Boys R Us

by Lisi Harrison

  Massie recognized the voice immediately. “Layne?” She squinted into the shower mist.

  Layne Abeley was seated directly under a fluorescent light. The pale green-gray glow made her skin look even more anemic than usual.

  “You talkin’ tuh me?” Layne squint-glared back. “Are you talkin’ tuh me?”

  Massie sighed. “Layne, are you a wannabe opera singer?”

  “No, why?”

  “Then stop trying to be a Soprano.”

  Layne snorted. “Good one!”

  “What are you doing here?” Massie stepped into the fog. “You’re not coordinated enough to play soccer.” Slowly, she lowered herself onto the edge of the bench, as far away from Layme as possible. Her social stock was down enough as it was.

  “I think the better question is, what are you doing here?” Layne yanked the hood of her yellow poly-blend hoodie away from her face, liberating tufts of dark brown hair from their synthetic prison.

  Massie glared at her, making it undeniably clear just who asked whom first.

  “Waiting for Kristen.” Layne pulled a package of Chile Picante Corn Nuts from her hoodie pocket and ripped open the orange wrapper with her teeth.

  “Oh, that’s right. You guys are ‘friends.’” Massie felt a shooting pain in her heart as she remembered the day Layne and Dune, Kristen’s ex-crush, had let slip that Kristen and Layne had a secret, nerdy club called the Witty Committee and that Layne had recruited Kristen to help her snag Dempsey. “But Kristen has other plans. With me.”

  “Please, Louise,” Layne said dismissively. “Her plans are with me.”

  “Are nawt,” Massie shot back.

  “Are too. She just texted and said she needed to talk about Dempsey.” Layne crunched down on a cheesy nut. “She’s obviously gonna tell me he likes me.”

  Massie’s deep-conditioned ends curled slightly at the very suggestion. Dempsey couldn’t possibly like Layne more than her, could he? Her stock was down, yes, but news like that would trigger a full-on depression.

  “Kristen invited me here to tell me Dempsey likes me. She invited you here so you could start the healing process.”

  “The only thing heeling around here are those snobby designer boots of yours,” Layne snorted. “Because Dempsey and I are perfect together.” She turned to display the back of her homemade hoodie. The words DRAMA QUEEN were bedazzled in crooked script across the shoulders. “We’re both actors, we’re both down to earth… annnnnd… I liked him when he was fat!”

  “I’m sure he’d love to know you thought he was fat!” Massie began furiously fake-texting.

  “Me?” Layne grabbed Massie’s white iPhone. “You’re the one who called him Humpty Dempsey!”

  “Give that back, chubby chaser!” Massie grabbed her hoodied arm.

  “If I’m a chubby chaser, then you’re a weight watcher!”

  “Ohhh, good one, you gut slu—”

  Puuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrp!

  “Time. Out.” Kristen was standing next to the chalkboard. She’d accessorized her chocolate brown Twisted Heart tracksuit with her soccer bag, an oversize khaki Burberry check tote. The captain’s whistle she’d just used swung around her neck.

  Massie resisted the urge to tell her friend she was in need of some cheek stain, stat. After all, it wasn’t Kristen’s fault she’d gotten food poisoning. And she had probably used her last bits of strength talking up Massie with Dempsey. So why make her feel insecure?

  “Ummmm, thanksforcoming.” Averting her eyes from Massie and Layne, Kristen held a stack of white note cards up to her face and cleared her throat. “What is love, really?” she began awkwardly. Her note cards were shaking so much, Massie could feel a light breeze cross the locker room. “Webster’s dictionary defines love as—” She paused, coughed again, and flipped to the next note card. “Okay. So… love. It’s crazy, right? And when we fall in love, we do crazy things, right?”

  Massie cocked her head to one side. What was going on?

  “Things we don’t actually want to do. But it’s like we’re under some magic power or something. Like we go totally insane. I think Fergie said it best when she said, ‘Can’t help it, you got me trippin’, stumblin’, flippin’, flumbin’, clumsy ’cause I’m falling in love.’”

  “Huh?” Layne paused mid-chew, staring blankly at Kristen.

