Read Online Ten by Lauren Myracle - Free Book Online Page A

But boy, was it strange seeing an actual lady wearing a pair. Plus she had a nose ring. I could not imagine Mom with a nose ring. I couldn’t imagine Ariel the Mermaid wearing a nose ring, either.
    â€œOkay, here we go,” I said to Ty. “Diving board. Second girl in line.”
    Ty looked over at the diving board. I looked at Ty. His eyebrows went up. “She’s got a boy’s bathing suit!” He tugged at my arm. “Winnie, that girl has on a boy’s bathing suit!”
    â€œThey’re called board shorts ,” I explained. “But on top, she’s wearing a bikini. See?”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWhy a bikini top, but shorts instead of a bikini bottom?” I shrugged. “Maybe she only likes her top half. Maybe she doesn’t want people to see her thighs?”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œNo idea.” I pointed at the part of the pool blocked off for swimming laps. “Now look at the dude practicing his backstroke, the one with all the chest hair.”
    Ty’s head swiveled, his expression open and curious. Then he threw himself against me, hugging my waist.
    â€œI know,” I said.
    He risked another peek at Chest Hair Man, who was wearing the type of man’s swimsuit that didn’t look like shorts. I think it was called a Speedo, that type of suit.
    Ty whimpered and burrowed back into me.
    â€œI know, I know,” I soothed. “Believe me, I know.”
    â€œI can see his mmmfffle ,” Ty said into my side.
    I giggled—because of the mmmfffle, and also because his nose and chin were digging into my ribs. “Can you imagine if Dad wore a bathing suit like that?”
    Ty drew back. “He won’t, will he? Ever?”
    â€œNot if Mom has anything to do with it,” I said. I spotted a new target and spoke quickly. “Ooo, there’s a guy walking past us wearing superlong swim trunks. See him? Do you see his fingernails?”
    â€œThey’re black,” Ty marveled.
    â€œUh-huh, because sometimes boys do paint their nails.”
    â€œ And their toenails?”
    â€œIf they want to,” I said.
    Ty flexed his feet, lifting his chubby toes out of the water and admiring them. “Pink is better than black.”
    â€œThinks you ,” I pointed out. “But that guy likes black better, apparently.” The guy was far enough away from us that I could use my normal voice again. “You’re right, though. Black is more for zombie-hunting, not for going swimming on a beautiful summer day.”
    My shoulders were growing toasty in the sun. Right now the heat felt good, but I knew how quickly that could change. I leaned back on my palms, pulled my feet out of the water, and pushed myself into a standing position as gracefully as I could, tricky to do without scooching my fanny on the rough concrete. But fanny-scooching was death to a bathing suit, as I knew from experience.
    Well, fanny-schooching was death to the sort of standardissue girl’s bathing suit I was wearing. My suit was a blue one-piece, and it was in great condition, without any nubbly spots or loose elastic. But it was only June. By August, who knew what state it would be in?
    I glanced around for the board-shorts girl. She was sitting on the opposite side of the pool, chatting with a cute boy and swishing her feet in the water. Swish, swish, swish , not seeming the slightest bit concerned by what all that swishing might be doing in terms of bathing suit damage.
    Maybe that’s why she wears board shorts, I thought. So she doesn’t have to worry about ripping her suit.
    The boy laughed, and something glinted in his ear. It was an earring. The girl wasn’t wearing jewelry, but he was. I smiled.
    â€œCome on, buddy,” I said, reaching out and pulling Ty up.
    A large lady walked past us. Ty followed her with his gaze, and this time he beckoned for me to lean in.
    â€œShe has a mole, and it is vehwee , vehwee big,”