Seeing Cinderella Read Online Free Page B

hearing how wonderful Tara is. And why won’t Mom and Dad let me get a guitar? It’s not like I’m going to start a punk band or something.
    What? Those couldn’t be Ellen’s thoughts. I took my glasses off and banged them against the chair in front of me, like a flashlight with dying batteries. But when I put them back on and the screen appeared by Ellen, her thoughts were the same. I took my glasses off again and polished them with my T-shirt.
    Just then I noticed a boy sitting a couple of rows ahead of me. His shaggy brown hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. My mouth dropped open and my heart started doing jumping jacks. Scott Fowler was in my drama class! I watched as he spoke to the boy next to him—who, I realized with a sinking feeling, was Charlie Ferris.
    Last year, Scott Fowler was the cutest boy in the sixth grade. And I would know. I spent large chunks of classroom time staring at him and his ponytail. Ellen said his ponytail made him look scruffy and unhygienic, but I thought helooked mysterious, especially with his usual smirk, like he knew something no one else did.
    When we studied poetry last spring, Scott wrote the most romantic haiku I’d ever heard. I even copied them into my journal, which Ellen thought was lame. “It’s not like he wrote them for you, specifically,” she’d said. But I didn’t care. In the stories I wrote about Scott, I pretended he did write them for me—right before he confessed his undying love.
    Just then Scott looked over. Our eyes met and my face flamed up like I’d crunched a gazillion Red Hots. As I quickly slipped my glasses back on, my thoughts were clear. Last year, I would’ve given anything to know what Scott thought of me. And right now, I could find out. I held my breath as the air waved and shimmered and the screen appeared next to him: Dude, those glasses are epic ugly. Wait, isn’t that Polka Dot? Ellen Martin’s best friend? What was her name . . . Carrie, maybe? The one who never talked.
    Scott gave Charlie a nudge and pointed at me. A screen launched up next to Charlie as he turned: Hey, it’s Polka Dot! I knew I saw her in Spanish class!
    I looked away and sniffed, causing Ana to ask, “Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine,” I mumbled.
    But really, I wasn’t sure what I should feel more upset about:
     
1. That Scott thought my glasses were “epic ugly.”
2. That Scott remembered “Polka Dot,” but thought my real name was “Carrie.”
3. That Ellen hadn’t looked around to find me, not even once. Now that she’d found Stacy the Golden Girl, it was like she’d forgotten about me completely.

Chapter 4

    Super Freaky Glasses Rule # 3
    Most people tell little white lies. Don’t get offended. You do the same thing.
    W HEN THE BELL RANG, STUDENTS BURST FROM CLASS LIKE soda from a punctured can. I hung back and waited for Ellen, who was talking to Stacy.
    “Callie, there you are,” Ellen said, like she’d been looking for me.
    “I was sitting behind you the whole time.”
    “I didn’t see you. I figured you were late. Like usual.”
    Then why didn’t you save me a seat ? I wanted to ask but didn’t. Instead I said, “I looked for you in the cafeteria.” My stomach rumbled then, reminding me that when I couldn’t find Ellen, I decided to skip lunch. SoI’d fled the crowded cafeteria and hid out in the library till the bell rang.
    “I looked for you, too,” Ellen said. But then the air shimmered and the screen appeared. Inside I saw an image of Ellen and Stacy laughing and eating sandwiches in the cafeteria. I blinked, confused. What did it mean when the screen showed images, instead of words? Did it mean Ellen and Stacy ate lunch together? Was I seeing one of Ellen’s memories?
    Ellen introduced me to Stacy—Wanamaker—and explained they had four classes together, drama making it five. Then she turned to Stacy. “And this is Callie Anderson.”
    “I’m Ellen’s best friend,” I added quickly.
    Stacy’s grin