“Are you sitting down?” Dylan asked.
“Yeah,” they answered.
“Hold on.” Alicia sounded out of breath. “Hold on.… Hold on.… Keep holding.… Okay. Sitting.”
“Is everyone sitting now?”
“Yes!”
“Cool, because you are going to pass out eleven times when you hear this.” Dylan was milking her good news like a Starbucks barista.
“What?” everyone shouted.
“Guess who is going to be on my mom’s show this Monday.” Dylan sounded like she was jogging. “Take a wild
guess.”
“Lohan?”
“No.”
“Simpson?”
“No.”
“Bloom?”
“No.”
“Hartnett?”
“No.”
“Beyoncé?”
“No.”
“Spears?”
“No.”
“Maddox?”
“No.”
“Zahara?”
“No!” Dylan cracked up.
“Who?” Alicia whined.
“Keep guessing.”
But it wasn’t that easy. Merri-Lee Marvil was the host of The Daily Grind, the highest-rated morning show in the country. She could have anyone, from the biggest A-list celebrity in Hollywood to a tabby cat that knit scarves for the homeless.
“Come awn.” Massie paced across the sheepskin rug. “It’ll take us all day to figure it out.”
“We’ve got nothing but time,” Kristen groaned, clearly over the whole expelled thing too.
“Fine, I’ll tell you.” Dylan chomped down on another handful of bran flakes. “Ready?”
“Yes!” they all shouted.
“Apple-C!” they shouted again.
“Do you want to hear or not?”
“Ehmagawd,” Massie giggle-yelled. “Tell us already.”
“AbbyBoydandHadleyDurk!”
“What?” Claire asked. She could have sworn Dylan said, “Abby Boyd and Hadley Durk.” But everyone knew that was impossible. They hated each other.
“Abby Boyd and Hadley Durk will be on The Daily Grind to talk about their new movie, Dial L for Loser.”
Massie looked at Claire and screamed.
“What is it?” Kendra scrambled into the living room holding a yellow towel in front of her dripping body. “What happened? Is everyone okay?” Woozy from a sudden head rush, she grabbed the black granite mantle to steady herself.
“They never do interviews together.” Massie jumped on the leather club chair and started bouncing. “How did—”
“Wait, that’s not the best part,” Dylan interrupted.
“It gets better?” Alicia squealed.
“Yup.” Dylan sounded pleased with herself. She obviously liked being the one with all the information. “I have passes! We’regoingtomeetthem!”
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” Massie screamed.
“Me too?” Claire asked.
“Do you still live in Massie’s guesthouse?” Dylan sounded like a nursery-school teacher.
“Uh-huh.” Claire avoided Massie’s amber eyes just in case the answer was—
“Then of course you too.”
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” Massie and Claire screamed.
Kendra clutched her heart. “Hang up those phones right now before you give me a coronary.”
Claire immediately hit end.
“Call ya later.” Massie snapped her phone shut without question. She had been trying to stay on her mother’s good side ever since they got expelled, to avoid punishment. And, like all of her ploys, it was working.
“What’s going on?” Kendra poured a tall glass of cucumber water and sat on the arm of her daughter’s chair.
“Mom, you don’t understand. Abby Boyd and Hadley Durk are, like, the biggest teen celebrities in Hollywood. They’re in every magazine on the planet.” Massie paused, eyed Claire, and screamed. Claire screamed back, then they hugged.
Kendra fanned her cheeks with a copy of Architectural Digest. “What am I missing?”
“Abby and Hadley have been in a massive feud for over a year because Hadley thinks Abby hooked up with her boyfriend—correction, ex-boyfriend—the ahdorable Palmer Dryden. This is their first interview together, ever! And we’re going!” Massie turned to Claire and shrieked. The two girls hugged again, as if hearing the news for the first time.
“I’m not sure.” Kendra shook her head. “You’ve been expelled. And this seems like a fun little outing to me.”
“What?” Massie jumped to her feet. “No way! You can’t.”
Claire’s heart pounded in protest.
“And exactly how is going to see your favorite movie star educational?” Kendra raised her eyebrows and glared at her daughter.
