The Clique

by Lisi Harrison

  “Oh, it’s all blurry.” Claire sounded disappointed.

  “I’m not surprised,” Massie said. “Those cameras pretty much suck.”

  “Hey, where did you get that cool mannequin?” Claire asked. She was referring to the headless figure that stood on a metal stand by Massie’s closet.

  “I get a new one every year for my birthday,” Massie said. She sounded proud.

  “Why every year?” Claire asked.

  “Because I grow.” Massie gave a tiny eye roll.

  “Do you ever think it’s going to come to life in the middle of the night and try to murder you?” Claire asked. She tried to sound playful.

  “Never,” Massie said.

  Claire quickly looked around for something new to talk about and walked toward the corkboard that hung above Massie’s desk.

  “Who are they?” Claire noticed that the girls in the pictures looked so much older than her friends back home.

  “My best friends in the whole world,” Massie said. “We’re really close.”

  “Is this one a model?” Claire pointed to a sultry-looking girl with impossibly glossy dark hair.

  “Not that I know of,” Massie said. “That’s Alicia.”

  Claire thought Massie sounded bored. Claire saw pictures of the four girls screaming on roller coasters, lying on sleeping bags waving, and dressed up as gun-toting cowgirls. She assumed the costumes were for Halloween because each girl had a line of fake blood dripping from her mouth and Bean wore a cowboy hat and a sheriff’s badge. The shot of the girls posing with Santa Claus at the mall made Claire laugh out loud.

  “I can’t believe you did that to Santa,” Claire said. She was referring to the bunny ears Massie was making with her two fingers behind his head.

  Massie didn’t respond. She was too busy checking her cell phone for messages.

  “You guys look like you have a lot of fun together,” Claire said. “I can’t wait to meet everyone.”

  Massie lifted her eyes as if she was peeking out over a pair of sunglasses.

  “I’m sure you’ll meet a bunch of other people you’d rather hang out with.”

  “Doubt it,” Claire said.

  “You should definitely try,” Massie said. “My friends and I have our own thing going and you’ll probably feel weird if you try to join in. You know, because we’ve known each other for so long.”

  “I’ll be okay.” Claire forced a smile. Massie had stopped paying attention.

  The phone by her bed rang and she raced toward it as if she had been expecting an important call.

  “Uccch, what, Mom?” Massie sounded annoyed.

  Claire used this time to take a look around Massie’s bedroom.

  Her shelves were filled with first-prize horseback-riding trophies and ribbons. In the center of them was a black child-size velvet riding helmet and a framed picture of a white pony.

  There was a doggie sleigh bed on the floor that was an exact replica of the human-size one above it.

  Massie slammed the cordless phone down on her night table.

  “Come on, I have to show you the guesthouse,” Massie said.

  “It’s okay, I can see it from here.” Claire pointed at the window. “You don’t have to take me.”

  Massie gestured to the phone. “Actually, I do.”

  Massie slid open one of her closet doors and Claire saw at least fifty pairs of shoes tucked away in different cubby-holes. Massie tapped her lip with her index finger and examined her selection. She picked out a pair of chunky orange Prada flip-flops and slipped them on her feet.

  “Why are you changing?” Claire asked as she picked at the coral polish on her nails. “Aren’t we just going in the backyard?”

  “’Yeah, but my heels get stuck in the grass and it ruins them.” Massie looked down at Claire’s feet. “I’d offer you a pair of flip-flops, but you don’t care if those get a little muddy, do you?” Massie pointed to Claire’s Keds.

  Claire didn’t know how to respond.

  “Didn’t think so.” Massie shoes slapped against her heels as she shut off the lights and walked out of her room.

  Claire picked a pink chip of polish off her nail and watched it land on Massie’s white rug. Normally she would have reached down to pick it up, but she decided to leave it. She figured the room could use a little color.

