Marianne Elizabeth Hammer (top young adult novels TXT) 📖

He raised his eyebrows at her and nodded. “Yeah, it’s great.” Stepping forward, he sat down on the bench a few feet away from her.

Seconds passed. “Do they let you borrow books?” asked Marianne, trying harder to get the conversation going despite his obvious lack of interest. “I heard that a lot of places let employees do that.”

He nodded and crossed his legs. The other guys were just staring off in different directions, ignoring her only a tiny bit more than Ben was.

“What kind of books do you borrow?” She was practically interrogating him. Nice.

Ben turned toward her slightly. “A little of everything,” he said. “What do you read?”

He looked almost interested; maybe she’d be able to get through the next few minutes without totally tanking after all. “Oh, you know... Baby-Sitters Club, Goosebumps—the classics,” she joked.

He didn’t speak, just opened his mouth a little.

Had she sounded serious? Her voice was a bit quiet, and she was fidgeting all over the place. Marianne tucked her hair behind her ear. “Not really. I was just kidding.”

Ben looked confused.

“I don’t really read Goosebumps,” she said slowly. She let out a breath and glanced around for inspiration. “Uh... Sally made me start this Hemingway book a few weeks ago, but I had to quit before too long. It was like slowly having my fingernails ripped out.” Kinda like this conversation.

The return of Sally saved Ben from having to respond, and he got up quickly when he saw her coming. Poor guy. Ben was a kind person, and yet, somehow, Marianne always managed to provoke that same confused, slightly frightened reaction from him whenever she spoke. And the harder she tried to be likable, the scarier she seemed to get.

Sally walked up to her and touched her shoulder. “Are we staying?”

Pleading silently, Marianne shook her head.

Sally turned to the guys. “We’re off, I guess. Marianne is too nice to let me get in trouble for being home late.”

They all said goodbye, and Marianne and Sally walked to the exit. As they passed through the turnstiles, Sally turned to her and winked. “I think Ben likes you.”

“So help me, Sally...”

Sally linked her arm into Marianne’s and hung on her. “Okay, fine,” she sighed. “Now is not the time, I see that now. I’ll leave you alone about Ben.”

Marianne peeked sideways at her. “Thanks for keeping watch for me tonight; rescuing me from Alvin, you know…”

“You can pay me back by wearing your new dress to Bats Day.”

“No way.” Marianne pulled her arm out of Sally’s. “That’s nowhere near an even trade.”

“Please,” whined Sally. “I already did my half of the deal.”

“That’s not fair.”

Sally shook her lovely head back and forth. “You’re wearing it, irregardless.”

“Regardless,” said Marianne.

“Oh, thank you!” Sally skipped forward and spun around in glee.

“I wasn’t agreeing. I was correcting,” said Marianne. “Irregardless isn’t a word.”

“Regardless—you’re wearing it.” Sally beamed at her.

2

Beauty & the Jackass

The next day, Marianne sat alone in her room dying of boredom. Everything was lame today—her stupid room that hadn’t changed since she was two, her 1950s one-story house that was in serious need of a paint job, her suburban street with its cracked sidewalks and weed-ridden lawns. Even the sky outside the windows was boring—no clouds, just an endless haze. She was finally free from her zombie jerk boyfriend; why wasn’t she walking on air?

She walked over to the radio and put on the Bauhaus album she’d borrowed from Alvin last week. Might as well get a bit of musical education before giving it back. She laid down flat on her forest green carpet and stared up at the ceiling fan.

The music was bad. She wanted to kill herself halfway through the first song, but that was the point, right? As Marianne understood it, music had to meet only two criteria to be considered Goth. It had to be depressing; and it had to sound awful enough that no one else would buy it.

Just then, Mom opened her door and stuck her head in. “What are you doing? You look like a weirdo.”

Marianne sighed. “I feel like a weirdo.”

“Now you sound like a weirdo, too.”

“Yeah, but you raised me.” Marianne lifted her head slightly. “Doesn’t that make you the weirdo?”

Mom thought for a second. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“Fine.” Marianne let her head drop back down onto the carpet. “I’m the weirdo. Just me. Fine.”

Mom snorted. “Oh, lovely. Teen angst. Did you pick that up last year at school? I told your dad we should have kept you home.”

“Should have listened,” mumbled Marianne. She was homeschooled from third grade, all the way till junior year. Quarantine from diseases of just this sort. “Now I suffer from angst, in addition to social ineptitude.”

“Sorry, honey, but your people skills have nothing to do with homeschooling,” said Mom. “You were born with your foot in your mouth. Truly.”

“Hilarious, Mother.”

“Geez, Marianne,” huffed Mom. “I’m just joking. I mean, if you want to call me an annoying cow, just do it. Might make you feel better.”

Marianne gave her an exasperated look. As if she’d ever call Mom that. As if Mom would actually put up with it.

“Man, you’re cranky,” said Mom, rolling her eyes. “I’m going to the auto shop for new tires. See ya, kid.”

“Bye. Sorry.”

“Bye, hon.”

Mom closed the door, and Marianne decided that now was as good a time as any to try on the Elvira dress from Sally. Lethargic fights with your mother could make you do remarkable things.

She pulled the black dress out of her bag and searched for the price tag so she could remove it. But there was no price tag—only zigzag stay stitching and slightly crooked hems. Marianne’s hands froze when she realized that Sally had handmade the dress. Well… this definitely put Marianne’s behavior last night in a different light. It had quite the bitchy glow. She unzipped the dress and kicked off her shoes with much more enthusiasm to try it on than she’d had before. Guilt—enthusiasm—same thing. She