  “And even though we try to fight it?” Kristen was talking faster now, gulping huge breaths of air. “We can’t. We’re totally powerless. It’s like the Jonas Brothers say: ‘Now I’m speechless, over the edge. I’m just breathless, I never thought that I’d catch this love bug.’” She was flipping through her cards at warp speed now. “So even though we never meant to hurt anybody, sometimes we do, because we’re in love and we can’t help it. But like Miley says, ‘Nobody’s perfect, you live and you learn it, and if I mess it up sometimes, nobody’s perfect.’”

  She exhaled, looking both relieved and like she might throw up another spicy tuna roll at any second.

  Massie and Layne stared dumbly at each other, then slowly shifted their gazes to Kristen.

  “English, please?” Layne prompted her.

  “I talked to Dempsey.” Kristen sighed.

  “Aaaaaand?” Layne grinned smugly.

  Massie applied an anticipatory coat of gloss. She wanted her victory smile to shine as brightly as her heart.

  “Dempsey likes…” Kristen glanced at Massie, then at Layne.

  Then back at Massie.

  Then back at Layne.

  The crunch of Layne’s Corn Nuts sliced through the air, cutting the tension. Massie rolled her eyes.

  “… me,” Kristen muttered, gnawing at her bottom lip.

  “Yessssssss!” Massie victory-hissed. Wait. What?

  Layne exhaled a cheese and lime–scented gasp.

  “I said me,” Kristen repeated.

  “And you like him back?” Massie blurted, unable to conceal her shock.

  Kristen nodded slowly, like she was admitting to cheating on a test. “I am sooooo sorry,” she said weakly. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” She clenched the sweaty note cards in her fist, staring down at the ground.

  The girls’ locker room suddenly felt hotter than a Bikram yoga studio. Massie’s palms were slick with betrayal sweat, but her mouth was completely dry. How was this happening to her? One by one, each of her friends was betraying her, as if all of Rome, not just Brutus, had stabbed Caesar. Was Claire next?

  “You like him?” Layne screeched, spraying chipotle crumbs at Kristen. “I can’t believe this!” She leaped to her feet, her face turning beet red. “I thought we were friends!”

  “We are!” Kristen yelped, her features twisting in pain.

  “No,” Layne spat. “We’re not. Not anymore.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I almost wish it was Massie who stole him from me,” she said.

  Ditto, Massie thought.

  “At least that way, I wouldn’t be getting stabbed in the back by a friend!” Layne finished.

  “I’m sorry!” Kristen started pacing in front of the benches, speed-reading through her note cards. “Butthere’smoreI wasn’tevensickfrombadsushiIjustsaidthatsoIcouldstayhome ’causeIfeltsoguilty,” she heaved, pulling a purple plastic bottle of Propel from her bag and downing half of it in a single gulp.“WhichshowshowmuchIloveyouguyssinceIshouldbekeep ingmygradesupformyscholarship.” She stared expectantly at Massie and Layne. “I tried not to like him. I even started to make a list of bad things about him. But I couldn’t come up with anything!”

  “Kristen,” Massie said evenly, “is my birthday October eleventh?”

  “No.” Kristen lowered her eyes.

  “Then stop treating me like I was born yesterday!” In under a minute, Kristen had shattered Massie’s monthlong dream of adopting five to nine orphans with Dempsey Solomon. By the time he and Kristen broke up, the trend would be over. And she would have missed her chance to have a multiculti family.

  “I’m nawt!” Krist
en insisted. Her eyes were bright. “It’s just… I can’t help how I feel.”

  “Ahembullahem,” Layne cough-accused.

  Kristen blinked down at her last note card, her voice cracking. “‘I fell so fast, can’t hold myself back—’”

  “Don’t you dare bring the Jonas Brothers into this,” Layne hissed.

  Massie closed her eyes. The sweet stench of fruity bath gel and chocolaty shampoo was making her blood curdle. Or was her heart responsible?

  “Try to understand,” Kristen pleaded, biting her lip.

  “Oh, I understand.” Massie stood up and marched toward the door. “It isn’t enough that you borrow my clothes, sleep at my house, and share my lattes. Now you’re Apple-C’ing my crush! Gawd, too bad I didn’t like Edward Cullen. Then you could have stolen him and you two would have been perfect together.” Her trembling voice bounced off the sweaty tile walls.

  “Why?” Kristen managed, wiping her salt-stained cheeks.

  “Because you both suck!” Massie whirled around on her heel and stormed through the misty shower fog. She shoved past two girls in towels, not even caring that they were gawking at her as she passed. Hot tears filled her eyes. But this time, she couldn’t blame Chanel. This time, it was Kristen’s fault.

