My Life as the Ugly Stepsister (19 page)

“Or we could hack her profile on the single’s sites to make her sound horrid.”

“I vote for all three,” he said.

“We’ll do whatever is necessary,” I agreed.

The clipboard guy appeared in the hall and looked around. “Have you seen Kristi?” he asked us. “Short? Blonde?”

We shook our heads.

Another guy came out in green t-shirt that said chaperone. “Find her?”

“No.” He tapped the pen against the clipboard.

“I bet she’s on the stage again making out with her boyfriend.”

The clipboard guy stopped tapping. “She’d better not be,” he said. “And next time find a more discreet way to tell me.” He angled his head at us.

“Sorry,” chaperone guy said and followed him down the hall and through a door.

“Phil’s the youth minister,” Jonathan said. “He’s an okay guy, but these lock-ins always make him uptight.”

“Why does he do it, then?”

“To give teens a safe place they can go to stay out of trouble. Didn’t you read the brochure?” His brown eyes lit with his smile.

“Must have missed it,” I said.

The short, blonde appeared suddenly from the door the others had entered. She stomped down to the middle of the hall and took up her post. Then she scowled at us. “Don’t you two have somewhere to be?”

Yikes.

“Let’s see if they’ve started the movies yet,” Jonathan suggested.

We went into the third room on the left, which happened to be a nursery with a pretty nice TV. Another green-shirted chaperone was getting the DVD player set up. A few teens had trickled in.

“Let’s grab a good spot,” Jonathan said. “Did you bring a sleeping bag?”

“It’s in the hall.”

“Good let’s grab those and take a spot against the wall.”

I located my bag and turned to find him holding a Bob the Builder sleeping bag. I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

He just gave me that crooked smile and raised a brow. “Are you finished yet?”

“No,” I said, sucking in some air. The sight of this rugged, athletic guy standing there holding a preschooler’s sleeping bag…

“I borrowed Ben’s.”

“I see that.” I finally calmed down enough to follow him back to the room. I could never pull off a sleeping bag like that. I’d have been humiliated. Jonathan had way more self-confidence than I did.

He got a couple of laughs and remarks as we went to the back wall of the nursery next to two cribs. Jonathan just smiled and said, “You can borrow it next time if you want.”

I realized Caroline could have done the same thing. She could bring any embarrassing sleeping bag and pull it off. You just had to have the guts. If only they sold them at the mall. Guts, of course. Not sleeping bags.

“I’m going to buy you a Hannah Montana bag for next time. We’ll see how far you’re willing to go.”

“Bring it on,” he said, cracking his knuckles.

“All right guys,” chaperone guy said. “Which do want? X-men or We Are Marshall.”

After a chorus of disagreement, he said, “We Are Marshall it is.”

There were a few grumbles, but he put in the DVD and dimmed the lights.

Jonathan leaned back against the sleeping bags and motioned for me to join him. He took my hand in his. I’d never realized a church nursery could be so romantic.

“And no making out,” chaperone guy said with a look in our direction.

Giggles followed, and the guy sat down to watch the movie.

Okay, maybe not.

Jonathan put his arm around me, and I scooted a little bit closer. Not making out, but still heaven.

I was so glad my mother didn’t let me miss this. And Caroline. I’d have to really thank her too.

Jonathan leaned close to my ear, and I could feel his warm breath as he whispered, “Did I mention that I’m glad you got to come?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Me too.”

Then, he gave me quick little kiss next to my ear and turned back to the movie.

By the time the movie ended, my butt was asleep. I didn’t care. It was totally worth it. Not the movie, but cuddling with Jonathan.

The lights came on and we all blinked.

“What next?” Jonathan asked.

“You can go back and play b-ball with your friends if you want,” I said, just to be nice.

He shook his head. “Thanks, but no. They’ve probably all collapsed from dehydration by now.”

The chaperone guy went over to the television. “Our second half of the double feature will be X-men.”

“I can’t feel my legs,” I admitted to Jonathan.

He grinned and stood. Then he pulled me to my feet. “Is that better?”

