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The Boy Next Door by Meg Cabot This is from the original web version that has appeared in the author's website. Meg Cabo. In this companion novel to Anna and the French Kiss, two teens discover that true love may be closer than they think For budding costume designer Lola. Lola and the Boy Next Door by Stephanie Perkins. Dazzling, funny and addictive YA romance: the gorgeous follow-up to international bestseller, Anna and the.

Lola And The Boy Next Door Pdf

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Lola Nolan is a budding costume designer, and for her, the more outrageous, sparkly, and fun the outfit, the better. And everything is pretty perfect in her life. Lola and the Boy Next Door book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. Alternate Cove edition for ISBN Lola. Lola and the Boy Next Door - Perkins Stephanie - Download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read online. Lola and the Boy Next Door - Perkins Stephanie.

It's real. Anna was by no means a fairy tale without the struggle of realism, but there were some elements that took it to daydream level. Beautiful, charming British boy. The big, dramatic incredibly swoontastic ending. They aren't in Paris, and Cricket isn't a dashing, gorgeous Brit. He's just a normal boy. A normal, awkward, amazingly sweet boy who I can't even find words to describe. Except for, you know, those I won't say anything about the story itself, except Stephanie Perkins manages to surprise me with the depth she gives her characters and their circumstances.

Lola made me ache; I went through each moment of impulse, confusion, and agonizing indecision with her. And as I read Perkins' acknowledgements at the end, I found myself tearing up again at her note to her husband. I realized why she is able to write such amazingly real and heartfelt love stories. It's because she's lived it. Stephanie Perkins has not disappointed me yet! She has an older boyfriend, strict parents and a great best friend. Heavens to Betsy was supposed to be mine, but she had the nerve to fall in love with Nathan instead, which irritates Andy and me to no end.

Were the ones who feed and walk her. I reach for the biodegradable baggies and her leash the one Ive embroidered with hearts and Russian nesting dollsand shes already going berserk. Yeah, yeah. Come on. I shoot Max another apologetic look, and then Betsy and I are out the door. There are twenty-one stairs from our porch to the sidewalk.

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Anywhere you go in San Francisco, you have to deal with steps and hills. Its unusually warm outside, so along with my pajama bottoms and Bakelite bangles, Im wearing a tank top.

Ive also got on my giant white Jackie O sunglasses, a long brunette wig with emerald tips, and black ballet slippers. Real ballet slippers, not the flats that only look like ballet slippers.

My New Years resolution was to never again wear the same outfit twice. The sunshine feels good on my shoulders. It doesnt matter that its August; because of the bay, the temperature doesnt change much throughout the year. Its always cool. Today Im grateful for the peculiar weather, because it means I wont have to bring a sweater on my date. Betsy pees on the teeny rectangle of grass in front of the lavender Victorian next doorshe always pees here, which I totally approve ofand we move on.

Despite my annoying parents, Im happy. I have a romantic date with my boyfriend, a great schedule with my favorite coworkers, and one more week of summer vacation. We hike up and down the massive hill that separates my street from the park. When we arrive, a Korean gentleman in a velveteen tracksuit greets us. Hes doing tai chi between the palm trees.

Hello, Dolores! How was your birthday? Lim is the only person apart from my parents when theyre mad who calls me by my real name. His daughter Lindsey is my best friend; they live a few streets over. Hi, Mr. It was divine! My birthday was last week. Mine is the earliest of anyone in my grade, which I love. It gives me an additional air of maturity.

Hows the restaurant? Very good, thank you. Everyone asking for beef galbi this week. Goodbye, Dolores! Hello to your parents. The old lady name is because I was named after one. My great-grandma Dolores Deeks died a few years before I was born. She was Andys grandmother, and she was fabulous.

The kind of woman who wore feathered hats and marched in civil rights protests. Dolores was the first person Andy came out to.

He was thirteen. They were really close, and when she died, she left Andy her house. Which wed never be able to afford without her generous bequeathal. My parents make a healthy living, but nothing like the neighbors. The wellkept homes on our street, with their decorative gabled cornices and extravagant wooden ornamentation, all come from old money.

Including the lavender house next door. My name is also shared with this park, Mission Dolores. Its not a coincidence. Great-Grandma Dolores was named after the nearby mission, which was named after a creek called Arroyo de Nuestra Seora de los Dolores.

This translates to Our Lady of Sorrows Creek. Because who wouldnt want to be named after a depressing body of water? Theres also a major street around here called Dolores. Its kind of weird. Id rather be a Lola. Heavens to Betsy finishes, and we head home. I hope my parents havent been torturing Max. For someone so brash onstage, hes actually an introvert, and these weekly meetings arent easy on him. I thought dealing with one protective father was bad enough, he once said. But two?

