Free P.S. I Loathe You by Lisi Harrison Page A

saw the next person on line.
    “Step forward,” she mumbled.
    Layne and the tall, thin, redheaded boy Massie had nicknamed Twizzler approached the table. They wore matching white unitards covered in black hexagons, looking like two soccer balls that had been flattened by a steam-roller.
    “Our word is
flair
,” Layne stated.
    “Nice pick, Kuh-laire,” Alicia muttered.
    “I didn’t pick them,” Claire whispered back.
    “Did you?” Alicia whisper-asked Dylan.
    “Puh-lease!”
Dylan rolled her eyes.
    “You?” she asked Kristen.
    “I did,” Massie barked. “Now let her finish.”
    “Thank you.” Layne nodded. “And now for our cheer.”
    Layne unrolled two blue gym mats while Twizzler rubbed chalk on his hands. Once the mats were down, he lay on his back and lifted his limbs like a dog playing dead. Standing above him, Layne clasped his feet with her hands while he clasped hers with his. In a show of tremendous physical strength, they fused together into a giant letter O and began rolling down the mat chanting: “Juggle, dribble, kick. The Tomahawks are slick! Juggle, dribble, kick. The Tomahawks are slick! Juggle, dribble, kick. The Tomahawks are slick. . . .”
    The other wannabes jumped out of their way.
    “I once saw six midgets do that in Cirque du Soleil,” Alicia gasped.
    “Cirque du No Way!” Dylan giggled as they rolled past her.
    “Are they supposed to be a soccer ball?” Claire’s blue eyes were wide with amazement.
    “More like a
psycho
ball.” Alicia cracked up.
    Kristen jumped to her feet. “Look out for the—”
    They smashed into the juice kiosk with an audible yelp.
    “Opposite of an option, right?” Alicia knit her dark brows.
    “Congratulations, Layne and Twizzler,” Massie announced as two Chicken McNuggets helped them to their feet. “You’re official Socc-Hers.”
    “What?” Alicia snapped.
    “We need
flair
,” Massie insisted, hoping she sounded sincere. “And everyone loves a guy in a dress. All in favor?”
    Massie, Claire, and Kristen raised their hands.
    “Majority wins.”
    Layne and Twizzler jump-hugged.
    “Check your in-boxes for a rehearsal schedule,” Massie stated, then waved them off. “Next.”
    “Wait, are you serious?” Alicia asked, clearly unable to let it go.
    Massie avoided her pleading dark eyes. But the inability to lie was her only flaw. “I am.”
    “How? Why?”
    “Because.” She rolled her eyes. “Layne ah-bviously
likes
Dempsey. But if I keep her busy in Socc-Hers rehearsals, she won’t have time to hang out with him.”
    “Fine, but do we need the guy?” Alicia muttered under her cinnamon-scented breath.
    Massie inhaled slowly to avoid losing her patience in front of the squad. “Yes, we need the
guy
. If Layne rolls around with Twizz every day after school, maybe she’ll forget all about Dempsey and—”
    Alicia grabbed Massie’s sequin-covered shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “You don’t hawnestly think
Layme
is competition.
Do you
?”
    Massie stepped out from under her grip. “Dempsey used to be an LBR, remember?” she whispered.
    Alicia nodded yes.
    “Wellllllll.” Massie paused to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Even though he’s been cured, he may still have trace amounts of LBR in his blood. And hanging around Layne could activate those trace amounts. And once they’re reactivated, he’ll assume I’m out of his league and he’ll settle for her. Which rules
me
out.”
    Alicia nodded her head while considering this, then lifted her finger. “Point.”
    “Thank you.” Massie sighed. “Now can we
puh-lease
move on?”
    Without waiting for an answer she shouted,
“Next!”
    Olivia Ryan stepped forward. Her pleated white miniskirt, turquoise bikini top, and gray Capezio dance heels reminded Massie why she couldn’t stand the girl. Physically, she was a natural fit for the Pretty Committee. Her blond wavy hair, navy blue eyes, and perfect dancer’s body made the choice a no-brainer.