“Do you seriously think I'm going to tell you?” Massie snapped. She didn't say it in a mean way, like, “Do you seriously think I'm going to tell you?” She sounded like she just wasn't going to tell anyone.
Ever since Pia announced the contest that morning, the entire grade became secretive and paranoid. Bathroom stalls were used as phone booths by girls who wanted privacy while talking to their “outside contacts.” The Café was practically silent during lunch. It was like someone had accidentally hit mute on the otherwise bustling scene.
Claire thought about her old school in Orlando and felt a pang of sadness. There, a design contest would have had everyone running around sharing ideas and teaming up with partners. But at OCD, where the students were the kids of CEOs, politicians, and celebrities, no one cared about creativity or teamwork. They cared about winning.
Pia invited designers and dressmakers to teach sewing clinics and pattern-making workshops after school. And Claire signed up for them all. The extra studying would be worth it if she won the design contest and could hear herself being referred to as something other than “the new girl with Keds.”
After the first workshop, called “Sew What?” Claire decided on a uniform that was all about comfort and simplicity, something she thought the overdressed OCD girls should finally consider. She wanted to make a velour skirt that would fasten with a pull string instead of a zipper. A hoodie, with the OCD Phoenix on the right side of the chest, would replace the blazer. T-shirts and sneakers would also be part of the comfy overall image. And of course everything would be in the school colors, navy blue and maroon. Claire was confident that once the seventh graders got a taste of casual dressing, they would thank her until the end of time.
For the next half hour the girls worked without talking, the only sound in the room the squeak of scissors cutting through fabric. After a while Claire peeked out over her couch. Massie was measuring her mannequin. She wore a pair of red Juicy Couture sweats and her hair was piled on top of her head. Even though she seemed ready for bed, Claire thought Massie looked pretty.
“I see you watching me,” Massie said without even turning her head.
“Uh, I was just—”
“Claire, do you work at a grocery store?” Massie asked as she was wrapping her tape measure around her mannequin's waist.
“Huh? No,” Claire said.
“Then why are you checking me out?”
Claire flopped back on the carpeted floor behind her designated couch and tried to make sense of the patterns that stared back at her. She wished Layne could help, but she had already joined forces with Eli.
Layne had invited Claire to team up with them, but Claire had politely declined the offer when she heard their plan. Layne wanted Eli to be her model.
“Are you serious?” Claire asked them. They were in an art supply store after school, waiting for Eli to decide on a sketch pad.
“Claire, uniforms strip away our freedom of expression by forcing everyone to look identical,” Eli explained. He flipped opened an Utrecht notebook and rubbed a sheet of thick paper between his thumb and index finger.
Claire was trying really hard to pay attention, but all she could focus on was Eli's chipped navy blue nail polish.
“So we're taking that idea one step further by saying why not make all of us look the same, boys included,” Eli said. He looked at the price sticker on the inside of the notebook and put it back on the shelf.
“Isn't that genius?” Layne looked really proud.
The only words Claire could think of at that moment were dripping with sarcasm, so she stuffed her mouth with the last of her gummy supply to keep herself quiet.
“Did you hear that Eli is going to be Layne's model?” Claire asked from behind her couch.
“No way!” Massie shouted back from her side of the room. “Is she really?”
“You mean he?”
“No, I meant she.” Massie giggled.
Claire laughed too.
By the time they had finished listening to John Mayer, Beyoncé, and No Doubt, Claire had managed to make sense of her pattern instructions. Her first incision was a success, and as time passed, she started to relax and enjoy herself. Hours flew by while the girls worked.
Claire was admiring her finished skirt when Massie's phone rang.
“Hey, Alicia,” Massie said.
Claire thought Massie sounded cold toward her friend and wondered if she was still mad about the whole Alicia-leaving-the-party-without-saying-goodbye thing.
