Dial L for Loser

by Lisi Harrison

  “How?” Alicia had an I’m-so-not-buying-it look on her face.

  “We always knew pictures of us with celebs would put the Pretty Committee back on top. And these are way better than Claire’s amateur shots—”

  “Thanks!” Claire smirked.

  “Ehmagawd!” Massie slapped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that these were professionally taken and printed in US Weekly. It’s like our plan times ten.”

  “It’s okay.” Claire smiled. “I know what you meant. This is better.”

  “Ehmagawd! And wait! I have something even better.” Massie hurried to the walk-in closet and grabbed her metallic Juicy Couture tote. When she was directly in front of the iSight camera and in

  full view of everyone, she pulled out Conner’s CF jeans. “Ta-da!”

  “No way!” Alicia slapped her thigh. “I forgot you had those.”

  “What are they?” Kristen asked.

  Massie turned the jeans around and held the unmistakable back pocket up to the computer.

  “Ahhhhh!” Dylan, Kristen, and Claire shouted.

  “I found them in Conner’s cuh-ban-ya,” Alicia bragged. “I got one thousand goss—”

  “And I stole them,” Massie chimed in, before Alicia could take all the credit. She was waving the jeans in the air like a victory flag when something fell on her head.

  Everyone burst into hysterics.

  Massie grabbed the object and held it in front of her face. “Ew! It’s his Hugo Boss underwear!” She threw them at Alicia, who tossed them at Claire.

  “What is with all the random underwear on this trip?” Claire burst out laughing.

  “Huh?” Massie said.

  “First there was the pair of Harry Potter briefs I found in my brother’s hockey bag. Then there was the pair Abby threw at the—”

  “Wait!” A familiar prickle of heat spread across Massie’s palms. She was on the verge of a devious scheme. “What does that clock say?”

  “Twelve thirty-five,” Claire answered.

  Massie shook her head, then half-smiled at Alicia, hoping she’d catch on. “What does that clock say?” She tried again.

  “Twelve thirty-five in the morning?”

  “No.”

  “Ehmagawd!” Alicia flapped her hands. “Payback time!”

  “Yup.” Massie smiled. “Claire, get the Harry Potters. Kristen, Google the photographer who took those photos. I think his name was Lenny. I need a phone number or an address. Alicia, get me the concierge desk.”

  “What can I do?” Dylan begged through a mouthful of cereal.

  “You can stop eating bran. It’s making me sick.”

  “Thank gawd.” She threw the box on the floor of Massie’s bedroom.

  Massie giggled. It felt good to be in control again.

  “I have the concierge.” Alicia covered the phone with her hand. “What should I tell him?”

  “We have a package that needs to be picked up and held for a guy named Lenny. He’ll be by to get it in the morning.”

  “Done.” Alicia relayed the message.

  “Got it!” Kristen announced. “His last name is Richards. Leonard Richards. He works at US Weekly.”

  “Get me his voice mail,” Massie insisted.

  “I did already.” Kristen beamed.

  Massie put her Razr on speakerphone and dialed Leonard’s number. While it rang, Claire gave Massie Todd’s underwear.

  After five rings, the photographer’s voice mail picked up. Massie took a deep breath and lifted the phone to her mouth.

  “Hey, Lenny, it’s Abby Boyd,” she snapped into the phone.

  Claire gasped.

  “Shhhh.” Alicia covered Claire’s mouth.

  Massie continued, “My ex-boyfriend Conner Foley left his jeans and Harry Potter underwear in my hotel room. They’ll be at the front desk of the Le Baccarat Hotel, waiting for you. He dumped me for that ahdorable reporter on The Daily Grind. Her name is Massie Block—that’s M-A-S-S-I-E B-L-O-C-K. And FYI, she won’t give him the time of day.”

  She snapped her phone shut and everyone cracked up.

  “We better get some beauty sleep.” Alicia yawned, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “For our party.”

  “And we have to pick outfits and—”

  “Wait!” Kristen interrupted Massie. “Don’t you want to know why we never called you back last week?”

  “Oh yeah.” Massie wondered how she could have possibly forgotten such a major detail. “Why didn’t you?”

