My Know-It-All Nemesis - Maggie Dallen Page 0,16

In order to really fall for someone, I’d need to find that perfect balance between respect, physical attraction, and honest to goodness affection.

Sometimes that trifecta seemed like an impossible order. There was no doubt I had yet to find it, which was how I’d managed to get through three solid years of high school without a single date, a boyfriend, or even a kiss.

“…maybe you’d even have fun.”

My sister was still talking, and I jerked my head to the side to give her an apologetic look.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying, have you?”

I shook my head, and she sighed wearily. “I was saying…maybe if you just let go of the competition between you two, you’d actually enjoy your first party.”

I sniffed. “It’s not my first party.”

She eyed me evenly. “Harry Potter marathons with me and Mom don’t count.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine, it’s my first party. But I’d rather think of it as my first campaign event.”

She furrowed her brow. “Seriously? That sounds like more fun to you?”

Fun? No. But it sounded far more manageable. Sad as it might have been to announce aloud—I didn’t do fun. I didn’t know how. I’d spent my entire life working toward one goal—college. Ivy Leagues. Now, it was so close I could taste it…

And then?

I shook off the wayward thought.

And then I’d be happy, obviously. I’d have the future and the life I’d always wanted. I took a deep breath, feeling far more certain now that my eye was once more on the prize.

Daphne, on the other hand… “I just think that this is the time for you to be having fun. Figuring things out.” She shrugged. “Making bad choices.”

I gaped at her. “What kind of older sister are you? Are you seriously promoting bad choices?”

She laughed as she tossed a pillow at her screen. “No, goody-two-shoes. Of course not. I just mean…” She trailed off with a sigh, and I got the unpleasant feeling that I’d disappointed her by not understanding what she was trying to say.

I looked down at the costume in question. “What do you think I should wear?”

“It’s not up to me, I just think you should take a minute and think this through. This is your first party, Kate—” She cut herself off with a roll of her eyes. “Sorry, your first campaign event, which makes it an ideal time to…” She waved a hand as she searched for the words she wanted. “Reinvent yourself.”

I scowled over at her. “I like the way I dress. I’ve worked hard to get good at sewing, and I’m proud of the clothes I make—”

“And you should be,” Daphne said quickly. “But Halloween is a time to show the world a different side of ourselves, you know?” She shrugged. “It’s a time when you can try out a new look, or a new image—try being a different you for the night.”

I frowned at her, inexplicably hurt by her words. “I like who I am.”

“And you should,” Daphne said with so much sincerity it made me want to cry. “You are the best. I just…I just want everyone to see you the way I do.” Daphne sat up straighter. “I want them to see the real you, not just the ambitious, always-smiling teenager they’re used to. I want them to see how strong you are—how strong you’ve always been. There’s so much to you, Kate. So much more than what the kids in your school see…more than what you let them see.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the intensity draining from her voice. “You know?”

I couldn’t speak right away, my throat felt oddly tight. I did know what she meant, and I didn’t, all at the same time. Sure, there were times when I felt like I’d painted myself into a corner. I’d become so good at being the Kate that everyone knew and could rely on that I sometimes didn’t even recognize myself. Sometimes I saw myself through other peoples’ eyes, and I just saw a caricature of myself. The image I’d created. Everybody’s pal, but nobody’s best friend, nobody’s girlfriend. The girl who got it done, but who’d never had time to do something stupidly ordinary…like go to a party.

I glanced down at my silly, childish poodle skirt—the one that screamed Gidget, or goody-two-shoes, or Brainiac Barbie, or whatever else it was that people saw when they looked at me.

Something in me rebelled at the thought of changing that. I’d worked long and