Читать книгу Life After Theft - Aprilynne Pike - Страница 13

“WAKE UP, LAZY ASS!” KIMBERLEE shouted at about two-hours-before-rational-time o’clock the next morning. “It’s Harrison Hill day!”

“Sure,” I said, grabbing a pillow and dropping it on top of my head. “And in case you didn’t hear right, I’m going at ten o’clock p.m.”

“Duh. We have to go shopping now and get you something decent to wear.”

That cheered me up like a kick to the head. “Shopping? Uh, no.”

“Dude, I’ve seen what’s in your closet. Old tees and faded jeans. And Converse? Please!”

“Vintage,” I corrected her, defending my eclectic collection of shirts I’d very carefully selected from some of Phoenix’s finest thrift stores.

“Whatever. Not good enough for Harrison Hill. When you go to a school with uniforms, you make the most of any chance to actually show off your taste. This party will be a full-on fashion show and your clothes will totes stick out. And not in the good way.”

“I never stood out in Phoenix,” I grumbled, smooshing my face back into the pillow.

“This is not Phoenix.”

I mumbled something incoherent into my pillow.

She sat down on the bed, almost touching me, and I cringed. “This is your first chance to make a real impression on the social scene. You want to do it right.”