Stage Fright by Meg Cabot

Author:Meg Cabot [Meg Cabot]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780545229876
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

RULE #9

Best Friends Rescue Each Other When Someone’s Evil Sister Has Them Tragged

Cheyenne and her mom were looking down at a glass case of jewelry just like the one I was standing next to.

Only Cheyenne hadn’t noticed me yet, since all of her attention was on the earrings she was looking at. I shrank behind a spinning rack of jewelry on top of the case beside me, so she hopefully wouldn’t see me. I just didn’t really feel like talking to Cheyenne right then. I mean, I didn’t feel like talking to her when I was in school. Why would I feel like talking to Cheyenne outside of school?

“Those earrings are a hundred dollars, Cheyenne,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “That’s too expensive.”

“I don’t care,” Cheyenne said in a rude voice—the kind of voice that, if I’d ever used it with my mom, would have gotten me sent to my room. With no dessert. “They’re really cute. And they’ll be perfect with my purple top.”

“But you have a pair just like them,” Mrs. O’Malley said.

“Yeah,” Cheyenne said. “But I lost them. Remember?”

“Oh, Cheyenne.” Mrs. O’Malley let out a sigh. “Why can’t you learn to be more responsible?”

Cheyenne got a look on her face that I recognized. It was her Now I’m going to start crying look. I wondered if she was thinking about the Jonas Brothers concert her mom had failed to get tickets for.

“Mo-o-om,” she practically yelled. A couple of people shopping nearby looked over. I hoped they didn’t wonder why I was crouching behind a jewelry stand. I pretended to be really, really interested in a pair of earrings shaped like violins, even though I don’t have pierced ears. Or play the violin.

“Shut up! You couldn’t even get the part of Princess Penelope for me!” Cheyenne yelled at her mom. “The least you can do is get me these!”

I couldn’t believe Cheyenne had said shut up to her mom. If I had ever said that to my mom—or tried yelling at her like that—well, I wouldn’t get what I wanted. That was for sure.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Cheyenne,” Mrs. O’Malley said. She signaled to a saleslady, who came right over. “Could we look at these, please?” Mrs. O’Malley asked, pointing at the earrings Cheyenne wanted (that cost a hundred dollars) from inside the display case.

“We’ll take them,” Cheyenne said before the saleslady even had a chance to get them out.

“Cheyenne,” her mother said. But she was laughing, like, Isn’t she adorable?, not using her You’re-going-to-get-it-if-you-don’t-use-a-different-tone-with-me-young-lady voice the way my mother would have if I’d been as bossy with her as Cheyenne was being.

“Here you are,” the saleslady said, and she laid the pair of purple sparkling earrings down on the counter in front of Cheyenne. “They’re genuine amethysts.”

No way! Cheyenne was getting a new pair of hundred-dollar genuine amethyst earrings, and it wasn’t even her birthday or Christmas? Just because she’d looked like she was going to cry when her mother had said no?

If I had ever tried something like that, my mother would have made me go sit in the car.

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