  By the time she reached the parking lot, salty tears were spilling down her cheeks. She’d given everything to the Pretty Committee: fashion advice, crush advice, clothing, and every second of her free time. All to make them better alphas. And what had they done? Betrayed her, without giving it a second thought.

  Forget the homeless. Massie Block was Westchester’s newest, saddest charity case. It would probably take years before she could get back on her feet again. And that was only if she dedicated every waking moment to her comeback.

  She fired off a quick text to her mother.

  Massie: Too much homework. I have to pass on the ho ho ho.

  Her iPhone vibrated almost immediately.

  Kendra: No no no! You made a commitment.

  Massie dug her nail into the end button. Since when did the people in her life honor their commitments? Alicia and Dylan had pledged their loyalty to the Pretty Committee and they were gone. Kristen had promised to help Massie get Dempsey, and now the only thing she was committed to was Dempsey!

  “I said, wait up!”

  Massie whirled around to see Layne rushing toward her, her Chucks, one red and one yellow, shuffling over the pavement.

  “What do you want?” Massie snapped, scanning the emptying parking lot for Isaac.

  “Can you believe her?” Layne huffed. “That was a Shakespearian-size betrayal. We can’t let her get away with this.” She tilted her bag of Corn Nuts toward Massie. “You want? They’re super-cheesy.”

  So are you, Massie wanted to say. But she held back, hardly in the position to send away one of the only people still talking to her. Instead, as a sign of solidarity, she allowed Layne to dump a spice-dusted mound of pellets in her palm. For once, she actually agreed with the LBR. Kristen could not get away with this.

  Despite the calories and the blatant grossness, Massie popped the nuts in her mouth and chewed. They were hard and salty, with a hint of sweetness.

  Just like revenge.

  CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION

  IN OUT

  Homework Homelessness

  Abeley Gregory

  Trust funds Trust friends

  WESTCHESTER, NY

  THE GOURMET AU LAIT

  Monday, October 12th

  3:57 P.M.

  “So that’s four skinny half-caf lattes and four hot chocolates.” A bored-looking waitress appeared next to Alicia’s table in the very center of the Gourmet Au Lait, Westchester’s newest coffee bar, balancing a tray filled with steaming hand-painted ceramic mugs. She raised a pierced eyebrow at the seven empty seats around the sturdy wooden table.

  “Yup, that’s right.” Alicia speed-nodded, hoping the waitress would think she was over-caffeinated, instead of nervous. “Lattes on the left, hot chocolates on the right.”

  Customers sitting at the tiny round tables that orbited Alicia’s perch stared as the waitress deposited the drinks. Alicia didn’t bother loudly explaining that her friends would be there any second. Or that she’d had Dean, the family driver, drop her off a good fifteen minutes early. Admitting out loud that she needed prep time would be the opposite of alpha. Real alphas made it look easy. Effortless.

  “I’ll be back with your toppings,” the waitress told her.

  “’Kay,” Alicia said absently, reaching for her latte immediately. She took a long, recharging sip before returning her red polka-dotted mug to the table. Her friends hadn’t even shown up yet, and already she was starting to feel drained. Coordinating her first big after-school social event in only a few hours had been exhausting. First she’d had to pick a place to meet (she’d gone with the coffeehouse because one, it was the newest hot spot in Westchester, and two, the dim lighting, large wooden tables, and shelves stocked with old books and board games reminded her of her dad’s study, which made her feel at home). Next she’d had to put together a witty text-vite that everyone (especially Josh) would find hilarious, and than had changed into an outfit that screamed “I’m in charge!” (dVb denim, Alexander McQueen military jacket). Plus, she’d gotten there early to scope out the best table (front and center) and order for everyone. All so her friends could show up and have everything taken care of. Just like Alicia used to be able to do, when Massie was in charge.

  Alicia wasn’t giving Massie credit for much these days. But she’d give her credit for one thing: Being in charge was way harder than it looked.

  “I’m telling you, it’s gonna be pretty sweet.” Cam’s voice rose above the low chatter of the café as he shoved through the front door, followed by Josh, Derrington, and Dempsey. Dylan and Claire were following close behind. “Plovert’s dad’s on the Briarwood board. He said the indoor soccer field’s gonna be, like, one of the best in the country.”

