The Clique

by Lisi Harrison

  They both laughed and locked pinkies.

  “Friends?” Layne asked.

  “Friends,” Claire answered.

  “I’m sorry to announce that we have completely sold out of Massie, Alicia, Kristen, and Dylan,” Kristen announced. “But if you’re interested in getting our newsletter by e-mail, Dylan will be passing around a sign-up book.”

  Kristen took a wad of cash to the back of bus and counted it in a closed huddle with the rest of her partners. She paid them each twenty dollars for their work and tucked the rest away in her Miu Miu fanny belt.

  Meanwhile Claire and Layne forced their faces to fit inside the crack between their two seats so they could laugh at the sea of greasy, gloopy lips behind them.

  “Test test,” Vincent called over the loudspeaker. He stood at the front of the bus, twirling the thick coiled black cord that hung from the bottom of the mike. His thumb held down the button on the side so his voice would be amplified.

  “STUDENTS.” His voice nearly shattered the eardrums of every girl on the bus. He tweaked the volume dial and tried again.

  “Students,” he said softly. “That’s better.”

  “Dork,” a muffled voice shouted from the back of the bus. A sprinkle of giggles followed.

  Vincent pulled his goatee and curled his lips inward so it looked like he had no mouth. He waited patiently for the disruption to cease.

  “As some of you may already know, we have been granted permission to visit the set of All My Children today because I happen to be very special friends with one of the actors. So I expect all of you to be on your best behav—”

  “It burnzzz,” someone hollered from the middle of the bus. “My lips are on fire!!!”

  Amanda Levine stood up and fanned her face as if it had been torched.

  “Mine too,” Noel Durkins wailed. She turned to face the back of the bus. Her eyes bulged when she heard the gasps that came after everyone saw her.

  “What?” she shouted. “Whhhattt?”

  “Oh my God, her lips look like they got breast implants,” Layne said to Claire.

  “Big time,” Claire said.

  Massie pushed her way through the hysteria and grabbed the microphone out of Vincent’s hand.

  “Calm down.” Massie plastered a big, bright smile on her face. “It’s just the natural emollients working their way through your lips. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  “I have it too,” Debby Weezer yelled.

  “Debby, call your mother’s plastic surgeon,” Michelle Powers said.

  “For the hundredth time, my mom doesn’t have a plastic surgeon, Michelle!” Debby snapped.

  Massie addressed the girls again. “Just out of curiosity, how many of you are allergic to peanuts or nuts of any kind? I’m looking for a show of hands here.”

  At least ten hands shot into the air.

  “Thank you,” Massie said. She handed the mike back to Vincent and marched to the back of the bus.

  “We want our money back,” Carrie Drebin shouted.

  “Yeah!” Debby said.

  “I just want my lips back,” Carolyn Rothstein said.

  “Mine are so itchy,” Carly Cooper said.

  Vincent flicked on the mike. “Everyone, please relax,” he said.

  No one did. Kristen’s blubbering could be heard all the way in the front of the bus. It mingled with the existing sobs and created a symphony of hysteria.

  “I’m going to f-f-f-faaaaail,” she bawled.

  Vincent whispered something in the driver’s hairy ear and the bus pulled over at the side of the highway.

  “Enough screaming, you harpies!” Vincent said. “I can’t hear myself think.”

  His lack of anything helpful to say just made everyone panic even more.

  Layne and Claire were the only ones on the entire bus who managed to stay calm.

  “You’re vibrating.” Layne pointed to Claire’s backpack.

  “What?” Claire asked. “Oh, it must be my phone.”

  Layne crinkled her eyebrows when Claire took the humming silver cell phone from her bag.

  “Since when did you get a—?” Layne was cut off.

  “Long story,” Claire said. She didn’t recognize the incoming number, so she hung up.

  It buzzed again.

  “Who is it?” Layne asked.

  “I don’t know,” Claire said before hanging up a second time. “Probably a prank.”

  The third time the phone beeped, indicating that Claire had a text message. Claire checked the screen.

  914-555-8055: OATMEAL.

  CLAIRE: LEAVE LAYNE ALONE!!!

  914-555-8055: U DON’T GET IT.

  HER OATMEAL WILL HELP.

  GOOD 4 RASHES, ETC. …

  READ IT IN COSMO

  “Layne, do you have any more oatmeal?” Claire asked. She was already searching through Layne’s bag.

  Layne grabbed the bag back from Claire. “Why is everyone so obsessed with my oatmeal? God! They’ve got to get some new material. This is getting sooo boring.”

