All That Glitters Is Not Gucci by Compai

Author:Compai [MAUDE, RACHEL]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV006000
ISBN: 9780316072359
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2010-05-26T04:00:00+00:00

The Girl: Melissa Moon

The Getup: Current/Elliot Love Destroyed boyfriend jeans, white Splendid V-neck t-shirt, black lace La Perla push-up bra, white gold Rolex, pink Uggs, Glow by JLO perfume

“What are you doing over there, baby?” Marco Duvall called from across Melissa Moon’s high-ceilinged birdcage-shaped bedroom. It was halftime, and Marco had finally turned away from the Lakers versus Celtics game to find his girlfriend still hunched over her gold-trimmed princess desk, poring over a stack of documents.

“Lissa!” Marco repeated, chucking a frilly, corn dog–shaped pillow at his annoyingly studious girlfriend.

It hit her square in the ponytailed head—he had great aim—and landed at her pink Ugg-clad feet, causing Emilio Poochie, the toy Pomeranian who’d been slumbering there, to leap up, clearly annoyed. And E-Poo wasn’t the only one.

“Marco! Can you not see that I am working?”

“Okay, okay, chill,” mumbled Marco, from his nest on the overstuffed bed. “I just thought we were gonna watch the game together.”

“Well, the game is on, and we’re together.”

“Yeah, baby, whatever you say,” answered Marco, stretching so his Winston Falcons jersey lifted to reveal his flawless, b-ball-toned abs. Melissa didn’t even look his way. Damn. He couldn’t stretch forever. He tried a different tack.

“I’m starving. You want to take a break and make me some of Melissa’s famous mac ’n’ cheese?”

“No, Marco, I do not,” Melissa snipped. “I have a lot of homework and I really don’t have time to take a break.”

“A’ight,” shrugged Marco. “It’s cool. I’ll just starve.” He eyed Melissa for a response—anything—but her espresso brown eyes remained trained to the pages in front of her and showed no signs of budging.

“You can’t take one day off?” Marco whined.

“Nope,” Melissa snapped back. “Not unless it’s Christmas, New Year’s, or Usher’s birthday.”

Marco gave up and headed downstairs to fashion some sort of crude snack himself. He was perpetually starving; Marco ate every hour, and he could kill a quart of milk in a single sitting, but he never gained a pound.

Melissa pushed her pound cake–colored Chanel reading glasses up the bridge of her smooth straight nose and reread the page in front of her for the gazillionth time. Nikki Pellegrini had done her research. She had found out every possible detail about the founder of Schizo Montana. From his name (Ariel Berkowitz), to his shoe size (7), to his Bar Mitzvah venue (the FOX lot), Nikki had left nothing out.

So why wasn’t she satisfied?

She opened her MacAir and clicked on SchizoMontana.com, which she’d added to her favorites yesterday for easy viewing. More like least favorites. There he was on the home page, that Ariel Berkowitz punk, grinning this dopey smug smile from beneath his lame ironic mullet. His multicolored fluorescent clothing was garish against his pale, scrawny body, and black-rimmed geek glasses framed his eyes.

Melissa clicked on the “About Schizo Montana” link, even though she’d read it so many times she could recite it by heart:

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