Chapter 5

"So I really appreciate the ride. I don't know how I would have gotten home otherwise," Annabel said.

"Its no problem. I just have to make a couple of—"

Mallory again. "I'm going to see your house?!"

"No." Absolutely not. My fashion/model obsessed sister knowing where a model lived? No, not good.

"But we're taking her home! I'm here!"

"We're dropping you off first."

"Why?"

"Because I have to go by the station, so Mom said to bring you by the store."

"But Owen--"

She was making me mad. "No buts. Its already decided."

Mallory pouted, and said dramatically, "Its so not fair."

"Life isn't fair. Get used to it."

"R and R." Not again.

"No." I turned the Mayan chants up again. Luckily, Mallory fell silent.

Then her head appeared between mine and Annabel's, and she said to Annabel, "When you did that commercial, did you get to keep the clothes?"

Why did she care? "Mallory!"

"What?"

"Can't you just relax and enjoy the music?"

"This isn't music!" No, what isn't music is the stuff she listens to. "This is crickets and screaming." She turned to Annabel. "Owen is a total music Nazi. He won't let anyone listen to anything other than the weird stuff he plays on his radio show."

"You have a radio show?" Annabel asked me.

"It's just a local thing." I loved the radio show, but I didn't want to brag, and anyway, it wasn't a big deal. I mean, it probably wasn't a big deal to her.

"Its his life." Mallory is so dramatic. "He spends all week getting ready for it, worrying about it, even though its on when normal people aren't even up yet."

I was irritated. "I'm not playing for normal people. I'm playing for people who are—"

Mallory interrupted, and rolled her eyes. "Enlightened, we know. Me personally? I listen to 104Z." Ugh, I hope Annabel doesn't listen to that crap. "They play all the top-forty stuff, lots of good songs you can dance to. I like Bitsy Bonds. She's my favorite singer. I went to her concert last summer, with all my friends? It was so fun. Do you know her song 'Pyramid'?"

"Um, I don't know," said Annabel. So of course Mallory had to start singing it. I winced.

"Bitsy Bongs isn't a singer, Mallory. She's a product. She's fake. She has no soul; she doesn't stand for anything."

"So?" She was totally missing the point.

"So, she's more famous for her belly button than her music."

"Well, she does have a great belly button." How can I be related to her?