Free M or F? by Lisa Papademetriou Page A

she said. “File that one under H for hypocrite .”
    â€œWe’re talking about you right now.”
    Frannie sat on the edge of her bed, knotting up the blankets in her fists. I let her think.
    â€œAll right,” she said finally. “But here’s the deal.”
    â€œThere’s a deal?” I said.
    â€œYes. Next time something comes up for you, you positively, absolutely, no excuses have to go for it. Okay?”
    I scoffed. “I can’t agree to something that hasn’t even happened yet.”
    â€œMarcus . . . ”
    We sat there doing brain wave karate, trying to stare each other down. Usually, I win every time, but she’d gotten me right where I was vulnerable. I looked away first. Then I groaned and fake died onto the floor with my hands around my neck. “Fine,” I choked. “You win.”
    â€œSuch a drama queen,” she said.
    I lifted my head. “That’s Mister Drama Queen to you.”
    I was happy for Frannie. I really was. So I just left it at that. It didn’t make sense to tell her absolutely everything I was thinking. So what if I was a little bit jealous? What was she supposed to do with that? And so what if I wasn’t just jealous of her for getting into Boyfriend Land, but also for getting there with Jeffrey Osborne? The only reason I felt that way was because I was kind of sort of being Frannie. It made perfect sense that I’d start to see him the same way she saw him. It was nothing. It would pass, I was sure. In no time at all, I’d stop thinking about Jeffrey like that, stop imagining what kind of kisser he might be, and stop wondering what he looked like naked.
    Sure, I would.

Four
    My lipsticks stood lined up like little soldiers on my vanity before me, arranged from light to dark. Usually, I like the darker colors, but this occasion seemed to call for a more neutral shade. Sahara Shimmer? I thought, twisting it open. I smeared some onto my lips, which immediately seemed to disappear into my face. Too neutral. Tissuing it off, I reached for an unused tube of Lilac Breeze, a freebie cast off from one of Mom’s department store makeup bonanzas. It had always seemed like a boring color to me, but I had already been through about thirty shades (did I mention that I have a problem throwing stuff away?), and I was running out of ideas. Actually, I thought as I put it on, it looks pretty good. It picked up the pink in the crazy paisley vintage blouse I had chosen after tearing apart my closet in the search for The Outfit. I’d finally settled on this pink, maroon, and apple green shirt, a black mini, black fishnets, and high-heeled boots. The effect was sort of Naughty Secretary . . . which wasn’t exactly what I had been going for but wasn’t bad, either.
    See, I was going on a Date. I know, I know, no one dates anymore—but there was no other word for what this was. Jeffrey and I had been chatting online, and it had gone a little something like this:
    <>
    â€œWhat am I doing tonight?” I said into the phone. “I should tell him I have plans, right?”
    On the other end of the line, Marcus let out a groan. “Seriously, if you aren’t going to pay attention, I don’t know why I bother.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I demanded. “Isn’t that one of the basic rules of keeping a guy interested—he has to think that you have a life?”
    â€œLook, he’s not just making conversation,” Marcus explained. “He’s asking you out.”
    I ran my fingers through my hair impatiently, giving silent thanks that I had Marcus around to translate. Belina and Jenn are absolutely no help when it comes to decoding these things. “So I should tell him that I’m available.” It was a question, but it didn’t really sound like one.
    â€œOnly if you are available.” Marcus sounded kind of