Read The Nine Lives of Chloe King for Free Online Page B

hired magician?” Paul whispered, approaching her and looking around surreptitiously. “I thought there would be clowns and pony rides and stuff.”
    “She’s not that bad,” Chloe said, surprising herself with her defense of her mother. It was an amazingly nice little party; one of her mom’s friends was playing a cello in the comer, which was kind of weird but lent a sophisticated air to the whole thing. Like they were rich and she was a debutante or something. There was even a little American sturgeon—not endangered, her mother said proudly—caviar. And most importantly, a beautiful white-and-chrome Merida mountain bike with electric pedal assist for the more tiresome hills in San Francisco.
    What do you know. I got my wish. She felt a little guilty about the whole world peace thing, though. Maybe next year.
    Paul was tapping the bottom of his champagne glass nervously.
    “Um, Amy told me,” Chloe said quietly.
    He instantly looked relieved, letting out a deep sigh.
    “So you’re okay with that?”
    “With what?”
    “With us … having … you know …”
    “Well, no,” Chloe said, licking caviar off her fingers. “I mean, seeing as I’ve had this crush on you since we were nine and—”
    “O- kay .” Paul held up his hand. “That’s enough. Message received.”
    Amy wandered over.
    “Hey, guys,” she said a little nervously. She and Paul exchanged shy— shy! —smiles. Chloe watched their two hands “accidentally” brush each other. Amy smiled, glowing a little. Chloe shuddered a little. Oh God. Fine. I will be the cool best friend.
    *   *   *
    I will be the cool best friend.
    Chloe repeated her little mantra through English the next day as she watched Amy and Paul try very hard not to watch each other. Who cared? Why were they trying to keep it a secret? It wasn’t as if anyone in the school actually gave a rat’s ass about this particular trio of friends or what went on between them. Mr. Mingrone turned to sketch a giant scarlet A on the blackboard. When Amy used the opportunity to toss Paul a note, Chloe put her head down. The plastic desktop reeked of old glue, the sharp tang of pencil lead, and other, less identifiable but equally unpleasant odors, but anything was preferable than watching Paul and Amy.
    I will be cool.
    Paul was nominally on the school newspaper, which allowed him (and Amy and Chloe) access to the club’s better computers and equipment, as well as the old ratty couch and semiprivate room. Almost no one used it until after school, which allowed the three of them to hang there during the day if Paul was around. Chloe decided to use sixth period to catch up on some much-missed sleep.
    Chloe knocked tentatively on the ancient, solid-oak door, praying that she wouldn’t catch her two best friends making out.
    “Come,” Paul called, using his Captain Picard voice. Amy was definitely not around.
    In fact, when Chloe went in, Paul actually appeared to be working on the paper, sitting on the edge of his desk and looking over an article.
    “Crunchy cheese-baked scrod every Wednesday for the next month.” He sighed, throwing down the lunch schedule. It was Paul, Amy, and Chloe’s private opinion that the only reason anyone read The Lantern was for the cafeteria menu and Sabrina Anne’s often-banned column.
    “Why don’t you get your mom to pack a lunch? PB and kimchi. Breakfast of champions.” Chloe threw her book bag, and then herself, onto the couch.
    “Yeah, right.” Paul kicked his legs under the desk.
    It was strange having him look down on her like that. Or maybe it was just an overall change in his demeanor since the whole hooking-up-with-Amy thing. He seemed calm and confident, like he was relaxing on a throne instead of perched on a desk. Actually, he looked pretty good today. He was wearing a simple black T-shirt and baggy jeans that complemented his square, compact body better than any of the bowling shirts or DJ wear he often sported.
    Uh, what?