Any Red-Blooded Girl by Maggie Bloom

Author:Maggie Bloom [Bloom, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Humor, romantic comedy, beach read, Chick Lit, young adult romance, free, true love, teen romance, first love, summer romance, maggie bloom, any redblooded girl
Publisher: Maggie Bloom
Published: 2011-09-11T20:27:13+00:00

Chapter 11

THANKFULLY Mick hadn’t said a word about my girlie tears of joy, because even if he had, I would’ve been at a total loss to explain.

“Seven o’clock? Right here?” I asked, pointing at the tree in front of the Clubhouse with the wiener-eating contest sign.

Mick laughed. “Definitely. I’ll be here,” he said. “You know, your birthday’s not over yet. I still have one last surprise for you.”

“But you want to go to the dance, right?” I confirmed, just in case he planned to kidnap me for some other crazy adventure. “It might be lame, but…”

He shook his head. “It’ll be fun,” he said, sounding totally self-assured. “After all, you’ll be there. And we’ll be together. That’s all that matters.”

Longing for the thump…thump…thump of his heart, I pressed my ear to his chest. “You’re right. We’re gonna have a great time,” I declared. Then I tiptoed up for a quick peck. “But I really have to go now.” I mean, as unpredictable as my parents were acting lately, I knew they’d never let me pull a complete disappearing act on my sweet sixteen.

Mick blew me a parting kiss from under the Weiner Tree. “See you soon,” he promised. Then he stood watch until I was out of sight, which I only know because I couldn’t stop looking back at him just one last time.

Back at Tupelo-9, everyone was waiting for me. And apparently my mother had even gone to the trouble of leaving Wild Acres to fetch a birthday cake—which, I must admit, made me feel a tad guilty.

“Well, there she is!” Mr. Tightwad shouted, as I strolled into camp.

“Late as usual,” Will mumbled, obviously irritated.

Like I’d figured, my mother was still mad at me. “Happy birthday, Flora,” she said stiffly.

I took a goofy bow. “Yes, it’s true. I have returned,” I said. “Let the party begin.”

I flopped my ass down at the picnic table, put my elbows up, and cupped my chin in my hands—which I’m sure made me look like a complete dope, but that was sort of the point. I mean, at least if my parents felt sorry for sad, pathetic little Flora, maybe they’d thank God any boy would even look at me. With all my obvious defects, maybe they’d be glad I’d found Mick—or that was the plan anyway.

“Cake or presents first?” my mother asked, averting her eyes so she wouldn’t be forced to murder me. “I got marble. Your favorite.”

“I love marble!” I enthused, licking my lips in slow motion to gross Will out.

Mission accomplished. “Nice. Real nice,” my brother remarked.

My dad jimmied the flimsy plastic lid off the cake and divvied it up, offering me the first piece—a fat slice with an ornate purple flower smack dab in the middle. And as I devoured the thing in silence, something sad dawned on me: It was the first time my mother hadn’t baked me a special homemade birthday cake. I guess it was another sign I’d graduated into semi-adulthood: My parents were done catering to me.

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