Make Me Over_ Getting Real - Leslie Kelly [6]
But, since the whole show was supposed to be about one girl gettin’ lots of class and manners and going to the society party in New York, they might be lookin’ for the girls most likely to pull it off. Meaning they’d want the ones who were the best of the bunch.
So the question remained: should she be on her best behavior? Or her worst?
“I wouldn’t mind staying if I get to find out who the hunky guy who got a face-full of Ginny’s panties was.”
Tori scrunched up her brow, not knowing what the other woman meant.
“You were staring at the books like none of us were even in the room,” Sukie said. “And ooh, girl, what you missed! A hunka burning love standing in the doorway, all tall and sexy and looking like he stepped right off an underwear billboard.”
“He was in his underwear?” Tori squeaked.
“Nuh-uh. I was imagining.”
Tori frowned. “He got a pair of used drawers on his face?”
Sukie shook her head. “Ginny pulled ’em outta her pocket.”
Tori didn’t rightly wanna know why somebody carried underdrawers in their pocket. But since Ginny hadn’t minded showin’ every driver on the interstate her hooters, maybe she didn’t go around wearin’ her underwear, either, and just had ’em stashed nearby for emergencies. Like, hmm…goin’ to church or climbin’ a ladder or somethin’.
Before she could ask any more questions, they all had to leave to follow the butler through the maze of halls. Shew, she’d seen hotels smaller than this place. More welcomin’ too. Christmas was three weeks from today, but there wasn’t one pretty red bow or as much as a sprig of holly in sight.
Christmas was Tori’s favorite time of year. And she sure didn’t wanna spend it in this place that was about as friendly as a huntin’ dog with a burr up its butt. That made her even more sure she wanted to get herself thrown outta here as soon as possible.
To her surprise, dinner was a hoot. Much more fun than she’d ever expected. The girls had a ball squawkin’ over the nasty stuff put in front of them. Finally, after all of them had downright refused to so much as taste the slimy-looking snails they’d been served, they got somethin’ normal. Steak ’n’ potatoes. It wasn’t Granny Lyons’s fried catfish, but it stuck to the ribs all right.
She had figured somebody official from the show would come and talk to them tonight, but the butler said they had the evening all free and clear to themselves. And tomorrow bright and early things’d get underway. So after dinner they were on their own.
Most everyone went to the game room or the fancy in-house theater, where somebody said they was gonna watch Days of Thunder. Tori’d seen that movie nigh on a hundred times, always wonderin’ if drivers who looked like Tom Cruise really were on the NASCAR circuit—since they sure weren’t on the NHRA. So she passed on the movie. Instead, she moseyed on through the quiet house, tiptoein’ like, because she didn’t want to bump into anybody. She wasn’t gonna steal nothin’, she just wanted to be alone. To enjoy the one thing about this place she might actually miss once she got herself thrown outta here tomorrow.
The library.
Shew-ee the room was full, floor to ceilin’, of bookcases. She’d never seen so many books in one place in her life. The only library Sheets Creek had was one’a them books-on-wheels trucks. Since the donated truck had once been driven by the ice cream man—an’ still had the faintest smell of fudge pops on a hot summer day—it attracted the attention of a lot of dogs when it drove down the street. Not to mention the young ’uns who came scramblin’ outside with their pennies and nickels, only to pitch rocks at the tires when they found out the driver had books and magazines, not fudgies and Sno-Kones.
Tori watched for the library truck though, since