Boys R Us

by Lisi Harrison

  “Yeah, really cool,” Dempsey echoed, immediately gathering the crumpled tissue paper. He smoothed it out over the table before folding it up, probably to save and reuse it later.

  “Girls’ turn!” Alicia nod-signaled the girls.

  “Thought the girls just had their turn,” cracked a trio of passing lacrosse guys.

  Embarrassed, the boys stuffed their key chains in their pockets. They might as well have stabbed Alicia in the heart with their cleats.

  Claire, Dylan, and Kristen tabled their grief long enough to fish soft velvet boxes from their gift bags. Their excitement fueled Alicia like a triple-shot macchiato. The boys might not have appreciated all the trouble she’d gone to, but the girls did. And come Monday, when BOCD went back to OCD, they’d be the only ones who mattered. Alicia stole a glance at table eighteen. It was empty. Where could Massie possibly be?

  “Ehmagawd!” Dylan tilted her Bulgari jewelry box toward Derrington, showcasing the delicate platinum chain nestled inside. Two tiny charms hung from the necklace: a soccer cleat and a spa slipper.

  “To remember this week,” Alicia explained. “We’ll add a new charm for everything we do together.”

  “Awwwwwww,” the girls synchro-gushed.

  “Love it!” Kristen fumbled with the clasp on her chain. “Sort of like the bracelets we got for the boy fa—” She stopped herself just in time. “I mean, the last presents we got together.”

  “But better,” Dylan insisted, stabbing her tofu stir-fry with a plastic fork.

  “They’re really great, Leesh,” Claire added.

  Satisfied, Alicia slipped her chain around her neck. She was growing into her role as the Soul-M8s’ alpha. And the fit was practically custom-made. She sipped her Borba water while scanning the café over the top of the bottle, surveying her kingdom. Suddenly she spat the light pink liquid back into the bottle and gasped. “LBR U serious?”

  “What?” Dylan whipped around in her chair, following Alicia’s gaze. Massie was gliding through the frosted glass doors with none other than Layne Abeley in tow.

  “Ehmagawd.”

  Kristen and Claire turned to look. So did the boys.

  “What are they doing together?” Alicia slammed down her bottle, sending a few skin-replenishing drops toward the greenhouse ceiling.

  Massie and Layne made a beeline for the do-it-yourself tofu bar while the Soul-M8s watched. They whisper-giggled as they spooned steaming spoonfuls of brown rice, tofu, and veggies into biodegradable to-go boxes. Alicia was dying to dispatch Claire and have her follow them. But what if they were doing something more fun? Claire might defect. And the M7s sounded like a mass transit bus line.

  Kristen squinted. “But those two hate each other!”

  “Maybe they’re friends now?” Claire hoped.

  “Doubt it.” Dylan’s mouth lolled open slightly.

  The boys lost interest and went back to paper football.

  Alicia eyed the tiny smile playing across Massie’s lips. Alicia knew that smile. It was the kind of smile Massie had when she was about to pull something off. Something big. The same smile she’d had in the days before she’d announced her boy-girl Halloween party last year.

  “Well, I opposite of care,” Alicia lied, rapid-glossing her parched lips.

  But the girls kept staring. Without even trying, Massie was stealing the focus. When she and Layne finished at the bar, they hurried back toward the smoky glass doors, not even bothering to sit. Or look in Alicia’s direction.

  Then again, none of the Soul-M8s were bothering to look in her direction, either. The girls were too busy staring at Massie, and the boys were too busy flicking paper triangles at one another’s heads. It was time for The Announcement. Alicia had practiced it seventeen times in front of the vanity mirror in her bathroom. She was ready.

  “Breaking news.” Alicia slammed her elbows against the table, her clinking bangles announcing that table thirty-six was back in session. “I’m having a party next Friday night, and I want everybody there.”

  “What kind of party?” Josh was refolding the football.

  “A dinner party.” Alicia’s nose lifted slightly.

  “Oh.” Josh raised his dark eyebrows, as if trying to look psyched.

  Dempsey, Cam, and Derrington scrunched their noses, looking like they’d just stepped in a giant heap of dog poo.

  “Text me any food preferences–slash–allergies no later than Monday at midnight,” Alicia instructed, trying to ignore the boys’ poo faces. “Joyce likes ample time to shop.”