“Not yet.”

He stood patiently waiting for blood to find its way back into my feet.

“Okay,” I said finally. “I’m good.”

We went out into the hall. Most of the movie watchers had tired of the nursery, but new people were coming in as they heard X-men was about to start.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m not sure,” Jonathan admitted. “Apparently the stage is off limits.”

“And under patrol.”

We peeked in the gym. The guys had stopped playing basketball. A group of girls was dancing in one corner. They weren’t very good at it. One of them, a chubby blonde, appeared to be teaching the others some moves. I cringed in sympathy.

The smell of old socks hung in the air, and I was glad Jonathan had taken a shower. Oh no. There were those impure thoughts again. Luckily we had enough outside influences to tone down the Catholic guilt about having normal teenage feelings.

“I’ve got an idea.” He headed to the bottled water machine. “This is Phil’s office.” Just past the office, on the other side of the machine, were two empty chairs. My backside much appreciated the idea of a real chair. “I was hoping nobody would be over here. It’s too close to the office.”

He turned the chairs so that they faced each other and we’d be pretty well hidden by the machine. We sat and he lifted my hand and kissed it. I could have melted right there.

The sound of hushed voices and rapid footsteps approached.

Then Clipboard Guy’s voice was saying, “We’ve got all the parents coming except for Haley’s. We need to try her house again.”

One of his minions said, “What were they thinking playing strip poker at a church?”

Clipboard Guy said, “Some teenagers just don’t think. They don’t learn to think until they’re twenty.”

“Hey,” the other guy replied. He apparently wasn’t twenty yet.

“I said some,” Clipboard Guy grumbled as they went to his office.

When they were clear of us, I gave Jonathan a wide-eyed look. “Haley was busted for strip poker!” I whispered excitedly.

Jonathan’s mouth quirked into a grin, and we both covered our mouths, quaking with laughter.

Haley completely deserved it.

The voices from the office reached us again. “Go check in with Tina. And try to find those two couples from the movie room who were so cuddly. I don’t want them slipping away without our noticing.”

I stopped laughing.

Jonathan’s eyes lit with mischief. He pointed to himself and then to me.

Not only was I part of a couple, but I was on the radar screen for demonstrating affection. My life had changed a lot in the last two weeks.

The footsteps moved farther down the hall.

I gave Jonathan what felt like a saucy grin even though I didn’t know I had that in me.

He put his arms on my shoulder, gently pulled me close, and touched his lips to mine.

Oh. My. God. A strange hunger swept through me as he deepened the kiss. Tenderness gave way to desperate ferocity, and his hands came around my back to pull me to him. I went willingly, sliding forward and threading my hands through his damp hair. I forgot about the water machine and the chaperones and the gym full of people. It was just me and Jonathan and his powerful kiss.

A frustrated, “Oh for crying out loud,” brought me back to reality.

A chaperone stood glaring at us with arms crossed. “Cut it out. We’ve got enough crap to deal with tonight.”

“Sorry,” I whispered trying to clear my head by blinking a few times.

“Look,” the guy said. “Get to the gym and I won’t say anything to Phil. He’s already up to his armpits in trouble.”

Jonathan had the presence of mind to mumble a thank you.

The guy gave us one last look before going into the office.

Jonathan took my hand and we ran down the hall to the gym, giggling. Well, I giggled. He just trembled with laughter.

“At least they didn’t kick us out,” I said.

“Luckily we aren’t their biggest worry.” He stopped inside the gym door. “Want to go watch X-men?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Two hours later, we dragged our sleeping bags into the hall. Chaos still reigned in the gym, but they’d designated the hall for sleeping. Two chaperones watched like hawks from either end.

We lay side by side, talking softly. Jonathan was telling me about Dave and Colin’s antics. They sounded a little crazy, and I could totally see my friends hooking up with them.

“Can you spend the night with Caroline every once in a while?” Jonathan asked.

“Sure. They’ll watch me though.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “We can just hang or play ball or something. We don’t have to spend all our time making out.”

I snorted. “We don’t?”

