Dial L for Loser

by Lisi Harrison

“They could cancel the board meeting and decide not to let us back in.” Claire wrapped a multicolored polka-dot scarf around her neck.

  “Lose the scarf and we won’t get caught.” Dylan giggled. “You can see that thing from space.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Let’s go.” Massie led the way toward campus. The faster she walked, the more her hair bounced and swayed. She felt free! No more homework, tests, or sweaty phys-ed classes. If she wanted to read magazines for five hours while Jakkob glued hair to her scalp, she could. Life was hers for the taking. So why did she feel like an empty tube of lip gloss, a hollow shell with nothing left to give?

  “We should take cover in the faculty parking lot,” Kristen suggested. “It gives us a perfect view of the Great Lawn and we can hide behind the cars.”

  “Fine, but we enter from the back,” Massie added. “Hurry! The bell is going to ring in—”

  “Fifty-five seconds,” Kristen interrupted.

  “Fifty-four seconds,” Massie insisted. “Come awn!”

  They scurried around the block giggling and shushing one another.

  “Wait up,” Alicia called. “You know I can’t run.”

  “Just watch what we’re doing and copy!” Dylan shouted.

  “Apple-C!” Claire yelled.

  “Not funny,” Alicia panted.

  They didn’t stop until they reached the foot of the parking lot. “This is weird,” Kristen whispered under her breath.

  No one else said a word.

  They stood gazing at the assortment of fuel-efficient cars that stood between them and their old school. Massie felt like a ghost of her former self, coming back from the dead to take a final glimpse at the life she was leaving behind… the life she had taken for granted.

  She wanted to ask her friends if they missed the eraser smell of the halls. Or the rambling, dorky stories their English teacher would tell them about his hairless cats. Or text-messaging during study period or laughing during lunch or counting the compliments they’d get from the LBRs (losers beyond repair) or going to the soccer games at Briarwood Academy and flirting with their crushes. But she didn’t. It was her job as the alpha to keep their spirits up. They needed her.

  Rrrriiiinnnng!

  “There it is,” Massie announced. “It’s showtime.”

  “Quick!” Kristen cried. “Get behind that VW.”

  “Which one?” Dylan panicked. “There are, like, ten of them here.”

  “The dirty white one with the ‘Less Bombs, More Art Supplies’ sticker.” Kristen pointed to a beat-up car sandwiched between a GMC Jimmy and a gold Ford Taurus. “It’s in the first row.”

  They crouched next to the expanding oil stain between the rear tires.

  “Perfect view.” Massie wiped her cold, clammy hands on her black tights. That same nervous flutter she’d felt in her stomach right before she lip-kissed Derrington in Lake Placid was back.

  “Aren’t you so glad we’re free?” Dylan asked.

  “Given,” Alicia purred. “We can do whatever we want whenever we want. We don’t have to come here ever again.”

  “It’s true,” Dylan agreed. “We’re here because we want to be. Not because we have to be.”

  “Totally.”

  All of a sudden, a rush of girls burst through the doors. Most of them wore skinny jeans tucked into their knee-high boots, or Uggs with miniskirts. Some were laughing, while others were on their cell phones. Everything was exactly as it had always been. Even though Massie wasn’t there.

  “Kuh-laire,” Massie hissed. “Where is this protest?”

  Claire bit down on her thumbnail and shrugged.

  Hahhhhh… Hahhhhh. The sudden roar of a cheering crowd interrupted.

  “K, you’re ringing,” Massie snapped.

  “Oops. Sorry.” Kristen pulled a scratched silver phone out of her argyle sock and flipped it open. “Hi, Ma.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m studying.”

  The girls giggled.

  “What do you mean, prove it? How can I prove it?” Kristen opened and closed the Velcro strap on her green-and-white leather Pumas as she listened to her mother’s instructions. “Are you serious?… Fine. No problem.” She quickly flipped her messenger bag upside down and dumped the books on the asphalt.

  “What is it?” Massie whispered. “What does she want?”

  “Outta the way!” Kristen mouthed. “Hurry!”

  They all jumped back, searching one another’s faces for an explanation. When the area was clear, Kristen lifted her phone and snapped a picture of the pavement. She immediately forwarded it to her mother.

