Top 8 Read Online Free

bit. I mean, didn’t my friends know me at all? Wouldn’t they have known that I never would have listened to Yanni, let alone buddied him?
    My eyes kept jumping back to Justin’s comments about breaking up, my status as “Single,” and the blogentry. But I didn’t want to be single! I wanted to be not broken up with my boyfriend!
    â€œOh my God,” I moaned, still trying to take in the carnage in front of me.
    The profile picture was especially bad. I had never seen it before, but it must have been taken at Brian’s last party — I recognized the overturned couches that signaled a McMahon party in full swing. My eyes were half-closed, and I was grinning stupidly at the camera while simultaneously looking like I was about to sneeze.
    It was the WORST picture of myself that I’d ever seen. And I’d certainly seen some bad ones, especially after Lisa went through her photography stage and was always trying to take “candids,” all the while yelling, “I’m not here! Just ignore me! And cheat left. And look unhappy. No, frown. Frown . Good!”
    This picture was worse than that whole series. Scrolling down so I wouldn’t have to look at it, I tried to click on my friends’ profiles to see the comments that had been made. But I kept being routed to a screen that told me these profiles were private and I couldn’t access them. Which meant I’d been defriended .
    It looked like I was still friends with Ruth, Schuyler, and Lisa (thankfully), and Connor Atkins (unfortunately). But Ruth’s was the only profile I was still Top 8-ed in. That’s when it hit me how grave this was. My friends and I took our Top 8s seriously. It had been a bigdeal when I’d moved Justin to my number one spot, and Lisa and Schuyler hadn’t spoken for a week over the fact that Schuyler once had ranked Ruth ahead of Lisa. And the day Lisa had moved Dave to her number one spot was pretty much a major turning point in their relationship.
    I tried to access Justin’s page again. He had a new profile picture, which was adorable, even though he seemed to be looking a little too far to the left. Next to the picture were the horrible words: This profile is private. To access this user’s profile, you must be one of their friends.
    But I was one of his friends! I was his girl friend! Well, I had been. I was about to message him to try and explain — my phone was still charging — when my iChat dinged with an invitation from Schuyler. And then she was on my screen, with her arms crossed, glaring at me.
    â€œShy!” I said. “Omg, I’m glad you’re online. Something really strange happened! I logged on to Friendverse, and —”
    â€œYou’re back?” she interrupted me crisply.
    â€œYes,” I said, “Just now. But I don’t —”
    â€œMeet us at Stubbs in twenty minutes,” she said, referring to the local coffee chain, and our regular hangout. Schuyler’s face was beginning to get blotchy, the way it always did when she was upset and didn’t want toshow it. We were always telling her to just go ahead and get mad, because we could all tell she was anyway, and at least that way she wouldn’t blotch. But apparently, she hadn’t taken this advice.
    â€œShy —” I started to say, but she logged out, and I was left talking to my computer.
    Schuyler had seemed mad. I could tell from her face. I scrolled down to her comments, reading how hurt she sounded. True, I had promised her that I wouldn’t tell anyone about her nose job. But I really hadn’t told that many people. Just Ruth and Lisa and maybe a few theater people and possibly a couple of others. But it was a nose job , it’s not like it wasn’t going to be obvious to everyone once they saw it.
    And it’s not like I meant to talk about people behind their backs, or that I meant anything malicious by it. Pas du