All the Way by Megan Stine Page B

guess.”
    â€œI’m not sure I want to do that,” she said honestly, meeting my eyes straight on.
    Then it hit me. She didn’t want to dress like someone who was the poster girl for the Hot Box Club. Someone who had the slutty rep I suddenly had.
    I looked her right in the eyes. “Look, I didn’t sleep with Joey. Whatever you’ve heard, it’s just a bunch of gossip and lies he spread about me.”
    She hesitated for a minute, but I guess she decided I was telling the truth because I had a no-bullshit expression pasted on my face. After a second, she smiled.
    â€œOkay,” she said. “I should have known that.”
    Yeah, you should have .
    â€œWell anyway, I’m just saying you could look amazing if you worked at it a little bit.”
    â€œDo you think so?” she said.
    â€œDefinitely.”
    â€œOkay, take me shopping!” she said with a defiant, determined look on her face. “I’m gonna dress as hot as I wanna be.”
    â€œThat’s my motto,” I said. “I never let anyone dictate how I dress or act or who I go out with, you know?”
    â€œYeah,” Emily said, smiling at me approvingly. “I can tell.”
    There was something about that moment that made me feel stronger than I had all day. Like, if Emily could believe in me and didn’t think I was a slut, that’s all I needed.
    â€œYou want to hit the mall on Saturday?” I asked her.
    â€œFor sure,” Emily said. “Only you have to promise one thing.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDon’t make me buy anything that shows off my belly button. It’s an outie.” She blurted it out like a confession, and for some reason we both burst out laughing.
    â€œI’ve got your back,” I said. Then I added, “And your belly button.”
    Stupid, but stupid can be fun, you know?
    For the next few minutes we just talked about clothes and boys and the prom.
    â€œI’m going to make my own prom dress,” I told her. “And it’s going to be hot, and I don’t care what anyone says or thinks!”
    â€œYeah!” Emily said, beaming like somehow her I’ve-gotta-be-free switch had been turned on.
    â€œThe only thing is, I still don’t have a date,” I whispered, glancing back toward the stage where Tyler was rehearsing. “But I’m hoping.”
    We both watched Natalie cuddling up to Tyler in their scene. She had it all going on, I had to admit. She was turning on that brilliant smile of hers—the one that clearly made guys feel like they were superstud material.
    He reached out and stroked her hair. I grabbed for a script and started flipping pages. Was that in there? In the stage directions?
    Nope.
    Alrighty, then.
    So plan A was to hope that Tyler and I would “do something this weekend” like he said, and go to American Superstar like he said, and wind up going to the prom together.
    And plan B? If that didn’t work out? I could always go with David, I decided. He was my fallback plan. My safety.
    I knew I could count on him if I had to. I just hoped I didn’t have to.

Chapter 12
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    â€œSo who knew you could get STDs from having unprotected sex?” Tyler joked, leaning close to me during an assembly the next day.
    â€œYeah, I mean, wow. What a bulletin. Why didn’t someone tell us sooner?”
    We were sitting in what was possibly the dumbest school assembly I’d ever attended. Supposedly, the topic was “How Alcohol Ruined My Life,” or something unbearably lecturey like that. They’d brought in this deliberately punk looking twenty-year-old who had several piercings and bright orange streaks in her black hair. I mean, give me a break. She was a high school principal’s idea of the hip role model teens could relate to, and meanwhile we all thought she was totally outdated and cliché. Anyway, her name was Summer, and she was there to