Read The Princesses of Iowa for Free Online

wear gloves. And you could always wear someone’s letter jacket.” She adjusted the one around her shoulders. “People have done that before.”
    “Snow might affect the game.” Chris Jensen frowned, staring up at the sky as if he could see what the weather would be like a month from now.
    Randy ripped cheerfully into one of three cheeseburgers sitting on the tray in front of him. “We could be under ten feet and still kick Newton’s ass.”
    “They’ve never beat us,” Jake agreed. “So you ladies just need to worry about looking gorgeous, and we’ll bring the victory.”
    “Yeah,” Chris said. “Just practice that wave. How does it go? Elbow, wrist . . . elbow?”
    “Elbow, elbow, wrist wrist wrist,” Nikki said. She grabbed his meaty hand and moved it back and forth like a doll’s hand, giggling.
    Lacey raised an eyebrow at Jake. “Worry? Paige and I have been working on this since middle school, right?” She flashed such an easy smile at me that I wondered if I’d imagined her distance since my return. I smiled back.
    “It’s true.”
    Randy stopped waving. “I would worry about tripping in those heely things you have to wear.”
    “You mean high heels?” Lacey rolled her eyes.
    Nikki patted him on the arm. “A true princess never worries.”
    “Guess you’re not cut out to be a princess, dude.” Jake elbowed him, and Randy immediately threw him into a headlock. A moment later, they were off the picnic table and wrestling in the grass, locked together like elk.
    Lacey said, “Okay, you’re both very studly! We get it!” She laughed. “Men!” I tried to catch her eye, share another smile, but she was gazing off across the courtyard.
    Nikki looked serious as she popped open an Orange Crush. “It would be harder to be pretty with mittens.”
    “You’ll be fine,” I told her.
    “Hey!” she said, looking up. “Lacey!”
    “Yes?”
    “I just remembered that you forgot to mention DIEDD at the student council meeting!”
    “Oh, sorry,” Lacey said, sounding anything but. “Next time, okay?”
    “What’s DIEDD?” I asked.
    “It’s a group to raise awareness about drinking and driving,” Nikki said. “I spent the whole summer working on it. After . . . you know.”
    After last spring. After the first cracks that split into canyons between us, sending me spinning across the ocean, Nikki down the Crazy Diet Rabbit Hole, and Lacey into the Land of Crippled Martyrdom. “DIEDD?”
    Nikki nodded. “It stands for Don’t let frIEnds Drive Drunk.”
    “D . . . LF . . . DD,” I said, sounding it out.
    “The IE comes from friends,” Nikki said.
    Jake covered his mouth with a hand, turning away and coughing. Lacey tugged on her necklace, staring off into space. “Um,” I said. “That’s not really how acronyms work.”
    “There’s a double meaning,” Nikki explained. “Because it stands for Don’t let frIEnds Drive Drunk, but it spells DIEDD, because if you drive drunk, you could have DIED. Like we could have DIED.”
    It was still ridiculous, but I no longer felt like laughing. “Oh. A double meaning. Yeah, I get it now.”
    “It’s really important,” Nikki said. “Lacey, don’t forget to remind me to remember it at the next meeting, okay?”
    Lacey stood, grabbing her half-eaten apple. “The bell’s about to ring.”
    “Laceeeeeeey . . .”
    She sighed. “Fine! But I’m not explaining your acronym.”

By the second week of school, Jake and I had a routine. Every day, he was there when the bell rang, waiting to walk me to the English hallway. Every day, he’d wind his arm through mine and steer me through the crowded hallways, waving and calling to his friends as we walked. And every day, Jake’s friends waited until the last possible minute to walk into the classroom, preferring instead to stand outside and harass people.
    Chris Jensen saw me and called, “Ten! Definitely a ten!”
    Jake pretended to misjudge the distance and walked into Randy, catching him