Massie fixed on her mother’s hazel eyes. “I’m gonna learn how a live TV show is made.”
“Hmmm.” Kendra tapped her chin while she contemplated this.
“And I’ll be exposed to a bunch of new jobs I never knew existed.”
“Hmmmm.”
“And…” Her eyes were shifting as she searched for an answer. “And—”
“And she won’t be spending any money at the mall,” Claire jumped in.
Massie exhaled.
“Will you write Merri-Lee a thank-you note as soon as you get back?”
“Of course.” Massie smiled sweetly.
“Claire, will one of the parents be there to supervise?”
“Uh—”
“Ahb-viously Dylan’s mom will be there.”
“Okay, then, I’m off to moisturize before Fendi commissions my dry skin for their fall handbag collection.” Kendra tossed her magazine on the oak coffee table and padded back to the “wet section.”
Claire’s eyelids fluttered with excitement. “Wait until Cam and Derrington hear about this. They’ll freak!”
“We have to let the girls at school know too.” Massie tightened the yellow towel around her waist. “Da Crew and the Country Club will be so ‘out’ when everyone hears this.”
“Let’s call the boys and tell them.” Claire held up her red Nokia. It had been exactly seven sleeps since she’d seen Cam Fisher and she didn’t know how much longer she’d last. Ever since they’d lip-kissed on the Lake Placid trip, her crush had turned into full-blown love. She knew he felt it too. The proof was in the last C-note (as Cam so cleverly liked to call the love poems he had Todd deliver from Briarwood on his behalf). The most recent one had arrived yesterday, rolled into a tight scroll and tied to a bag of gummy bears. It said:
C,
They can expel you from OCD. But they can’t kick you out of my HEART.
C
Todd had stolen the orange gummies, but she didn’t care. Love made her a more forgiving person, even toward her brother.
Massie checked her watch, then knocked the phone out of Claire’s clammy palm. “Wait! Wouldn’t you rather tell them in person?”
“Totally, but I’m grounded.” Claire felt a pinch behind her eyes. “I’m not allowed to ride my bike.”
“So, Isaac can drive you.” Massie pulled the bobby pins out of her hair and shook her long, shiny extensions like she was auditioning for a Pantene commercial. “How long will it take you to get dressed?”
“Five seconds.” Claire felt a tingle in her stomach. They were going to visit Cam. Finally!
“Can you do it in three? The mall closes at eight p.m. tonight.” Massie stepped into her purple Uggs and black Juicy sweats. “I’ll call the others. We’ll meet at the Range Rover in twenty.”
“Huh? Why the mall?” Even saying the word made Claire’s chest tighten.
“To shop.” Massie was halfway to the door.
“Are you still going to drop me off at Cam’s?”
“Tomorrow.”
“But you just said—”
“I meant tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Um, are you part of the Pretty Committee or not?”
“Then you better look ah-mazing on Monday.” Massie stuffed her hands in the side pockets of her white velour sweatshirt. “Your outfit needs to say Hollywood, not Holly-wouldn’t.”
“But I can’t afford anything. My parents took away my allowance.”
“We’ll find something.” Massie put her arm around Claire’s waist and gave a gentle squeeze. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Besides, we have to prioritize.”
Claire’s heart felt like a leaking balloon. I was prioritizing, she wanted to say.
Instead, she sprinted back to the guesthouse and slipped on the “borrowed” Citizens, a gray ribbed turtleneck, and her black-and-white slip-on Keds. What choice did she have? Without Cam, Layne, or OCD, the Pretty Committee was all she had.
THE BLOCK ESTATE
DRIVEWAY
Monday, March 9th
7:05 A.M.
“Todd!” Claire called for the nine hundredth time. “Come on! This is stupid.” She knocked her head against the cold rear window of the Range Rover and sighed. In two hours, the Pretty Committee would be face-to-face with Abby Boyd and Hadley Durk. She should be fixing her short bangs, not looking for her delinquent brother.
“Kuh-laire, forget about him.” Massie smoothed her burgundy silk tunic. It was cinched at the waist with a wide tan belt and worn over a pair of superstraight jeans and matching tan ankle boots. “The Daily Grind starts at nine a.m. We have to leave ay-sap.”
