Lying Out Loud by Kody Keplinger Page A

it was so I wouldn’t be fighting the crowds alone,” Amy said.
    “Nah. Why would I ever do anything for you?”
    She giggled, then let out a huge yawn. “What time does the store open again?”
    “Five.”
    She whimpered.
    “I know,” I said, patting her on the back. “It’s cruel to have sales start so early right after everyone’s loaded themselves with sleepy turkey chemicals.”
    To make matters worse, it was also cold. We were bundled up in our sweaters and coats, but they didn’t do much to deflect the occasional gust of wind that blew into our faces. The amazing part about this was that Amy’s hair still looked flawless. Four a.m., cold and windy morning, and she still looked like a model with a classy, curly updo.
    I wasn’t the only one who noticed either.
    “Oh my God. You have to tell me how you did that.”
    Amy and I both turned when we heard the voice behind us. There was a girl there, drinking Starbucks. She couldn’t have been much older than us, and she looked a little familiar. Probably a Hamilton High grad. She was wearing some amazing black boots over multicolored leggings that I only wished I could pull off.
    “Sorry?” Amy said.
    “Your hair,” the girl said. “You have to tell me how you did that.”
    It was only then that I noticed her own curls. Brown corkscrews, even tighter than mine or Amy’s. They were a little frizzy because of the wind, but they still looked ten times better than mine. Damn it.
    “Oh,” Amy said, patting her hair self-consciously. “It’s really easy. You just need a hair tie and a few bobby pins.”
    “And by ‘easy,’ she means impossible for us commoners,” I said.
    “Right?” The girl laughed. “Bobby pins and hair ties just leave me with a rat’s nest on top of my head.”
    “It’s really not that hard. You just —”
    “Chloe!”
    Two more people were coming our way: a girl with straight black hair and a cute boy I recognized as Cash Sterling, a former player on the Hamilton High soccer team. (Soccer was the only sport I kept up with. Mostly because it was an excuse to stare at boys with really nice legs.)
    “Sorry we’re late,” Cash said to the curly-haired girl, Chloe.
    “You’re not. The store hasn’t opened yet.”
    “I know,” Cash said. “But according to Lissa, we were supposed to be here by four. So I was told to apologize for making her late.”
    Lissa, meanwhile, was too busy digging in her purse to argue with Cash. “I have a map,” she said. “I drew it last night. I figured out the best route to get back to the TVs when the doors open.”
    “Oh dear God,” Chloe moaned. “We have to do this?”
    “If I have to do Black Friday,” Lissa said, “I’m doing it efficiently.” She sighed. “Why does my stupid brother want a TV for a wedding present? Why couldn’t he just ask for a blender like everyone else?”
    “He’s gonna need a TV to drown Jenna out,” Cash said. “I still can’t believe they’re getting married.”
    “I just can’t believe he’s getting married before I had a chance to hook up with him.”
    “Ew, Chloe. I can’t deal with you lusting after my brother right now. I’m already freaking out over the crowd here. Ugh. It’s gonna be awful in there. Here. Let’s study the map.”
    Amy and I glanced at each other, then turned around, clearly no longer a part of this conversation.
    “We should’ve made a map,” Amy whispered.
    “I don’t think we’re neurotic enough for that,” I whispered back.
    The minutes lurched by as the line got longer and longer on the sidewalk behind us. There was no doubt about it — when those doors opened, we were in for a freaking stampede.
    “Ready?” Amy asked when there was only a minute to go.
    “Why do I feel like I’m about to go to war?” I asked.
    But she didn’t have time to answer because right then the front doors of Tech Plus swung open.
    And everyone charged forward.
    I ran, tripping over my own feet in order to avoid being