Excerpt
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I was sitting on my bed, dipping and painting, using magazines to lay my fingers on while they dried.

" 'Out of five hundred teens and tweens polled, eighty-four percent included lip gloss as one of the three most crucial items to have if stranded on a deserted island, ' " Harmony read from one of the magazine pages. "Who writes this garbage?" She threw the magazine across the room.

"Watch out," I warned. Too late.

"Shoot, I smudged," said Harmony, examining her hand. "Thumb, take two."

"Check out Amber Tiffany." I pointed to the cover of the magazine lying under my newly OoLaLaLavender nails. "How is it humanly possible for someone to look like that?"

"It's not humanly possible," Harmony said, in her best It's a burden having such a naive and foolish best friend, but it's my mission to enlighten her voice. "Amber Tiffany is airbrushed. She's the result of trick lighting and a year's worth of our allowance in makeup and skin care. Plus graphic designers sit around and cover up her zits with a zillion-dollar computer program. And look at her. She probably has more plastic in her body than Barbie."

"Yeah, yeah, and blah blah blah. Even with all of that, I would still never look good enough for Marco Vega to even recognize my existence." I flopped back on my bed. No response. I sighed loudly for extra drama.  

"James, your looks are totally fine. However, your standards are unrealistic and shallow. Now put that magazine down," Harmony said. I saw her notice the orange Post-it note I'd stuck on my mirror that said, "English essay due Tuesday!"

"Hey," Harmony said, "what'd you write your essay about?"

I blew on my nail polish. I didn't want to think about English class right now. And not only because I hadn't written the essay yet. But because Sawyer Sullivan was in that class, too.

And I got Sawyered today.

I was walking into class when Sawyer came in behind me with her friends.

Sawyer looked me up and down. She rolled her eyes.

"Nice outfit," she said. "If you're color-blind."

And her friends started laughing. Ha. Ha. Ha.

I tried to look at them with a little smile like, No big deal. Doesn't bother me.

"What are you looking at?" Sawyer asked me. "Stare much?"

I shuddered. OK, let's think about something else now, shall we? I turned back to my magazine.

"Look at this. My thigh is bigger than her waist," I moaned, as I looked at one of the models. OK, that really wasn't so true. If I had any complaints, it was that my body was too small. As in short, undeveloped, no sign of anything happening, anywhere. But you know, everyone complains about being too fat. Everyone does, so hey.

Well, everyone except Harmony.

"That does it." Harmony gave me the look. "If you cannot stop comparing yourself to every model in those magazines, then I must take drastic measures. Say 'Buh-bye magazines.'" One big swoop and she lifted them up and tossed them in the garbage can.

"Hey! I didn't read the article on Amber Tiffany's secrets to soft, full lips!" I yelped.

Harmony picked up her backpack and her new laptop. Harmony now had two--yes, two--laptops. The new one was a guilt gift from her mother since her birthday fell on the "upstate" month this year. Harmony splits her time between New York City and her dad's place here in upstate New York suburbia.

We can take a train to NYC. That's where Harmony's mom and stepfather live. And, every other month, that's where Harmony lives, too. One month upstate, one month in the city. That's her life. We live too far for her to commute to school, so I barely see her during city months. I'm always so happy when it's Harmony's month to live up here.

Except maybe right now. She's getting naggy.

"One more time--did you even start your English paper?" Harmony asked, pulling my Post-it note down. "Tuesday is tomorrow, you know."

"Well, no," I confessed. "Don't worry. I'll whip something off. As soon as I find out Amber Tiffany's secret to soft, full lips. I'll even share the secret with you."

Harmony stuck the Post-it note to my forehead.

"I don't even want to know," Harmony said. "I'm taking off. You want to use my new laptop? It's got some cool fonts on it."

"Thanks!" I said, taking it. She was so lucky. I had to fight for time on our ancient computer with Allie, my older sister.

"If you want, email me your essay later. I'll print it out for you on my new color laser printer," Harmony said. "Get you a couple bonus points for neatness."

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