Free Sloppy Firsts by Megan McCafferty Page B

say,Because you’re exactly like her.
     
    "Because Hope is the only one who understands."
     
    Then my mom did her combinationThere’s no use talking to you–Stop moping over Hope speech and told me I wasn’t allowed out for the rest of the night, which, of course, was a blessing in disguise.
     
    the twenty-fifth
     
    I had to get away from my mom. So today I gave hanging out with Hy a try.
     
    "I’m amped that you called," she said. "I was supposed to chill with my girls, but my aunt is being abizotch and won’t drive me to the bus station. So I’m stuck here."
     
    "Sorry," I said. "I’ll be right over."
     
    Hy’s aunt lives on the far side of Hope’s old neighborhood. Her house is the same model as Hope’s except all the rooms are on the opposite side: Hope’s kitchen is on the left, Hy’s kitchen is on the right; Hope’s living room is on the right, Hy’s is on the left.
     
    You get the idea.
     
    Anyway, I had such a feeling of topsy-turvy déjà-vu that I thought,Omigod! Maybe Hy is destined to be my best friend. Maybe she’s the Bizarro Hope. Then I started collecting supporting evidence:
     
    Hope has natural red hair.
    Hy has black hair with (currently) artificial blue streaks.
    Hope is 5 feet 11 inches tall.
    Hy is 5 feet 1 inch tall.
    Hope used to play the baritone horn.
    Hy used to play the flute.
     
    I just about had myself convinced. But then, in a perfect example of how I can make the ludicrous legit, I thought,Wait—if she were Bizarro Hope, her initials would be W.H., not H.W.
     
    And that ended that.
     
    I kind of enjoy going over to someone’s house for the first time because I can check out her or his bedroom. A bedroom reveals a lot about what’s important to a person.
     
    Bridget’s room:Highlighted newspaper clippings, mushy greeting cards (on the inside of every one: To B., Love Ya, B.), and dried carnations tacked to a bulletin board. Football practice jersey (Roy33) hanging on the back of her door. Countless couple pics in frames, wedged in her mirror, loose and waiting to be put in a photo album, including: B. and B. at homecoming, B. and B. in front of a Christmas tree, and B. and B. in the black-and-white photo booth on the boardwalk.
     
    Conclusion:We’reall in trouble when B. and B. break up.
     
    Manda’s room:Millions of tiny holes in the walls, the only sign that they used to be covered with tons of kissable pics of hot hunks, gorgeous guys, and studly celebs torn out ofBop andSixteen magazines. These fantasy photos have been replaced with wallet-size school pictures of all her past boyfriends. They look like mug shots. She’s not in any of them. Above her bed? A poster:Well-Behaved Women Rarely Make History .
     
    Conclusion:Boys, boys, boys and Women’s Lib—perfect together.
     
    Sara’s room:Crucial communication devices (cell phone, headset phone, two-way pager, Palm Pilot, laptop) within reach of her bed—a queen-size model with a white- and gold-flecked marble frame, scalloped seashell headboard, and a black velvet duvet.YM, Twist, Seventeen, CosmoGirl!, Cosmopolitan, Vogue, Entertainment Weekly, People, National Enquirer, and many other mags and rags sink into the ankle-deep crimson carpet. A professionally framed collage of skeletal models and actresses is the only wall hanging that doesn’t fit in with the die-hard faux-rococo décor favored by her stepmother, Shelly.
     
    Conclusion:Poor little rich Eye-talian girl wants to be a size zero—and will gripe about that or gossip about anything else to anyone who will listen.
     
    My room:Walls the color of a week-old bruise from when Hope and I tried to slap gray over the hot pink paint my parents picked when I was a baby. Dozens of dusty plaques, trophies, and ribbons unceremoniously toppling over each other on a shelf in the far corner. Several "new classics" movie posters (Sixteen Candles, Stand by Me, Say Anything). Mind-blowing mosaic of two smiling friends.
     
    Conclusion:Obviously on the