I wait a few days. But nothing changes. Max says nothing. Soon it's Saturday and I just can't stand it anymore.
"Where is it, where is it…?" I'm muttering to myself, digging through my backpack, trying to scrounge up the scrap paper Max scrawled his phone number on during science class. "Wutcha lookin for?" My sister's bubblegum-pop voice chimes. "Nothing." I growl, not bothering to turn around and look at her.
"Have you lost something?" Kendra sounds sweet and innocent. It's the voice she uses for her friends and adults – not for the people she treats like scum. Something's up.
I turn around and my eyebrows shoot to my hairline. Seriously. I know that expression is over-used, but if you were to see what Kendra is wearing – well, your eyebrows would do that too.
"Um," I begin unsurely. Kendra just bats her eyes lashes – her ultra-long, super-sleek, extra-coated with back mascara eyelashes. "Since when…um…do you own that outfit?" I choke out.
First of all, Kendra's face is plastered with her usual makeup. Eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, lipgloss, and even a little blush. But that's normal for her. Me? I'm not much of a makeup person. Seriously, chapstick is my best. It's a great embarrassment for Kendra. But anyway.
It's Kendra's choice of clothing that has my eyes more or less popping out of my head. She has on a super-tiny mini skirt. Not just a normal mine skirt but even…minier. It's silver and shiny. Kendra's worn minis before, but not one this short – and usually she has leggings on underneath.
Then there's her top. It's strapless and tight and a blood-red colour. Kendra's hair hangs just past her shoulders, blond and blow-dried. Her gray eyes sparkle and she gives a tinkly laugh. "Forever!" she parades to our front door and slips her feet into platform strap-up sandals. You'd think it was July.
"Um…Kenny?" I attempt. Everyone calls Kennedy 'Ken' – and Kendra 'Kenny'. That's just how it works. "What?" she makes her 't' pop somehow. "Where are you going? I'm in charge of you, you know…" When Mom's at work, I'm responsible. And, Mom works everyday except Sunday. "Just out." Kendra answers, blowing a kiss and closing the door behind her. I roll my eyes. When she's around I feel like I'm trapped inside the movie Mean Girls.
My hand hits a piece of paper suddenly. I look at it, and Max's number is scribbled down on it. I smile and pick up the phone.
------ Sorry, dinner! -----------