  THE BLOCK ESTATE THE DRIVEWAY

  4:15 P.M. September 1st

  An hour later Massie was sitting next to Isaac, her family’s driver, in the plush leather passenger seat of the family Range Rover. They were on their way to Galwaugh Farms, where Massie was going to burn off meeting the Lyons family with a nice long ride on her horse, Brownie, on a private trail.

  For the first time all day Massie relaxed. The windows were open all the way and the wind felt good against Massie’s face.

  “I can’t believe that family is taking advantage of Daddy like that,” Massie said.

  “What do you mean?” Isaac asked.

  “Why don’t they get their own place? I’m sure there’s a YMCA around here somewhere,” she answered.

  Isaac gave Massie one of his you-did-not-just-say-that looks and ejected the “Cheesy Pop” CD from the stereo. Massie knew that meant he was going to say something important.

  “I think it’s nice that your parents are helping out their old friends. And it’s not forever,” he explained. “It’s just until Mr. Lyons finds a house of his own.”

  “What’s so hard about buying a house?” Massie asked. “Are they poor?” She said “poor” the same way her mother said “fat.”

  “No,” Isaac said. “But not everyone can afford everything they want, exactly when they want it.”

  Massie was ready for the music again. She pushed the CD back in, but Isaac immediately hit Eject.

  “Claire seems really sweet,” he offered. “Don’t you think?”

  “If I wanted someone sweet following me around all day at school, I’d bring Bean,” she said.

  “Be nice, Massie.” Isaac had a trace of warning in his voice.

  Massie frowned and turned away from Isaac for the rest of the ride.

  The instant the familiar smell of hay and horse poo filled the car, Massie felt her spirits lift. She smiled to herself as they pulled up to the stables.

  “Thanks for the ride, Isaac. See you in an hour.” Massie slammed the door and ran to the stables to greet her white horse, Brownie.

  “Brownie, I have a surprise for you!” Massie swung a Ziploc bag full of carrots in front of the horse’s face like a hypnotist. “I washed them, peeled them, and cut them into different shapes.” Massie held up an orange star before she fed it to him.

  “See?”

  Brownie licked her hand with his thick black tongue and Massie hugged him.

  She’d gotten Brownie for her fifth birthday and together they’d won eleven ribbons—eight for jumping, two for trotting, and one for best mane.

  Massie waited for Brownie to chomp down the last star before she put her foot through the rhinestone-studded stirrup and hoisted herself up.

  She tapped him lightly with her Hermés riding crop, and they started down the manicured trail. The grass that surrounded the dusty path was lush and Hunter Lake shimmered in the not-too-far-off distance. Massie inhaled deeply. The air smelled clean and the farm felt still—like there was no one around for miles.

  She was ready to pick up the pace. She triple-tapped Brownie and he began to gallop. Massie could feel her newly sprouted A-cups bouncing along with her. She loved the constant reminder that they were there.

  “Brownie, did I tell you I’ll be entering the seventh grade as a bra wearer?” she asked.

  She didn’t mind that Brownie had no idea what she was talking about. He was a good listener, better than her friends and almost as good as Bean.

  “There’s one thing Claire can’t join in on—no matter how hard my mother pushes,” she said. “She’s even flatter than Kristen.”

  Massie’s one-wa
y conversation with Brownie was cut short when a stranger’s voice interrupted her. It was a guy. He was shouting something, but Massie couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  “I said, on your left!” he repeated.

  She whipped her head around and screamed when she saw how close his horse was to Brownie. She was about to get pushed off the path and dumped into the ravine that ran vertically alongside the trail. She called it “the gutter” because it reminded her of a bowling alley. But if she landed in it at the speed she was traveling, she might as well call it a grave.

  The black horse overtook her, its thunderous hooves drowning out Massie’s screams. Brownie was so startled, he stopped unexpectedly and nearly launched Massie straight into the air. Massie pulled tightly on the reins until her horse was back on all fours and standing still.

  “Oh my God,” she said once she composed herself. “Brownie, are you okay?”

