“’Kay.” Claire couldn’t help feeling like she was about to get in trouble for something and wondered if anyone could hear her heart pounding. “Let’s go to my room,” she said, avoiding her mother’s suspicious glare.
“Perf,” Massie said as she walked toward the staircase.
Claire followed Massie up the stairs. While they were walking, Claire reached into the back pocket of her orange pants and pulled a sour out of the plastic bag as quietly as she could. She popped it in her mouth while Massie’s back was to her.
“Why do you eat those?” Massie asked, without turning around. She sounded disgusted. “They’re all sugar.”
“I know.” Claire was ashamed and tried to swallow the red worm as quickly as she could. “I’m over them. That was my last one.”
When they entered Claire’s bedroom, Massie closed the door.
Claire was so uncomfortable she walked over to her window and looked outside, hoping the spacious lawn below might make her feel less trapped.
“What’s going on down there?” Claire pointed to the woodpile outside the old horse barn that hadn’t been there in the morning.
“My parents are turning the barn into a state-of-the-art home gym,” Massie said, sounding utterly unimpressed.
“Phew,” Claire said with a smile. “I thought another family was moving in.”
“No, you guys are more than enough,” Massie said. “By the way, when are you leaving? I thought this situation was quote ‘temporary,’ end quote.”
Claire looked at her pink-and-white-striped socks, suddenly aware of how ridiculous they looked with her orange pants.
“It is temporary,” Claire explained. “My parents look at houses every day.” She actually had no idea how much longer they’d be staying and had stopped asking her parents when she and Massie had started getting along, barely a month ago.
“Relax, Kuh-laire. I was joking. I actually don’t mind having you here anymore.”
“Oh,” Claire said, lifting her eyes to meet Massie’s. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Massie smiled.
Claire was desperate to ask Massie why she was there but thought it might be better to act as though the surprise visit was normal. Maybe that way it would happen more often.
“What’s this?”
Claire hoped Massie was talking about the e-mail on her computer screen from Cam. She had been dying to share the details of her secret crush with Massie but could never catch her alone. Maybe tonight …
But Massie was pointing to the digital pictures on her wall. Every shot was of Claire standing in front of her closet wearing a different outfit.
Claire felt her face getting hot. “Oh, that’s nothing.”
“It looks like you’re stalking yourself,” Massie said.
Claire couldn’t help laughing.
“What is it? Come on, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Yeah, right,” Claire said, enjoying the moment. Finally Massie Block wanted to know something about her.
“I promise.” Massie held out her pinky. Claire held out hers. They looked each other in the eye and then locked fingers.
“Fine,” Claire said, letting go. She paused and took a deep breath. “I hang those pictures up to keep track of my outfits. You know, so I don’t wear the same thing twice.”
Massie widened her amber eyes. Claire instantly regretted confessing.
“That’s brilliant,” Massie said.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Mind if I copy you?”
“Not at all,” Claire replied, sweeping her bangs to the side of her forehead. She couldn’t believe how well things were going and decided this was the perfect time to show Massie the note Cam sent her the night of the OCD Fashion Week Uniform Contest.
Claire reached for the mesh pocket inside her backpack and pinched the worn paper between her fingers.
“Kuh-laire, we have to talk,” Massie said.
Claire released the paper and watched it fall to the bottom of her bag.
“It’s go time.” Massie pushed on the bedroom door to make sure it was completely shut.
“Huh?”
Massie went into a detailed description of Alicia’s sleepover party, the phone call she got while she was spray tanning, the candy cane tan that she blamed on that phone call, and the Teen Vogue modeling job.
“What are you going to do?” Claire felt just as cheated by Alicia as Massie did but wasn’t quite as bloodthirsty. Maybe because she knew how awful Massie made her life when she moved to Westchester and refused to wish that on anyone, even Alicia.
“Let’s destroy her,” Massie said, looking deep into Claire’s eyes.
Claire felt paralyzed, like the breath just got sucked out of her body.
Massie dived stomach first onto the middle of Claire’s unmade bed. The mattress squeaked under her weight. “Here’s the plan.”
