Envy - 2 by Robin Wasserman

Author:Robin Wasserman [Wasserman, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Fiction, Interpersonal Relations, General, Social Issues, Friendship, Man-Woman Relationships, Horror & Ghost Stories, Schools, Love & Romance, Family & Relationships, Dating & Sex, High Schools, Dating (Social Customs), Conduct of Life, Jealousy, Sex, Envy
ISBN: 9780689877834
Google: dfx6bGOvnv4C
Amazon: 0689877838
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2006-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

“Come on, show us your stuff, Incredible Hulk style!” he cal ed. “Three throws for a dol ar—I dare you.”

“Randa, he’s talking to you,” Stacy pointed out, eyes wide. As if she hadn’t noticed.

“Forget it, Stacy. We’re leaving.”

“But—”

“What are you, scared? Where are you hiding your wings, chicken?” When he started clucking, that was it. Enough was enough. Miranda heaved a huge sigh and turned her sister back around.

“Come on, Stacy, it’s time to dunk a dunce.”

The annoying barker—a tal , skinny teen with glasses and a striped T-shirt that made him look like a live action Where’s Waldo—grinned and col ected their money, then scrambled up onto a wooden bench that hovered precariously over the tank of water. He waved cheerful y.

“Worried?” Miranda asked as her sister readied herself to take a throw at the bul ’s-eye target.

“Nah—how about you?” He snickered. “You’re looking a little green in the gil s there.”

As the loser cackled to himself, Miranda leaned down to Stacy and encouraged her.

“Throw hard, sweetie—as hard as you can.”

Bal one.

Miss!

“Nice try, ladies. I’m shaking in my moccasins.”

Moccasins. She should have figured. This guy had loser written al over him.

Bal two.

Miss!

“One more shot—but you’re winners either way.”

“You’l give her a prize even if she doesn’t hit the target?” Miranda asked, pleasantly surprised.

“No, of course not—but don’t you feel like you’ve won just by meeting me?”

“Won what?”

“The game of life, of course.”

“Only if you’re the booby prize,” Miranda muttered. She grabbed the last bal from Stacy’s hands. “Let me take this one, Stace.” Bal three.

Crack!

Splash!

Miranda and Stacy burst into uncontrol able laughter as the annoying loser flailed wildly in the shal ow water, final y popping up for air.

“You think that’s funny, do you?”

“Hilarious,” Miranda agreed.

“Wel , just remember you said that.”

Before Miranda could figure out what he was talking about, he climbed out, soaking wet, and slammed his palm into a bright red panel by the tank.

“Better hold your nose,” he suggested cheerful y.

Too late.

A bucket overturned over Miranda’s head, unleashing a flood of icy water.

“What the hel !” she screamed, looking down at herself, post-tidal wave. Her clothes were soaked and sticking to her body, marred by a few light green streaks—apparently her hair was stil water soluble.

“Language, language,” water boy cautioned her with a smirk, pointing toward Stacy. “There are children here, you know.” He grabbed a giant stuffed bear off the rack and handed it to the girl.

“Here you go, sweetie. Good job.” He turned to Miranda. “And you.”

“I get a prize too?” she asked, holding her arms out from her sides in a pathetic attempt to air dry. “I think you’ve already given me enough.”

“You get the best prize of al .” He scrawled something on a piece of paper and handed it to her.

She uncrumpled it and looked uncomprehendingly at what he’d written: “Greg—555-6733.”

“My phone number,” he explained, a bright red blush spreading across his face and out to the tips of his oversize ears.

“Wha—?”

“I think your hair’s cute,” he spit out, eyes darting away in embarrassment.

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