Free Seeing Cinderella by Jenny Lundquist Page A

Just Tara and me.”
    We hung up then, and I took my glasses off. I figured you had to actually be looking at a person to read their thoughts.
    Or catch them in a lie.

Chapter 9

    Super Freaky Glasses Rule # 8
    When it comes to best friends, all’s fair in love and middle school.
    E LLEN HAD LIED TO ME ON THE PHONE , I WAS SURE OF IT . So I decided to spy on her thoughts the next morning, and find out for certain. But Ellen was late to first period. And trying to read her thoughts during class proved useless, because she was actually paying attention to Mrs. Faber.
    “Are we boring you, Miss Anderson?” Mrs. Faber asked when she caught me staring at Ellen.
    “No,” I lied. “Not at all.”
    “Good.” Mrs. Faber pointed to an equation on the whiteboard. “Then maybe you could tell me the answerto the problem the rest of us have been working on for the last five minutes?”
    “Sure,” I said, staring at the number inside the screen hovering by Mrs. Faber’s head. “The answer is five and three-fourths.”
    “Correct.” Mrs. Faber frowned, and the image inside the screen changed: How did she know that? I know she wasn’t paying attention.
    The bell rang then, and Ellen shot out of her seat, calling over her shoulder that she had another club meeting during lunch.
    “Ellen, wait!” I yelled, as she hurried out the door, but she didn’t hear me. By the time I caught up, Ellen was rummaging through her locker.
    “Hey, how’s it going?” I said.
    “Not great.” Ellen stuffed a textbook into her backpack. “I’ve got a history test next period I didn’t study for.” The screen appeared by Ellen. Inside was an image of Ellen and Stacy in Ellen’s room. Stacy watched while Ellen strummed a guitar. Which confused me—I didn’t think Ellen owned a guitar.
    I felt sick to my stomach then and looked away from the screen. “Is . . . is there a reason why you didn’t study for it?” I asked softly.
    Ellen shut her locker and faced me. “Okay, look—Stacy spent the night last night. Okay? That’s why I couldn’t come over. Her dad was going out of town on a business trip and her mother decided to go. So they needed a place for Stacy to stay for a couple of nights. Stacy came over and brought her dad’s old guitar. We started messing around with it and lost track of time. Okay?”
    “Why didn’t you just tell me this last night?” I asked.
    “Because I know how much you hate Stacy.”
    “You didn’t have to lie to me. And I don’t hate Stacy.”
    “Well you act like you can’t stand her, and I didn’t want you getting all mad and making a big deal about it.”
    “I’m not making a big deal about it!”
    “Yes, you are.” Ellen crossed her arms, and we stared at each other as the warning bell rang.
    I looked away first. “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s okay,” Ellen said quietly. Then she hefted her backpack over her shoulder. “Look—I don’t want to be late to class. I’ll see you in drama, okay?”
    “Okay. Sorry,” I said again.
    As I watched Ellen sweep through the crowd, I wondered why I was the one who apologized when Ellen was the one who lied.
     
     
    When I walked into drama class later that day, Ellen and Stacy whispered and giggled in the corner. Their fair heads were bent together, like the sun and moon were hugging each other. Watching them, I felt like Pluto. All cold and icy and distant.
    As I neared them, I reminded myself to be nice and not to make a big deal about anything.
    “What’s so funny?” I asked in a cheery voice.
    Ellen jumped like she’d been caught cheating on a test. “Nothing,” she said, and Stacy nodded.
    “Oh. I thought I heard you guys laughing?”
    “You must be hearing things,” Stacy said. “We were practicing our lines.” She recited a line as the Wicked Stepmother.
    “Oh, okay. Have fun then,” I said, walking away and sinking into a chair next to Ana.
    “Did your mom like the mole sauce?” Ana asked.
    “Yeah,” I said, not