Also Known as Lard Butt


54 pages
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Can Rebecca turn her new stepbrother into her new love? When Rebecca's mother marries Pres's father, Rebecca is sure that living in the same house with the guy of her dreams will have its perks and it will be just a matter of time before Pres sees her as more than a kid sister. Even though her best friend, Celeste, warns her to face reality, Rebecca doesn't listen. She thinks Pres is the perfect guy for her. But Celeste's brother, Josh, has been friends with Pres for years, and Celeste thinks she knows what she's talking about. Rebecca's not so sure about her relationship with her new step-father. She knows he can't replace her real dad, but she thinks she can break through his cool surface by helping him with the school play. But things don't go as planned, and as friendships start to change, Rebecca faces surprising truths about herself and her friends. Will she find happiness in her new family and find The Perfect Guy?



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Date de parution 08 août 2015
Nombre de visites sur la page 0
EAN13 9781771454278
Langue English

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Also Known as Lard Butt By Ann Herrick
Digital ISBN EPUB 9781771454278 Kindle 9781771456456 WEB 9781771456463 Print ISBN 9781772994766 Copyright 2015 Ann Herrick Cover art by Michelle Lee All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights un der copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any mean s (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of chara cters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Dedication To anyone who has ever worried about the size of he r butt, big or small
Chapter One
"Laura! Wait up!" A buzz louder than a thousand bees trapped between a window and screen filled the school hallway. But I recognized Maria's voice and stopped so she could catch up with me. I totally needed her by my side. "Sorry I'm late!" Maria exclaimed. Her dark brown h air was shiny and softly curled under, just hitting her shoulders. With her white t op and colorful print skirt she looked fresh and, well, just about perfect. "I can't belie ve Mama gets so excited. She insisted on driving me all the way over to Gramma's so she c ould take my picture on my first day of high school." At least her mother was around to get excited. Maria's brown eyes sparkled. "This is it! The year we take risks—the year we pull out all the stops." "This is the year we vowed to speak up in class and try to sit with a group in the lunchroom," I said, hoping to get her—and me—to rel ax. I loved Maria’s enthusiasm, but I needed to calm down. Since we both finally ma de a friend in sixth grade—each other—that inspired us to try to expand our world. We wanted to put a million years between grade school and junior high school. But lo oking around the long hallway, it seemed as if everyone else in school looked older, more together, and full of confidence. Maybe it felt that way to all the new k ids, and maybe we’d all soon feel differently. I hoped so. I spotted locker number 499 and stopped. Maria, as planned last spring, was right next to me at 500. I twiddled the dial on the padlo ck on my door.Okay,begged the I junior-high-school-hallway gods.heI don't ask for much. Just let me be able to work t combination. The junior high school was so much bigger than the grade school. There were way fewer windows and the school’s navy blue color made everything seem so dark. I knew it was just a school building, but somehow it seeme d scary. "Life as we know it is going to be different!" Mari a pointed her index finger skyward. Her voice rang with exclamation points. She was bra ve when it was just the two of us. It was only in front of others that she was shy. At le ast shyness was something she might someday outgrow. I was never going to outgrow my big— "Hey." A skinny boy with red hair and a slightly cr ooked-toothed grin tapped my shoulder. "Long time, no see." Oh, no! It was Ricky Andrews. I hadn't seen him sin ce he moved away at the end of third grade. In second grade he'd tagged me with my despised nickname and ruined my entire grade-school existence. Once he'd labeled me "Lard Butt," no one remembered my real name, if they remembered me at all. I wasn't super smart or athle tic. And, despite inheriting Mom's blondish golden brown hair and blue eyes, not what you'd call pretty. Not with Dad's pudgy face and "generous" (his words) hips and thig hs. Even in second grade the name Lard Butt had fit. Disastrously.
Kids teased me every day. I learned to keep quiet, so I wouldn't be noticed. For the rest of grade school I sat in the back of the class room. I chose a table in the far corner of the lunchroom. I hid behind trees on the playgro und. Hiding helped scale down the name-calling, little by little. By fifth grade my n ickname had finally disappeared, but I had continued to play it safe. And now Ricky Andrews had to show up again on the f irst day of junior high school, the first day that I'd vowed life was going to be d ifferent. The first day that I was going to take risks. Ricky tapped my shoulder again. "How are ya, Lar—?” I punched his arm. Hard. I could barely believe I d id that! Ricky's books sailed to the floor. The bell rang. In the confusion I tugged on Maria's arm. "Let's go to homeroom." We fought our way through the blob-like mass oozing its way down the hall. "We can pick out seats together. In the front of the room. Starting today, life is going to be different!" Yes, life would be different.Ifcould figure out a way to stifle Ricky Andrews— I permanently.
"Well, this may be junior high," Maria said, as she slapped a spoonful of tater tots onto her plate. "But I see no improvement in the fo od." "Same old menu," I agreed. I slid my tray along the cold metal rack. How it stayed cold in the steamy kitchen was beyond me. As I reac hed for a bowl of brown peaches, I bumped elbows with the person ahead of me in line. "Oops, sorry," I said. Then, in the spirit of taking risks, I bravely added, "I was jus t sacrificing my body to save you from the deadly peach rot." For a second the girl gave me a charcoal-gray stare . I felt myself start to shrink. But then she smiled and said, "Thanks. And watch out fo r the lettuce in the taco salad. It's starting to rust." "Thanks for the tip." A friendly response! I re-inflated. "Hey ...." Miss Gray Eyes tilted her head to one si de. "You look familiar. Maybe we went to grade school together?" "Oh, I went to Wilson School," I said quickly. Fat chance that she'd remember me from there. Maria had been my only friend. She'd sh own up three weeks after school started when we were in sixth grade, shy as could b e. The teacher assigned me, of all people, to help Maria find her way around. "That must be where I've seen you! I went to Wilson too! I'm Halley. Halley Miller." "I ... I'm Laura Butler. And this is Maria Mora." "Hi." Maria nodded. "Hi." Halley smiled. "Hi." Me again, smiling broadly, hoping I'd found a new friend. "Well, see ya!" With a toss of her glistening light brown hair, Halley was gone. She headed for the lunchroom and a table where she was greeted with waves and smiles and a seat saved just for her. The last seat at tha t table. "I don't remember Halley from Wilson school." Maria grabbed a dish of blue gelatin. "Maybe her hair was different then or something." "Maybe," I said. Funny that I didn't recall ever se eing Halley either. But she remembered me. I'd thought I was invisible in grade school. Maybe I'd been so busy trying to hide that I wasn't paying enough attentio n to others. "Where to?" Maria gestured around the lunchroom. It had a sliver of high, narrow windows, a navy blue and white floor, and was as lo ud and full of confusion as the county fair on rides-half-price day. I looked around. The only place where there was roo m for both of us was a table that was completely empty. "Well ... if we want to bereallywe could split adventurous, up." "Uh, uh." Maria shook her head. "I'm not ready to t ake that big a risk." She paused, then added, "Besides, maybe someone will decide to sit withus." "Good thinking." We stutter-stepped our way around out-stretched legs and precariously balanced trays.