another look at Todd. And when I did that, I realized that Mint had had him in clear view the entire evening. Notonly had she lied to me about her cell phone. She knew Todd was in the restaurant and she hadn’t told me.
I turned back to the table and watched Mint as she cracked open our crab’s larger claw. Using a small fork, she dug out chunks of glistening white meat from its shell. I watched her place it in her tiny mouth. Then she cracked another shell. And something about the way she pried open and devoured that crustacean, little bite by little bite, made me realize that even though Angelina Mint Taravel was my own flesh and blood, I shouldn’t trust her.
12
I had three more weeks left with Angelina Mint Taravel. How much more terrible could things get?
So much more terrible!
“I am going to try something new with my hair,” Mint said as we were getting ready to leave for school.
She was wearing her camouflage T-shirt that said DON’T SHOOT for a third time and it was pointless to try and stop her.
I went to the kitchen and lifted my Tupperware container filled with vegan lemon-poppy-seed cookies into my backpack. Though I’d never admit it to her face, Mint was right when she accused my dehydrated chocolate chip cookies of looking like dog turds. I felt lucky to have a second chance to make something better for the cookie basket.
After I zipped my backpack, Mint came out of thebathroom with eight jumbo straws pieced through a loose bun on her head. She looked ridiculous.
“I saw them at the store yesterday by the fountain drinks,” she said. “The clerk let me have them for free.”
Didn’t they have convenience stories in Alaska? Didn’t she know the straws were always free? That normal people didn’t style their hair with them?
“I am going to be totally honest,” I said. “That is not your best look.”
Mint frowned at me. “You are
so
conservative.”
What? My cousin was really pushing my buttons. I wasn’t conservative. I was ambitious. And I had a whole container of vegan cookies to prove it.
“Listen. Do you want my advice or not?” I asked her. I folded my arms across my chest and stared at her with my serious face.
She shook her head. “Not really. You want me to do things your way. But I do stuff a different way.”
Wow. What was she saying? I did stuff the way you were supposed to do stuff in order to live a fantastic life. Didn’t she see that? Couldn’t she see how great I was at making awesome friends like Ava and Rachel and Lucia? Plus, I’d won class captain. It was insulting. She should have been thankful I was trying to help her. “Fine,” I said. “Wear straws on your head. I don’t care.”
I considered the conversation we’d had in front of my closet a fight. And after our fight, I did not want to talk to Mint. But she kept trying to talk to me. All the way to school I answered her in short, huffy sentences.
OUR DRIVEWAY CONVERSATION WAITING FOR THE BUS
“Do you think we’ll still be working on mapping New Mexico’s water resources today?” Mint asked.
“Probably.”
“Cool. I reviewed all my notes last night.”
Sigh.
OUR BUS CONVERSATION
“Wow. Don’t you think the bus smells like burned peanuts this morning?” Mint commented.
I inhaled a bunch of bus air and shook my head. I just smelled my awesome cookies.
OUR PRE-CLASS HALLWAY CONVERSATION
“Paulette Feeley is wearing the cutest boots. I want to ask her where she got them.”
Double sigh. “They’re hideous.”
I said this because Paulette was wearing the grossest boots I’d ever seen. They looked like they were covered in horse crap or pig crap or worse.
Then I overheard one of the worst conversations of my life. Seriously. It made me want to die.
“Hey! Is that a
Dwarf Massacre Three: Axe of Doom
comic book?” Mint asked.
I turned my head a little and glanced at Jagger’s magazine. It looked pretty violent.
“You know about
Dwarf Massacre Three
?” Jagger
I turned back to the table and watched Mint as she cracked open our crab’s larger claw. Using a small fork, she dug out chunks of glistening white meat from its shell. I watched her place it in her tiny mouth. Then she cracked another shell. And something about the way she pried open and devoured that crustacean, little bite by little bite, made me realize that even though Angelina Mint Taravel was my own flesh and blood, I shouldn’t trust her.
12
I had three more weeks left with Angelina Mint Taravel. How much more terrible could things get?
So much more terrible!
“I am going to try something new with my hair,” Mint said as we were getting ready to leave for school.
She was wearing her camouflage T-shirt that said DON’T SHOOT for a third time and it was pointless to try and stop her.
I went to the kitchen and lifted my Tupperware container filled with vegan lemon-poppy-seed cookies into my backpack. Though I’d never admit it to her face, Mint was right when she accused my dehydrated chocolate chip cookies of looking like dog turds. I felt lucky to have a second chance to make something better for the cookie basket.
After I zipped my backpack, Mint came out of thebathroom with eight jumbo straws pieced through a loose bun on her head. She looked ridiculous.
“I saw them at the store yesterday by the fountain drinks,” she said. “The clerk let me have them for free.”
Didn’t they have convenience stories in Alaska? Didn’t she know the straws were always free? That normal people didn’t style their hair with them?
“I am going to be totally honest,” I said. “That is not your best look.”
Mint frowned at me. “You are
so
conservative.”
What? My cousin was really pushing my buttons. I wasn’t conservative. I was ambitious. And I had a whole container of vegan cookies to prove it.
“Listen. Do you want my advice or not?” I asked her. I folded my arms across my chest and stared at her with my serious face.
She shook her head. “Not really. You want me to do things your way. But I do stuff a different way.”
Wow. What was she saying? I did stuff the way you were supposed to do stuff in order to live a fantastic life. Didn’t she see that? Couldn’t she see how great I was at making awesome friends like Ava and Rachel and Lucia? Plus, I’d won class captain. It was insulting. She should have been thankful I was trying to help her. “Fine,” I said. “Wear straws on your head. I don’t care.”
I considered the conversation we’d had in front of my closet a fight. And after our fight, I did not want to talk to Mint. But she kept trying to talk to me. All the way to school I answered her in short, huffy sentences.
OUR DRIVEWAY CONVERSATION WAITING FOR THE BUS
“Do you think we’ll still be working on mapping New Mexico’s water resources today?” Mint asked.
“Probably.”
“Cool. I reviewed all my notes last night.”
Sigh.
OUR BUS CONVERSATION
“Wow. Don’t you think the bus smells like burned peanuts this morning?” Mint commented.
I inhaled a bunch of bus air and shook my head. I just smelled my awesome cookies.
OUR PRE-CLASS HALLWAY CONVERSATION
“Paulette Feeley is wearing the cutest boots. I want to ask her where she got them.”
Double sigh. “They’re hideous.”
I said this because Paulette was wearing the grossest boots I’d ever seen. They looked like they were covered in horse crap or pig crap or worse.
Then I overheard one of the worst conversations of my life. Seriously. It made me want to die.
“Hey! Is that a
Dwarf Massacre Three: Axe of Doom
comic book?” Mint asked.
I turned my head a little and glanced at Jagger’s magazine. It looked pretty violent.
“You know about
Dwarf Massacre Three
?” Jagger
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