All That Glitters by J. Minter Page B

locket and read the phrase:
All that glisters is not gold
.
    As I leaned forward so SBB could fasten it around my neck, I recalled the scene in
The Merchant of Venice
where the Prince of Morocco reads this line inside the gold casket. Maybe I was finally picking up this stuff.
    â€œThis is great, SBB,” I said. “Thank you so much.”
    â€œGood night, fair Flan,” SBB called out as we air-kissed, and I started for the door. “You’re more Shakespearean already!”
    The good news was, I loved the necklace. The bad news was, I didn’t think it was going to do much to help me on my quiz tomorrow morning.

Chapter 14
    Who wears the Pants?
    â€œGood work today, girls. Shower off and meet back here in ten for a huddle,” a red-faced, sweaty Ramsey called out the next day after practice. All fifteen of us were back in the school’s locker room, although Ramsey looked like the only one who actually needed a shower.
    The rest of us were still glad to take the ten-minute break as we changed back into our street clothes. It was Thursday, and just as Camille had promised, it was Theme Day among our group of friends. Last night, Morgan had sent out the email detailing the directive to dress as “punk rock chic,” and Camille and I had met in the locker room this morning to compare vintage graphic tees and black leather Derek Lam berets.
    Now, as we pulled on our rocker duds for the trip home, Camille groaned. “I’m so done with thehuddling,” she muttered to me, rubbing some MOR Pomegranate lotion on her hands. “I’ve been huddling for the past two hours, and I’m tired. The only good thing about huddling on the field is that it gives me three shielded minutes away from Xander seeing how much I completely suck at field hockey.”
    â€œCamille,” I teased as I slipped out of my cleats and back into my ancient Doc Martens, “remember what we talked about?”
    â€œYeah, yeah, yeah,” she said in a rehearsed voice as she tugged on her fishnets. “You think Xander already likes me enough, so it doesn’t matter that the field hockey ball seems to have a magnetic attraction to my face.” She sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m psyched that he comes to watch practice, but the whole time I’m so focused on him that I’m definitely not getting any better at the game.”
    Even though I wasn’t quite as field hockey challenged as Camille, I knew what she meant. As soon as I saw Alex join the sidelines with the other boys, my heart started racing, and it wasn’t from the long sprint I’d just taken toward the goal. But after a few minutes of blushing and heart-thumping, I decided it was cool that he’d shown up—especially when he gave me a hello hip check on the sidelines after practice.
    Looking over at Kennedy and Willa, I felt relievedthat Alex had been the only person hip checking me tonight. The two of them were already seated on the bench for Ramsey’s post-practice huddle, but in the meantime, it looked like they were gathering in a huddle of their own. Half the team was standing around them, listening to Willa go on and on about the after-party for her father’s movie premiere.
    â€œAnd then Darren Shaw—you know he’s in that new cowboy movie—he wanted to take me to Pastis, but I told him, ‘I won’t set foot in that place after what happened to my father.’”
    â€œWhat happened to your father?” Faiden asked expectantly, playing right into Willa’s hands.
    â€œWell, it was two summers ago and Daddy ordered the lobster bisque, but when they brought it out …”
    â€œSomebody put me out of my misery,” Camille groaned to me under her breath. “Do you think she ever gets sick of hearing her own voice?”
    â€œWhat I can’t understand is why no one else does,” I said, fitting my beret back over my hair.
    â€œOh