Your dads are gonna be the death of me, Lo. A moving truck rattles by, and its odd, because suddenlyjust that quicklymy good mood is replaced by unease. We pick up speed. Max must be beyond uncomfortable right now.

I cant explain it, but the closer I get to home, the worse I feel. A terrible scenario loops through my mind: my parents, so relentless with inquiries that Max decides Im not worth it anymore.

My hope is that someday, when weve been together longer than one summer, my parents will realize hes the one, and age wont be an issue anymore. But despite their inability to see this truth now, they arent dumb. They deal with Max because they think if they forbade me from seeing him, wed just run off together. Id move into his apartment and get a job dancing naked or dealing acid. Which is beyond misguided. But Im jogging now, hauling Betsy down the hill. Somethings not right.

And Im positive its happenedthat Max has left or my parents have cornered him into a heated argument about the lack of direction in his lifewhen I reach my street and everything clicks into place. The moving truck. Not the brunch. But Im sure the truck belongs to another renter. It has to, it always does. The last family, this couple that smelled like baby Swiss and collected medical oddities like shriveled livers in formaldehyde and oversize models of vaginas, vacated a week ago.

In the last two years, theres been a string of renters, and every time someone moves out, I cant help but feel ill until the new ones arrive. Because what if now is the time they move back in? I slow down to get a better look at the truck. Is anyone outside? I didnt notice a car in the garage when we passed earlier, but Ive made a habit out of not staring at the house next door.

Sure enough, there are two people ahead on the sidewalk. I strain my eyes and find, with a mixture of agitation and relief, that its just the movers. Betsy tugs on her leash, and I pick up the pace again. Im sure theres nothing to worry about. What are the chances? The movers lift a white sofa from the back of the truck, and my heart thumps harder.

Do I recognize it? Have I sat on that love seat before? But no. I dont know it. I peer inside the crammed truck, searching for anything familiar, and Im met with stacks of severe modern furniture that Ive never seen before. Its not them. It cant be them. Its not them! I grin from ear to eara silly smile that makes me look like a child, which I dont normally allow myself to doand wave to the movers. They grunt and nod back.

The lavender garage door is open, and now Im positive that it wasnt earlier. I inspect the car, and my relief deepens. Its something compact and silver, and I dont recognize it. It is a happy day. Betsy and I bound inside. Brunch is over! Lets go, Max. Everyone is staring out the front window in our living room. Looks like we have neighbors again, I say.

Andy looks surprised by the cheer in my voice. Weve never talked about it, but he knows something happened there two years ago. He knows that I worry about their return, that I fret each moving day. I grin again, but then stop myself, conscious of Max.

I tone it down. Uh, Lo? You didnt see them, by any chance, did you? Andys concern is touching. I release Betsy from her leash and whisk into the kitchen. Determined to hurry the morning and get to my date, I swipe the remaining dishes from the table and head toward the sink. I laugh. Do they have another plastic vagina? A stuffed giraffe?

A medieval suit of armorwhat? All three of them are staring at me. My throat tightens. What is it? Max examines me with an unusual curiosity. Your parents say you know the family. Someone says something else, but the words dont register. My feet are carrying me toward the window while my brain is screaming for me to turn back. It wasnt their furniture! It wasnt their car! But people buy new things. My eyes are riveted next door as a figure emerges onto the porch.

The dishes in my handsWhy am I still carrying the brunch plates? Because there she is. Calliope Bell. I poke at the complimentary bowl of cookies and rice crackers. Just as beautiful as she always was. Max shrugs. Shes all right. Nothing to get worked up over. As comforted as I am by his state of unimpress, its not enough to distract me. I sag against the railing of the rustic teahouse, and a breeze floats across the reflecting pool beside us.

You dont understand. Shes Calliope Bell. Youre right, I dont. His eyes frown behind his thick Buddy Holly frames. This is something we have in commonterrible vision. I love it when he wears his glasses. Badass rocker meets sexy nerd. He only wears them offstage, unless hes playing an acoustic number.

Then they add the necessary touch of sensitivity. Max is always conscious of his appearance, which some people might find vain, but I understand completely. You only have one chance to make a first impression.

Let me get this straight, he continues. When you guys were freshmen When I was a freshman. Shes a year older. Okay, when you were a freshman. She was mean to you? And youre still upset about it? His brows furrow like hes missing half of the equation. Which he is. And Im not going to fill him in. He snorts. That must have been some pretty bitchy shit for you to break those plates over. It took fifteen minutes to clean up my mess.

