Read Number 8 for Free Online

time on your math as you did on your singing, your grades would be excellent,” says Dad.
    I narrow my eyes until the world is a thin screen with black borders, like those foreign movies on TV. Everything looks better that way for a second, until I drop the silverware I’ve picked up.
    â€œOh, Ez, if you keep narrowing your eyes like that, you’ll get a squint,” Mom says. She turns to Dad, “Drives me crazy.”
    He nods. “She’ll get crow’s-feet.”
    â€œCrow’s-feet!” Dan shouts, slapping his leg. He rushes around the table flapping his arms like wings. “Aark! Ark!” he cries in a very good impersonation of a crow. I always think that bird sounds like a swear word. Dan stops suddenly. “What are crow’s-feet?” He looks at me in a worried way.
    â€œWrinkles around the eyes,” says Dad. “And both of you can sit down and wait until your mother and I have finished our dinner.”
    In video clips, all the girls squint. It looks cool. Lots of singers even close their eyes during the whole song. You can drift off that way. The rest of the world disappears. Lilly can’t do it for long. She’s always too eager to see how the audience is reacting to her. Squinting plus singing are the only things I do better than Lilly. I put my whole heart into them.
    As I watch my parents chew, I think about Lilly. I can hear Dad’s teeth squeaking. It’s actually quite hard being her friend. Lilly is tall and very slim—thin as a supermodel, like Kate Moss or someone. When she does stretches in dance, the teacher tells the class to copy her: “Bend like Lilly, our supple young willow!” It’s nauseating. Everyone notices her. Lilly has long blonde hair and sky-blue eyes—she’s like a postcard from an expensive holiday. She seems fragile, as if she might break if anything sharp happens to her. Badman never says the f-word around Lilly.
    I look down at my thighs on the kitchen chair. They spread across the width of the plastic. When I press them lots of dimples appear, like the two on either side of Lilly’s mouth when she smiles. Leg dimples are not considered attractive. And only witches have black hair.
    Of course Lilly’s voice isn’t bad. I mean, she sings in tune and she hardly ever wobbles. She doesn’t get stage fright,particularly if she’s singing with someone else (like me). But her voice doesn’t give me goosebumps. It’s sort of sensible, like orthopedic shoes. Still, it’s always Lilly who’s picked for choir leads because she’s so stunning that she lends class to any performance, just by being present. Just by turning up. Lills believes in the stars—she’s a Virgo, with her bed made every morning and her room tidy—and she sticks all these Affirmations up on her mirror with Post-it Notes. The Affirmations say things like
I am beautiful
(as if she needs it) and
I can do anything
. Sometimes I think she likes hanging around with me because I’m fatter and darker than her, with hairy arms. I’m a good contrast to her fair beauty. I wonder when Jackson will notice how much more beautiful she is than me?
    Finally my parents put their knives and forks together in parallel lines and we’re allowed to clear the table. As we’re scraping the plates Mom says, “So how’s the new boy? Jackson, is it? Did he like my lemon delights?”
    â€œYeah, he was starving. There was nothing in their fridge, because they’ve just moved in.”
    I watch Mom’s face wrinkle with horror. “Oh?” she says, “where was his mother?”
    I know what’s she’s thinking. She’s thinking any mother who doesn’t work part-time in the bank and get home early on Tuesdays is neglectful and doesn’t deserve to have children. Talk about zero tolerance. And now I have to tell her that Jackson’s mother, the mother who