The Museum of Heartbreak Read Online Free Page B

said.
    â€œSuch as . . . ?”
    â€œMe trying to start a conversation with the coffee guy at Grey Dog who was all greasy-dirty hot, the one I had been crushing on, oh, for no less than a year, only to discover I had a booger on the outside of my nose in the middle of asking him what music was playing?”
    (I was so mortified that I ran outside, leaving my purse behind, but then Audrey found me and made me cry-laugh by insisting that boogers were in the new issue of Vogue as the fall accessory, and I decided I wouldn’t run away forever after all.)
    She flapped her hand. “No changing the subject. Think about French Club.”
    â€œI will,” I lied, mentally crossing my fingers. “But before I forget, I was going to see if you and Eph wanted to come over tomorrow for a David Lynch marathon?”
    She wrinkled her nose again. “Um, David Lynch? Please tell me you’re not talking about the guy who did that movie we watched last month, the one that gave me nightmares for four straight nights after? I hate that movie more than goatees or mashed potatoes or men wearing sandals.”
    â€œMandals,” we groaned together, before I added, “I still can’t believe you hate mashed potatoes.”
    â€œThey’re like big piles of tasteless mush. Disgusting.”
    â€œSometimes I wonder how we’re friends.”
    â€œYou know you love me,”Audrey said, giving a charming, beaming smile.
    I snorted. “I was thinking we could do a Twin Peaks Season One marathon. It’s totally the best season, and it’s only eight episodes, so if we start early, I think we can do the whole thing in one night. It’s the same director, but I swear it isn’t as terrifying. The main guy, Agent Cooper, is crazy hot, I promise,” I said, crossing my heart.
    â€œWell, as much as I like crazy-hot guys . . . ,” Audrey said.
    I started to clap. She held up her hand.
    â€œI promised Cherisse we’d go dancing tomorrow night. You should come with us!”
    The only thing less appealing than going dancing was going dancing with Cherisse. I had eight left feet—I was literally an octopus of awkward movement when it came to music—and I could only imagine how terrible it would be to try to fit in while Audrey and Cherisse whirled around, sexy and glamorous, next to me. The fact that Cherisse was willing to go dancing with Audrey was maybe the only thing I liked about her—it made me feel less guilty every time I said no. I wasn’t quite sure why Audrey kept asking.
    â€œI don’t think I can . . . ,” I started.
    Audrey’s phone dinged, and she was immediately distracted, fingers typing a fast response.
    I picked up Barnaby and ran my fingers over his soft worn ear.
    I hadn’t spoken to Keats since the first day of school, just a week ago. I had, however, spent each chemistry class since obsessively studying the rebel curl on the back of his neck, the one that went the opposite way. I always imagined twisting my finger around it, hooking him to me.
    My heart flushed.
    I had to stop.
    â€œPut your phone down,” I demanded.
    She ignored me.
    I winged Barnaby back at her so he thunked against the side of her face.
    â€œHey!” Audrey dropped her phone and rubbed her neck.
    â€œOh my God.” Before she could stop me, I sat up and pushed her hair back. The bruise on her neck was mottled red and purple, the size of a plum.
    She leaned away and slapped at my hand. “Stop it, Pen.”
    Scenes from every single teen cancer movie and book flashed through my mind. “Are you okay? Maybe you should go to the doctor. What happened?”
    â€œI think you mean who happened,” she finally said.
    â€œWhat do you . . .” I stopped, understanding settling uncomfortably over me. My insides cringed in embarrassment.
    I was probably the only sixteen-year-old in the entire Milky