The Art of Being Emily - Katie MacAlister Page 0,11
for that, Dru, oh yes, I am.
However, having been raised in a civilized country, and not being at all a snotty, slime-toed she-devil, I smiled as nicely as I could, but the rest of the afternoon was ruined. Tash stuck to Aidan like a tick on a hairy dog, and even Devon winking at me twice, and calling me a bird (the guys here evidently have a thing about calling girls birds, which is really kind of cute, don’t you think?) didn't make up for her ruining the day.
The one good thing that happened was that Devon told Aidan he would take me home, but Aidan insisted that he do it. It was utterly fabu having two droolworthy guys fighting over who would take me home, but unfortunately Tash refused to leave Aidan, so we had to suffer her riding along with us. She beat me to the front seat, too, which just goes to show you how insecure she is. Still, she works during the day, and he'll be at Gobstoppers with me, so my life doesn't look totally hopeless.
I prolly won't be able to e-mail you for a couple of days. Brother is dragging us to the Lake District (supposed to be scenic—although scenery doesn’t thrill me, as long as there are no libraries around, I’ll be happy) for a long weekend. And then the hellish nightmare of fifth form starts on Monday, but I'll talk to you before then.
Have you tried driving yet with the cast? Who else has signed it? What about Vance? Is he back from Chicago? Has he tried to get jiggy with you yet? Inquiring minds need to know! What's happening with your Sims? Tell me, tell me, tell me! I miss you guys!
I always am, aren't I? Well, OK, there was the year I thought having my nipple pierced would be really cool, but I soon saw the error in THAT thinking.
The famed Lake District was just a bunch of green hills, water, and trees and stuff. Nothing to write home about, although I guess technically I'm doing just that. Still, I survived four days stuffed in a car with the 'rents while they drove around and oohed and aahed over the scenery. It was OK, but there weren't any castles or other cool stuff to see. Joy of joys, the stuff we shipped out before we left Seattle was here when we returned to Mansion du Ghastly. Mom is happy because now she has her own towels (I'll never understand her), Brother has his books, Bess—back from jaunting around England on her own, the brat—has her laptop, and I have the rest of my makeup, hot rollers, the big hair dryer, and of course, my Sims. Where would I be without my Sims? Brother kicked up a bit of a fuss when he saw how much room it took up on the hard drive, but I soon set him straight.
“Who told me we could bring only one computer with us?” I asked righteously.
“I wasn't about to pay the shipping and import duty on two computers—” Brother started to say, but I cut him off.
“And yet who let one of the fruits of his loins bring her laptop?”
“Your sister paid for her own laptop to be sent—”
“And who promised me that it would be just fine for all of us, minus the Favored Child, to use the same computer?”
“I simply asked you if you would leave me a little space on the computer so I can save my work. Your silly games aren't necessary to our health and happiness, but my notes and assignments are.”
I straightened up to my full height and glared up at him. Mom had made him brush out his hair horn, but he still looked goofy. “The Sims is not silly and it's not a game, Unibrow. It's a simulation of people and their families and friends and dates and neighbors. You can build a house, decorate it, and then make Sim people to live in it. It's realistic! It's all about interaction and relationships and family units and all that stuff that you Oldsters are always going on about, and everyone who is even remotely cool and has good taste loves it. If you are finished ruining the last shreds of happiness in my pitiful life, you may leave.”
Despite my shooing him away, he stood there with a really confused look on his face. “Unibrow?”