or e-vites? If I go with snail mail I've got to send them by tomorrow or people won't get them in time.” Stephen was hammering now, so he couldn't hear them talking. She didn't want him to think she was frivolous, an empty head full of nothing but party details.
    “E-vites are fine,” Holly said. “Are your parents going to be there?”
    “Duh. Do you think they'd let me have a party without total supervision? Not only will my parents be there, but my Aunt Georgia and Uncle Skip are coming to keep them company. I talked them out of inviting the teachers at least. But I've got to find a way to keep the adults from poisoning the party with their toxic bring-down rays.”
    Mads took out her pastels and clipped a thick piece of paper to an easel. “This is a great picture of you, Holly,” she said.
    Holly leaned over to look at it. “You think? My nose looks so big.”
    “No, it doesn't,” Mads said. “You have an elegant nose.”
    “It's a good thing you took my picture today and not tomorrow,” Holly said. “I feel a giant zit coming on. It's sitting just below the surface of my skin, waiting for the perfect moment to pop out and ruin my life.”
    “You never get zits.”
    “Oh yeah? What do you call this?” Holly pointed to a tiny red dot near her hairline.
    Mads squinted to see it. “I call that invisible. You want to see a zit? Take a look at—”
    The hammering stopped. Mads clammed up. She felt funny talking about zits and noses in front of Stephen. She was afraid it would make her seem silly. She sighed loudly and slapped Holly's photo against her thigh.
    “Isn't this ridiculous? Here you are sitting right in front of