Perfect Girl - Weebly

asking Aunt Marty for advice about revving up my girl
power and snagging Perry Gould before Perfect Girl got her
claws into him. The next minute Aunt Marty said, “I’ll be
there this weekend.”
“Here?” I gulped.
“It’s time to end this nonsense,” she said.
“Nonsense?” I suddenly lost the ability to say anything
original.
“Your mother can’t keep me away from you forever.
Don’t tell her, Ruthie. It’ll be our little surprise.”
“She hates surprises.”
“We’ll have a nice talk, you and me.”
“Hey, I know! E-mail!”
“Nonsense. I’ll see you in Odessa on Saturday.”
So, it’s Saturday morning, and I’m yanking a brush
through my tangled hair. I hear Mom and Mr. Arthur
downstairs in the kitchen. I smell bacon. I feel like throwing
up.
Number One: I have nothing to wear. Green Costco
capri pants and brown Payless sandals? What was I thinking?
Don’t I own anything black? Can I cram my feet into
my old Barney’s sandals? Tossing my hairbrush onto my
bed, I frantically flip through my closet.
“Ruthie!”
Mom calls from downstairs. My heart stops.
“Bacon or sausage?” she yells.
How can I possibly think about pork when Aunt Marty
51