A Sample from The Lance Temptation
Farah leaned close to my ear. “Watch and learn,” she whispered.
Oh no. Not again.
She propelled herself deftly through the clusters of students who were thronging around the cafeteria line. Steel vending machines dinged like casino slots. Every kid balanced a lunch tray teetering with globs of macaroni and cheese along with piles of tortilla chips and oatmeal cookies.
Farah carried her tray with its plate of green beans as if it were the royal jewels. She sashayed toward our regular table in the corner, her hips lightly brushing the backs of the entire football team who’d already grabbed the table nearest the food. The catcalls began immediately.
“Hot stuff,” one player yelled, then whistled.
With practiced innocence, Farah paused, and turned to face the guys. She rolled her green eyes upward and shook her head, feigning annoyance. A smile played on her lips. Then she continued on, skirting her way to our table in the back.
Oh yeah, she’s a master at everything I’m not. All Farah has to do is show up and the boys follow, frolicking like puppies around a bone. So, shameful as it sounds, I’d made it my business to become her friend even if it meant dropping my goody-goody friends. I was done being the boring, straight A girl. I wanted the hot guys to drool around me for once, and I figured the connection couldn’t hurt.
Watch and learn, Farah had said. Right.
I stood with my tuna sandwich stuffed inside my crumpled lunch sack, sighed heavily and followed her, trying not to let my shoes clack out my progress. Nobody’s eyes followed my every move.
Well, there’s a surprise.
I slid onto the bench across from her. It was Monday—the only day Farah’s halfway civilized because she’s tired from the weekend—and we were eating lunch together as usual.
Farah opened her milk carton, and took a drink. She tipped her head, letting her red hair cascade down her back. The gentle curls nearly touched her waist. Farah’s well aware how flat-out gorgeous she is, and she quickly glanced around to see who might be watching. The table of girls to the side of us stared at her. When they saw me looking, they huddled together in one big gossip head. Farah saw them laughing, pointing, and whispering. Her expression hardened.
“What a bunch of losers.”
“They’re jealous,” I said.
Farah leaned across the end of our table towards them. “Talk about me all you want, you pathetic groupies.”
Their heads jerked apart and each one of them glared at her. Farah scowled, then turned her attention back to me.
She pulled a crumbling brownie from her purse, and held it close to my face. “Want a brownie? I actually made it.”
“You?” I crinkled my nose.
“Well, you don’t have to act so surprised. I bake.” she said.
“Since when?”
“Since yesterday.”
I backed my head away from the brownie. “I’ll pass this time.”
“Oh, eat the brownie.” She pulled off the droopy cellophane and practically shoved it in my mouth.
I heard a yelp behind me, and then someone hollered, “God, you’re disgusting!” A burst of raucous laughter filled the air. Farah saw the whole scene over my shoulder. Wide-eyed, she bolted from her seat and flew to a table of freshmen girls. I swirled around to watch. Farah lunged across their table and stuck her face directly against a shocked girl’s nose. “Leave her alone! Do it again, you’ll deal with me.” Her harsh voice echoed across the cafeteria. The freshmen girls were shocked into silence, but their lips fairly curled into snarls.
Nothing was heard but a choked sniffle from a girl cowering at the end of the table with macaroni splattered all over her uniform. Farah stood up to her full height, her cheeks blotched red. She turned to the sniveling girl and asked, “You okay?”
There was no answer.
“Want help cleaning up?”
The girl shook her head, picked up a napkin and wiped at her shirt.
Farah squared her shoulders and returned to her spot at our table. I stared at her. “What was that?”
“Bullies. I hate them. And where are the lunch monitors, anyway?” She picked up her fork and took a bite of green beans.
“You know, sometimes you’re actually nice.”
Farah grimaced. “Don’t let it get around.”
I laughed and picked up my sandwich. Right then a tender feeling of protectiveness toward Farah washed over me. Weird.
And that’s when he descended upon our table. The new guy. The one I’d secretly been panting after since he transferred to our school two weeks earlier.
Thank you for reading! Order The Lance Temptation here.