Claire stayed on the very edge with her feet planted firmly on the ground while Massie explained.
“So are you in?” Massie asked when she had finished.
Claire thought about it.
“Well?” Massie pressed.
Claire nodded, deciding a little guilt was better than making Massie angry.
“Good.”
Massie lifted the olive green rotary phone off the dark wood night table and handed it to Claire. “This is so heavy, I don’t know how Grammy used to lift it.”
“I know, my arm gets stiff after one phone call,” Claire said, trying to lighten the mood.
“You have to get a cell phone.”
“Four more years,” Claire said, remembering her parents’ rule.
“Brutal,” Massie responded as she flipped open her cell phone, pulled up a number, and hit Send. She hit Speaker Phone before anyone answered.
“Can you hear it ringing?” Massie whispered.
Claire nodded.
Massie covered the mouthpiece. “We’ll probably have to leave a message because it’s late—”
“Lucinda Hill’s office,” a voice answered.
Claire gasped and Massie raised a finger to her lips.
“Sorry,” Claire mouthed. She dug into her back pocket and popped a yellow sour in her mouth.
“Uh, yeah, uh, is Lucinda Hill there, please?”
“Who’s speaking?”
Massie stood up and started pacing. “It’s Ma—It’s Alicia Rivera and Olivia Ryan.”
“Hold.”
“Hey, gorgeous, make my day and tell me you got permission to do the holiday shoot,” a different voice then said. Claire assumed it was Lucinda.
“Mmmm, not yet,” Massie replied.
Claire sat perfectly still on the edge of the bed, trying not to make a sound. She didn’t want to miss a single word.
“That’s not why I’m calling.” Massie faced the window, reminding Claire of a high-powered executive on an important business call.
“What, then?” Lucinda sounded annoyed.
“I have a confession to make and I can’t handle the guilt anymore.”
“Yup,” Lucida said, hurrying her along.
“Olivia and I cheated during the OCD Fashion Week Uniform Contest. We didn’t really win. Massie Block and Claire Lyons did. We switched the ballot boxes because we’re such losers and we’ve never won anything before and we were desperate.”
Claire’s mouth hung wide open. “Nice,” she mouthed enthusiastically, giving Massie a thumbs-up.
Massie returned the gesture and Claire felt a surge of warmth rush through her entire body. They were a team.
The two girls looked at each other, their eyes wide open, wondering what Lucinda would say next. Would she sue Alicia and Olivia for fraud? Would she call all the newspapers and expose their lies? Would she blacklist Alicia from every store in Manhattan?
“And …” Lucinda said.
“And what?” Massie said. “How are you going to punish us?”
“I’m not a priest,” she said. “I don’t care if you che
ated.”
Claire raised her eyebrows in shock.
Massie opened her mouth to speak, but Lucinda cut her off.
“All I care about is that you stay gorgeous. Gain a pound between now and the shoot and I’ll take a Town Car straight to Winnchester and kick your butt.”
“Uh, okay,” Massie said.
“Now what?” Claire mouthed.
Massie shrugged and Claire could hear Lucinda’s fingers clacking away on a keyboard in the background.
When the typing stopped, Lucinda said, “Alicia, you still there?”
“Uh, yeah, bad connection, sorry,” Massie said.
“When can you get me those pictures of your friends?”
“Huh?”
Lucinda sighed. “I need pictures of your pretty-in-a-real-sort-of-way friends because we’re still looking for four more models.”
Massie mouthed, “Yes!” and Claire got so excited, she jumped up on her bed. But the phone cord was so short, she had to sit back down to continue listening.
“Oh, right,” Massie said. “Sorry, I forgot. I’m a total airhead.”
Claire covered her mouth to conceal her laughter.
“What’s your e-mail address? I’ll have my friend Massie send those to you right now. She’s gorgeous; you’ll love her.”
As soon as Massie hung up the phone, she hopped on Claire’s bed and started jumping. “We are totally going to crash Alicia’s modeling party.”
