Beware That Girl Read Online Free Page B

twelve—a phalanx was for grade ten. One would do, one awesome person, and Olivia was pretty sure that she had found her in Kate. Together, they would make proper entrances at a couple of select parties.
    She checked her watch, which was actually her father’s Rolex. Apparently, wearing men’s watches was still a thing this year. Olivia was the one who’d started that trend last fall. Her father had an extensive collection, but he only wore the Cartier that Olivia’s mother had bought him. Kate never wore a watch. Other than that, she was right on or just ahead of trend. A good sign. That she did so while appearing not to care was an even better one.
    A month into school and Kate had not settled into any one clique, although most of them were visibly bidding for her. Street smart, book smart and beautiful were good cards, but being poor and mysterious was catnip to the inbred denizens of Waverly. Kate moved from class to class, unfailingly polite, occasionally funny and seemingly oblivious to their offerings. But she was coming here in an hour, and Olivia was pleased. Perhaps it was because she sensed that Kate was also “too old” for her age. Something had aged her. They had that in common.
    It was all working out.
    Still, to make doubly sure, she headed off to her room to her makeshift altar at 6:50. She lit a lavender-scented candle and propped up the gold crucifix that Anka had given her. Pretty much everything Olivia knew about God and the Bible was learned in disjointed snatches from her Houston roommate, Anka and the Christian Television Station (“CTS, Television You Can Believe In!”). As a result, Presbyterian merged with Baptist and mingled in a confused soup with Catholic. Olivia wasn’t entirely committed to the praying, but she still enjoyed the candle-lighting part.

    The door chimed. She heard Anka shuffle off to get it. Olivia blew out the candle, checked her smile in the mirror and went to greet her new best friend.

I took the subway. I hate the subway. Public transportation makes me feel poor. If I had the option I’d walk to school, but the Upper East Side is almost two hours from Chinatown. Two hours and two different planets. I sometimes did it on the way home. On the bad days. Olivia’s place was just a few blocks south of the school. Nice.
    A doorman who looked like he’d stepped out of a New Yorker cartoon greeted me. “My name is Aftab” was dressed in full Upper East Side regalia: hat, gold braiding, brass buttons—it doesn’t get better. “Miss Sumner is expecting you, Miss O’Brien.” Aftab raced around his desk to the elevator and pressed a button marked PH. Was I supposed to tip him? “Thank you, sir,” I said to the closing doors.
    My body pulsed in time with the door chimes. It was the penthouse, for God’s sake! A Middle European–type opened the door. She looked relieved to see me. “Goot evening, hello! I am Anka.” She flashed a gold tooth on her upper-left incisor as she smiled. “Please to coming in.” Anka had a big pudding of a body topped off by a bullet-shaped head. This rather extravagant presentation was further intensified by badly dyed jet-black hair that was swept up into a beehive. The hair seemed to hover above her like an exclamation point.

    I liked her immediately.
    Olivia appeared out of nowhere and Anka disappeared into nowhere. I remained pinned to the marble vestibule. “Come in, come in!” She tucked my arm into hers. “Have you eaten?”
    I hadn’t. There was no time between my shift ending and getting ready. “Yeah.”
    “Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to indulge Anka nonetheless. She’s prepared enough snacks for the Polish army.” She leaned in closer. “It’s like a litmus test. Anka’s pretty well had it with my vegan/bulimic/disordered-eating/gluten-free/lactose-intolerant friends.”
    “Can’t say I blame her.”
    “Oh, me too! What a bore, don’t you think?” Olivia squeezed my arm and pulled me through the