  “We were writing an essay on the meaning of life.” Dylan sounded very pleased with herself. “We even pulled an all-nighter.”

  “You wrote a paper?” Massie folded her arms across her chest.

  “Well, Kristen did,” Dylan admitted. “But I made the Xeroxes and put them in cute folders.”

  “Zzzzzzzz.” Massie fake-snored, hoping they would get to the point already.

  “The OCD board meeting was tonight.” Kristen sounded irritated.

  “Ehmagawd!” Massie’s throat locked. Why hadn’t her mother mentioned it?

  “Last week I asked if I could go,” Kristen continued. “I thought if Principal Burns saw me crying about my scholarship, she’d feel bad and let me back in. But no students were allowed. So I wrote the paper and gave it to your dad and Mr. Rivera to read.”

  “The paper was soooo good,” Dylan gushed. “I couldn’t understand any of it.”

  “What was it about?” Claire asked.

  “It’s called ‘The Meaning of Life Is Get a Life,’” Kristen said.

  “And?”

  “Well…” Her lips curled. “It’s my philosophy on why we should be given a second chance.”

  “We?” Massie felt a tinge of hope.

  “Given.” Dylan beamed. “Kristen signed all of our names, so they think we wrote it together.”

  “Even mine?” Claire asked.

  “Are you still living in Massie’s guesthouse?” Dylan teased.

  Claire nodded.

  “Then yes, even you.”

  “And?” Massie was suddenly interested.

  “And it worked! We’re back!” Kristen shouted.

  Everyone screamed. Bean ran and hid under the bed.

  “On one condition,” Kristen added.

  The girls became silent.

  “We have to get more of a ‘life.’” She made air quotes.

  “Huh?” Massie asked. “What does that mean?”

  “It means we have to sign up for extracurricular activities. Since I’m on the soccer team I’m covered, but you guys each have to sign up for a sport. ”

  “But I can’t run,” Alicia whined. “Did you mention that?”

  “Then join a club,” Dylan suggested. “That’s probably what I’ll do.”

  “Ew, why?” Alicia winced.

  “Principal Burns doesn’t want us shopping after school anymore. She thinks it’s a shallow waste of time and money and would like us to do something more meaningful.”

  “Yes!” Claire exclaimed.

  “This is in-sane!” Massie shouted. “Where did she get such a stupid idea?”

  “From Kristen’s paper.” Dylan rolled her eyes. “That’s the only part I understood.”

  “Ehmagawd, I’m dead.” Alicia buried her head in her hands.

  Kristen grinned. “Can you believe it worked? I got us in!”

  “Thanks.” Massie smiled, knowing the minute she got home she would have to dedicate her life to finding a way out of this. She had suffered enough humiliation for one year. And she was determined to finish the seventh grade in style… not sneakers.

  WESTCHESTER, NEW YORK

  THE BLOCKS’ RANGE ROVER

  Saturday, April 4th

  3:05 P.M.

  Claire closed her photo album and leaned against the black leather seat of the Range Rover. She’d spent most of the six-hour flight from Los Angeles studying the pictures given to her by the cast and crew of Dial L for Loser
. There were shots of everything—her on the set, getting direction from Rupert, Stella feeding her Red Vines, the baseball game they’d played with the extras, and her and Emma driving a golf cart. Even the ones of Abby made her smile. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder in their matching uniforms pretending to be Siamese twins, Conner trying to give them piggybacks at the same time, and a close-up of Abby’s rings.

  “You okay?” Massie nudged her arm.

  Claire opened her eyes and smiled. “Yeah.”

  “Is it Cam?”

  She nodded and wiped the tear off her cheek. She wasn’t about to tell Massie how much she missed her “movie family” or how much she’d loved acting and living in sunny California. Why make her jealous all over again?

  “I told you I’d fix things with him.” Massie placed her hand on Claire’s armrest.

  “I know. Thanks.”

  “Can we get back to our game?” Alicia whispered. “We’re almost home.”

  “Okay,” Massie whispered back. “My turn.” She leaned toward the front seat and tapped the side of her mother’s arm. “So, uh, what’s with all the cars on our street?”