  “Did ya get it?” She silently invited the girls back. “See, I told you I was alone.… Yes, I’m outside. I needed some air. The heat was blasting in the library and—” She paused. “Yes, I’ll be home by five. Love you too.” She stuffed her phone back in her sock and exhaled. “This protest better work. I can’t handle this much longer.”

  “There she is!” Claire stabbed the air with her finger.

  Layne was waving a sign made of white poster board that had been taped to a long twig. A grainy, blown-up shot of Claire smiling sweetly was taped to the front, and SAVE THE LYONS was painted across the back in big maroon letters. Two Gwen Stefani–wannabes with identical signs followed closely behind her.

  “You know, if she would just brush her hair, get a few blond highlights to offset the mousiness, and stop shopping in the men’s department of the Salvation Army, she’d have cute-potential,” Dylan said. “She has nice blue eyes. Small, but nice.”

  “They’re green,” Claire murmured.

  “Save the Lyons!” shouted Layne and her BFFs, Meena and Heather, as they poked the sky with their signs.

  “Ehmagawd,” Alicia screeched. “This is the protest?”

  “I assumed it would be for all of us.” Claire’s cheeks turned bright red. “I am so sor—”

  “Puh-lease! I’m glad Layne’s not fighting for me,” Massie said to the oil stain beneath her feet. “The last thing I need is for people to think we’re friends.”

  “Point,” Alicia uttered.

  “This whole protest thing is stupid. I feel bad for you, Claire.”

  “Huh?” Claire tugged on her short honey-blond bangs. “Why?”

  “I just think it may ruin your chances of getting back in.” Massie checked her nails for dirt. “The board may think you’re causing more trouble. They could see you as a threat.”

  “Really?” Claire’s blue eyes were wide with fear.

  “Yeah, but don’t worry. We’ve taught you a lot. I’m sure you’ll be fine at ADD.”

  Claire sat back on the frozen ground, hugged her knees to her chest, and lowered her head.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Massie jumped to her feet. There was no way she was going to stick around to watch Claire’s pathetic little fan club treat her like last year’s Sevens.

  “Wait!” Kristen grabbed Massie’s ankle. “Look!”

  A circle of at least thirty girls was forming in front of Principal Burns’s office window with bigger, flashier, more fabulous signs than Layne’s.

  “Take pity on the Pretty Committee! Take pity on the Pretty Committee! Take pity on the Pretty Committee!” they chanted.

  “Ehmagawd!” Massie crouched back down. “They’re wearing purple tulips in their hair. My favorite color.”

  “Look.” Dylan pointed. “That sign says, ‘We Want Massie Back in Class-y.’”

  “Love that!” Massie tapped her heart.

  “I see one that says, ‘Unblock the Block!’” Kristen chimed in.

  “Ahdorable!”

  “Aren’t you afraid you won’t get back into school now?” Claire smirked.

  Massie checked her reflection in a hubcap, ignoring Claire’s jab.

  “Ehmagawd, there’s one for me!” Alicia clapped.

  “Where?” Massie hissed.

  “There.” She pointed to Olivia Ryan, whose sign, ALISHA WE MISH-YA, doubled as an advertise
ment for her stupidity.

  “Um, she spelled your name wrong.” Kristen cackled.

  “So?” Alicia glowered.

  “Ehmagawd, Massie, look!” Dylan gasped.

  Massie held her palm in front of Dylan’s face, ordering her to wait. She was in the middle of counting and didn’t want to lose her place. There was one sign for Alicia, three for Claire, and eighteen for her. Not bad. Of course, she’d be sure to tell her crush, Derrington, she’d had an even twenty-five.

  “This is terrible,” Dylan whined.

  “The worst!” Kristen agreed. “Don’t be so sensitive.” Massie put her arms around her friends. “Just because no one made signs with your names on them doesn’t mean—”

  “No!” Dylan barked. “Look! By the bike racks.”

  Massie steadied herself on the dust-covered VW.

  Strawberry and Kori, Alicia’s ex-friends from dance class, hopped on their Bratz bikes and tore across the lawn. They pedaled like Lance Armstrong and rang their rusty bells, shouting, “Out with the old, in with Da Crew!”

  “Who do they think they are?” Massie cried. “Do they seriously think they can start their own Pretty Committee?”

