What I Wore to Save the World

Table of Contents

 

 

praise for how i found the perfect dress

“Teenaged girls who like a little fantasy with their romance will thoroughly enjoy this sequel . . . Amusing and delightful.”

—
VOYA

 

“Morgan returns as funny as ever.”

—
TeensReadToo.com
, Gold Star Award

 

“I literally could not stop reading this book. It had me in its clutches from the moment I opened it and started reading the first page! I was thrilled to see the return of one of my favorite heroines . . . hilariously entertaining . . . a seriously fantastic book.”
—Teen Book Review

 

“Full of sarcastic, witty humor, more hysterical magical beings, and meddling faeries. Wood has created an absolutely wonderful, sparkling read.”
—The Compulsive Reader

 

 

why i let my hair grow out

 

“[This] is a rockin' book! It includes a dude who is madly in love with a toad . . . a talking horse; several extremely hot guys; magical mysteries . . . and much more that makes me recommend it . . . extremely highly.”

—E. Lockhart, author of
The Boyfriend List

 

“This romantic and magical adventure had me cheering and laughing out loud. I can't wait for the sequel!”

—Sarah Mlynowski, author of
Spells & Sleeping Bags

 

“Great storytelling . . . makes a strong case that to enjoy and live life, ‘to thine own self be true' . . . Teen readers will jam with the heroine.”
—Midwest Book Review

 

“The perfect mix of real life, romance, and magic.”

—Wendy Mass, author of
Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life

 

“For readers who like just a bit of fantasy with their reality . . . Even if you have no hair issues, you are sure to find this book well worth your reading time. I highly recommend it.”

—
Flamingnet
, Top Choice Award

 

“This is a funny, smart book that readers are sure to love!”

—
TeensReadToo.com
, Gold Star Award

 

 

praise for the novels of
maryrose wood

 

“Irresistible . . . hers is a voice that is way plugged in.”

 

“Uproariously funny . . . strong, pitch-perfect narration will easily win readers.”
—Booklist

 

“Will provide hours of laughter and empathetic nods from readers.”
—School Library Journal

 

“Pure entertainment.”
—Kirkus Reviews

WHY I LET MY HAIR GROW OUT
HOW I FOUND THE PERFECT DRESS
WHAT I WORE TO SAVE THE WORLD

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
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(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,
South Africa

 

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

 

WHAT I WORE TO SAVE THE WORLD

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2009 by Maryrose Wood.

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

BERKLEY® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

BERKLEY® JAM and the JAM logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley JAM trade paperback edition / December 2009

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-15167-9

 

An application to register this book for cataloging has been submitted to the Library of Congress.

 

 

acknowledgments

Thanks to my agent, Elizabeth Kaplan, editor Jessica Wade, publicist Caitlin Brown and all the lovely people at Berkley JAM. Special thanks to illustrator Sarah Howell and designer Monica Benalcazar for yet another magically eye-catching cover.

Many thanks to the readers of this series! You are a hilarious bunch of incurable romantics, and your e-mails always brighten my day.

And remember, you don't have to be a half-goddess to save the world. I hope each of you will find some way, large or small, to make your own communities a better place to live. Clean up a park, tutor a kid, visit a nursing home or volunteer for a cause you believe in. Maybe you could even run for office! You've got my vote.

 

Maryrose Wood
July 21, 2009

one

“and so, in the immortal words of polonius—”

“In the words of Shakespeare, he means,” Sarah hissed in my ear. “Polonius was fictional! God, that ex-boyfriend of yours is such a
dweeb—
”

Raph stepped back from the mike and adjusted the tassel that hung over the edge of his mortarboard an eighth of an inch to the right. Apparently it had slipped from the perfect photo op-ready angle.

“ ‘ To thine own self be true,' ” he intoned, nodding like he'd just thought of it.

Some goofball guys in the seats up front whooped with fake enthusiasm, but I couldn't see who they were. Sarah and I were seated in the back with the rest of the juniors, way out past where the white tents cast some badly needed shade over the graduating seniors and their guests.

The metal folding chairs were heating up in the sun. My cotton sundress was sticking to my legs, my legs were sticking to each other and my ass was sticking to the seat. If the school administration had actually buttered the chairs before the ceremony they could have served sunny-side-up juniors for lunch. “Hot East Norwich Teens Actually Fry to Death,” the headlines would read.

At least that would have put me out of my misery. Instead, I had to watch cool-as-a-cucumber Raphael, my onetime boyfriend, now senior class president and valedictorian, as he wrapped up the Speech of His Awesome Lifetime So Far.

This was his perfect moment, the one he'd fantasized about since he was voted Most Likely to Color Inside the Lines in kindergarten. Raph on the podium. Raph at the microphone. Raph telling his classmates how to live the rest of their lives, while his proud parents snapped one flash photo after another.

“My fellow graduates of East Norwich High School!” He was practically yelling now, as he built up to his big finish. “You are ready, you are willing, you are
totally
able! Be true to yourselves and you cannot fail!”

The black-robed seniors jumped to their feet, cheering. Following Raph's lead, 522 square black hats flew into the sky. Raph grinned and pumped his fists in the air like a rock star.

His girlfriend du jour, a bubbly, pretty junior named Alyssa, was sitting two rows in front of Sarah and me. She was the only junior to leap up from her seat and clap along with the seniors.

Leave it to a cheerleader to show excess enthusiasm,
I thought. I wondered how long Raph would wait after graduation before ditching her. When it came to girls, Raph liked to wipe the slate clean at the end of the school year. Like emptying out your locker. This I knew from personal experience.

The senior class of East Norwich High School had been set free. The boys yelled and pounded one another's backs; the girls hugged and cried. There was some comical ducking and evasive maneuvers as the mortarboards crash-landed back on earth.

What goes up, must come down . . .
But the rules of gravity didn't seem to apply to Raph.

 

 

 

“so obnoxious. it's like he's the freakin' king,” sarah muttered as she washed her hands. “Why do they make the juniors sit through the ceremony, anyway? I have more valuable things to be doing on a beautiful day like today.”

Now that we were inside the air-conditioned chill of the school, I was too busy trying to peel my sweaty dress away from my body to answer right away. My face felt like it had spent the morning in a toaster oven, right under the broiler.

“Can you believe all those people are waiting outside for the Porta Potti?” Sarah shook the excess water off her hands. “Guh-ross.”

Of course, none of those poor shlubs were on a first-name basis with the school janitor. He was a major b-ball fan who was only too happy to let Sarah, star center of the school's undefeated girls' team, and me, her unathletic but needing-to-pee friend, into the building to use the facilities.

“Yikes. Your face is really red.” The soap dispenser by my sink was empty, so Sarah gave me a squirt from hers. “Ever hear of sunblock?”

“I forgot.”

“Skin cancer, Morgan. Wrinkles.
Freckles.
You have to be more careful.”

Sarah, always sensible, had been wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat all morning. On her it looked ironic-retro-glamorous, like she was the star of one of those made-for-cable movies based on a Jane Austen novel. On me, a hat like that would look like a stack of pancakes had fallen on my head.

“If I'd known they were going to leave us stranded in the desert to die . . .” I bent over the sink and gently splashed cool water on my scorched cheeks.

“I know, right?” Sarah laughed. “Why does the school administration hate the juniors so much? Maybe they're still punishing us for what happened at prom.”