  She felt the horse shaking beneath her. A cloud of dust formed behind the mystery man and his horse as they rode on.

  “’Scuse me?” She tried to scream, but it came out sounding more like a question.

  Massie tried again. “HEY, BRAVEHEART?”

  By now he was out of earshot and quickly becoming a blur.

  “We didn’t win all those ribbons for nothing, did we, Brownie?” Massie quadruple-tapped Brownie with her riding crop and he charged forward. She saw Braveheart head toward the lake. She decided to take the shortcut through the woods and meet him there when he arrived.

  “Nobody scares us, right, Brownie?” she said. And off they went.

  Her hair slapped against her face and stuck to her lip gloss, but she didn’t even bother brushing it back. Brownie jumped over broken tree trunks and splashed through creeks all the way to the mouth of the lake. They got there so fast that Brownie was already drinking when Braveheart showed up. Even from a distance Massie could tell he was shocked to see that she had beaten him there. He dropped his reins and lifted his hands above his head like a surrendering outlaw.

  Massie’s heart pounded.

  “Brownie, what if this guy is a toothless escaped convict?” Massie whispered while maintaining eye contact with the stranger. She gripped her phone just in case she needed to make a quick call to 911.

  Braveheart started to get closer. He had shaggy blond hair and tanned, muscular arms. The kind you get from real physical labor, not the gym. When he got close enough, she could see that his eyes were deep blue. He was the cutest toothless escaped convict she’d ever seen, even if he was wearing muddy Levi’s and a wrinkled white T-shirt. She did her best to pry the hair out of her lip gloss before he got any closer.

  “You’re on a private trail,” Massie said in her best sheriff voice.

  “Funny, it doesn’t feel very private,” he answered.

  “It would be if you left.”

  Massie was temporarily blinded by his Crest Whitestrip smile and she instantly wished she could take back her words. Especially when it occurred to her how cute they would look together at the Octavian Country Day School fall dance.

  “Is that any way to treat a guy who just got back into town?” he teased.

  “What were you in jail for?” Massie asked.

  “Reckless riding.” He flashed another smile. “Actually, I was shipped off to boarding school in London. But my dad made me come home when he found out I was partying too much.” He shrugged. “I guess he’s hoping I’ll find total misery this year as a Briarwood Academy freshman.”

  Massie wanted to ask him why he was sent away in the first place, but she didn’t want to seem too eager, didn’t want him to think she cared.

  She hated herself for not having worn her more flattering brown pants. She’d once read in Teen Vogue, “Always try to look your best because you never know who you’ll run into.”

  Teen Vogue one, Massie zero.

  She leaned over and lovingly mussed the mane on his midnight-black horse.

  “Her name is Tricky,” he said. “I tell her everything.”

  “You talk to your horse?” Massie asked. “Don’t you think that’s a little strange?”

  “Not at all. I’m Chris Abeley.” He held up his palm like an Indian but smiled like a cowboy.

  “I’m Massie Block.” Massie hooked a piece of shiny brown hair behind her ear and smiled shyly.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Massie. Well, I’ll get out of your way now so you can have your privacy,” Chris said.

  “It’s okay. You can stay … if you want.” Massie tried her hardest not to sound desperate.

  “And risk having you hunt me down again? No way. I’ll be back next Saturday when this trail is open to the public. Maybe I’ll see you then?” Chris winked.

  “’Kay,” was all she could manage.

  “Then it’s a date?” he asked. Massie felt a surge of energy blast through her entire body. Chris rode off before she had time to answer.

  THE BLOCK ESTATE MASSIE’S BEDROOM

  9:40 P.M. September 1st

  It was getting close to bedtime.

  Massie sat on her white chaise in boy shorts and a cotton tank top. A vanilla-scented candle warmed her room. She was brushing Bean, who had curled up in a tiny black ball beside her. She turned down the TV when she heard a knock on her door.

  “Can we come in?” William said.

  “Sure,” Massie answered.