  “Don’t they have to be pretty to do that?” Dylan scoffed.

  “Are they really going to call it ‘Da Crew’?” Kristen winced.

  “Looks like they have some competition,” said Claire.

  Four petite blondes in matching yellow tennis dresses charged across the lawn waving flags that said THE COUNTRY CLUB tied to vintage wooden rackets.

  “What makes them think we’re not coming back?” Massie shouted, forgetting they were on a stakeout.

  Alicia stomped her foot. “My dad is so suing them.”

  “Why isn’t Principal Burns breaking this up?” Massie searched the lawn. There wasn’t a single security guard out there.

  “Doesn’t OCD encourage freedom of expression and the right to protest?” Claire asked.

  Everyone stared.

  “She’s right.” Kristen sighed. “It’s in the handbook. After we got expelled I read it cover-to-cover looking for a loophole.”

  “Great,” Massie said to the tangled charm bracelet around her wrist. The thought of being replaced by Da Crew or the Country Club—after her lifelong struggle to become number one—made her quake. So what if eighteen girls wanted her back? Six didn’t, and if she didn’t do something soon—something to remind them how insanely fabulous she was—there would be more.

  CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION

  INOUT

  Gluing my hair Growing my hair

  Hanging at the malls Hanging in the halls

  Da Crew & the Country Club The Pretty Committee!!!!!

  THE BLOCK ESTATE

  HOME SPA (OLD HORSE SHED)

  Thursday, March 5th

  3:45 P.M.

  Claire knelt on the sea-green tiles inside the Blocks’ hot tub, trying her hardest not to disturb Massie or Massie’s mother, Kendra, who had their backs pressed up against the bubbling jets and their eyes closed.

  They were in the “wet section” of the elegant horse-shed-turned-spa: a marble oasis complete with steam room, sauna, and a walk-in-closet-size shower that had nozzles on every wall, so turning was an option, not a necessity. Tranquil New Age music played on a constant loop, and the calming smell of lavender soothed the senses. It used to be Claire’s favorite place to unwind after a long day of studying. But these days it was merely an inexpensive way to pass the time.

  “Mom, how do you do it?” Massie exhaled slowly, her eyes still closed.

  “Do what, dear?” Kendra gathered her shiny brown bob into a tiny ponytail and lowered her head. A string of medium-size black pearls was all she had on, while Claire and Massie opted for the red one-pieces they used to wear in swim class at OCD.

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me, dear.” Kendra turned to face her daughter.

  “I mean nothing.” Massie stomped her foot. “How do you do nothing all day? It’s so hard.”

  Kendra rolled her thin neck from side to side. “Practice.”

  Massie’s back stiffened. “Kuh-laire, don’t go telling everyone I said that.”

  “I won’t.” Claire dunked her head and let out an underwater, “Yesss!” It was the first time Massie had admitted life without OCD was boring. Claire wasn’t the only school-loving freak after all.

  Massie splashed her when she resurfaced. “Why are you smiling?”

  “I’m not.” She grinned. But the truth was, being alone with Massie filled Claire with pure happiness. The instant the other girls left, it was like a director had yelled, “Cut!” They could stop acting cool and go back to being themselves: friends.

  “Stop it!” a squeaky voice suddenly shouted. “No, don’t! Don’t! I’m serious!”

  Kendra yanked her robe into the water, struggling to cover herself with a half-floating, half-sinking mass of white terry cloth. “Who’s there?”

  “Oof!” Tiny Nathan, Todd Lyons’s pint-size partner in crime, practically flew through the beveled-glass door. “S-sorry.” He steadied himself. “Someone pushed me.” He giggled.

  “Todd!” Massie and Claire shouted at the same time.

  “Apple-C!” Claire whacked Massie’s bare arm.

  “Nice one.” Massie chuckled.

  “Thanks.”

  “Todd.” Kendra inhaled, like she was gathering the strength to explain something complicated to him. “You boys need to get out of here. It’s girls only right now.”

  His snicker was muffled by the gurgling jets.

  “Todd!” Claire shouted.

  “What? I didn’t do anything,” insisted the ten-year-old redhead.

  “Did too!” Tiny Nathan’s narrow brown eyes were fixed on Kendra’s bare shoulders.

