Read Rule #9 for Free Online Page B

anywhere without her hair looking adorable. Even when she has it up in a ponytail, it always looks perfect.
    “Say it. Your stepbrother is a little prick,” Natalie says.
    “What are you gonna do?” I ask. I want to ask for a motion-sickness pill but I don’t. Vianna is really upset.
    “About what?” Vianna sits on the end of my bed.
    “Wendy,” I say.
    “What can she do?” Natalie chimes in. “She’s already tried telling her dad that she’s being pushed out. He obviously doesn’t care.” It’s hard to compete with the his-kids-vs.-her-kids thing.
    “Yeah, we always lose.” Vianna grabs one of the three stuffed beanies from my bed and holds it close. She’s chosen Schweetheart the monkey, who in my opinion is a very good choice. He’s been a perfect friend when I’m sad. Not as good as my Grey Kitty, but close.
    “Off-topic,” Natalie says. “You should have seen the boy passing out flyers in the neighborhood. He was cute.”
    “If you only knew,” I say.
    “Knew what?” Natalie asks.
    “Boy at the wedding,” I say.
    “Do tell,” Vianna says.
    They both lean in to hear the tale of me being a big chicken shit. At least they’ve stopped the pacing. After I tell them the story, they decide their mission is to find the boy. I’m glad that Vianna has something to keep her occupied, but I’m not sure how I feel about this, especially considering I’m not really sure if I’m over my ex Blake. I wish I were working today.
    After I stopped wearing clothes from Trendy Teen, I started hitting consignment stores. I was sick of looking like the rest of the girls at Pine Gulch High School. Finding my new look also helped me find the best job in the entire universe: I work at Jillian’s Second Time Around.
    Jillian, the owner, passed away, and now Jillian’s daughter Gaby runs the store. Gaby claims she’s the spitting image of her mother, so the store kind of became her mom’s a second time around.
    I love my job. I love sorting through the things people bring in. I also love when Gaby brings back goods from auctions or estate sales. She always passes by the expensive pieces of furniture and seeks out the tackiest and most obscure clothes and jewelry. My latest favorite piece is a vintage 1950s Hawaiian sarong. It fits me perfectly.
    Two months before my father’s wedding, my ex-boyfriend Blake broke up with me so he could go out with some girl from the Bagel Shop. Bagel Shop Girl was completely out of his league, with huge boobs and skinny waist. She used him for concert tickets. Natalie and Vianna were doing homework at the Bagel Shop when they overheard Bagel Shop Girl tell her coworker about her date with Blake Coleman. Blake had asked Bagel Shop Girl to go to the Sir Lancelot concert. These were the tickets he purchased for him and me—for my birthday. Jerk.
    I called him after I found out, which was at work. Gaby stood by me for support, just in case I lost my nerve. My voice squeaked, which I’m sure he took for excitement. “Blake, I just wanted to tell you how excited I am for the concert. You’re the best boyfriend ever. I still can’t believe you found tickets. People would kill for them.”
    I admit I was trying to make him feel bad. I don’t think I succeeded. Or if I did, it didn’t make him come to his senses.
    “Massie, the thing is…”
    Silence from my end. It’s not like I could’ve talked anyway, at least not without crying. Why I wanted to cry over that snake makes no sense.
    But what really doesn’t make sense is me replaying this scenario in my head over and over.
    “I’m not gonna be able to take you anymore.” Blake’s voice cracked. Obviously his puberty spurt wasn’t complete.
    I said nothing. Saying something would only make it easier for him. I wanted Blake to squirm.
    According to Gaby: Silence condemns. Silence rejects. Silence retaliates. Silence wins. Gaby says that secretly, boys would much rather we yell. Then they can say we are whacked out and