  “No sushi,” Kristen groaned.

  “Sounds fun!” Claire smiled for the first time that lunch period. “What can we bring?”

  “I’ll explain it all tonight,” Alicia replied. “My house. Eight p.m. Sleepover.”

  Dylan froze mid-chew.

  Claire nibbled her cuticles. “Tonight?”

  “What?” Alicia snapped.

  Her table was silent. Alicia jerked her head toward the glass doors. “It’s nawt like she invented the sleepover. We’re allowed to do whatever we want now. Our Friday nights are open.”

  “True,” Claire said nervously. “But—”

  “Butts are for shaking, Kuh-laire.”

  The boys burst out laughing. But Alicia didn’t even notice.

  Claire flushed. “I sort of told her I’d go to her sleepover tonight.”

  Alicia took three long sips of Borba water to calm herself down. Was this it? Was Claire siding with Massie?

  Claire picked at her soy burger, leaving crater-size holes in the seven-grain bun. “Maybe I could stop by her place for a couple hours and then come over?”

  Alicia shook her head slowly, whipping her sleek, deep-conditioned locks from side to side. How was Massie still having her sleepover without the PC? Who could possibly show up? She was dying to ask Claire if she knew, but she stopped herself.

  “Nawt possible,” she said, leveling her gaze at Claire. “It’s either hers or mine.” She smiled knowingly at Dylan and Kristen, like she knew exactly what Claire would decide. Choosing the Soul-M8s over Massie was a serious no-brainer. It was like choosing LC over Heidi. LC over Audrina. LC over anyone. “You have to pick.”

  Dylan and Kristen chewed anxiously, exchanging glances. But Alicia couldn’t take her eyes off Claire, who was staring down at her lap. Every second she didn’t choose the Soul-M8s left Alicia feeling less and less in control, like she was trying to run across a just-mopped parquet floor in slick-soled stilettos. And, if she’d learned anything from Massie, it was that any alpha worth her weigh in diamonds never lost control, or her reign as alpha was over.

  Alicia clutched her water bottle, waiting for Claire to definitively pick the Soul-M8s, to pick Alicia as her leader. But Claire just clutched her stomach, yelled, “Bad sushi!” and ran out of the café.

  THE BLOCK ESTATE

  EX-GLU HEADQUARTERS THE SPA

  Friday, October 16th

  8:17 P.M.

  Claire stood outside the Blocks’ spa, shivering in the chilly night air. Holding her sleeping bag and pillow, she adjusted the canvas overnight bag on her shoulder. After holing up in the second-floor bathroom for the rest of lunch, she’d ultimately decided to go to Massie’s sleepover this weekend and do Alicia’s dinner party next weekend. What used to be a fun sleepover now felt like Friday night visitation. Divorce really was hardest on the kids.

  Claire sighed and lifted her knuckles to the door, but the heavy wooden door to the spa swung open before she had the chance to knock. Massie stood in the doorway, wearing a fluffy white terry cloth robe and spa slippers. Her wet tresses had been swept back into an adorably disheveled twist.

  “Heyyyy!” Massie’s avocado-honey face mask cracked around the eyes and mouth when she spoke. She looked Benjamin Button chic. “Better seventeen minutes late than never.”

  Claire, ignoring the dis, slip-kicked off her pink Uggs and corralled them by the door. “Wouldn’t miss it.” And the second she released her bag
to the floor and surveyed the spa, she knew she meant it.

  Sort of.

  Massie’s Friday night sleepovers were a Pretty Committee tradition, like rating one another’s outfits, fashionably late assembly entrances, and uncomfortable footwear. And with all the changes in the past week, the familiar sights and smells of the spa were more comforting than the loose gray sweats she was wearing. Even if things weren’t exactly the way they used to be, the trickle of the limestone Zen fountain and faint smell of polished leather and lavender were reminders of the good old days. And in times of crisis, fond memories were the bridge that helped her get to the other side.

  “Bean!” Claire exclaimed as the pug scampered into the room, wearing a robe identical to Massie’s and tiny purple spa flip-flops. She raced figure eights around the marble-topped coffee table and zebra-print ottoman, then collapsed in a panting heap by Claire’s pedicured feet.

