Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

perate. She pauses in the doorway, but doesn’t turn back around.
Like she’s waiting for me to beg. That’s never going to happen, but
I am open to negotiations.
“What do you want?” I ask. “Honestly.”
Her shoulders lift beneath the pink polo shirt she’s wearing.
“Nothing significant.”
“Stella—”
“Three things.” She whips around and shuts the door sharply
behind her. “In exchange for Greek tutoring I want three things
from you.”
I narrow my eyes at her scheming demand. “I’m listening.”
“First, you never speak to me at school.”
Like that’s a hard one to uphold. I’m always having to stop myself
from finding Stella to tell her every detail of my day—not!
She’s waiting for me to answer, so I nod.
“Second, I want you to tell Daddy you want a subscription to
Vogue and Cosmo.”
“But I don’t read—”
“It’s not for you, kako.” She rolls her eyes at my ignorance. “He
won’t let me read them because he thinks they’re ‘useless social
trash’ that give women ‘a distorted view of physical perfection’ or
something like that.”
“What makes you think he’ll let me—”
“He wants to win your affection,” she interrupts—again. “He’ll
give you anything you want.”
“Fine,” I say. “Vogue and Cosmo.” Though I have to say I pretty
much agree with Damian. I’d rather get a useful magazine, like Her
Sports.
109