Part 3 (1/2)
”Owie!” Dylan yelped. Her skin p.r.i.c.kled with fear and adrenaline. No way was she going to endure another head b.u.t.t. She backed up a few sand-print steps in case she needed to make another run for it. ”You're totally insane-I can't believe you almost fooled everyone with your whole transformation transformation act.” act.”
”What you mean almost almost?” Svetlana smirked. ”Everybody adores Svetlana again thanks to your mom-host.”
Dylan pursed her Nars Peachy Keensmeared lips. ”Puh-lease! You practically twisted my arm into the Nike swoosh.”
”So what?” Svetlana unraveled her braid-snake from its halo. ”No one saw it, and no one will believe what a little red pimple like you has to say.”
Dylan pinched her hips with renewed hope. ”Wait, you think I'm little little?”
”Just the brain.” Svetlana stood, brus.h.i.+ng sand off her slippery-smooth robe.
”Oh yeah? Then how do you explain this this?” Dylan waved her LG.
”It's called phone, Pimple.” Svetlana knocked it to the sand. ”Now go. I must get back to meditation.”
”Not until I watch your little outburst under the candlelight.” Dylan held up the phone and thumbed through the b.u.t.tons. Her hands shook, knowing they could get smacked or snapped at any given moment. ”I want to hear the part where you called me a sloppy loserfan again. The acoustics in here are great and I-”
What?” Svetlana released her honey-colored braid and clenched her fists. Svetlana released her honey-colored braid and clenched her fists.
”I wonder what the International Tennis a.s.sociation will say when it sees you've fallen off the temper-tantrum wagon?” Dylan positioned her LG under Svetlana's narrow blue-green eyes. A shot of the post-interview arm-twist was frozen on screen. ”This little thing is amazing. It's limited edition-Merri-Lee got it in her Oscar swag bag. It stores hours of video.”
”How did you-”
”Just before you knocked the phone out of my hand I pressed record.” Dylan winked. ”Not bad for a little little brain, huh?” Her heart thumped as Svetlana's smug expression darkened like the Hawaiian sky moments before a tropical storm. brain, huh?” Her heart thumped as Svetlana's smug expression darkened like the Hawaiian sky moments before a tropical storm.
”Thanks to your backhand, it was lying in the gra.s.s, so I have a few nice shots of your frilly underwear and-”
”Give to me.” Svetlana swiped her claws Boris style as Dylan dropped the phone down the V of her lemon-yellow Fila minidress and folded her arms across her chest.
”After Nike sees this, the only thing you'll be endorsing is kitty litter,” Dylan announced.
”How do I know you're not bluffing?” Svetlana's eyes flashed as she tightened the satin tie on her robe.
A new CD track blasted a series of loud, deep ”ommm's” through the room.
Dylan reached inside her dress and pressed play on her LG.
Why do you think you are worthy to touch Svetlana? You are just loserfan, too sloppy to be an athlete and-”
”I am nawt a fan!”
”Correction. You are a loserfan stalker!”
”Ouch! My skull! I think you just gave me a concussion.”
Dylan hit pause. Svetlana grinded her teeth, her dewy pink cheeks purple with rage. She muttered something in Russian that sounded a lot like ”spit on your neck.”
”Should I rewind to the part where you twisted my arm?”
”Enough,” Svetlana demanded, clawing at Dylan's built-in sports bra, trying to swipe the phone.
Dylan jumped back, sending granules of sand skittering around her ankles. ”Did you know I can zap this clip to The Daily Grind The Daily Grind with the push of a b.u.t.ton? Isn't that incredible?” with the push of a b.u.t.ton? Isn't that incredible?”
”You would not dare.” Svetlana sneered, lunging once again at Dylan's chest.
Dylan pulled out her LG and mimed pressing SEND. ”Or maybe Nike would like to see it?”
”Noooo!” Svetlana bent down and whipped a votive against the pink travertine. Gla.s.s shattered everywhere, hot wax splattered across the wall, and something landed on Dylan's head with a Svetlana bent down and whipped a votive against the pink travertine. Gla.s.s shattered everywhere, hot wax splattered across the wall, and something landed on Dylan's head with a thwack thwack. Sharp objects began ripping into her scalp.
”Ehmagawd, I've been hit!” she shrieked, then reached for her head, expecting to find a tangle of gla.s.s shards, red hair, and gooey brain-blood. But instead, she slammed into a four-pound ball of kitten fur.
”Ahhhhhhh!” Dylan frantically tried to swat Boris off her head. Dylan frantically tried to swat Boris off her head.
”Reeee-oe become the game.” the game.”
You?” She rolled her blue-green eyes. ”Mission impossible.” She rolled her blue-green eyes. ”Mission impossible.”
Dylan made a move for her phone.
”Okay, wait! Svetlana is just joking.” A tight smile cut across her face. It looked like she had poo cramps. ”If you could please share why you hunger for such knowledge.”
”Nawt that it's any of your business”-Dylan twirled a strand of glossy red hair around her finger-”but it has to do with getting a certain crush to crush back.”
”You do this for a boy boy?” Svetlana flared her nostrils. ”How pathetic.”
”Puh-lease! You've given up your entire life for a sport sport. How is that that any less pathetic?” any less pathetic?”
Svetlana opened her tight-lipped mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
Fifteen-love, Dylan.
Finally, she swallowed hard. ”How many lessons must I give?”
”Until J.T. likes me back-”
”J.T.?” Svetlana threw back her head and laughed.
”You know him?” Dylan's cheeks burned.
”Nyet.” Svetlana quickly sobered. ”But you Americans have such silly names.” Svetlana quickly sobered. ”But you Americans have such silly names.”