“What's up?” Massie asked as she turned down the volume on the stereo. “Yeah, I think Derrington's cool, I guess. … Why? … Did you find out if he likes Dylan yet? … What about Kristen? … Is he ever going to tell you? … Well, what about Cam? … Does he like anyone?”
Claire stopped sewing. She leaned against the back of the couch and listened.
“No, I don't like Cam.” Massie started pacing around the living room. “I was just asking 'cause I thought maybe Olivia did. … Well, she was chasing him around at the party a lot. … Cam likes someone?”
“Who?” Claire mouthed to herself.
“WHO?” Massie asked. “Well, find out. … Look, I should get back to work, but I'll see you tomorrow. … You'll find out, right? … 'Kay, bye.”
Claire's fists were clenched. So was her stomach. She had a feeling Cam liked her after their Halloween party. Now Massie's conversation had confirmed it! But she was desperate for more information.
“Sounds like you and Alicia are friends again,” Claire said from behind the couch.
“Not officially,” Massie said. “But she's got the best gossip and I kinda need to be tapped in right now, so—”
“Why, is something going on?”
“She wouldn't tell me over the phone.” Massie sounded irritated. “I'll get it out of her tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Claire hoped Massie wouldn't pick up on her disappointment. “Good luck. Keep me posted.”
Massie responded with a yawn. “Look, I'm going to bed. I'm beat.”
“Are you finished already?” Claire looked at the mess of needles, thread, and scraps of material around her. She'd need the entire rest of the week to finish! She started to feel panic rising in her chest. Why was she even bothering with this in the first place? She didn't stand a chance.
“No, I still have some finishing touches to put on everything, but I'll do it tomorrow after school. Meet me here, 'kay?” Massie asked.
“Yeah, I'll see you after school,” Claire said with a smile, and suddenly realized the reason she was “bothering.” For some reason, Massie didn't mind having Claire around while they were working. And Claire wasn't about to give that up. She didn't even care why the change of heart occurred; she was just grateful it had.
“I'm going to pack my stuff up in a garbage bag and leave it by the door and I suggest you do the same.” Massie started folding up scraps of unused material. “Unless, of course, you want me to peek at your uniform in the middle of the night.”
“No way. Give me one of those bags.”
Claire didn't actually care if Massie looked at her sample. In fact, she would have been glad. It was the first thing she had ever sewn by herself and she thought she had done a pretty good job. But Massie wanted it that way, so Claire left her bag by the door and turned off the light.
Claire ran all the way back to the guesthouse. Not because she thought psychos were chasing her, like she usually did, but because Massie was finally being nice to her and Cam had a secret crush. Claire just knew she was the girl he liked. And all of that made her feel like running.
OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL
THE HALLS
11:15 AM
November 4th
Massie raced through the halls, past the Models Wanted signs and the high-gloss Fashion Week at OCD posters. Someone had taken a deep red lipstick and changed a few of them to Fashion WEAK at OCD. But Massie had no time to appreciate the “clever” work of activists. She was in a hurr
y to find Alicia, who for some reason was not answering her phone.
Massie picked up her pace and raced even faster. All she had to do was confirm that Cam liked her as more than a friend so she could finally start getting some of that valuable “experience with boys” Alicia had been bragging about lately. But Alicia was nowhere to be found.
After ten frantic minutes Massie decided to put her search on hold. She didn't want to be late for the FIT (Fashion Inspiration Trip) of the day or she would miss the chance to see Cynthia Rowley's design studio. Massie ran outside to the parking lot and charged onto the bus. It smelled like leftover tuna sandwiches.
Massie quickly made her way toward Kristen.
Her old denim skirt had bunched up around her legs and she quickly straightened it out when no one was looking. The suede pocket she had sewn on that morning was holding up nicely. She got six compliments on it. She'd even made up a few fake Web site names when people asked where she bought it. Only she knew the pockets were pieces of the skirt Todd soaked with grape juice.
“Kristen,” Massie panted. “Do you know where Alicia is? She's not answering her phone.”
