Massie pulled a tube of gloss out of her denim blazer and managed to apply it without putting down her binoculars.
“It looks like he’s walking toward us, doesn’t it?” Kristen said.
“Yeah, almost like he knows Massie’s here,” Dylan offered. “Could this be any more romantic?” Dylan spit a pit out of her mouth after she spoke. She reached into a Ziploc bag and pulled out another cherry. Her red-stained lips were the only proof that the bag had been full minutes ago.
“Shhh. He’s crossing the street,” Massie said.
Chris Abeley walked directly over to the hedge that separated him from the girls. He stood with his back facing them. Inches away the four girls were having a frantic conversation, using only their wide, panic-filled eyes to communicate.
Kristen reached out her hand and pretended to squeeze
Chris Abeley’s butt. This made Alicia and Dylan shake with suppressed laughter. Even Massie had to fight the urge to crack up.
MASSIE: WHAT IZY W8ing 4?
DYLAN: U
MASSIE:
Massie was enjoying the thought of Chris Abeley waiting for her after school too much to notice that something cool and sticky was trickling down her back. She lifted her head slowly. A stream of pink liquid was making its way from a can of Red Bull onto her scalp. Massie covered her phone with both hands to protect it from the moisture.
A blue BMW blasting tinny guitar-heavy boy music pulled up in front of Chris Abeley.
“How was detention?” a guy’s voice shouted over the music.
“Killer!” Chris Abeley cheered sarcastically. “Best time ever.”
He scooped his bag off the ground and whipped the empty can behind the hedge. It ricocheted off Alicia’s kneecap and she let out a loud yelp. Luckily the drum solo that blasted from the car’s stereo kept her from being heard.
As soon as the car sped off, the girls rolled around on the grass howling with laughter. They held their stomachs and wiped the tears from their eyes as they pointed at Massie’s wet hair. Once they finally caught their breath, Alicia’s bright red knee made them crack up all over again.
“You guys look ridiculous,” Dylan said.
“Look who’s talking.” Alicia pointed at the mountain of cherry pits piled high beside Dylan.
Her lips were so red, she looked like the Joker from Batman.
“You know, that’s not a bad color,” Massie said. “I wish someone sold that.”
Dylan pulled her silver hairbrush out of her bag and flipped it over.
“You’re right.” Dylan puckered up for her reflection and blew herself a kiss.
“Maybe she’s born with it,” Massie sang.
“Maybe its Maybelline,” the others responded.
Later that night, before she went to sleep, Massie made a record of the afternoon’s events.
CURRENT STATE OF THE UNIONINOUT
RIDING HIDING
RED CHERRIES RED BULL
OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL FIRST-FLOOR BATHROOM
9:25 A.M. September 5th
Massie and Dylan stared at themselves in the bathroom mirrors while they spoke.
“I can’t believe my lips are still stained.” Dylan grabbed a soft white facial towel off the cosmetics table by the window and rubbed it across her lips, but it only made them look redder.
“Top it off with a clear gloss and you’d be onto something,” Massie said to Dylan’s reflection.
“It’s not funny. My sisters called me Liperacchi all night and my mother threatened to cancel my Zone deliveries if I keep eating high-sugar fruits that aren’t part of the program,” Dylan said.
Massie slid a tube of gold shimmer across her lips.
“I wish my makeup lasted that long,” she said.
“Maybe Kristen should start a makeup company for her class project,” Dylan joked. “She can sell cherries.”
“Brilliant!” Massie clapped with excitement. “We’ll make everything ourselves using all-natural ingredients. Your mom can have us on The Daily Grind so we can promote our new line and—”
“Are you kidding?” Dylan asked. “Do you really think it’s a good idea or are you just making fun of me?” Dylan worked her brush through a tangle.
“No, I’m serious,” Massie said.
“We’ll call it Homebody,” Dylan suggested. “You know, because all of our ‘body’ products will be made from ‘home.’” She added air quotes to “home” and “body” just in case Massie didn’t get how genius her suggestion was.
“Maybe the name should be more glamorous,” Massie said.
