Mr. Darcy regains my interest. As if he ever lost it.“Mmhmm, thanks.” The phone clicks back in its charger. My sister springs up from the floor mummy-style. “That traitor!”Okay, Darcy, see you later. I close the book. “Who was that?

What song was that? Maybe if you would’ve sung, I would’ve caught on.”I force a laugh. One step at a time, buddy. I don’t even sing for my teddy bears. That’s a different matter entirely.

Sure you don’t. And you didn’t look anything like that Mr. Doolittle in the Pride and Prejudice movie you made me watch.”I cringe. “It’s Mr. Darcy,” I correct her over my shoulder, escaping the chilly morning air by heading to the locker room. “And this situation is not worthy of comparison to that.

Auden’s gone full-blown Lydia “Bennet and accused me of being Lizzie. Which, I don’t mind, but still.” “Plain English here please, Em. You know I don’t speak Austen.”“Neither does she.” I exhale

Whatever. I’m going to class.”“No, Harriet! You mustn’t flee the premises! Mr. Elton will soon admire thee!” She’s been poking fun at my Austen obsession since she read Emma in English. I roll my eyes, not bothering to look back at her as I speed walk to Geometry. “Dude, spoiler alert. She doesn’t end up with Elton.

Oh my Lanta. He heard your bad Emma Woodhouse accent.

As I’m sitting down, a spark flashes from the corner of my eye. She lights an unscented candle, the coy smile that Ryanne inherited appearing on her face. Scratch that again. I’m going to go make a new life for myself in the woods, away from people forever

I don’t think that deserved a smack by your three-ton pocketbook.”I raise my eyebrows. “I don’t know what the code of conduct is back in Bama, but here in good ol’ Linwood County, in our Southern Hospitality Manual, section fifteen subsection seven, it clearly states that rudely ignoring someone warrants a backslap into next week.