“No.” Kristen checked her Coach watch, just like she always did when she was asked a question she couldn't answer. “I don't think she's back from the sample sale yet.”
“Didn't she go at like eight in the morning?”
“Yeah, but Olivia wasn't in math, so I guess they're still in the city, looking for uniform ideas,” Kristen said.
“She went into the city with Olivia?” Massie asked.
“Yeah, I thought you knew that.”
Massie shook her head.
Everything around her felt still and a rush of heat burst through her body like fireworks exploding. She usually knew where Alicia was at all times. Now the only thing she knew was that she didn't know anything.
Even though her ears were ringing, Massie heard a frantic voice say, “Has anyone seen Massie Block?” The voice sounded really upset. “It's an emergency.”
Massie could not believe that she was seconds away from dealing with an “emergency.”
“This year sucks,” she said to Kristen.
“Yeah, well, it's about to get worse,” Kristen said. “Look who it is.”
“You're not going to believe this.” Claire stopped in front of Massie's seat. She didn't seem to mind that everyone was waiting for her to get off the bus so they could leave.
“What?” Massie rolled her eyes and tried to look bored. She stole a quick glance at herself in the rearview mirror. She looked good and was glad she had applied a fresh coat of gloss before she got there.
“Our uniforms are gone!” Claire cried. A bubble of saliva formed between her lips when she spoke.
“What do you mean, gone?” Massie pulled Claire into an empty seat so they could have some privacy.
“IwantedtoshowmyuniformtomymomthismorningsoIwenttogetmytrashbagand—”
“Slow down,” Massie snapped. “I can't understand you.”
“Inez threw them out! She thought they were trash.”
“What? NO! Why?”
“'Cause they were in trash bags!” Claire shouted. “Remember, you didn't trust me. You thought I would peek at your masterpiece. Well, now your masterpiece is probably on its way to a furnace to in Peekskill burn up.”
Massie caught herself wondering how Claire, a girl from Orlando, knew that trash in Westchester went to a furnace in Peekskill, but she was too upset to ask.
Her chance to become famous for leading a style revolution at OCD was gone.
Massie suddenly felt sorry for the white tennis skirt she spent half the night sewing. It was probably in the back of a smelly trash truck buried in rotten eggs and poo-covered diapers, wondering how it got there. The more she thought about it, the more Massie felt sad for everyone: her mother, who took her shopping after school for the material; her proud father, who couldn't wait to see his daughter's masterpiece; Bean, who sacrificed her nightly walk; and even her mannequin, which stood by her all night while she worked. She considered feeling sorry for Claire, but there just wasn't room. She was full.
Claire sniffed and wiped her palm across her moist nose. “It was the first thing I ever made. And it was pretty good.”
“Well, I was on my way to making history,” Massie said, as if her loss was ten times bigger than Claire's.
“You sew pretty fast,” Claire said. “You could probably get something together by Saturday night.”
“That's in four days! Do I look like I'm from Moscow?”
“No.”
“Then why do you think I'd be into Russian?”
Claire laughed. Massie smiled back. She had tried the joke before on Dylan and Kristen and they didn't get it.
“Maybe if we do it together, we could—”
“Not a chance,” Massie interrupted. “I want to go down in history alone.”
“Hmmm,” Claire said.
“What?” Massie gathered her hair in a ponytail and then let it drop back to her shoulders.
“I was just thinking. Nah, forget it. You'd never go for it.”
“WHAT?” Massie snapped.
“Wouldn't you love to stand onstage in front of the Teen People editors in a brand-new outfit when you present the school with your, I mean our, new creation?”
“Kuh-laire, I am so not doing this with—” Massie paused. She leaned closer and whispered, “Are you saying you'll call off the bet if I let you partner with me?”
Just then Massie noticed Claire was a full inch taller than she was. She looked down at her feet and noticed the girl was wearing a pair of high-heeled black Capezio dance shoes with white sweat socks. At that moment Massie actually found herself missing the Keds.
