Adrian rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and have I thanked you lately for that rule?"

I did not make that rule. I've often wished I had the power to make rules at our house because there are a lot of things I'd change, and most of them have to do with Adrian. For example, right after I made our property a Rick-free zone, I would restrict the amount of dreary clothing Adrian wears. I mean, sure, I like a little black dress as well as the next woman, and black pants are versatile—but Adrian wears all black, every day. It's like living in a funeral home. And the friends she brings home usually smell so badly of cigarette smoke that you have to ventilate the place after they leave. Seriously, one day she'll bring over too many and they'll set off the smoke alarm.

I didn't make the rule about Rick not being allowed over when Mom wasn't home. Mom asked me questions about him and then made the rule all by herself.

I put down my drink. "Come on guys, let's run through our routine one more time."

My friends didn't argue the point. Probably because they didn't want to stay with Rick and Adrian any more than I did. We went back to the living room, turned up the song loud enough to drown out any conversation in the kitchen, and did the number perfectly. In sync. In step. And in time. "We're ready," Samantha said as the music ended.

Rachel held her hair off her shoulders. "Which is a good thing because I'm totally sick of that song."

From the kitchen doorway, where they had been watching us, Rick called, "Finally something we have in common. Tell Chelsea to get some taste in music."

"And I was just about to give you the same advice," I called back.

Adrian flopped down on the couch, put her feet on the wall and leaned back so that her head nearly touched the floor. She looked at me from her upside-down perch. "You know, you should start being nice to Rick. One day he'll be famous."

"Uh huh." That was all her comment merited in the way of a rebuttal. According to Adrian, Rick is the next Elvis. Well, Elvis in a grungy Goth sort of way. It wouldn't hurt her to live in this fantasy world, or at least it wouldn't hurt me, but lately she and Rick had reached insufferable ego levels, thanks to a new show, High School Idol.

The makers of High School Idol billed it as American Idol for teens, and were unfortunately doing an audition in our town. This was about the most exciting thing Pullman had seen since, well, since ever, really. It didn't matter that auditions were also taking place in L.A., New York, Chicago, Miami, and Dallas, or that the winner would certainly come from one of the big cities. The producers wanted a contestant from rural America to show that the next superstar could come from anywhere. So as an oddity, a ratings-getter, they were offering a slot to one teenage singer or group from Pullman.

I figured they were stopping here mostly to make fun of us. I mean, really, how could a town that only had about seven hundred kids in high school ever compete with L.A.? They just figured we were a bunch of hicks who'd dress in gingham and sing off-key to Sound of Music songs.

Only no one saw it that way besides me. It's all anyone talked about at school. One of us would be on TV performing in front of the nation. What if one of us won the whole contest? People who didn't know clef notes from Cliffs Notes were suddenly breaking out into song in the middle of the school hallways. It was like being trapped in some bad musical.

I can sing, but I'm a little too realistic to think I'll suddenly be discovered and dropped into a limo on its way to Epic Records headquarters. My friends and I aren't even auditioning. What's the point?

But Adrian and Rick are convinced that fate designed this show just to launch Rick into stardom. And I've had to hear about it since they announced the auditions a week ago. Fortunately only three weeks are left until they come and we can put this whole unfortunate episode behind us. I probably won't rub it in too badly when Rick is rejected.

My friends picked up their pom-poms and backpacks and made their way to the door. They probably would have stayed longer—-well, at least Rachel and Aubrie would have—if Rick hadn't been there harassing us.

As Aubrie left, she cast a glance in Rick's direction and then looked back at me. "You can come over to my house for dinner if you want."

Aubrie is an angel. I didn't even hesitate. I walked out the door and called over my shoulder, "I'm going to Aubrie's. Tell Mom when she gets home."

I knew Adrian probably wouldn't, but that didn't worry me. Mom can reach me by cell phone. Besides, she doesn't hassle me much about where I go. This is the one advantage to having a rebellious little sister. In comparison, you're always the good child.

When I came home, I could hear Adrian and Mom in the kitchen fighting. Mom went on about trust, and how Adrian needed to obey the rules; then Adrian went on about how Mom was never home so the rule wasn't fair. Mom said something, I couldn't hear what, but Adrian stomped off to her room with the declaration that she hated us all.

If I shut my eyes, I can still see Adrian in pigtails following me around with puppy like adoration, but not long ago she shook off her affection for me, like a person shakes rain off an umbrella.

After Adrian had slammed her bedroom door shut, Mom came into the living room to grill me for information. How long had Rick been over? I didn't know because I left shortly after he called me Dangerously Blonde. Why had he come over? Probably just to torment me. What had Adrian and he done when he was over? Insult me, my friends, my music, and drink the rest of the soda.

Then Mom laid into me for leaving the two of them alone together. She went on about how I should have stuck around to be their chaperone because Adrian was almost sixteen—she was old enough to seriously mess up her life by doing something stupid with Rick.

"You know your sister doesn't have any sense," Mom said. "If she had her way, Rick would be moving in here, and you'd have to introduce him to your friends as 'my brother-in-law'."

Chilling, yes, but probably true. Still, I didn't see what I could do about it. It's not like Adrian listened to me anymore. After the election fiasco, I'd told her she ought to dump Rick, and then I'd spent the entire summer trying to set her up with all sorts of guys just to pry her away from his clutches.

Most little sisters would appreciate this, considering that the guys I know are way cooler than the people she hangs out with. But no, it only made her more devoted to Rick because, "He isn't like other guys."

Exactly. Other guys are better.

I tried to explain all of this to Mom, but the more I did, the more Mom insisted that I needed to watch Adrian.

"Bad boys have a certain attraction, but they grow up to be bad men, and we all know where that leads." She meant my father. He was the type of fate we had to keep Adrian from. Because really, the only nice thing you can say about my father is that he stays far away from us. My parents divorced when I was eight and now he lives in Chicago in some low-rent dive he shares with several colonies of cockroaches.

Still, I didn't think me keeping an eye on Adrian was going to do any good. She didn't need an eye. She needed an ankle bracelet and a prison guard.

Chapter 4

I wore my cheerleading uniform to school the next day. We wear them on game days as a reminder for the students to come see the game. I always feel on display when I wear it. Somehow it transforms me from Chelsea the normal person into someone who's upbeat and peppy. You're not supposed to be depressed while wearing a cheerleading uniform. You can't have a bad hair day or skimp on your makeup. It's like going to school as Barbie. Anyway, I didn't really feel like smiling and being full of school spirit, because as soon as I got to school I ran into Mike and Naomi strolling down the hallway holding hands.