convertible BMW.
“Katie,” he said, when he’d come up alongside the sidewalk. “There you are. I’ve been calling you all morning. Don’t you have your phone on?”
I said my favorite curse word (inside my head,though, since Quahog Princesses don’t swear), and reached into my bag. My phone was off. As usual.
“Sorry,” I said, pressing the POWER button. “I forgot.”
“Thought so,” Eric said, with a friendly smile at Tommy, as if to say, Isn’t she cute? It was clear he had no idea who Tommy was, even though the three of us had been in many of the same classes in middle school. “I was wondering if you were going to be around later. I’m having trouble figuring out which of those headshots you took to use with my college apps, and was hoping you could come over to help me figure it out.”
Which was Eric Fluteley code for come over to make out with me while my parents aren’t home.
“Uh,” I said, flushing. Because all this was doing was giving Tommy more ammunition to use against me. Even though he was unfamiliar with Eric Fluteley code. Still, I figured he wouldn’t have any trouble figuring it out, since college apps weren’t due for months. “I can’t today, Eric. I’ve got Quahog Princess rehearsal.”
“Oh, right,” Eric said, laughing in a very fakey way. “How could I forget? I guess I’ll see you there. Morgan Castle asked me to be her escort, you know.”
“I know,” I said flatly. Really, he was enjoying this whole make-Katie-jealous-by-hanging-out-with-Morgan-Castle thing a little too much.
“But you’ll be at the Gulp later, won’t you?” Eric asked in a way-too-casual voice.
“Uh.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. That the guy I was cheating on my boyfriend with was trying tomake an appointment for more cheating…right in front of Tommy Sullivan. And he didn’t even know it. “Yeah. But. Um.”
To my astonishment, Tommy Sullivan came to my rescue.
“Is this the Z4?” he asked Eric, indicating the car Eric was driving.
“Uh,” Eric said, looking at him. “Yeah, it is. It’s my dad’s. Hey…do I know you from somewhere, dude? You look familiar.”
And before I could stop him, Tommy was leaning over the side of Eric’s car with his right hand extended. “Sure, you know me, Eric. Tom Sullivan.”
I closed my eyes. I closed them because I was pretty certain a gigantic chasm-size void had just opened up beneath my feet, and that I was about to be sucked down into it.
Because Eric Fluteley only has the biggest mouth in the entire town (well, except for Sidney). The only reason he hasn’t told everyone in Eastport about our extracurricular activities behind the emergency generator is because I told him if he did, he’d have to pay a professional photographer to do his headshots. And that could run into thousands of dollars.
But when I opened my eyes again a second later, I saw there was no chasm-size void before me…just Post Road, Eastport’s main drag, with Eric Fluteley in his BMW, and Tommy Sullivan standing on the sidewalk next to me.
“Tommy?” Eric actually tipped down his sunglasses to get a better look at the guy whose hand he was shaking. “Sullivan?”
“It’s Tom now, actually,” Tommy said, sounding amused by Eric’s stunned tone. “But yeah. It’s me.”
“Holy—” Eric said one of the words I, as a candidate for Quahog Princess, have forbidden myself from using. “What are you doing back in town, man?”
“He’s going to be enrolling at Eastport High in the fall,” I said quickly, before Tommy could volunteer the information.
“Really?” The corners of Eric’s mouth twitched. You could tell he was totally enjoying this. Eric, being concerned only with Eric, doesn’t have any sort of feelings for the Quahogs either way. To him, the whole football thing is just a nuisance that takes people’s attention away from him. “Well, things get rough, and you need a hand, let me know. I took self-defense at
“Katie,” he said, when he’d come up alongside the sidewalk. “There you are. I’ve been calling you all morning. Don’t you have your phone on?”
I said my favorite curse word (inside my head,though, since Quahog Princesses don’t swear), and reached into my bag. My phone was off. As usual.
“Sorry,” I said, pressing the POWER button. “I forgot.”
“Thought so,” Eric said, with a friendly smile at Tommy, as if to say, Isn’t she cute? It was clear he had no idea who Tommy was, even though the three of us had been in many of the same classes in middle school. “I was wondering if you were going to be around later. I’m having trouble figuring out which of those headshots you took to use with my college apps, and was hoping you could come over to help me figure it out.”
Which was Eric Fluteley code for come over to make out with me while my parents aren’t home.
“Uh,” I said, flushing. Because all this was doing was giving Tommy more ammunition to use against me. Even though he was unfamiliar with Eric Fluteley code. Still, I figured he wouldn’t have any trouble figuring it out, since college apps weren’t due for months. “I can’t today, Eric. I’ve got Quahog Princess rehearsal.”
“Oh, right,” Eric said, laughing in a very fakey way. “How could I forget? I guess I’ll see you there. Morgan Castle asked me to be her escort, you know.”
“I know,” I said flatly. Really, he was enjoying this whole make-Katie-jealous-by-hanging-out-with-Morgan-Castle thing a little too much.
“But you’ll be at the Gulp later, won’t you?” Eric asked in a way-too-casual voice.
“Uh.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. That the guy I was cheating on my boyfriend with was trying tomake an appointment for more cheating…right in front of Tommy Sullivan. And he didn’t even know it. “Yeah. But. Um.”
To my astonishment, Tommy Sullivan came to my rescue.
“Is this the Z4?” he asked Eric, indicating the car Eric was driving.
“Uh,” Eric said, looking at him. “Yeah, it is. It’s my dad’s. Hey…do I know you from somewhere, dude? You look familiar.”
And before I could stop him, Tommy was leaning over the side of Eric’s car with his right hand extended. “Sure, you know me, Eric. Tom Sullivan.”
I closed my eyes. I closed them because I was pretty certain a gigantic chasm-size void had just opened up beneath my feet, and that I was about to be sucked down into it.
Because Eric Fluteley only has the biggest mouth in the entire town (well, except for Sidney). The only reason he hasn’t told everyone in Eastport about our extracurricular activities behind the emergency generator is because I told him if he did, he’d have to pay a professional photographer to do his headshots. And that could run into thousands of dollars.
But when I opened my eyes again a second later, I saw there was no chasm-size void before me…just Post Road, Eastport’s main drag, with Eric Fluteley in his BMW, and Tommy Sullivan standing on the sidewalk next to me.
“Tommy?” Eric actually tipped down his sunglasses to get a better look at the guy whose hand he was shaking. “Sullivan?”
“It’s Tom now, actually,” Tommy said, sounding amused by Eric’s stunned tone. “But yeah. It’s me.”
“Holy—” Eric said one of the words I, as a candidate for Quahog Princess, have forbidden myself from using. “What are you doing back in town, man?”
“He’s going to be enrolling at Eastport High in the fall,” I said quickly, before Tommy could volunteer the information.
“Really?” The corners of Eric’s mouth twitched. You could tell he was totally enjoying this. Eric, being concerned only with Eric, doesn’t have any sort of feelings for the Quahogs either way. To him, the whole football thing is just a nuisance that takes people’s attention away from him. “Well, things get rough, and you need a hand, let me know. I took self-defense at
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