Claire put the green phone on the floor and started jumping too. They bounced and giggled and held on to each other to keep from falling.
“I have to stop,” Massie panted. She fell onto the bed, rolled off, and stood up. Her hair was a tangled mess and her cheeks were flushed. “Can I take one of these?” Massie asked. She was pointing to the row of pictures on the wall.
Claire’s knees buckled. She stopped jumping and folded her arms across her chest. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t. I just want to scan a picture of you so I can send it to Lucinda,” Massie said.
“Oh,” Claire said. “Cool.” She jumped off the bed and landed on the floor with a thud. “Let me get you a better one.”
Claire pulled a shoe box out of her closet, tore off the lid, and quickly flipped through a stack of pictures. She couldn’t believe Massie thought she was pretty enough to model. Her hands shook with excitement.
“Here, send this one.” Claire held out a shot of herself sitting on the hood of a red convertible. She was hugging her knees to her chest and smiling brightly. Her legs were golden brown and her blond overgrown bangs were falling in her eyes. It was her favorite picture.
“Thanks,” Massie said. “I have some good ones of me, Kristen, and Dylan back in my room. I’ll go send them now.”
“Good luck,” Claire said.
“Bye!” Massie called, slamming the door behind her.
The minute Claire was alone, she went straight for her computer and read Cam’s latest e-mail one more time …
C,
U COMING TO MY SOCCER GAME 2MORROW? IF U DO, LOOK UNDER SEAT #27. THERE WILL B A SWEET SURPRISE WAITING THERE 4 U. OH, THANKS FOR SENDING THAT PICTURE OF YOUR TOE. … AND NO, I DON’T THINK IT LOOKS LIKE A FAT MAN’S THUMB.
–C
Claire wasted no time writing back.
C,
I’LL BE IN SEAT #27. BTW–THNX FOR THE SOURS. I 8 THEM ALL.
–C
Claire was bursting to tell Cam she and Massie were going to be models but held off. She wasn’t quite ready to stop accepting his sugary candy.
BRIARWOOD ACADEMY SOCCER GAME
4:25 PM
November 15th
The glare from the stadium lights blinded Alicia and kept her from seeing Briarwood score the winning goal. But she heard all about it from the announcer.
“The Tomahawks kick butt once again thanks to their star forward, Derrick Harrington,” a man’s voice bellowed through the speaker towers. Everyone jumped to their feet and waved their orange-and-blue flags. Alicia and Faux-livia waved their pink knit mittens.
“Whoo-hoo!” Derrick shouted. His teammates lifted him up and carried him toward the bleachers. They rubbed his shaggy blond hair and sprayed him with Evian water. When they put him on the ground, Derrick turned his back to the crowd and pulled down his shorts. They cheered and hollered while he stuck out his tiny white butt and wiggled it back and forth.
“That makes standing out here in the freezing cold almost worth it,” Alicia said, putting her mitten back on her hand.
“I don’t care how immature everyone says he is—I think he’s cute,” Faux-livia said.
“He could be if he stopped wearing shorts all the time.” Alicia sat down on the cold metal bleachers. “I’ve never seen him in long pants. Not even at dances. His knees are purple from the cold.”
Faux-livia sat down and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her red puffy coat.
“He reminds me of my old yellow Lab, Smash,” Faux-livia said. “I think it’s the brown eyes and the blond hair. …”
“Probably.” Alicia never asked Olivia to clarify. It usually just confused her more. Besides, Derrick was walking up the cement steps and she didn’t want to miss her chance to greet the star player.
Alicia crouched down, pretending to pick something off the ground, and swiped a quick coat of light pink gloss across her lips. “Nice game!” she called out when she resurfaced.
“Yeah, you were so on today, Derrington,” Faux-livia shouted.
Alicia quickly elbowed her in the ribs.
“Ow,” Faux-livia said.
“You’re lucky you’re wearing that coat or it really would have hurt,” Alicia whispered.
“Why’d ya elbow me?”