  Her parents walked into her room and sat on the bed.

  “Are you all ready for school tomorrow?” William asked.

  Massie gestured to the outfit on her mannequin.

  “Yup.”

  It wore a lavender Moschino mini, a gray wide-neck slouchy T-shirt, and silver Jimmy Choo sandals. Even though it was supposed to be seventy-eight degrees tomorrow, her denim blazer was a must. It gave the outfit a finished look.

  “Did you end up having a nice day?” Kendra asked.

  “Yeah, it was fine,” Massie said.

  “Good.” Kendra sounded pleased. “Isaac will be in the car at 7:45 A.M. to take you to school. So I’ll wake you up at 7:00 A.M., okay?”

  “’Kay,” Massie said. She was relieved that no mention of Claire had been made and hoped it would stay like that.

  “So what did you think of the Lyons family?” William asked. “Claire is great, isn’t she?”

  So much for that.

  “I can’t believe you used to be such good friends with Jay,” Massie said to her dad. “You seem so different.”

  William’s pleased smile faded and a crinkled brow took its place.

  “Kind of like you’re Donald Trump and he’s Donald Duck,” Massie said.

  “Give them a chance, okay?” William pleaded. “For me?”

  “Maybe Massie will change her mind once she opens this,” Kendra said as she handed Massie a small gift-wrapped box. “Take it. They brought it all the way from Florida.”

  Massie walked over to the bed and accepted the gift. She peeled away the silver wrapping paper slowly, as if she expected something to jump out at her. She lifted the lid on the small cardboard box. Under the cotton square was a tiny silver microphone. She pinched it between her fingers and held it up to the light the way a paleontologist would examine a tiny fossil.

  “They got it for your charm bracelet.” Kendra smiled brightly. “Isn’t that thoughtful?”

  “Why a microphone?” Massie asked.

  “Because you used to want to be a famous singer,” Kendra said.

  “When I was six.” Massie rolled her eyes.

  “Well, it’s the thought that counts,” William said. “Put it on. I think it would look nice between the shoe and the Eiffel Tower.”

  “I can’t wear this—it’s silver,” Massie said. “Silver and gold are tacky together.”

  But it was too late. Kendra reached for her daughter’s arm and skillfully unfastened the bracelet as if she worked behind the counter at Tiffany & Co. She fastened the microphone (which Massie thought looked more like a lollipop) and clipped the bracelet ba
ck on her daughter’s wrist.

  “It looks great,” William said. “They’ll be happy to see you wearing it.”

  Both of her parents gave Massie a kiss good night.

  “Now that you’re back in school, are we going to resume our nightly walks?” William asked. He was looking at the dog.

  “8:15 P.M. Right, Bean?” Massie turned the dog to face her.

  Bean lifted her head and looked at Massie.

  “She said ‘right,’” Massie explained. “G’night.”

  Her parents closed her bedroom door gently behind them, like they were trying not to wake a sleeping baby.

  Massie looked at the eyesore that dangled off her favorite piece of jewelry. Suddenly the bracelet felt more like a hand-cuff. She slid it off her wrist and placed it beside her bed on the night table. The only thing left to do before she went to bed was enter the day’s State of the Union in her PalmPilot.

  She’d always kept a record of her life but had never seen the need to waste words in something like a diary, especially since diaries could fall into enemy hands so easily. Instead, when something significant happened, she summed it all up with a simple list.

  CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION INOUT

  CHRIS CLAIRE

  PUBLIC TRAILSPRIVATE TRAILS

  HORSES LYONS

  When Massie finished her entry, she lifted Bean onto her lap.

  “Five more sleeps until I see Chris Abeley again,” she said.

  She crawled under her duvet, hoping to quiet her mind and get some beauty rest before the first day of school. She clicked the remote control beside her bed and the lights in her room automatically shut off. Only ten more hours until she saw her friends.

  THE GUESTHOUSE CLAIRE’S BEDROOM

  1:03 A.M. September 2nd