Shards of china and eggy frittata bits, trapped between the cracks of the hardwood floor, and sticky raspberry-peach syrup, splattered like blood across the baseboards. You have no idea. I leave it at this. Max pours himself another cup of jasmine tea. So why did you idolize her? I didnt idolize her then. Only when we were younger. She was this. I mean, we hung out when we were little, played Barbies and make-believe. It just hurt when she turned on me, thats all. I cant believe you havent heard of her, I add.

I dont watch a lot of figure skating. Shes been to the World Championships twice. Silver medals? Shes the big Olympic hopeful this year.

Sorry, he says again. She was on a Wheaties box. No doubt selling for an entire buck ninety-nine on eBay. He nudges my knees with his underneath the table. Who the hell cares? I sigh. I loved her costumes. The chiffon ruffles, the beading and Swarovski crystals, the little skirts Little skirts? Max swigs the rest of his tea.

Lola and the Boy Next Door - Perkins Stephanie

And she had that grace and poise and confidence. I push my shoulders back. And that perfect shiny hair. That perfect skin. Perfect is overrated. Perfect is boring. I smile. You dont think Im perfect? Youre delightfully screwy, and I wouldnt have you any other way.

Drink your tea. When I finish, we take another stroll. The Japanese Tea Garden isnt big, but it makes up for its size with beauty. Perfumed flowers in jewel-toned colors are balanced by intricately cut plants in tranquil blues and greens. Pathways meander around Buddhist statuary, koi ponds, a red pagoda, and a wooden bridge shaped like the moon. The only sounds are birdsong and the soft click of cameras.

Its peaceful. But the best part? Hidden nooks, perfect for kissing. We find just the right bench, private and tucked away, and Max places his hands behind my head and pulls my lips to his. This is what Ive been waiting for. His kisses are gentle and rough, spearmint and cigarettes. Weve dated all summer, but Im still not used to him. My boyfriend, Max. The night we met was the first time my parents had let me go to a club. Lindsey Lim was in the bathroom, so I was temporarily alone, perched nervously against Verges rough concrete wall.

He walked straight up to me like hed done it a hundred times before. Im sorry, he said. You must have noticed me staring at you during the set. This was true. His stare had thrilled me, though I didnt trust it. The small club was crowded, and he couldve been watching any of the hungry girls dancing beside me.

Whats your name? Lola Nolan. I adjusted my tiara and shifted in my creepers. Lo-lo-lo-lo Lo-la. Max sang it like the Kinks song. His deep voice was hoarse from the show. He wore a plain black T-shirt, which I would soon discover to be his uniform.

Underneath it, his shoulders were broad, his arms were toned, and right away I spotted the tattoo that would become my favorite, hidden in the crook of his left elbow.

His namesake from Where the Wild Things Are. The little boy in the white wolf suit. He was the most attractive man whod ever spoken to me. Semicoherent sentences tumbled around in my head, but I couldnt keep up with any of them long enough to spit one out. Whatd you think of the show? He had to raise his voice above the Ramones, whod started blasting from the speakers.

You were great, I shouted. Ive never seen your band before. I tried to yell this second part casually, like I had just never seen his band before. He didnt have to know it was my first show ever. I know. I would have noticed you. Do you have a boyfriend, Lola? Joey Ramone echoed it behind him. Hey, little girl. I wanna be your boyfriend. The guys at school were never this direct.

Not that I had much experience, just the odd monthlong boyfriend here and there. Most guys are either intimidated by me or think Im strange. Whats it to you? I jutted out my chin, confidence skyrocketing. Sweet little girl. Max looked me up and down, and the side of his lips curled into a smile.

I see you already need to go. He jerked his head, and I turned to find Lindsey Lim, jaw agape. Only a teenager could look that awkward and surprised. Did Max realize we were still in high school? So why dont you give me your number?

Id like to see you sometime. He must have heard my heart pounding as I sifted through the contents of my purse: watermelon bubble gum, movieticket stubs, veggie burrito receipts, and a rainbow of nail-polish bottles. I withdrew a Sharpie, realizing too late that only kids and groupies carry Sharpies.

Luckily, he didnt seem to mind. Max held out a wrist. His breath was warm on my neck as I pressed the marker to his skin. My hand trembled, but somehow I managed to write it in clear, bold strokes below his tattoos. Then he smiledthat signature smile, using only one corner of his mouthand ambled away, through the sweaty bodies and toward the dimly lit bar.