Back to Brenda's Books
Back to The Edgemont Series
Oh no. Not again.
She propelled herself deftly through the clusters of students who were thronging around the cafeteria line. Steel vending machines dinged like casino slots. Every kid balanced a lunch tray teetering with globs of macaroni and cheese along with piles of tortilla chips and oatmeal cookies.
Farah carried her tray with its plate of green beans as if it were the royal jewels. She sashayed toward our regular table in the corner, her hips lightly brushing the backs of the entire football team who’d already grabbed the table nearest the food. The catcalls began immediately.
“Hot stuff,” one player yelled, then whistled.
With practiced innocence, Farah paused, and turned to face the guys. She rolled her green eyes upward and shook her head, feigning annoyance. A smile played on her lips. Then she continued on, skirting her way to our table in the back.
Oh yeah, she’s a master at everything I’m not. All Farah has to do is show up and the boys follow, frolicking like puppies around a bone. So, shameful as it sounds, I’d made it my business to become her friend even if it meant dropping my goody-goody friends. I was done being the boring, straight A girl. I wanted the hot guys to drool around me for once, and I figured the connection couldn’t hurt.
Watch and learn, Farah had said. Right.
I stood with my tuna sandwich stuffed inside my crumpled lunch sack, sighed heavily and followed her, trying not to let my shoes clack out my progress. Nobody’s eyes followed my every move.
Well, there’s a surprise.
I slid onto the bench across from her. It was Monday—the only day Farah’s halfway civilized because she’s tired from the weekend—and we were eating lunch together as usual.
Farah opened her milk carton, and took a drink. She tipped her head, letting her red hair cascade down her back. The gentle curls nearly touched her waist. Farah’s well aware how flat-out gorgeous she is, and she quickly glanced around to see who might be watching. The table of girls to the side of us stared at her. When they saw me looking, they huddled together in one big gossip head. Farah saw them laughing, pointing, and whispering. Her expression hardened.
“What a bunch of losers.”
“They’re jealous,” I said.
Farah leaned across the end of our table towards them. “Talk about me all you want, you pathetic groupies.”
Their heads jerked apart and each one of them glared at her. Farah scowled, then turned her attention back to me.
She pulled a crumbling brownie from her purse, and held it close to my face. “Want a brownie? I actually made it.”
“You?” I crinkled my nose.
“Well, you don’t have to act so surprised. I bake.” she said.
“Since when?”
“Since yesterday.”
I backed my head away from the brownie. “I’ll pass this time.”
“Oh, eat the brownie.” She pulled off the droopy cellophane and practically shoved it in my mouth.
I heard a yelp behind me, and then someone hollered, “God, you’re disgusting!” A burst of raucous laughter filled the air. Farah saw the whole scene over my shoulder. Wide-eyed, she bolted from her seat and flew to a table of freshmen girls. I swirled around to watch. Farah lunged across their table and stuck her face directly against a shocked girl’s nose. “Leave her alone! Do it again, you’ll deal with me.” Her harsh voice echoed across the cafeteria. The freshmen girls were shocked into silence, but their lips fairly curled into snarls.
Nothing was heard but a choked sniffle from a girl cowering at the end of the table with macaroni splattered all over her uniform. Farah stood up to her full height, her cheeks blotched red. She turned to the sniveling girl and asked, “You okay?”
There was no answer.
“Want help cleaning up?”
The girl shook her head, picked up a napkin and wiped at her shirt.
Farah squared her shoulders and returned to her spot at our table. I stared at her. “What was that?”
“Bullies. I hate them. And where are the lunch monitors, anyway?” She picked up her fork and took a bite of green beans.
“You know, sometimes you’re actually nice.”
Farah grimaced. “Don’t let it get around.”
I laughed and picked up my sandwich. Right then a tender feeling of protectiveness toward Farah washed over me. Weird.
And that’s when he descended upon our table. The new guy. The one I’d secretly been panting after since he transferred to our school two weeks earlier.
Thank you for reading! Order The Lance Temptation here.
Back to Brenda's Books
Back to The Edgemont Series