“I know… but this is my fault.” Claire bit down on her chapped lip.
Massie turned and glared. “How?”
“I called him a loser because he has to go to school while I get to go to the show.”
“How evil and un-Claire-ish. I love it.” She checked her extensions in the side mirror. Jakkob had tied them into an ultrahigh genie pony, so it swung between her shoulder blades when she moved.
“It was his fault. He wet-burped milk while I was eating poached eggs and it almost made me barf.”
“Then he deserved it. Can we go now?” Massie tapped on the side window. “Isaac, we’re ready.”
He stepped out of the SUV and clicked open the back door. A rush of heat escaped into the chilly wind, beckoning them to come inside.
“Dad, we have to go or we’ll be late!” Claire yelled as she inched closer to the warmth. She wanted to help but thought it best to leave before he changed his mind. Besides, the moms were checking the houses. Someone would find Todd eventually. “Sorry. Good luck!”
“Thanks.” Jay Lyons stroked his graying beard as he scanned the lawn. “Don’t forget, you have a lot of history homework. And it better be done by the time I get home.” A puff of air shot through his nostrils, making him look like a smoke-breathing dragon.
“It will be.” Claire forced a smile and waved. “Promise.”
Jay waved goodbye, then continued looking. “Come on, Todd, I’m late for a meeting!” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Buddy, I have to take you to school whether you like it or not.”
William Block was in his black Mercedes sedan, checking his watch and rubbing his bald head. If he was anything like his daughter, his patience had run out a half-hour ago.
“Bye, Daddy,” Massie called from the backseat.
William rolled down his window. “Bye, sweetheart. Don’t forget to ask a lot of questions. It’s the best way to learn.”
“I will. Say goodbye to Mom.” She blew her father a kiss as Isaac pulled out of the circular driveway. Her smile was so sugary sweet it almost gave Claire a zit.
“Who first?” Isaac glanced in the rearview mirror.
“Alicia, then Dylan, then Kristen.” Massie pulled a CD out of her logo-embossed Gucci tote. “Can you play this?”
Isaac fed the CD into the car stereo.
“What is it?” Claire asked, trying to push the morning’s drama out of her head.
“Abby Boyd’s playlist from iTunes.” Massie twirled her ponytail around her finger. “I haven’t heard of any of the songs, but I bet it’s awesome.”
Claire sat back and bobbed her head to the screeching guitar riff that kicked off the first track.
“How much longer, Isaac?” Claire’s temples were throbbing from thirty-seven minutes of blasting, angry, alternative chick rock.
“Two more songs!” he shouted.
“Ehmagawd,” Alicia squealed as they rolled past the George Washington Bridge. “Abby Boyd and Hadley Durk are two songs away!”
“Does it have to be these songs?” Kristen whined.
“I’m telling Abby you said that,” Dylan teased.
Claire giggled.
“Rate me out of ten.” Massie leaned forward and put her hands on her hips like a model from a Macy’s back-to-school ad.
“Nine-five,” Dylan said to her compact mirror as she scraped a bran flake off her left molar.
Massie gave her friend a playful shove. “You’re not even looking at me.”
Dylan wiped the wet bran chunk under the seat. “We just rated you, like, five minutes ago.”
“I know, but my makeup could have smudged since then.” Massie applied what had to have been her eleventh coat of Glossip Girl Candy Apple lip gloss. It looked like her mouth had been sealed with saran wrap.
“You look better than I do.” Kristen tightened the purple-and-blue Pucci scarf around her head, clearly hoping to add a touch of femininity to her slow-growing boy cut. “I’m wearing library clothes.” She tugged her black Splendid sweats.
“I told you I would bring you something,” Massie said.
“Puh-lease. If my mom asks me to send her another picture and I’m dressed up? Ehmagawd, I don’t even!”
“Well, I give you a nine-eight,” Claire offered. Even in sweats and a head scarf, Kristen looked downtown chic in that effortless sort of way. “You’re all nine-eights.”
