True Colors Read Online Free

started to say something to him, but he walked right past her… to me.
    â€œLandry, are you going to be on American Ingénue ?” he asked. I wanted to change the subject, so I said Mrs. Kharrazi wanted to enter one of my essays into a writing contest.
    â€œWow, good luck,” he said and ran off to join the soccer game.
    â€œI didn’t know you were entering a writing contest,” Tori said.
    â€œYeah, Mrs. Kharrazi said my story is one of the best she’s seen in a long time,” I said.
    â€œWell, I’ll have to ask you for help next time I have to write something for class since you’re such an expert,” Ericka said, rolling her eyes. The bell rang for us to go in, and Ericka linked her arm through Tori’s as they hurried inside. I had to run to keep up.
    ****
    I tried calling my dad at work when I got home to tell him about the writing contest. I had called him yesterday about the competition, and he said I got my good looks from his side of the family. He thought I had a good chance of getting chosen, but the only thing I’ve ever won was a pillowcase at a carnival and it always smelled like horse poo no matter how many times I washed it. I didn’t get to see my dad a lot because he still lived in our old apartment in Chicago. Mom and I moved to Grand Rapids when she got a promotion last year. My dad was supposed to move, too, but the hospital he was planning on working at had some budget thing happen and they couldn’t hire him after all, so he stayed to work at the medical clinic.
    I kept hoping he’d move here to live with us, but my mom never talked about it when I asked. I tried talking to my dad about it, but he always said the same thing, “Go ask your mother.” They’re not separated or anything, but I was always worried one day they were going to tell me they were getting divorced. My dad wasn’t at the clinic, so I left him a message saying I’d e-mail the story to him.
    ****
    The next day Tori came out of Mrs. Kharrazi’s room while I was waiting to go to my next class. I smiled at her, and she raised her eyebrows at me and said Mrs. Kharrazi had gone on and on talking about my short story. Ericka walked over and interrupted her.
    â€œOh look, it’s the supermodel,” Ericka said rolling her eyes. “Or are you a model and an author now?”
    I couldn’t respond because Mrs. Lacey started yelling at us “to move along,” like we were cows or something. My stomach felt all twisted up as I sat down and somebody passed me a worksheet, but I couldn’t concentrate. I just stared at it until the lunch bell rang. I tried to catch Tori’s eye in the cafeteria so I could take cuts in line, but she never looked my way. I kept praying everything would be okay by the time I sat down to eat because I would die if they stopped talking to me.
    By the time I got to the lunch counter they were out of pizza, and they only had oatmeal cookies left for dessert. What a choice: cream of broccoli soup or leftover steak sandwiches… yum. Tori and Ericka stopped talking as soon as I got to our table. I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach and acted like everything was fine, but I felt like puking. Ericka looked at my steak sandwich and said, “Ew,” but other than her gagging, neither one spoke to me. The bread started sticking in my throat, and I realized I forgot to get a bottle of juice. They got up to leave and I wasn’t finished eating, but I threw my tray out and followed them outside. Ericka ran over to Hana Ito and started talking about her “cute” jacket. Hana’s had it for two years, but I knew it was just a slam on me and I tried to smile.
    â€œLandry, your jacket is cute,” Hana said.
    â€œThanks, it’s Franciszka T,” I said.
    â€œBeing a supermodel, I guess you know all the designers now,” Ericka said.
    A soccer ball came flying at us, and