Dylan pulled strands of red hair out of her brush and shook them to the ground, but they clung to her like spider-webs.
“I think it’s all about being catchy and clever,” Dylan pushed.
“There’s nothing catchy or clever about Guerlain, Dior, or Clarins,” Massie said. “And they’re doing a little better than Hard Candy and Urban Decay, don’t you think?”
“Maybe this whole thing is stupid,” Dylan said. “We have no clue how to make cosmetics.”
“That’s what the Internet is for,” Massie said.
“Do you think Kristen will like it?” Dylan asked.
“We’ll make her like it.” Massie walked into a bathroom stall and closed the door behind her. The discussion was over.
“You can go ahead without me—I may be a while,” Massie offered.
“’“Kay,” Dylan answered.
“We’re gonna be rich!” Massie sang. Her swinging feet were visible through the opening at the bottom of the stall.
“We already are,” Dylan said on her way out. “See ya at lunch, Coco.”
“Au revoir, Estee,” Massie said.
When Massie was sure Dylan was gone, she reached into her bag and pulled out her PalmPilot. She was feeling inspired. She thought about how great it would be to have everyone in the school, especially the older girls, rely on her for the latest beauty products and makeup advice. Chris Abeley would be in awe of her high-powered hobby and forget all about their age difference. She would never have to worry about little things like Claire threatening her social status again. She would be untouchable.
CURRENT STATE OF THE UNIONINOUT
HOMEBODY BODY SHOP
CEOs BFFs
MAKEUP MOGUL FASHION DESIGNER
THE GUESTHOUSE THE LIVING ROOM
5:00 P.M. September 5th
“Did Mom tell you I’m having a sleepover party tonight?” Todd asked Claire. She was lying on the white L-shaped couch, flipping through the TV channels and eating mint chocolate-chip ice cream.
Claire rolled her eyes. “I’m going out with my new friend Layne,” she said.
Todd reached over and tried to force his spoon into the carton, but Claire blocked him with her elbow.
“Wait, how many people are coming over?” Claire asked. She found it hard to believe he already knew enough people invite to a “party.”
“Eleven,” Todd said. “Twelve if Stevie Levine can get out of his stepbrother’s bar mitzvah dinner.”
Todd lunged again, knocked Claire’s spoon out of the way, and scooped out the biggest chunk of chocolate there was. Claire didn’t flinch.
“How do you have twelve friends already?” Claire asked.
“The raisins.” Todd said. “I told you.”
Kendra knocked lightly on the front door, letting herself in before anyone could answer. She was wearing a pair of crisp-looking black pants and a baby blue cashmere sweater set. Even when she was just spending the day at home, she still looked perfectly put together.
As soon as Claire spotted Kendra she took her feet off the couch and sat up straight.
“My mom isn’t home,” Claire said.
“Actually, I came to see you, Claire.” Kendra’s voice was calm and smooth.
“Oh!” Claire squeaked with surprise. “You did?”
“Every Friday night Massie has a sleepover and I’d like you to come tonight,” Kendra said. “That is, of course, if
you don’t already have plans.”
“Thanks, but I’m sure Massie doesn’t want me at her party,” Claire said.
“Who would?” Todd said.
“Shut up,” Claire mumbled. She pinched her brother on the arm and kicked him off the couch. None of this fazed Kendra. She was all business.
“I insist,” Kendra said. “And Massie insists. Come by at 7:30 P.M. and don’t worry about a sleeping bag; we’ll have everything you need.”
“Massie insists?” Claire asked.
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Claire said. “Thanks.”
“Wait, I thought you already had pla—,” Todd tried to say. But Claire kicked him off the couch again before he could finish.
The instant Claire heard the front door close, she jumped off the couch and ran upstairs to her bedroom.
