Page 42 of The Do-Over

Bingo. Lisa was going to press her mouth against the doorjamband tell me that my little brother needed to use the bathroom. Just like every other day, I yelled, “I just got in here.”

“Joel needs to go potty. Bad.”

“There is a bathroom upstairs.” I poured shampoo into my hand and rubbed it on my head. I knew what her answer was going to be, but it somehow seemed important to play the game.

“Your dad’s in there.”

This time I yelled, “Douse him with ice water and he’ll jump right out.”

There was a pause before she murmured through the wood, “You’re seriously not going to get out?”

I thought about it for a second and came up with, “I don’t think so. Sorry.”

Whoa. I rubbed my hair harder as one thought suddenly overtook all others in my brain.

I. Had. Immunity.

Yes, being stuck in an eternal Valentine’s Day purgatory was the worst, but what I hadn’t considered until now was that I could do whatever I wanted and not face any of the fallout.

I could absolutely use Nick Stark’s words as my mantra for the day.

Fuck ’em.

I took an extremely long shower in honor of that fact, and by the time I got out and dried myself, I had an epiphany.

I could say whatever I wanted to anyone, and it would be erased the next day. I couldn’t get grounded or suspended or even arrested, because the next morning I’d be back in my bed at mydad’s house, walking on freaking sunshine, and no one would remember my transgressions.

Let the games begin.

I got out of the shower and went straight to my planner.

To-Do List—February 14: DAY OF NO CONSEQUENCES

WHATEVER I FUCKING FEEL LIKE

Instead of rushing to free up the bathroom like I usually did, I dragged a stool in front of the vanity. I cranked the volume on my phone and blared the new Volbeat album while I spent far too long making on-point eyeliner tails. I went full-on good makeup and straightened my hair so I could put it in theperfecthigh ponytail.

“Not too shabby, Em.” I looked at my reflection.Interesting. As it turned out, if you spent an entire hour on your appearance, you looked pretty good. I leaned forward and blotted my red lipstick against the mirror, leaving a perfect mouth print.

Next, I went into my closet and dug, knowing exactly what I was going to wear to school. I had thecuuuutestblack leather pants, but I’d never had the guts to wear them to school because they were tight with a capitalT-I-G-H-T.

Andsonot me. Or at least the me that everyone thought I was. But the pants made my butt look killer, so I was going to wear the hell out of those bad boys.

I paired them with my softest cashmere sweater and the suede boots I’d only worn once, and I hopped down the stairs with mybackpack, humming in anticipation of what was destined to be a Top Ten day.

I’d heard my dad leave while I flat-ironed my hair, so it was just Lisa and the twins left at home. I walked into the kitchen and went straight for the last leftover slice of French silk pie.

The twins were in their little kiddie seats at the table, jamming pieces of pancakes into their pouty mouths and looking disgustingly adorable. I laughed as Logan pushed his sippy cup off the table and watched it land on the floor.

Little turd.

Lisa picked it up and set it beside him. Her face was tense, so I knew she was pissed about my refusal to get out of the shower for Joel.

But I didn’t care—not today.

Normally I bent over backward to be the perfect houseguest. I made a huge effort—all the time—to make my dad and Lisa forget how much tidier their new life would be if it were just the four of them.

Today, however—screw it. Screw the guilt and the bending over. I grabbed a fork and ate the chocolate pie straight from the tin, and when I was finished, I dumped it into the sink without even rinsing it.

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