  Alicia gave her two thumbs-up.

  “Uh, one of the neighbors must be having a party.” Kendra twirled the diamond stud in her ear.

  Claire turned to the window to keep from laughing. During their drive from the airport, the girls had taken turns trying to get Isaac and the mothers to crack and accidentally spill the details of the surprise party. The winner was to get five hundred gossip points. But as Isaac turned into the circular driveway of the Blocks’ estate, it became clear that unless they tried harder, this game would not have a winner.

  “Wait, Isaac, aren’t you taking me home?” Alicia asked when he turned off the engine.

  Claire and Massie kicked each other in the backseat. Alicia winked.

  “Oh, I totally forgot.” He hit his head against the steering wheel, then looked at the moms for backup.

  “Uh, that’s my fault.” Judi tried to turn around, but she was sandwiched between Isaac and Kendra and couldn’t move. “I needed to get home and let the exterminator in, so I asked Isaac to drop me first.”

  “Exterminator?” Claire sounded squeamish. “Ew! I’m staying in a hotel!”

  Kendra chuckled.

  “It’s nothing to worry about,” Judi assured her.

  “Hey, since you’re here, Alicia, why don’t you stay for lunch? Isaac can take you home after you eat,” Kendra offered.

  “Thanks anyway, but I should go.”

  The girls doubled over and laughed silently into their hands.

  “I insist.” Kendra opened her door.

  “Um, okay.” Alicia shrugged, as though she had given up.

  Claire heard the familiar crunching of gravel under her Keds when she stepped out of the Range Rover. The trees in front of the house were still bare, the sky was its usual milky gray, and William Block’s black Mercedes was gleaming. Even the air smelled the same; like fresh-cut grass and cold water. But something about home looked completely different than it had three weeks ago. Or maybe it was the way Claire was seeing it.

  The tennis courts, the pools, the luxury cars, the designer clothes, the expensive jewelry and enormous leather handbags that used to make her feel inadequate no longer had an effect on her. She finally saw them for what they were. Like the hallway set of Lakeview Middle School, these things were used to create an illusion. But behind their shiny exteriors lay a tangle of wires and cables and confusion. And no one, not even the Pretty Committee, had found a way to sort it all out.

  “Rate me.” Massie finger-combed her extensions as she teetered on the gravel in her BCBG wedges. She was wearing a red Lauren Moffatt dress (from the comp box) over a pair of skinny Sass & Bide jeans.

  “Nine-point-two.” Alicia twisted the cap on her MAC Lipglass. “Me?”

  Massie scanned Alicia, from the top of her silky black hair, past her gray Theory Maddox jacket (comp box), white True Religion jeans, and black ballet flats. Then back up again. “Nine.”

  They looked at Claire, who was wearing the same green doctor’s scrubs, faded long-sleeved tee, and black-and-white Keds she’d worn on the way to L.A. The only new thing she wore was the yellow pinky ring Abby had given her. “Don’t bother,” she said with a knowing smile.

  “Fall back,” Massie said.

  Claire and Alicia stopped walking and let the mothers pull ahead.

  “What’s our plan?” she whispered once her mother unlocked the front door to the main house.

  “What do you mean?” Claire asked.

  “I mean, as we speak, there are at least a hundred people in my living room waiting to surprise us. We have to act shocked.”

  “Kuh-laire, any acting tips?” Alicia raised her dark eyebrows.

  “Can we please stop with the—”

  “I’m serious!” she insisted.

  “Yeah, give us a tip.”

  Claire studied their faces looking for sneers, lip twitches, or wandering eyes. But she saw nothing but pure sincerity.

  “Okay.” She rolled her shoulders and thought of the advice Rupert gave her on the first day of shooting. “Focus on your breathing. And clear your mind of everything. Be in the moment. Don’t walk in the house thinking about the people who are waiting for you or how you’ll react when you see them. Just walk in thinking about the step you are taking at that exact second. That way, when they yell surprise, you’ll be surprised.”

  “Hmmmm.” Massie nodded slowly, like she was sizing up DKNY’s new spring line. “I like it.”