She grabbed a jumble of clothes off the chair in front of her desk, tossed them onto the floor, and sat down at her computer. As soon as she moved the mouse, her dancing bananas screen saver melted away, revealing her wallpaper—a picture of her friends back home. In the picture Sarah, Sari, and Mandy were sitting in a speedboat waving at the camera. Their cheeks were all squished because their life jackets were too tight, and their hair was matted down with spray. They had their arms around each other and they were smiling big, goofy smiles. Just looking at that picture made Claire’s chest feel tight. She hadn’t called them since school started because she was scared she’d cry when she heard their voices. She was about to IM them and ask how she should cancel her plans with Layne, but she knew they’d just tell her not to. They’d tell her to forget about Massie and her snobby friends, and Claire didn’t feel like explaining why she couldn’t. Shame forced her to come up with an excuse all on her own.
Claire started looking around for Layne’s number.
“I know, Layne, it totally sucks,” Claire said into the white cordless phone. “Especially on a Friday night.” She paced back and forth in her bedroom, stepping lightly to avoid the creaking hardwood floors.
“I’d be happy to come over and help you babysit if you want,” Layne offered.
“Uh, that’s probably not such a good idea.” Claire rubbed her nose. “Todd is really sick and highly contagious.”
“Bummer.”
Claire paced again. She couldn’t tell if Layne knew she was lying.
“Can we do something tomorrow?” Claire asked.
“Sure, around noon?”
“Perfect,” Claire said. “Thanks for being so understanding.”
“No big,” Layne said. And then Layne started to say something else, but Claire didn’t hear a word of it.
Claire was so nervous, she’d already hung up.
THE BLOCK ESTATE MAIN HOUSE
8:00 P.M. September 5th
Claire arrived at the sleepover half an hour late because she didn’t want to seem anxious. By the time she got there, everyone else was already in the living room, dancing on the brown leather couches. Claire could see them through the big picture window, but when she knocked on the side door, no one answered. She figured they couldn’t hear her. The music was probably up too loud, she reasoned.
So Claire opened the door a crack and poked her head in. “Hello,” she called. “Hello?” The house smelled warm and sweet, like chocolate chip cookies.
“In here, Claire,” Kendra called back.
Claire walked into the living room and instantly felt her muscles tense. She was wearing her favorite blue-and-white sheep print pajamas. Massie, Dylan, Alicia and Kristen were fully dressed.
Pop music blasted from the speakers that hung in every corner and a giant glass bowl of popcorn was sitting on the glass coffee table. Heaps of clothes were spread all across the floor.
“All right, girls,” Kendra said, lowering the volume on the stereo. “The break is over. I need help packing this stuff up.”
Kendra began picking pieces of clothing up off the floor one by one—dark denim jeans, candy-colored sweaters, wool coats, nylon jackets, designer print T-shirts, stretchy skirts, and knit doggie clothes. She’d hold each one out in front of her for a brief second and then quickly fold it into a crisp rectangle and place it neatly in one of the many cardboard boxes that sat on the floor. The other girls were half-heartedly doing the same. Claire was hypnotized. No one acknowledged her except for Bean, who ran up to her and sniffed her toes.
“Hi, Bean.” Claire crouched down to pat the dog.
Before Claire was able to make contact, Massie let out a high-pitched whistle and Bean scampered back to her mistress.
“Claire, we’re so glad you could come,” Kendra said.
Massie glanced up. “Nice jammies,” she said. Then she went back to folding.
Not one of the other girls even looked her way.
“Why are you getting rid of that?” Massie asked Dylan. “You just bought it on Labor Day.”
“It makes me look fat!” Dylan held the thick white cashmere sweater in her arms so she could see it from a distance. The price tag dangled off the sleeve. “What was I thinking, buying white?”
“Lemme see, maybe I’ll take it,” Kristen said.
She held the sweater beside her face, but the girls shook their heads no.
“Into the box it goes,” Kristen said. She bit off the $300 price tag and handed the sweater to Kendra.
“What are you guys doing?” Claire finally asked.
No one said a word until Kendra cleared her throat in a very loud you-better-say-something-now sort of way.
“We host an auction here every year to raise money for OCD scholarships,” Massie said.
“Looks like you’re getting rid of a lot,” Claire said.