  The puppy’s heavy panting seemed strangely loud. With a twinge of sadness, Claire realized that the sound of the PC’s laughter no longer drowned out the sound of Bean’s breathing. She bent over to scratch the puppy’s head, wondering if the dog’s unusual display of enthusiasm was a cry for help. Was Bean lonely too?

  “Ehmagawd, what is that?” Massie winced, pointing at Claire’s neck.

  OMG, another one of those brutal chest-zits? Was it time to switch soaps again?

  Her hand flew to her neck, and her fingers collided with cool metal. She realized her charm necklace had slipped out from under her apple green fleece. And was now swinging back and forth to the rhythm of the playground tune “neh neh neh neh nehhhhhna,” mocking Massie’s very existence. Why hadn’t she taken it off before she left the house? Oh. Right. Because she’d sworn to herself that she wasn’t going to choose sides. She wasn’t going to get sucked into the drama. She wasn’t going to change.

  It was times like these when Claire really couldn’t stand herself.

  Stuffing it back under her jacket, she dragged the zipper to her chin in record time. Claire was searching for an explanation but, thankfully, Massie had already moved on.

  “Inez didn’t know what kinds of gummies you liked best,” she said, pulling her wet purple streak out of her bun and twirling it around her finger. “So I asked her to get them all.” She smile-nodded at the snacks arranged on the coffee table. Where the evenly spaced crystal bowls had once overflowed with chocolate-covered popcorn (Dylan), cinnamon-sugar-dusted pretzels (Kristen and Dylan), gourmet trail mix (Alicia and Dylan), and gummies (Claire and Dylan), now an assortment of gummies filled each one.

  “Yum! Thanks.” Kneeling in front of the flickering fireplace, Claire smoothed out her sleeping bag so it was head-to-head with Massie’s.

  It looked lonely without Alicia’s, Dylan’s, and Kristen’s to complete the circle. But she shook the depressing thought from her head. She’d pinky-sworn to herself that she would Tim Gunn it tonight even if it killed her. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? Alicia’s dinner party next Friday night, then back to Massie’s the Friday after that, and so on. The MTV Video Music Awards had successfully switched from New York to L.A. a billion times. And that was a much bigger deal.

  “Kuh-laire!” Massie crossed her arms over her robe. “Just pick one already!”

  “Huh?” Claire pushed herself to her feet. Sometimes she wondered if Massie had special mind-reading powers.

  Massie exhaled slowly. “What. Would. You. Rather?” she said, like she was repeating the question for the millionth time. Maybe she was. “Have a crush who totally ah-dores you and no friends, or have tons of friends and a crush who hates you?”

  Claire wrinkled her nose. “Neither.”

  “You can’t pick neither.” Massie sat on the edge of the espresso-colored leather love seat.

  “Yes, I can!” Claire insisted, tightening her fists to squash her frustration. She wanted to tell Massie to get over it, but even in her weakened state, the alpha’s teeth were sharp.

  “Your turn.” Massie frowned.

  “Fine.” Claire’s words were clipped. But she almost didn’t care. Let Massie see how annoyed Claire was starting to get with her control issues. Let her see how her Lycra-ing ways had driven the Pretty Committee away. Stalking over to the coffee table, Claire dug into the center gummy bowl and scooped out a handful. But instead of being comforting, the gummies tasted cold and waxy on her tongue.

  “Kuh-laaaaiiire.” Massie tapped her naked left wrist. “Time’s up.”

  Claire chewed slowly, wondering if she was brave enough to ask Massie the question that was on her mind. Maybe Massie’s teeth were sharp. But without the rest of the Pretty Committee to back her up, maybe her bite would be reduced to a bark.

  Claire took a deep breath, like she was standing at the edge of a cliff and about to dive into choppy, shark-infested waters. And then she jumped.

  “Okay, what would you rather?” She swallowed the taste of pennies and continued. “Friends who love you but don’t always do what you say?”

  A single, tiny fissure appeared in Massie’s mask, next to her eye. It cracked all the way down to her lips, like a silent green tear.

  “Or friends who always do what you say but don’t really like you?”

  Massie was as still as a moss-covered statue. Claire bit the inside of her cheek.

  “Both.”

  “Huh?”

  “Friends who love me and always do what I say.” Massie smirked.

  “That’s not realistic,” Claire managed.