I allowed myself a moment to stare at his backside. Despite my number, I was sure Id never see it again. But he did call. Obviously, he called. It happened two days later, on a bus ride to work. Max wanted to meet in the Haight for lunch, and I nearly died turning him down. He asked about the next day. I was working then, too. And then he asked about the next, and I couldnt believe my luck that he was still trying.

Yes, I told him. I wore a pink soda-fountain-style waitress dress, and my natural hairIm a brunette, average in colorwas in two buns like Mickey Mouse ears. We ate falafel and discovered we were both vegetarians. He told me he didnt have a mother, and I told him I didnt really either. And then, as I wiped the last crumbs from my mouth, he said this: Theres no polite way to ask, so Im just gonna go for it.

How old are you? My expression must have been terrible, because Max looked stricken as I struggled to come up with a suitable answer. That bad, huh? I decided delay was my best tactic. No way. You first. Delay again. How old do you think I am? I think you have a cute face that looks deceptively young.

And I dont want to insult you either way. So youll have to tell me. Its true. My face is round, and my cheeks are pinchable, and my ears stick out farther than Id like.

I fight it with makeup and wardrobe. My curvy body helps, too. But I was going to tell the truth, I really was, when he started guessing. I shook my head. Older or younger? I shrugged, but he knew where this was headed. Please tell me youre eighteen. Of course Im eighteen. I shoved the empty plastic food basket away from me. Outside, I was an ice queen, but inside I was freaking out. Would I be here if I wasnt?

His amber eyes narrowed in disbelief, and the panic rose inside of me. So how old are you? I asked again. Older than you. Are you in college? I will be. So youre still living at home?

I asked a third time. He grimaced. Im twenty-two, Lola. And we probably shouldnt be having this conversation. Im sorry, if I had known Im legal. And then I immediately felt stupid.

There was a long pause. No, Max said. Youre dangerous. But he was smiling. It took another week of casual dating before I convinced him to kiss me. He was definitely interested, but I could tell I made him nervous. For some reason, this only made me bolder.

I liked Max in a way I hadnt liked anyone in years. Two years, to be exact. It was in the main public library, and we met there because Max had deemed it safe.

But when he saw meshort dress, tall bootshis eyes widened into an expression that I already recognized as an uncustomary display of emotion.

You could get a decent man in trouble, he said. I reached for his book, but I brushed the boy in the wolf suit instead. His grip went loose. Lola, he warned. I looked at him innocently. And that was when he took my hand and led me away from the public tables and into the empty stacks.

He backed me against the biographies. Are you sure you want this? A tease in his voice, but his stare was serious. My palms sweated. Of course. Im not a nice guy.

He stepped closer. Maybe Im not a nice girl. Youre a very nice girl. Thats what I like about you.

And with a single finger, he tilted my face up to his. Our relationship progressed quickly. I was the one who slowed things back down. My parents were asking questions. They no longer believed I was spending that much time with Lindsey. And I knew it was wrong to keep lying to Max before things went further, so I came clean to him about my real age. Max was furious. He disappeared for a week, and Id already given up hope when he called. He said he was in love. I told him that hed have to meet Nathan and Andy.

Parents make him edgyhis father is an alcoholic, his mother left when he was fivebut he agreed. And then the restrictions were placed upon us.

Lola and the Boy Next Door

And then last week, on my seventeenth birthday, I lost my virginity in his apartment. My parents think we went to the zoo. Since then, weve slept together once more. And Im not an idiot about these things; I dont have romantic delusions. Ive read enough to know it takes a while for it to get good for girls.

But I hope it gets better soon. The kissing is fantastic, so Im sure itll happen. Except today I cant concentrate on his lips. Ive waited for them all afternoon, but now that theyre here, Im distracted.

Bells ring in the distance from the pagoda? Theyre back. There were three of them this morning, Calliope and her parents. No sign of Calliopes siblings. Not that Id mind seeing Aleck. But the other one.

Im startled. Max is looking at me. When did we stop kissing? Where are you? My eye muscles twitch. Im sorry, I was thinking about work. He doesnt believe me. This is the problem of having lied to your boyfriend in the past. He sighs with frustration, stands, and puts one hand inside his pocket. I know hes fiddling with his lighter. Im sorry, I say again. Forget it. He glances at the clock on his phone. Its time to go, anyway. The drive to the Royal Civic Center 16 is quiet, apart from the Clash blasting through his stereo.

Max is ticked, and I feel guilty. Call me later? I ask. He nods as he pulls away, but I know Im still in trouble. As if I needed another reason to hate the Bells. She does this with an alarming frequency. The theater is in a betweenfilms nighttime lull, and Im using the opportunity to scrub the buttery popcorn feeling from my arm hair. Try this. She hands me a baby wipe. It works better than a napkin.