“Well,” he said with a sigh. “In a perfect world…”

Eventually, clipboard guy came by and said, “Sleeping bags two feet apart.”

I scooted and he scooted and we managed the required space.

Clipboard guy nodded and walked down the hall to someone else.

Jonathan reached out and found my hand. “I liked the dogs better.”

I just smiled.

Keep reading for a sneak peek at Chapter One of
The Karma Beat
by Juli Alexander and Chapter One of Amanda Brice’s
Pointe of No Return
.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Juli Alexander writes young adult romances and paranormal young adult fiction.
The Karma Beat
will be followed by the sequel—
The Techno Echo
—in early 2013. Check out
Stirring Up Trouble
and the sequel—
Trouble’s Brewing. Stirring Up Trouble
and
Valentine’s Day Sucks
are available now at all retailers.
Trouble’s Brewing
will be released summer 2012. Don’t forget to check out the YA anthology,
Eternal Spring
, featuring “Camp Cauldron” by Juli Alexander.

Juli’s house is overrun with dogs, dirty laundry, and teenage boys. writing keeps her relatively sane. You can find her at
julialexanderauthor.com
or on twitter
@juli_alexander
.

Chapter One of The Karma Beat

by Juli Alexander

Available now at all retailers.

Chapter One

If I had to live in a bottle like my ancestors, I’d go totally nuts. Being trapped in American government for fifty-five minutes on Wednesday afternoon was hard enough.

When the bell finally rang to release us, my best friend Alex jumped up and grabbed her books. “I’ve got to get to trig early. I’ll see you at the game.”

“See you there,” I answered, hoping I could keep my promise. There had been so much genie activity in the past few months in Atlanta that here it was, mid-February, and I had missed every one of her basketball games.

I’m a genie. Yeah, I know, but it’s the truth. There are two types of genies in the world. The djinn from the Arab legends, and the people like me, descended from Europe, the Americas, Australia, and Great Britain. There are similarities but all references to genies like me have been successfully deleted from the oral and written traditions.

When someone racks up enough Karma points, the U.N.I.V.E.R.S.E. sends a genie like me to grant three wishes. At seventeen, I’ve been activated earlier than most because of the high wish volume in Atlanta. And because of my mother’s connections. She isn’t a genie, but she does work for the U.N.I.V.E.R.S.E. in an administrative capacity.

I glanced at my purple cell phone from Genie Communications. One more class to get through. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask.

Apparently it was. Just as the last bell of the day rang, my cell vibrated. Terrific. I couldn’t refuse a summons. Goodbye basketball game. The plan had been for me to fetch my little brother from home and take him to the game with me. Mom would know to have my older brother, Ian, cover for me. As my mentor, Mom got updates on everything I did.

I picked up my stack of books from the desk and headed for the nearest restroom. I had less than five minutes to respond before I’d be zapped to the client. I pushed my way into a graffiti-covered stall and pulled my cell out of my pocket. The screen read, Mrs. Monroe. After a deep breath, I hit accept and closed my eyes.

When I opened them, I stood in a living room crammed full of knickknacks. An elderly African-American woman was napping on the worn sofa under a colorful crocheted afghan. The scent of Ben Gay or Vick’s VapoRub filled the air. Arthritis, or a chest cold?

The woman hadn’t taken off her thick, oversized glasses before falling asleep. She snored softly, and I smiled. I liked her. Even if she’d finally accrued enough karma points for three wishes at a very inconvenient time. I didn’t know what she’d done to earn the points. The U.N.I.V.E.R.S.E. kept all those details secret. They didn’t even let their employees know how many points each type of good deed earned.

Mrs. Monroe’s wrinkles and white hair made me think she was in her seventies or eighties. Most of my clients were. Although, occasionally they were much younger.

I conjured up a little fog with a wave of my hand. When she woke from her nap, Mrs. Monroe would believe she’d dreamed my visit. Over the years, the U.N.I.V.E.R.S.E. had discovered that adding some fog or altering the background could help. I didn’t much like the feeling of floating up in the clouds, so I generally did the fog thing.