“Yup,” Claire said. “The bet will be over.” She shifted her weight from her left foot to her right. “But you'd have to really partner with me this time. Not like you did for the Halloween party. This time you have to mean it.”
“Hmmm.” Massie tapped her French-manicured finger-nail against her bottom lip. “Let. Me. See.”
Claire let out an impatient sigh.
“'Kay, I'll do it!”
Claire's face lit up.
“But I'm only doing this for fashion,” Massie added. “And for our mothers, of course.”
“Really?” Claire turned on her high heels and made her way toward the front of the bus. “'Cause I'm doing it to win.”
Claire pushed her way through the aisle and bounced down the steps of the bus. She ran all the way back to class on her tiptoes to keep from spraining her ankle. Her blond hair whipped across her face, but she never stopped to fix or tie it back. She didn't seem to care.
Massie watched Claire at that moment as if it were the first time she had ever seen her. And in a way, it was.
THE BLOCK ESTATE
FRONT LAWN
3:58 PM
November 6th
Todd Lyons bolted off the Briarwood Academy bus in a flurry of flying juice boxes. He picked one up off the ground and whipped it back on the bus before the driver could get the door closed.
“That's for you, Dick,” Todd said. He was doubled over, laughing.
“My name is Richard!”
Massie watched the bus pull away from behind a thick oak on her front lawn. She had been walking Bean and was in no mood to see Todd. She'd taken cover behind the tree and decided to wait there until he was inside the house.
He walked up the driveway, kicking the white stones beneath his feet with every step. The sound made Bean jumpy.
“Shhh.” She covered the dog's mouth with her hand.
Todd was almost at the house when the bus pulled up again. It hissed when it stopped and screeched when the doors opened. Someone was getting off.
“Hey, Todd, wait up.”
Massie poked her head out from the side of the tree to see who it was.
“TODD!”
“Cam?” Massie said to Bean. “EhmaGOD.”
Cam ran up
the driveway toward Todd and the two stopped and talked. Massie darted behind another tree, hoping to get closer so she could hear what they were saying. There was enough grass between her and Cam to do at least twenty cartwheels. She couldn't make out a single word. She couldn't smell his Drakkar Noir, couldn't look into his blue or green eye, and couldn't tell what kind of sweater he was wearing under his leather jacket. All she knew for sure was that his skinny butt looked ah-dorable in his dark wash Diesel jeans.
She watched Cam tilt his shoulder so his green canvas messenger bag could slide off and fall to the ground. He dropped into a squat and fished around inside until he found what he was looking for: a CD-shaped case wrapped in what looked like a bunch of rubber bands. He pulled it out and handed it to Todd, who put it in his knapsack immediately.
Cam gave Todd two friendly slaps on the shoulder and ran toward the street. Todd stood and waved goodbye, looking just as smitten as Massie did.
She waited until Cam was halfway down the block before she jumped out from behind the tree. “Todd,” Massie shouted. “How was your day?”
“It just got better, my pet,” he said. “How was yours?”
“Wasn't that Cam Fisher?” Massie quickly glanced at Todd's knapsack, hoping to get a look inside, but it was zipped up.
“Yeah.” Todd started walking toward the guesthouse and Massie followed.
“Why was he here?” Massie thought if she sounded annoyed, Todd wouldn't pick up on her crush.
“No reason,” Todd said. “Hey, wanna come over and play Tony Hawk's Underground?”
“I would love to, but I have to give Bean a bath.” Massie put the dog on the ground and fanned the air. “It's been a while and she's starting to smell like feet.”
“Let me help.” Todd reached down to pat Bean, but the dog ran and hid behind Massie's legs.
Massie couldn't play this game for one more second. She knew Cam had dropped something off for her and she wanted it. Todd was probably holding Cam's love gift hostage because he was jealous.
“Todd, darling.” Massie put her hand on his shoulder and they stopped walking. She glared at him with her amber eyes until a bead of sweat formed above his upper lip. “I know what's in the bag and I want it.”
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