The Pages Between Us Read Online Free Page B

nails done and eyebrows waxed.”
    Waxed?! Does she think I am her forty-year-old coworker? I’m a KID.
    But she looked excited so I painfully eked out a smile. I didn’t know how to tell her that all I wanted to do was eat orange sorbet at Rite-Aid and go buy some sturdy slacks at the outlet mall. Mom doesn’t seem to understand that I grow out of pants approximately twenty minutes after I buy them.
    And then came the avalanche of questions. How are you? Are you liking your new school now that you’ve been there a while? Have you found any nice people to eat lunch with? Do you need more school supplies? Skirts? Are you happy?
    You know Mom. She practically has a PhD in prying. OK, fine, maybe not prying. More like EXTREME INTEREST.
    I just wish she’d ask me these things when we weren’t in public. And when I wanted to share my feelings. And when there was dimmer lighting. Seriously, who opens up near fluorescent lights?
    At that moment though, I really did want to tell Mom everything . . . that middle school isn’t what I thought it would be. That fifty-two minutes a day is well, well below my Recommended Daily Allowance of Piper Time and I’d have scurvy if you were Vitamin C.
    But instead, I clammed up. There was so much to say that I couldn’t say anything at all. I shrugged my shoulders and said softly, “Fine. It’s fine.” Then I put an extra pat of butter on my bread.
    I think Mom could sense something was wrong. My “fine” was not fine enough.
    She slung her purse over her shoulder and stood up. “I know what to do.”
    She paid the check and led me down the sidewalk to the Happy Hearts bookstore.
    She scanned up and down the aisles as if she were on an important mission. And it looked like she knew this store well.
    â€œCarolineGrace!” The store clerk knew her name. (Herdouble name, because every Southern girl in Mom’s family has two names jammed together. If you call me OliviaRose, I will write you out of my will, Piper.)
    Mom told the clerk she needed something for “her daughter’s emotional growth.” Which was, of course, humiliating. They went on a hunt up and down the aisles until they spotted their treasure.
    â€œAha! Here it is. Some help for you.” Mom placed a book in my hand. I looked at the title and shuddered. It was called A Girl’s Guide to Happiness through Southern Charm!! And there was a double exclamation mark, as if it were written by a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader.
    I . . . well, you know me Piper. I faked it. Put on a sweet smile, thanked her, and later threw it under my bed, as far back as it could go.
    The book kind of haunts me at night. Am I really the kind of girl who needs advice from a self-help book? One that uses “y’all” too much?
    Anyway, my mom did get excited about shopping, and I’m now the proud owner of three new A-line skirts. They’re pretty cute, actually.
    Okay, gotta go. I need to work on my plan for lunch today. I’m thinking about asking the counselor if she needs help filing papers. Or maybe I could help her put up inspirationalposters on the wall. Like the one that says COURAGE! and there’s a photo of a girl in an A-line skirt chatting up a group of lovely people.
    And in case you didn’t notice, yesterday I wore red because I was feeling spunky. Today it’s yellow—the color I wear when I overthink things.
    Forever at your side,
    Olivia
    Grateful for:
    1. Famous cats who play chess
    2. Pats of butter
    3. The perfect side view I get of Jackson’s head every day starting at 10:47
    4. Your problem-solving skills (you will find a way to keep me from spending every lunch period in the counselor’s office—I know you will)
    5. A mom who tries

Chapter 6
Olivia,
    Your mom took you to a place called the Tea Room? I’ve never even had tea. It looks so gross. You stick a bunch of crushed-up leaves in a little packet and call