  “Yes, it is.” Massie crossed her arms over her chest and looked Claire straight in the eye. Like she had seen the future and knew it was good. “You’ll see.”

  Claire opened her mouth to ask what Massie meant, but she was cut off.

  Hola, chica! Hola, chica! Alicia’s voice rang from the pocket of Claire’s fleece.

  Claire’s stomach plummeted. Alicia knew she was at Massie’s. Was she calling just to interrupt? Did she need Claire’s input on the dinner party? Did she want intel?

  Massie’s nails dug into the leather armrest, leaving sad-frown imprints.

  “Sorry.” Claire yanked her phone from her pocket and hit ignore. “Where were we?”

  Pick uuuuuuuuuuuuuuup! Dylan’s digitalized belch ripped through the air.

  “I’ve got a question,” Massie snapped, her yellowish-green mask cracking like punctured crème brûlée. “Which would you rather? Hang here, with me and Bean?”

  Bean let out a gentle sigh.

  “Or hang with them?” Massie’s head whipped toward the phone in Claire’s lap.

  Claire felt face-lift tight. She was sick of tiptoeing around her friend. I’d rather be here with everyone. Giving out gossip points, laughing until I puke sours, and crush-texting. I don’t want to stuff jewelry down my shirt to keep you from getting upset. I don’t want to feel torn. I want the real Massie back. The Massie who couldn’t care less what kind of gummies I like. The one who makes everything fun.

  That’s what Claire wanted to say, at least. But all that came out was, “Here. I’d rather be here.”

  Pick uuuuuu—

  Claire flipped open her phone, silencing Dylan mid-burp.

  Massie touched her cheeks lightly. “I’ve gotta wash off this mask. You can check your precious messages now.” She huffed, like message-checking was no less deplorable than reading someone’s diary or strangling their cat.

  Claire waited until Massie was completely gone before checking her screen.

  3 TXT MSGS.

  Claire’s finger hovered over the power button, telling herself she should shut off her phone for the rest of the night. It was only fair. But her heart wanted to know what the other girls were doing without her. Were they calling their crushes? Doling out gossip points? Making new inside jokes?

  Or maybe there was some kind of emergency. She had gotten three texts in less than a minute.

  Bean lifted her head from her purple velvet daybed long enough to snort at Claire. Had she been thinking ou
t loud? Or could the dog sense human insanity?

  Claire turned her back on the pug and hit read.

  Bean yipped once and stalked out of the room.

  Alicia: I just got 500 gossip pts! Hint: it involves Cam. 2 bad ur not here. I’m sworn to secrecy.

  Dylan: Planning the seating for A’s dinner party. Should we sit across from our crushes or beside them? K says across. A says beside. Try to secretly ask Massie what she would do. This is getting annoying.

  Dylan: P.S. Did M say anything about me yet?

  Claire’s thumbs hovered over the keypad. How was she supposed to respond? Part of her was annoyed with Dylan for asking her to go undercover. Staying friends with both sides didn’t mean Claire had any interest in playing double agent. And the other part of her was just glad Dylan was asking about Massie at all. Maybe it meant she missed her. Maybe it meant there was hope.

  Claire stared blankly at her new manicure, wishing the answers would appear in two-point font across her Cloud Nine polish. But all that appeared was her own warped reflection.

  In the distance, the water faucet shut off. Massie’s slippered feet began shuffling toward her, followed by Bean’s clacking nails. Claire snapped her phone shut and reached for another handful of gummies to keep herself busy. Maybe she wouldn’t respond to the texts at all. Why not let the girls think she was having too much fun to check her messages? After all, she probably would be. Any minute now…

  Two loud thuds against the wooden spa door made Claire jump. A second later, the door creaked open. Claire whipped around, ready to yell at her younger brother, Todd, for lurking.

  “I’m heeeere.” Layne was holding her Hello Kitty sleeping bag in one hand and her ratty old pillow in the other. “Tell me you didn’t start without me!”

  Claire almost choked on a red gummy. “Layne!” she cough-stared as Layne kicked off her Sharpie-grafittied Converse sneakers. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s great,” Layne said happily, wiggling her toes inside her rainbow toe socks. “Just here for the partaaaay.” She ditched her gear at the door and shut it behind her. “Where’s—”