Alpha Dog Read Online Free

with more underwear in it (flowered this time, with an eyelet ruffle). Plus she must have gotten a little confused when I said I was going to a college a half hour north of home, because she also included some black mittens and a red-and-black-striped scarf.
    “Next time you can do your own shopping,” Mom went on, still miffed. “That’s the last time I do a favor for you while you lie in bed feeling sorry for yourself.”
    “I was sick!” I exclaimed, gripping the seat in frustration. “Would you prefer that I went with you and left a trail of vomit through the mall?”
    For a moment, no one said anything. Our angry sound waves richocheted around the interior of the Volvo like gunfire.
    I glanced at Mom’s frowning profile. She just didn’t understand. The woman probably never got rejected in her life. Not only was she absurdly young-looking for her age, she was also glamorous. People were always saying she looked just like Sharon Stone, only with brown hair and without the nude scenes.
    Mom took a deep breath. “Listen, I’m sorry you’re upset that things didn’t work out with Chuck. But I have to say, I always had a feeling something like this would happen. I warned you several times.”
    I slumped against the door and pressed my forehead against the window. I was beginning to wish I hadn’t told her about Chuck and me breaking up. I’d had to give her some explanation for my crying jag the day before—and at least I’d withheld the particulars. But I should have known it would be like handing over a gold-framed license to nag. Now I was trapped in a plush, luxury-edition prison, unable to flee from her barrage of I-told-you-so’s.
    “I never did trust that boy,” she went on, spitting out the last word as if “boy” were some sort of profanity. “You deserve someone who’s decent and responsible. Someone like Bitsy’s boy, Aaron. You know, he’s living in Austin right now, finishing up his degree in architecture. You two should meet for lunch or something. I know you always liked him. Bitsy and I swear you two were made for each other!”
    I stifled a groan. Aunt Bitsy isn’t really my aunt, but a former sorority sister of my mother’s. Her son Aaron really is decent and responsible and sweet and incredibly good-looking. I had the biggest crush on him until two years ago when I ran into him at the outlet mall and he introduced me to his boyfriend Chad.
    “Mom, I don’t think so. I probably won’t have time to date. I’ll be studying a lot.”
    “Who said anything about dating?” she asked in an oh-so-innocent voice. “I don’t think your landlady will even allow dating. I’m talking about meeting up with an old friend, someone who can help get your mind off this Chuck person. . . .”
    “Oh God,” I moaned, twisting around in my seat and leaning against the door. I closed my eyes and tried to shut down the auditory section of my brain. The movement of the car was vibrating my still-aching skull and making my ear canals tickle.
Maybe my ear-drums will rupture,
I thought hopefully. I really, really,
really
didn’t want to hear her thoughts on how I should deal with the breakup—especially since that’s all I’d been thinking about.
    Over the past twenty hours, my feelings had gone through all the stages described in
Cosmopolitan.
First anger, then total despair, then a denial that it really happened and the lame hope it was only a prank. Then anger again—only this time at myself.
    If only I had gotten back at Chuck in some way. Kicked him in the crotch or shoved flan in his face, or told the whole restaurant that he drools slightly when we make out (something I never quite learned to deal with)—anything except the wimp-ass way I took it.
    “. . . You shouldn’t be wallowing like this. You should see this as an opportunity. A chance to focus on your studies and meet some nice, upstanding people. . . .”
    My fingers caressed the door handle. I imagined myself opening the car