“He doesn’t know we call him Derrington,” Alicia said through her teeth. “When you’re talking to him, use his real name.”
“Sorry.” Faux-livia rubbed her side. “I thought he’d think it was funny how we blended his first and last name together.”
Alicia knew Faux was right. But Massie made up Derrington, and Alicia didn’t want Olivia to get credit for it. Of course she could have lied and said the nickname was her idea, but Massie would find out. She always did.
“Yes!” Alicia murmured when Derrington and three of his teammates stopped in front of their seats. “You guys were sooo Beckham-y today.” She tilted her head and smiled sweetly.
“Thanks, Alicia,” Chris Plovert said as he lifted a bottle of Gatorade to his mouth. A line of blue juice dribbled down his chin.
“Hey, Alicia, look,” Danny Robbins said, pointing at Chris’s face. “He likes you so much he’s drooling.”
Chris punched Danny’s lanky arm, then used the sleeve of his team jersey to wipe it away. “You’re the one who’s always looking for her in the stands,” he said.
“It’s your older sister I’m looking for,” Danny said, flashing a mouthful of silver braces.
The two boys started giggling and punching each other. A few other guys on the team heard them joking around and forced their way into the tight circle.
Alicia was enjoying the rush of confidence that always came from so much boy attention. That, combined with her recent experience at Teen Vogue, made her feel unstoppable. She scanned the bleachers to make sure Massie, Claire, Dylan, and Kristen were still there. They were. And they were looking straight at her. Perfect!
“Relax, boys, you’re too old for her,” Derrington mumbled. He put his sweaty arm around Alicia.
“The eighth grade is so not too old for me.” Alicia wiggled to free herself from his grip. She ran her fingers along the inside of her pink knit cap and casually loosened a few strands of black hair. She knew they’d look sexy blowing around her face.
“What about the eleventh grade?” Harris Fisher asked.
Alicia reached into her bag and peeled off a yes sticker. She pressed it against the sleeve of his leather jacket.
“We love eleventh graders.” Faux-livi
a’s navy blue eyes stayed fixed on Harris.
The boys giggled and punched each other all over again.
Cam rolled his two different-colored eyes. “Ignore him. He’s a complete stranger.”
Alicia smiled and looked down at the gray cement. There wasn’t a girl at OCD who hadn’t heard of Harris Fisher. He was Cam’s hot older brother. He had two gorgeous green eyes, whereas Cam only had the one.
“What about Massie? Does she like older guys too?” Derrington asked.
Alicia pretended she didn’t hear Derrington’s question and quickly changed the subject.
“You better be nice to us because we may not be around for much longer,” Alicia said. She casually unbuttoned her gray coat so they could see the Dixon she was wearing around the top of her jeans.
“Why, where are you going?” Derrington mumbled, not noticing that her butt was wrapped in black mesh.
“Yeah, where are you going?” Faux-livia asked. Her eyes were wide with panic.
Alicia squeezed Faux-livia’s hand. “We got a modeling contract with Teen Vogue and they might want us to drop out of school and move to Manhattan.” She tried to sound blasé.
“Really?” Derrington sat down on the bleacher beside Alicia and put his arm around her. “Did Massie get one too?”
“What is your obsession?” Alicia snapped. “This has nothing to do with Massie.”
“Sorry.” Derrington jumped to his feet. “I just thought because you’re such good friends—”
“Well, you thought wrong.” Alicia folded her arms across her chest.
“She is pretty enough to be a model,” Cam chimed in.
Harris followed his brother’s gaze down five rows of bleachers and straight to Massie Block. She was surrounded by a group of girls who were taking turns holding her black pug. Both Massie and the dog wore white scarves and fluffy earmuffs. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold. She looked like a beautiful snow angel under the hazy glow of the stadium lights.
“I second that,” Harris said. “She could definitely model.”
“Hey, Alicia,” Faux-livia said. “You should send Lucinda Massie’s picture. Didn’t she say she was looking for more—”
Alicia stepped on Faux-livia’s toe with the heel of her boot.
Revenge of the Wannabes Page 7
