Home > My Not So Super Sweet Life (My Super Sweet Sixteenth Century #3)

My Not So Super Sweet Life (My Super Sweet Sixteenth Century #3)
Rachel Harris

So Much for Normal


Once upon a time (say, like, four months ago), the phrase girl bonding was a foreign concept. An expression I never expected to say, or even think, without gagging. But not only am I not choking on the delicious, gooey, calorie-laden brownie I’m currently devouring, but a goopy green mask is in place, Hello Kitty slippers are on my feet, and I totally just snorted.

Welcome to my new normal.

As my very-soon-to-be-stepmother Jenna teaches, or rather, attempts to teach my uber-conservative cousin and rhythmically challenged best friend to do the running man, I marvel at how much my life has changed. This time last year, I would’ve scoffed at anything girly. I’d never been kissed—or even on a date. I had major trust issues, and my best friend was my dad. Now, I have a hot, swoonalicious boyfriend. I have not one but two close friends. And after sixteen and a half years of Mama drama, scandal-hungry paparazzi, and bizarre time-traveling escapades—thanks to my favorite gypsy girl Reyna—it looks as though I’m finally, maybe, hopefully getting a taste of normalcy.

So why does it feels like the other shoe is about to drop?

The sofa cushion dips, and a whoosh of air fans my face, yanking me from my tilt-a-whirl thoughts. Alessandra, my sixteenth-century ancestor, blows out a breath, her freshly scrubbed cheeks pink from exhaustion. I lift my lips in a smile and accidently crack my goopy mask in the process.

“You’ve got some moves, girlfriend,” I say, nudging her with my elbow, not surprised. While my dancing left much to be desired during my jaunt to the past, Less had skills. Evidently, that particular talent carried over when she came to the future. Lowering my voice so Jenna and Hayley won’t hear, I say, “All that complicated mumbo jumbo in packed ballrooms must’ve paid off. Too bad Austin’s not here to see you shake your groove thang.”

As with any other time I mention the boy’s name, a dopey smile zips across my cousin’s face. She’s so whipped.

“It is a shame he is not here, but if he were, I doubt I would be dancing.” Her dark eyes shine with humor. “I may be bolder than when I first arrived, but I’m a far cry from crazy.”

She playfully lifts a waxed eyebrow, and my mask-cracked grin widens. Alessandra’s easy use of modern lingo still amazes me. Her transition into a twenty-first-century teen has been almost effortless. Sure, she stumbled in the beginning, but now she’s in the zone. Less is in love, starring in the school play, and fending offers from Hollywood, thanks to her fabulous stint in the Shakespeare Winter Workshop. It’s as if she were born for this century, this life, and was simply biding her time in the Renaissance until a bit of gypsy magic made it all happen.

A twinge of envy pricks behind my ribs.

I’m happy for my cousin. I am. It’s just…she’s only been in my world for six weeks. She’s found her place. Maybe it’s about time I found mine.

My best friend Hayley plops onto the love seat across from me, snagging a brownie on her way down. “Must have chocolate,” she says, breaking off a large chunk. She shoves it in her mouth, and her eyes roll back in bliss. “So good,” she mumbles.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in.” Jenna frowns at the tray of calorific goodness. “You skinny misses pig out to your heart’s content. I can take it, even if it is my bachelorette party.”

Today’s a teacher in-service day at school, which means the students have a mini-vacay. With Jenna’s wedding on the horizon, what better way to spend the day than with bachelorette-inspired girly-time makeovers?

See? I’m totally evolving.

Licking her index finger, Jenna presses it into the scattered crumbs on the plate and then lifts it to her nose. She inhales audibly before heaving a dramatic sigh. “Two more days,” she proclaims, wiping her finger on a napkin. “Two more days of rabbit food so I can fit into my dress, and then I’m wolfing an entire layer of wedding cake myself. Mark my words, girls.”

Hayley picks up the television remote and powers on the mounted flat screen. “Hang in there, Miss J. It’ll all be worth it when you see the pictures. Your dress is flipping fabulous.”

Hayley is an aspiring fashion designer, so she’d know. She’s also a fellow art nerd on the fringes of Roosevelt Academy’s social order, and we became friends fresh from my jaunt to the past. Her mantra of Keep Calm, Love Fashion has been amusing me ever since. Her stamp of approval is like a thumbs-up from the fearsome Joan and Melissa Rivers, and it’s as close as Jenna will ever get, since that particular duo won’t be weighing in.

The details of Dad’s wedding are super hush-hush, with only the inner circle even knowing the date. Tabloids have speculated for months. April in Catalina or June in Malibu; I’ve even heard October in Paris or Rome. The paparazzi will never guess an award-winning Hollywood director and the leading party planner of Beverly Hills are getting hitched in their own backyard, with a slim guest list of fifty, on Valentine’s Day weekend.

“And speaking of fabulous…” Hayley selects The Kate Lyons Show from the menu. “I have such a clothing crush on this woman.” Hugging a throw pillow close to her chest, she settles in to watch the program, tossing Jenna a defeated look. “No chance she’ll be there, huh?”

Understandably, the wedding—and its noticeable lack of invited celebs—has been the topic du jour.

Jenna shakes her head. “Nope. Inviting her or anyone else in the media would’ve been like asking vultures to camp outside our front door. Peter and I want to keep this as low-key and off the radar as possible. We’ve seen the weddings with paparazzi stalking the family, following the kids to school.” She shudders, and the smooth skin around her bright eyes tightens. “That’s not happening to Cat.”

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