  “Okay then, start breathing.” Claire inhaled deeply and began walking toward the house. But every crunching step brought her closer to the moment of truth. Closer to getting an answer to the one question she’d asked herself over and over again on the six-hour flight back from Los Angeles. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

  “Massie!” Kendra poked her head out of the door like she was someone paying for a pizza in a bathrobe. “Would you mind running to the spa and getting me a bottle of Evian? The fridge is empty and I can’t find Inez.”

  Alicia and Claire giggled.

  “Sure, no problem,” Massie replied without hesitation.

  “Why aren’t you fighting her on it?” Alicia asked. “Don’t you want the gossip points?”

  “She ahb-viously needs time to hide everyone. Anyway, we can check our hair and stuff while we’re in there. It’s perfect.”

  “Point,” Alicia said as they stepped onto the cold, stiff grass and began making their way across the lawn to the old horse shed.

  “It feels kind of good to be back.” Massie looked around the sprawling estate.

  “Ah-greed.”

  “Don’t you miss the warm weather?” Claire folded her arms across her chest. “Or the hotel? Or the people we met?”

  They exchanged glances, then shook their heads.

  “Do you?” Massie asked.

  Claire shrugged, then tried to refocus on her breathing.

  “Are you going to lip-kiss Derrington when you see him?” Alicia asked.

  “I dunno. Maybe.” She giggled, then opened the door. “I kind of hope so—”

  “SURPRISE!”

  “Ehmagawd!” shouted Massie and Alicia at the exact same time.

  Claire was too stunned to call Apple-C.

  The spa was decorated with colorful “Welcome Home” banners and handmade Dial L for Loser movie posters that had been cut from the same poster board Layne used to make her protest signs. Tables filled with cakes and cookies and sandwiches and sushi were in every corner of the room. And every person whom Claire had ever met since she’d moved to Westchester was there. Well, almost everyone.

  Jay Lyons was the first to greet her with a giant hug. “I am so proud of you,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Thanks, Dad.” Claire felt a lump in her throat. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too, Claire Bear. Enjoy the party. You deserve it.” He hu
gged her one last time, then headed straight for the waiter with the tray of chicken fingers.

  Claire reached into the pocket of her scrubs and pulled the last gummy worm out of the shredded plastic bag. With a quick cough, she stuffed it in her mouth and held it on her tongue. It tasted like loneliness.

  “Thank gawd you’re back!” Dylan and Kristen threw their arms around the girls, practically knocking them onto giant cutouts of Massie and Alicia taken from US Weekly. Stacks of the magazine were piled on a nearby table, waiting to be autographed.

  The flat-screen TV usually reserved for Kendra’s yoga DVDs played the Daily Grind segments on a constant loop. And the paparazzi shots of Claire, Conner, and Abby hung from the ceiling rafters like giant mobiles.

  “Where’s the movie star?” Layne shouted. She was wearing a brown pantsuit with a pink Hello Kitty tee underneath.

  “Hey!” Claire broke away from the Pretty Committee and gave her friend a hug. “Layne, have you seen—”

  “We got you!” Judi interrupted as she entered the spa holding a massive red cake in the shape of an L.

  “You did!” Claire was about to thank her mother for helping to plan such a great party when she was pulled away by the ex–Country Club girls, who wanted to know every last detail about Conner Foley.

  “He’s a really nice guy. A lot of fun to work with,” Claire heard herself say as she continued searching the room for Cam.

  Derrington and Josh were by the treadmills, increasing the speed and incline, trying to see who could hold on longer. Two bouquets of daisies were on the floor by their jackets, waiting as the boys worked up the nerve to deliver them.

  “Is it so weird being back here?” asked Strawberry, the former leader of Da Crew and the only girl at OCD with enough nerve to dye her hair pink. “You know, now that you’re friends with all these famous people, we must seem so lame to you.”

  “I don’t think you’re lame.” She forced a kind smile. “Thanks,” Strawberry gushed. “So, are you rich now?” “Uh…” Claire remembered her parents telling her not

  to tell anyone how much money she made because it was tacky. “I can definitely buy a few new things for spring, you know, if I want to.”

  “Awesome.” Strawberry stared at her with giddy fascination.