Dad used to wave his hand in front of automatic doors as they opened, beam at me with that big dopey grin of his and say, “Master Will uses the force, he does!” like a drunk Yoda. I flick my hand in front of the automatic doors to the stop-n-shop—I hope it just looks like a spasm—and try not to grin too widely as they glide open on my command. Darth Vader, eat your heart out. I make my way to the back where a small selection of clothes surrounds an even smaller selection of underwear.
Crap.
What's worse, wearing Roman-Holiday-themed underwear, or granny panties?
"Cas had his shirt off while washing his car," Maggie prattles on. "Ugh, remind me next time I do a car wash for charity, hire him to wash all of them. Oh, those abs."
Maggie, along with being my clichéd beautiful best friend, is also a guyaholic. She's pretty enough to never reuse the same guy, so she is perfectly capable of catching any guy she sets her sights on. It's been Caspian for a while, and to my silent delight, he's as interested in her as he is a rock.
"Too bad he's going away for college in the fall," I say, shifting between the granny panties and Roman Holiday underwear. "Which is worse? Roman Montgomery's face on my crotch, or saggy granny panties?"
"Granny. I'd love RoMo's face there."
I wince at the mental image. "Oh, I really didn't need to see that."
"So not sorry! I have so much pent-up sexual frustration—gah! Maybe if I show up at Cas's tonight in nothing but my housecoat...you think that'll work?”
"You're ridiculous."
"You know you're jealous. Go with the grannies. You'll be right at home in them."
"Screw you."
"Oh Juniper, if I swung that way..."
Rolling my eyes, I jerk the Roman Holiday underwear off the hook and shove the package under my arm. “You’re useless. How was that Quidditch match last night?”
She quickly loses interest in my non-boyfriend. “Fan-effing-tastic!”
“Score any Potters?”
“Gave some guy my number," she replies flippantly, "but he was such an über Goyle after he invited me to the after-party.”
“You went?”
“Duh, Goyle is always better than nothing. You should've been there. I could've helped you score a Neville.”
“You know Malfoy is more my type." I glance over at the men’s underwear curiously. "How come guys get the cool underwear? I'd rather wear Batman than a pop star."
Her earrings jingle as she shakes her head and sighs. Maggie loves her jewelry, big-hooped earrings and beaded necklaces and hairpins with sparkling cubic zirconium. She's beautiful in an exotic, geeky sort of way—flaming crimson dreads, caramel skin, and graphic tees out the wazoo. Everything from "Who's your Doctor" Doctor Who shirts to red "It's blue if you run fast enough" Trekkie shirts to "BAZINGA!” Everyone in high school accepted her nerdiness wholeheartedly, which in turn made her vomit-inducingly popular. Me, on the other hand, everyone ignored because I wasn't nerdy, cool, athletic, or smart enough. I was never enough of anything.
That probably sucks the most.
In the end, I graduated best known for the death of my bar-owning father, and my mom's marriage three months later. Not for my own accomplishments—not that I had any, anyway.
Maggie sighs over the phone. "You're probably the only person in the world who hates Roman Holiday."
"Then I'm the only sane person left."
YOU ARE READING
The Sound of Us
Teen Fiction**Posting Chapters 1-5** America's favorite pop band, Roman Holiday, is done, dead, and so totally last year. For eighteen-year-old rockoholic Junie Baltimore, this is music to her ears. But when she discovers their sexy ex-lead singer hiding out on...
