Free The Queen of Cool by Cecil Castellucci

and moan about boys, how they love her too much or they don’t love her enough. She will change the name of her reality show twelve times between the parking lot and the Forever 21.
    When I hit The Grove, I immediately regret being there by myself. Everyone seems to be hanging out in groups.
    And I can’t decide which sweater to get.
    I cave in.
    I call Perla.
    She meets me within the hour.

    “I just love having the whole day to myself,” Dad says. He’s reading the newspaper cover to cover these days, because with no job to go to, he has all the time in the world.
    “Why don’t you try to do something useful while I’m at work and clean out the garage?” Mom suggests.
    “Okay,” Dad says enthusiastically. “I’m on it!”
    “And you,” she says to me, “I expect the kitchen to be clean when I get home tonight. Ever since we let Nastja go, I’m overwhelmed. I just can’t do it alone.”
    Her voice has this pinched tone to it all the time now. It’s alarming, and I can’t finish my grapefruit. The acid just sours in my stomach.
    She picks up her keys, briefcase, and packed lunch and heads out the side door to the garage.
    Dad and I look at each other for a minute before he sighs and says, “I love all the freedom I have, but I can’t stand being stuck in the house all day. I miss having my company car.”
    “Do you want a ride somewhere?” I ask.
    “That’s nice, yeah. Can you drop me off on Vermont Ave.? Maybe I’ll browse around at Skylight Books.”
    On the way there, I try to remember what it was like before I got my driver’s license, when I was stuck in the house with only my feet to move me anywhere in the too-big city of Los Angeles.
    Dad sits in the passenger seat, looking out the window. Daydreaming. Just like a little kid.

    Tiny runs up to us before the first bell. She’s out of breath and obviously excited.
    “Hi, Libby!” she says.
    “Look, about New Year’s,” I say. “I’m sorry . . .”
    “No worries.”
    Tiny acts as if New Year’s Eve was a lifetime ago instead of only just a few days prior. She doesn’t look stressed out about it at all. She just lets it roll off her.
    I’m dumbfounded. But I guess it’s actually
me
that’s fucked up about it. She seems fine.
    “I’m over it,” she says. “Moving on, I signed up to help focus the lights for
Peter Pan
at the Pantages.”
    She grins.
    I smile back.
    Tiny’s enthusiasm is contagious. I suddenly feel excited and I don’t even know what she’s talking about.
    “Lighting designers need people to walk the boards sometimes. You know, stand on the stage in certain places so that they can focus the lights properly,” Tiny explains. “Then you get a free ticket. So, you want to walk the boards with me?”
    “Um, it’s not my thing,” I say, seeing Perla, Mike Dutko, Kenji, and Sid approaching. Although I’m still smiling, I want her to disappear before they get here.
    “Your loss,” she says, following my eyes and getting the hint. “See you later.”
    Tiny runs over to a group of her friends. I can tell by the way her arms fly about that she’s telling them about walking the boards. In contrast to my friends, who are now leaning against their lockers like they are on heroin, acting too tired and too cool to stand on their own two feet, her friends are full of energy. They are just as excited as she is, and then they all start jumping for joy.
    “Who jumps for joy?” Perla says, snapping her gum. “So. Lame.”
    Perla, Mike Dutko, and Kenji walk away from the scene playing out in front of us. Sid and I stand there a moment longer, watching Tiny and her friends and the fun they are having, until the bell rings.
    As we start walking, Sid looks at me mischievously.
    “What?” I ask.
    “You know what,” he says. “Let’s do it.”
    Suddenly our pace slows at the same time as we let our friends disappear into the crowd in the hall in front of us.
    And then Sid and I do it. In the hall, on the way to