Rhymes With Cupid by Anna Humphrey Page B

like that to you” was a close second. But she looked so worried, and going all schmoopy on her wasn’t going to help matters—which probably explains why my first instinct was to make a joke. Something to let her know I was going to be all right. “Please don’t make me buy this dress, okay?” She smiled, clearly relieved.
    “Yeah,” she admitted, looking up from the floor. “That’s maybe not the best look for you.”
    “You think?” I said, sniffing. I stuck out my reindeer boobs and looked in the mirror. “It’s festive.”
    She laughed. Then her head disappeared underneath the partition again. I looked in the mirror and wiped at my cheeks with the back of my hand. Strangely enough, I was feeling better now. A lot better. I mean, yeah, I was still sad about what had happened with Matt Love last year. I still had no intention of opening up my heart to that kind of hurt again, but when it came to Tabby, I suddenly didn’t care anymore. So what if we weren’t friends? She’d been kind of crazy and fun to hang out with—always up on the latest gossip about who liked who and which teachers secretly smoked behind the football field—but the truth was, she was mean. She’d always been mean. In a lot of ways, she’d never really been much of a friend to begin with.
    “I’m not getting this dress either,” Dina said from the other side of the wall. “It looks awful.”
    “No, it doesn’t,” I said. “It makes me look like a sausage link. But on you, it looks amazing. You should get it.”
    “It so doesn’t make you look like a sausage link,” she said, but she hesitated a second too long before saying it. “Okay. So it does look a little bit terrible on you,” she admitted, “but it’s still better than Miss Thing’s tight jeans. Did you see her butt in those?” Dina whispered. “It was so flat you couldn’t tell if she was walking backward or forward.”
    “Dina!” I whispered back. My jaw dropped.
    “I’m serious though.” She changed the subject. “I’m not getting this dress.” I heard her changing room door open. “It’s got bad associations now. If I wear this to the party, all you’re going to think about is Matt Love and Pancake Butt. I’ll find something else.” I heard the clink of the metal hanger against the rejects rack as she hung it up.
    “Dina, honestly,” I started, “you should get it.” But she didn’t hear me. She’d already gone out into the store to make sure Matt and Tabby had left.
    Dina Marino, I thought—as I yanked my jeans up and put the horrific transparent dress back on its hanger—sweet, loyal, loving, passionate about the things she believed in, and surprisingly catty when the moment called for it. Now that was a true friend.

Chapter 9
    B ecause of the whole terrible Matt Love/see-through dress episode, we ended up being almost ten minutes late for our shift. Mr. Goodman was pacing the floor in the day-planner section when we got there, obviously annoyed about the fact that his dinner was at home getting cold.
    “Girls,” he said. “If you need help remembering what time your shift begins, might I remind you that we carry a wide selection of planners and agendas.”
    “I’m really sorry, Mr. Goodman,” I said, taking my name tag out of my backpack and pinning it on.
    “It was my fault,” Dina cut in. I shot her a look. “My, um, watch battery died.” I glanced at her wrist. She wasn’t wearing a watch. Thankfully Mr. Goodman either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
    “Do your best to keep it from happening again,” he said. “That’s all I ask. In any case”—he walked to the cash and we followed—“you can make it up to me. Sales are still slow.” He patted Cupid’s head. “So I’m starting a new incentive program for staff. For every ten new customers you sign up for the customer loyalty card between now and Valentine’s Day, I’ll add fifty dollars to your paychecks.” Our eyes went wide. Fifty dollars was a