I accept it with genuine thanks. Despite her neuroticisms, Anna is my favorite coworker. Shes a little older than me, very pretty, and she just started film school. She has a cheerful smilea slight gap between her front teethand a thick, singular stripe of platinum in her dark brown hair.

Its a nice touch. Plus, she always wears this necklace with a glass bead shaped like a banana. I admire someone with a signature accessory. Where in the bloody hell did that come from?

Or more precisely, on top of the counter, where her ridiculously attractive, English-accented boyfriend is perched. Hes the other thing I like about Anna. Wherever she goes, he follows. He nods toward the baby wipe.

What else are you carrying in your pockets? Dust rags? Furniture polish? Watch it, she says. Or Ill scrub your arms, tienne. He grins. As long as you do it in private. Anna is the only person who calls him by his first name. The rest of us call him by his last, St. Im not sure why. Its just one of those things.

They moved here recently, but they met last year in Paris, where they went to high school. Id kill to go to school in Paris, especially if there are guys like tienne St. Clair there. Not that Id cheat on Max. Im just saying. Clair has gorgeous brown eyes and mussed artist hair. Though hes on the short side for my taste, several inches shorter than his girlfriend. He attends college at Berkeley, but despite his unemployment, he spends as much time here at the theater as he does across the bay.

And because hes beautiful and cocky and confident, everyone loves him. It only took a matter of hours before hed weaseled his way into all of the employee areas without a single complaint by management. That kind of charisma is impressive.

But it doesnt mean I want to hear about their private scrubbings. My shift ends in a half hour. Please wait until Ive vacated the premises before elaborating upon this conversation. Anna smiles at St. Lolas just jealous. Shes having Max problems again. She glances at me, and her smile turns wry. Whatd I tell you about musicians? That bad boy type will only break your heart. Theyre only bad because theyre lame, St.

Clair mutters. He pins the button to his own outfit, this fabulous black peacoat that makes him look very European, indeed. Just because, once upon a time, you guys had issues with someone, I say, doesnt mean I do. Max and I are fine. Dontdont do that. I shake my head at St. Youre ruining a perfectly good coat. Sorry, did you want it? It might balance out your collection. He gestures at my own maroon vest. In between the required Royal Theater buttons, I have several sparkly vintage brooches.

Only one manager has complained so far, but as I politely explained to him, my jewelry only attracts more attention to his advertisements. So I won that argument. And thankfully no one has said anything about the vest itself, which Ive taken in so that its actually fitted and semiflattering.

You know. For a polyester vest. My phone vibrates in my pocket. Hold that thought, I tell St. Its a text from Lindsey Lim: u wont believe who i saw jogging in the park. Anna rushes forward to catch me, but Im not falling. Am I falling? Her hand is on my arm, holding me upright. What happened, whats the matter? Surely Lindsey saw Calliope. Calliope was the one exercising in the park, as a part of her training. Of course it was Calliope! I shove the other possibility down, deep and hard, but it springs right back.

This parasite growing inside of me. It never disappears, no matter how many times I tell myself to forget it.

Its the past, and no one can change the past. But it grows all the same. Because as terrible as it is to think about Calliope Bell, its nothing compared to the pain that overwhelms me whenever I think about her twin. Theyll be seniors this year. Which means that despite the no-show this morning, theres no reason why her twin wouldnt be here.

The best I can hope for is some kind of delay. I need that time to prepare myself. I text Lindsey back with a simple question mark. Please, please, please, I beg the universe. Please be Calliope. Is it Max? Anna asks. Your parents? Oh God, its that guy we kicked out of the theater yesterday, isnt it? That crazy guy with the giant phone and the bucket of chicken! How did he find your numb Its not the guy. But I cant explain.

Not now, not this. Everythings fine. Anna and St.

Lola and the Boy Next Door

Clair swap identical disbelieving glances. Its Betsy. My dog. Andy says shes acting sick, but Im sure its prob My phone vibrates again, and I nearly drop it in my frantic attempt to read the new text: calliope. Clair asks.

I look up at my friends. I give them a relieved smile. False alarm. She just threw up a shoe. A shoe? Dude, Anna says.And the boy watched the girl grow more and more perfect, more and more beautiful with each passing year.

As if I needed another reason to hate the Bells.

Her dads are strict, but caring and other than their strict dating rules, Lola doesn't mind. The narrator did a great job and if you like YA this would be a good option. I am totally none of those things! Our tongues turned green-apple green. Youre delightfully screwy, and I wouldnt have you any other way.

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