The Perfect Score
"EIGHTEEN PERCENT!" I could hear my voice echoing through the cinderblock-walled laundry room.
"Eighteen percent is for nuns and small children. Eighteen percent is not for twenty-seven-year-old single girls living in Los Angeles."
Carla yanked open the dryer and started scooping her pinkish whites into her laundry basket. An hour ago, her whites had actually been white, but with Carla, these things tended to happen. "I still can't believe you're so upset just because you got a crappy score on some Internet Slut Test." She flashed me a look designed to underscore just how much she didn't believe I'd do something so foolish. Ridiculous, really, given that Carla had known me since kindergarten. I was Mattie Brown and she was Carla Browning, which meant that fate had pretty much destined that we'd sit beside each other in every class until graduation. Being relatively pragmatic, we figured we could either be best friends or vile enemies. We'd opted for the friend route. At the time, it had seemed the more prudent option.
Today, Carla was probably having second thoughts, a supposition that quickly proved true when she pulled out a pale pink bra and ... read full excerpt from: The Perfect Score ebook