“Well, of course we are. All of this is last season,” Alicia said. “After we’re done, we go on a shopping spree to replace it all with brand-new stuff.”
Claire felt a rush of panic rip through her body. The kind she’d felt when she waved back to Andy Jeffries (her sixth-grade crush) before she realized he was waving at Becky Manning. It was the same general feeling of cluelessness. She had been wearing the same pair of Gap jeans for a year and a half, up until the paint incident.
No one had told her clothes were like milk or cheese, with a “best before” date and a shelf life. The only time she ever threw anything out was when it got stained or if she grew out of it.
“I have a bunch of stuff I can donate,” Claire offered.
“No!” the four girls said in unison.
Claire cocked her head and scrunched her eyebrows.
“The whole idea of the auction is to make money.” Alicia rolled her eyes.
“I know that,” Claire said. “I’ll go get some things and I’ll be right back.”
THE BLOCK ESTATE THE KITCHEN PANTRY
9:15 P.M. September 5th
“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal to you,” Massie said to her mother. They were standing in the kitchen pantry surrounded by cans of soup, bottles of mineral water, bags of pretzels, and boxes of doggie biscuits, which Bean was sniffing. For some reason this was always the place her mother chose to talk when Massie was about to be in trouble for something.
“She is a guest in our house, not to mention a very lovely girl. I know you’ll really like her if you give her a chance,” Kendra said. One of her hands rested on the thick wood countertop and the other was on her tiny waist. She was wearing a black Juicy sweat suit and a pearl choker.
“Mom, why don’t you stop worrying about her so much and start thinking about how all of your matchmaking is affecting me!” Massie said. Her voice shook as she spoke and she was scared if she said any more, she would start to cry. “It’s like you care about her happiness more than you care about mine!”
Massie stormed out of the pantry and locked herself in the yellow-and-white downstairs bathroom. She sprayed some French rosewater on her face and gently dabbed it dry with a fluffy yellow towel, making sure to pat, not rub. She’d once read in Seventeen that it was a crime
against beauty to wipe your face with a towel because it pulled the skin and caused wrinkles.
“Mass,” Kristen called through the door. “We’re going out to the cabana to set up—you coming?”
Massie cleared her throat and forced her voice to sound normal. “Go ahead,” she called back. “I’ll see you guys out there in a bit.”
Massie sat down on top of the closed toilet and read old issues of Town and Country for about ten minutes until she heard her mother go upstairs for the night. When she opened the door, Bean was right there waiting for her.
Massie was about to head outside to the cabana when she heard a noise coming from the living room. She slid off her flip-flops to avoid slapping noises and carried Bean in her arms so the tags and charms around her Gucci collar wouldn’t clang. She figured Kristen had snuck back in to swipe a few things out of the box, just like she’d done the year before, and she wanted to catch her in the act.
Massie poked her head in the doorway of the living room. Ribbons of yellow light, sent from lampposts on the front lawn, broke up the darkness and helped Massie see the box. As soon as she spotted it, there all alone in the middle of the big room, a wave of loneliness filled the pit of her stomach. She got the same feeling around Christmas when she’d look at the tree in the middle of the night. Something about seeing it all tall and proud, decorated with lights and surrounded by presents, seemed so depressing. Like looking at someone who was all dressed up with nowhere to go. Massie heard something brush up against the cardboard. She leaned in to get a closer look. It was Claire. She was kneeling beside the box and feeding it folded sweatshirts. She had a soft semismile on her face. She looked both peaceful and proud.
“At least they both have company,” Massie whispered into Bean’s batlike ear. She gave Bean a squeeze and slowly crept away.
THE BLOCK ESTATE CABANA #3
10:15 P.M. September 5th
“Sorry I took so long.” Massie shut off her flashlight and put Bean on the floor. “I had to take her for a walk.”
Four sleeping bags were laid out like the spokes of a bicycle wheel, and Bean’s white sheepskin bed was in the center. A glass bowl filled with butter-flavored soy crisps and Junior Mints—the ultimate combo—was on Dylan’s lap. They were in the middle of an intense round of What Would You Rather?
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