The Dirt Diary Read Online Free

Dressed, a consignment shop on Main Street. I’m not really a big shopper, especially when it comes to digging through used clothes, but Marisol always makes it fun.
    “What do you think?” she asks when we’re trying stuff on.
    I poke my head through the dressing-room curtain and watch her twirl in a ’50s-style dress the color of Pepto-Bismol. “Um…” I try to think of something tactful to say. “It’s bright.”
    Marisol laughs, her dark curls bouncing. “I know it’s kind of hideous right now, but it has potential.”
    In the two years we’ve been friends, I’ve learned to trust Marisol’s fashion sense. On anyone else, her retro garb would look like a costume, but Marisol always manages to pull it off. She claims all it takes is confidence, but I don’t think it hurts that she’s also gorgeous.
    “Let’s see yours,” she says.
    I come out wearing a short cotton dress Marisol picked out for me, tugging it down to make sure it covers my butt. The bright yellow color makes me think of sunlight and buttercups and all sorts of other happy things.
    She gasps. “It looks amazing on you!”
    I sweep my hair over my forehead to cover my widow’s peak—definitely my least-favorite feature—and then glance in the mirror. I have to admit that the dress does look pretty good on me. My normally stick-straight body actually seems to have a little bit of shape to it.
    Suddenly, I can picture myself wearing this dress as I pass by Steve Mueller’s locker. I can imagine his eyes lighting up when he sees me, just like something out of a teen makeover movie. Of course, more likely, I’d trip over my own feet right in front of him and give him a big flash of my underwear.
    “You have to get it!” Marisol says, jumping up and down.
    I glance at the price tag. It’s only ten dollars, but I know I can’t spend a single penny, not when I only have twenty-eight days to save up almost three hundred dollars. And Mom would kill me if she saw me wearing a new dress when all she does is worry about money these days.
    Besides, this dress would make people notice me. It’s one thing to wish Steve Mueller would give me a second glance, but it’s another to have Briana Riley look me over and say something snide like: “Who are you trying to impress? Another fake boyfriend?” That’s the last thing I need right now.
    “Nah,” I say finally. “I think I’ll hold off.”
    “What? But it’s perfect on you!”
    “It’s…it’s ripped.” I point to a tiny hole in one of the seams.
    “That’s easy to fix!” Marisol gives me a long look, and then her face softens like she suddenly understands why I’m making excuses. Sometimes it really seems like she can read my mind. “Oh well,” she says before ducking back through the flimsy curtain. “So your mom really didn’t know you guys were going to Caitlin’s house?”
    “She swears she didn’t,” I answer, glad for the change of topic. “Caitlin’s mom has a different last name than she does, and I guess Mom thought her daughter was a lot younger than us. Still, can you believe that I have to deal with Briana and Caitlin every week?”
    I pull off the yellow dress and put it back on the hanger, trying to ignore the disappointment poking at my ribs. Maybe one day I’ll come back to get the dress, if it’s still here.
    “I can’t believe Briana brought the Troy thing up again,” says Marisol. “You’d think she’d finally move on.”
    “If she moves on, it’ll only be because I’ve given her something else to make fun of me about.”
    Who knows why I ever thought inventing a fake boyfriend was a good idea. The plan was for Marisol to send me a couple texts from Fake Boyfriend Troy so we could ooh and ahh over them when Steve Mueller was nearby. If he saw that another guy was interested in me, maybe he’d notice me too. Well, Steve didn’t notice anything, but because we made such a big deal about those two text messages, Briana and Caitlin