  “Todd!”

  “Okay, okay.” Todd stepped into the steamy room and grabbed Nathan’s frail arm. His entire face and body were covered in temporary tattoos—hearts, moons, dice, devils, barnyard animals, and busty fifties-style pinup girls. It looked like he had fallen asleep on an open comic book and rolled over twice.

  “Ignore it,” Claire muttered to Massie and Kendra. They quickly turned away to avoid laughing.

  “Let’s go.” Todd tugged Tiny Nathan’s X-Men sweatshirt. “They’re boring.”

  “Yeah,” Nathan squeaked.

  The second they were gone, Kendra hoisted her soaked robe out of the tub and slapped the sopping heap of terry cloth onto the marble floor. “Ahhhhhhh.” She let out a cleansing sigh and closed her eyes.

  “Nice butts!” the boys shouted from the doorway.

  “Todd!” Claire smacked the bubbling water.

  The boys burst out laughing as they scurried outside.

  “Did he lose a bet?” Massie asked, referring to Todd’s body art.

  “He’s trying to get expelled from Briarwood.” Claire crossed her eyes for a second. “He thinks we have it made right now.”

  “Oh, your poor mother.” Kendra tapped her heart.

  Massie touched the back of her head, checking the pins that held her extensions out of the chlorinated water. “Did he get in trouble?”

  “Nope.” Claire grinned. “Headmaster Adams is making him wear them to the St. Patrick’s Day dance as his punishment.”

  “No way…” Massie’s voice trailed off. “Funny.”

  Claire lowered her head and examined her pruning fingertips. “It’s so stupid.”

  “What?” Massie rolled onto her stomach and kicked. “That we’re banned from Briarwood?”

  “Yeah.” Claire nodded, loving when their minds were in sync.

  “It makes sense to me.” Kendra hooked a finger around her pearls. “Briarwood is OCD’s brother school.”

  “Well, it’s still stupid,” Massie insisted.

  “Do you think Cam and Derrington will go to the St. Patrick’s Day dance without us?” Claire bit down on her already mangled thumbnail.

  “I have to get out. I think
I have heatstroke.” Massie stood up slowly and wrapped herself in a fluffy yellow towel.

  Ever since she and Derrington had lip-kissed in Lake Placid, she refused to talk about him. Was it because she didn’t like him anymore, or because she was afraid he didn’t like her? Claire was about to ask when Massie’s ringing phone, which sounded exactly like Bean’s bark, interrupted.

  Yap-yap-yap…

  Yap-yap-yap…

  Massie reached for her purple-crystal-covered Motorola and flipped it open. “Hello? Yeah, I’ll hold.”

  “Who is it?” Claire mouthed, praying it was Derrington. Because if it was, there was a good chance Cam would be with him. She fluffed her embarrassingly short bangs to make sure they hadn’t split into an upside-down V.

  “It’s Dylan.” Massie sighed.

  An electronic voice came from Claire’s cell. Pick up the phone.… Pick up the phone.…

  Now she was ringing. Claire raised her hand out of the hot tub and patted the marble floor until she found her scratched Nokia.

  Pick up the phone.… Pick—

  “Hello?”

  “Claire, it’s Dylan.”

  “Hey.”

  “Massie, Alicia, Kristen, are you all on?” Dylan asked.

  “Yup,” they said at slightly different times.

  “Gawd, these five-way calls are complicated.” Dylan chomped down on what sounded like a handful of broken glass.

  “Ew, what is that?” Massie stuck out her tongue like it was covered in dog food.

  Claire covered her cell phone so the others wouldn’t hear her giggling.

  “Sorry.” Dylan chewed. “I just ate a handful of bran flakes. I started my bran-only diet today.”

  A mischievous smile formed across Massie’s face. “Do you want to borrow my knife?”

  “Huh?” Dylan swallowed. “Why?”

  “To help you cut the cheese!”

  While everyone laughed, Massie opened the sliding glass door and entered the “dry section”: a log-cabin-inspired meditation room with a roaring fireplace, sheepskin rugs, and wide leather club chairs draped in Ralph Lauren Navajo-style blankets.

  Claire felt weird staying in the hot tub alone with naked Kendra, whose eyes were luckily still closed, and quickly hurried to join Massie.