Free Last Chance Summer by Kels Barnholdt Page A

and he always gave us a extra scoop on our kid cones. Arielle refused to ever go back to that shop. She would make her mother drive across town to this other ice cream shop where the people were not anywhere near as nice.
    2) No matter what you buy, Arielle will always have something better. Example of a conversation between me and Arielle:
    Arielle: “Is that a new phone?”
    Me: “Yeah, I just got it yesterday. It’s the new Droid!”
    Arielle: “Oh. I just got the new Iphone, even though it doesn’t come out until next month. I got an advanced release. Isn’t the battery life on a Droid only, like, two hours?”
    3) No matter what you’re talking about, Arielle always finds a way to bring the conversation back to her. So, for example, if you’re talking about how you met a famous person once, chances are Arielle has a even better story about someone MORE famous who she met.
    4) The first thing she does as soon as she sees you is look you up and down and find something wrong with you. (Example: Oh, you’re wearing yoga pants with a sparkly shirt? That’s weird.”)
    “I’m. Not. Going.” I stand up and push my chair away from the table and start to head out of the room.
    “It’s not a discussion, Morgan. It’s one month of your life. It will be good for you, and the more you resist, the harder you’ll be making it on yourself.” My mother’s tone hits like daggers. I turn around and look at my dad with hope in my eyes.
    “Sorry kiddo,” my dad says, “maybe it will be better than you think.”
    Not likely. And that’s how I end up spending the rest of the night in my room packing for a trip I have no desire to be taking.

Chapter Two
    “This is so unfair. No way in hell they can do this to you. No. Way. In. Hell.” It’s the next day and me and my friend Paige are sitting in my room talking about how my life is completely and totally over. Okay, so maybe I’m being a little bit dramatic, but still.
    “I know, there has to be some way we can get me out of this.”
    “Hmm,” Paige says, twirling her blonde hair around her finger and appearing to be in deep thought.
    I’ve known Paige for as long as I can remember. She lives a block over and when we were little our parents started taking us to play dates together. One day in kindergarten I cut my finger with a pair of scissors and I was bleeding all over. I started freaking out and crying, but Paige quickly grabbed some paper towels from the hand washing area, explained to the teacher what happened, and calmly walked me to the nurse’s office.
    We’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since.
    “I’ve got it!” Paige exclaims, jumping up from my bed and slapping her hands together. “You can just come stay at my house!”
    “Your house?” I ask, puzzled.
    “Yes! It’s perfect! You just come stay with me and tell your parents you’re going to be staying with your cousin, and when they call you can pretend to be…well, ya know, doing whatever it is they do in the South.”
    “Well, um, that would work except for the fact that if they called my aunt to ask how I am I wouldn’t exactly be there. And then there’s the whole them bringing me to the airport thing. I’m not sure how I would get on a plane and then get back off without them noticing.”
    “Hmm,” Paige mumbles, “well I guess that’s true. But what am I supposed to do alone all summer with no friends?”
    I laugh. “Oh, stop. It’s a few weeks and you have plenty of friends.” Which is true. Paige has tons of friends. Paige is one of those girls who has no idea how pretty she really is. Once we hit high school she totally shot up. She’s tall, tiny wasted, has this natural bright blonde hair, intense blue eyes, and a face most models would die for. Not that she knows it, which is the best part. The most beautiful people are the people who can walk into a room with no make up on, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, and still cause people to look. It’s the kind of grace