Free This Is Me From Now On by Barbara Dee Page B

locked myself in the bathroom and stared in the mirror. I swished the earrings. I shook my head. I nodded like crazy.
Oh yes, Zane, I’d love to go with you to the movies on Saturday. Yes, Fudge Caramel Whatever is MY favorite flavor too!
The earrings still went
plinka plinka plinka
, but in the privacy of my own bathroom they just looked wrong. I didn’t think they were
bad earrings
, I told my reflection in the mirror. It’s just that they were all Hollywood starlety, and I was more of a mosquito-in-amber sort of person.
    So I slipped them off, wrapped them up in some toilet paper, and immediately washed my hands for dinner.

    At seven the next morning I rang Samantha Pattison’s bell. It was one of those obnoxious Big Ben chimes that took, like, thirty seconds to shut up, and I was terrified it would wake the whole street. But finally Francesca opened the door wearing a purple satin bathrobe.
    â€œEvie,” she said, squinting in the sunlight. “You’re so early.”
    â€œSorry. I wanted to give you back these.” I forced the toilet-paper wad of earrings into her hand.
    She blinked at them. “Oh, you didn’t have to. I told you, Aunt Sam has thousands—”
    â€œI know,” I interrupted. “They’re really, really nice. But I felt funny about just taking them like that. Thanks anyway.”
    She shrugged. “Come in. I need to get dressed.”
    â€œThanks, but I’ll just wait here.” Probably I was overdoing the Standing Up to Francesca routine, but I was thinking that if I went into Samantha’s house, we’d start chasing rabbits or something, and then somehow we’d forget all about Morning Homeroom.
    About five minutes later she showed up at the door wearing lime green biking shorts, black patent-leather ankle boots, and a short, white zebra-patterned jacket trimmed with black fur. Immediately I imagined anothersnarky comment from Nisha. “Don’t worry, it’s faux,” she said, fluffing up her collar.
    â€œI wasn’t worried about that,” I said truthfully. “But aren’t you kind of boiling?”
    â€œMaybe a tad. Oh, well. We’ll just have to find another lawn sprinkler—”
    â€œGah.
No,
Francesca.”
    â€œOnly kidding! My God. You take everything so seriously.”
    â€œNot everything,” I insisted.
    We started walking, and I yelled at myself,
NOW! SAY IT NOW. DON’T LET HER GET YOU DISTRACTED!
So I added, “But can I say something? I
am
really serious about our Attic Project. And I’m a little upset we never wrote that letter yesterday.”
    She gave me the semi-dazzling smile. “Oh,
don’t
worry, Evie. I took care of it last night.”
    â€œYou mean you wrote it? By yourself?”
    â€œUh-huh. Aunt Sam has the most brilliant stationery.”
    â€œThat’s great,” I said, wondering how paper could be brilliant. “So what did you write?”
    â€œOh, lots of stuff. It was late at night, I really don’t remember.”
    â€œBut you asked about the diary? I mean, that she should send it?”
    She stopped walking. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
    â€œI believe you,” I said carefully. “But I think I’d like to see the letter. I mean, because it’s my project too, right?”
    â€œOf course. But it’s already in the envelope. Sealed.”
    â€œWell, we can unseal it, can’t we?”
    â€œFine,” Francesca said, frowning. “If you insist.”
    She unbuttoned a pocket of her zebra jacket and handed me a small, stamped envelope the color of spearmint Trident.
    Aug 28
    A little past midnite
    Dearest greatest Greatest-grandma Isabel,
    How are things in San Fran? Is yr hip any better? Does yr new nurse speak louder? I hope so!!!
    I’m extremely well. I LOVE staying with Aunt Sam its so much better than Montblane Academy which was an utter eatastrophy, did Dad tell