  “They imported the grass from Italy,” added Josh.

  “Awesome.” Derrington stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets.

  Alicia waved to her friends, then slipped on her Juicy Couture Jessica sunglasses so she could roll her eyes behind the tinted lenses. It had been hours since Principal Burns had announced the completion of Briarwood version 2.0. How could the boys still be talking about it like it was a good thing? Like it hadn’t even occurred to them that leaving OCD behind meant leaving the girls behind?

  Claire and Dylan waved back as the group wove through the maze of wooden tables to get to their table.

  “What’s up?” Josh pulled his NY Yankees cap over his eyes when he reached the table and dropped the soccer ball he’d been carrying to the floor.

  “Not much,” Alicia said as casually as possible. She couldn’t help the warmth that was rising to her cheeks. Josh’s slightly wrinkled white collared shirt made him look like he’d just stepped off the pages of a Ralph Lauren ad. “Girls on the left, guys on the right,” she said, as her friends crowded around the table.

  But nobody listened. Cam and Claire collapsed into two seats next to each other, and Derrington and Dylan followed suit. Josh slid into the seat to Alicia’s left, and Dempsey sat at the far end of the table.

  “Toppings.” The waitress appeared again, lowering her tray. She transferred tiny ceramic bowls filled with flavoring, spices, and sweets to the table. Alicia had preordered those, too.

  “Yum!” Dylan’s hand shot out toward the bowl of mini marshmallows, and she heaped half the bowl’s contents into her latte. “Thanks for ordering, Alicia.”

  “Welcome.” Alicia nodded like it was no big deal. She glanced at Josh, who tilted back in his chair and flashed her a thumbs-up sign. Her heart revved in her chest. And this time, it wasn’t from caffeine or nerves. This time, it was pure love adrenaline.

  “This place is cool.” Claire dunked a cinnamon stick in her finger-painted mug and swirled it around.

 
Derrington chugged two sips of his hot chocolate, then slammed his mug to the table. “HOTTTT,” he bellowed, sticking out his burnt tongue.

  Dylan took a long latte sip. “CHOOOOCOLATE,” she burp-finished, sticking out her tongue at Derrington and wiggling it like he wiggled his butt.

  The guys laughed and Cam punched Derrington on the shoulder. Everyone was clearly having fun.

  Point, Alicia thought to herself with satisfaction, reaching for the bowl of French vanilla whipped cream. So far, everyone was having fun, and it was all because of her. All the prep had been totally worth it.

  “And we’re gonna have a sundae bar in the cafeteria.” Cam was back on Briarwood, talking excitedly to Claire. “None of this nonfat diet fro-yo stuff. Like real ice cream.” Alicia bristled, wishing they made sunglasses for lips so she could cover her frown. After all her planning, the boys should be singing her praises, not the school’s.

  “Great.” Claire sighed, blowing dejectedly on her latte.

  “That’s nothing, man,” Dempsey chimed in. “The guys’ locker rooms are gonna have flat screens, so we can watch game footage during practice and stuff.”

  “Uhn-uhn.” Dylan’s jaw dropped. “Flat screens?” She lifted her mug to her lips and drained the rest of her coffee. “No fair. Do they get cable?”

  Derrington nodded.

  “So jealous,” Dylan huff-sighed.

  “You can come over and watch, too,” Derrington offered. “I mean, if you want.”

  Dylan flushed. “Thanks.”

  “Well, I heard flat screens give you cancer if you stand too close, but whatever,” Alicia interrupted, annoyed. Maybe she had to accept the fact that Josh was leaving her for a better Briarwood. But she didn’t have to like it. And neither did Dylan.

  “Seriously?” Dylan scrunched up her nose, skeptical. “Where did you—”

  Alicia kicked her under the table.

  “Ooooh,” Dylan said quickly. “Right. I heard that too. This month’s Vogue.”

  “Really?” Claire shoved her nail beds in her mouth.

  Alicia ignored her. “So isn’t there anything you’re gonna miss about OCD?” she asked, batting her dark lashes at Josh. But he wasn’t listening anymore. None of the boys were. They were too busy running through the rumored list of Briarwood perks to pay any attention to the girls. And if there was one thing Alicia hated more than being ignored, it was the fact that their crushes didn’t seem quite crushed enough about leaving OCD. In fact, they didn’t seem crushed at all.