Dylan was rodeo cute in gold cowboy boots, a pink corduroy mini, and a western shirt. And, as usual, Alicia looked like a Ralph Lauren model in her dark jeans, shrunken navy blazer, ivory cami, and knee-high riding boots.
“Really?” Kristen fastened the backs of her tiny silver hoop earrings. “A nine-eight?”
“Yup.” Claire crossed her legs, obviously trying to hide the faint toothpaste stain above the knee on her cutoff cargos.
“Want us to rate you?” Alicia asked Claire’s striped Keds.
“’Kay.” Claire unzipped her jacket.
“First, what’s with the capri pants?” Alicia asked.
“And the Keds without socks?” Dylan added.
“The black turtleneck is cute,” Kristen noted. “A little snug, but cute.”
“Actually, the Hermès scarf as a belt is a nice touch.” Alicia clapped her hands.
“Thanks, it’s mine.” Massie bowed. “I was going for a South-of-France thing. The short bangs were my inspiration.”
“You styled her?”
“Yup.” Massie nodded. “Of course I gave her a pair of black Choo slides but she ahb-viously thought those Keds were nicer.”
“The slides pinched my toes.”
“Whatevs.” Massie lifted a mascara wand to her lashes. “Did you charge the camera battery?”
“Yup.”
“Perf.” Massie grinned. “Once we mass e-mail a picture of us with Abby and Hadley, everyone, including the LBRs in Da Crew and the Country Club, will worship the Pretty Committee even more than they already do.”
“I should have brought my tripod.” Claire sighed, wishing she could be in the pictures too.
Alicia reached inside her oversize Marc Jacobs bag and pulled out an iPod. She leaned forward and handed it to
Claire. “Here. Use mine.”
Kristen burst out laughing.
“Uh, thanks.” Claire winked at Kristen, then took the thin white rectangle. This was probably not the best time to teach Alicia the difference between an iPod and a tripod.
The instant Isaac turned left off of Eighth Avenue and onto Twenty-sixth Street,
they saw Merri-Lee Marvil’s pore-less face. It was plastered across the side of an old brick building along with the show’s infamous logo—a steaming cup of coffee with The Daily Grind written in what was supposed to look like half-and-half.
“Stop the car, I have to get out.” Dylan undid her seat belt and popped the top snap on her skirt.
“No one goes anywhere until I park,” Isaac insisted.
Dylan dug her fingernails into the back of his seat. “Seriously, I have to go.” She unlocked the doors.
“What are you doing?” Alicia gasped.
“I’ve got the thunda from down unda.” Dylan’s cheeks were flushed and her upper lip was beaded with sweat.
“So that bran diet is going well?” Massie smiled in an I-told-you-so sort of way.
Dylan kicked open the door and jumped out.
“Dylan!” Isaac slammed on the brakes.
But it was too late. She was already running toward the studio.
“Perfect landing.” Massie applauded.
“How did she do that?” Claire tugged her bangs.
“Stunt double.” Kristen giggled.
“Look at her.” Alicia pointed. “She’s running like a human gingerbread cookie. All stiff and side-to-side.”
Even Isaac couldn’t hide his smile.
“Ehmagawd.” Kristen fanned her face and began bouncing up and down. “Across the street!”
“Ehmagawd!” the others shrieked. And at the exact same time, they lifted their cell phones and started snapping pictures of the black limousine parked a few feet away.
“They were in there. They were actually in there this morning. How awesome is that?” Kristen beamed.
“There’s another one.” Massie pointed. “Kuh-laire, are you getting this with the good camera?”
“Yup.” She followed by snapping four shots, two on zoom and two wide.
This was really happening. So what if her bangs were short and her sweater was snug? She was about to meet Abby Boyd and Hadley Durk.
Isaac turned off the engine.
“Come on.” Massie led the charge, and Alicia and Kristen followed. They faced the blustering wind without tights, coats, hats, scarves, or gloves. Claire, determined to do the same, wiggled out of her puffy jacket and tossed it on the seat. But the instant she stepped away from the toasty Range Rover, a bitter gust of wind sent her flying back to zip up.
Dial L for Loser Page 3