  “No, Layne, your oatmeal will help,” Claire said. “I remember my mother soaking me in an oatmeal bath when I had poison ivy. It totally works.”

  She tried to pry it from Layne’s grip, but it wasn’t easy.

  “Why should I help them when all they do is make fun of me?” Layne asked.

  “This is why.” Claire grabbed Layne’s thermos and pushed her way through the pack of screaming girls who were fighting over Carly’s hand mirror.

  “I can help,” Claire shouted as loud as she could. She held the thermos above her head like Moses holding the Ten Commandments.

  “Help me,” Noel shouted.

  “No, me, look at my face!” Michelle said.

  “It will cost you two dollars,” Claire said.

  Layne looked tickled by the announcement. She gave Claire a thumbs-up from her seat.

  The angry mob turned toward Kristen and demanded their money back.

  “What’s in there?” Vincent asked.

  “Oatmeal,” Claire said with a proud smile.

  “I refuse to let you charge these suffering girls for hot cereal,” he said.

  “Why? You’re the one who let them pay for rotten lip gloss,” Layne jumped in.

  “Here, take five dollars.” Carly was waving her cash in the air. “Just hurry!”

  Claire looked at Vincent. He waved her off as if to say, Leave me out of it, and sat down in the empty seat behind the driver.

  Claire started doling out the rations and Layne followed her, collecting the c ash.

  One by one, the girls dug their hands into the white plastic thermos cup and scooped out their share of oatmeal. They smeared it on their mouths with no concern for the raisins that slid down their chins.

  The bus was quiet once the oatmeal had been applied. They just sat in their seats, covered in gooey globs, silently staring straight ahead. No one wanted to open their mouths for fear of swallowing some of it by mistake.

  The only sound that could be heard was Kristen, weeping in the back. Everyone thought she was being kind of a drama queen about it. Only Claire knew how badly Kristen really needed an A … and the money.

  The bus turned around and headed north on the Saw Mill River Parkway. The All My Children trip was turning into a visit to the Westchester Medical Center.

  The girls with the swollen faces poured off the bus and ran toward the entrance while Vincent followed, begging them to slow down. The few normal faces split up. Massie led half of them to the vending machine while the other half lingered outside the bus.

  “Thank you,” Kristen said. Claire was bent over tying her shoe and didn’t realize she was being spoken to.

  “Seriously, I mean it. Thanks,” Kristen said again.

  Claire’s body hung over her shoe, but her head snapped up to see if this person was actually talking to her.

  “Don’t thank me, it was Layne’s oatmeal,” Claire said.

  “No, not for
that, for the other thing.” Kristen looked around to make sure no one was listening.

  “Ohhh, that. Well, I promised, didn’t I?” She liked the way those words sounded, sincere and honest. She almost had forgotten that part of her existed.

  “I’m actually happy it was you I told and not Massie.” Kristen looked around one more time before continuing. “There, now that’s two secrets you have to keep.”

  “No problem. By the way, I’m sorry about your company,” Claire said. She meant it.

  But Kristen didn’t answer. Instead she turned and walked away to look for her friends.

  THE RANGE ROVER FIRST-CLASS SECTION

  8:10 A.M. October 1st

  “Look, Dylan, your mom is showing pictures from your birthday party,” Massie said. She cranked up the volume on the TV and closed the car windows so she wouldn’t miss a word. The girls leaned back against the seats and gazed up at the screen.

  “How much do I love Justin Timberlake?” Merri-Lee said as she held out a photograph of the musician stuffing a piece of Dylan’s birthday cake in his mouth. The camera zoomed in.

  “Where are the pictures of us, Mom?” Dylan asked the TV.

  “And here is the birthday girl, my daughter, Dylan. I have no idea where all of that fabulous red hair came from, because I get mine from Rena, the brilliant colorist who works at Avalon. Love you, Rena.” Merri-Lee blew a kiss to the camera. “See you Thursday.” The audience gave huge laughs for that one, followed by applause.

  “I can’t believe people think she’s funny,” Dylan said.

  “Here she is again, dancing with her gorgeous girl-friends,” she said, right on cue. “I’m telling you, they could all be models.” The camera pushed in on a sultry shot of Alicia looking straight through the lens.

  “Ehmagod, look how sweaty I am,” Alicia shouted.

  Dylan shifted in her seat. Massie knew Dylan thought her mother gave Alicia way too many compliments on her looks. At least triple what she gave her own daughter.

  Dylan’s response was to gather up a thick bushel of red hair and drop it over the back of her shoulders. But her hair was so heavy, it made her ears fold over like taco shells.

  Massie reached for her phone.

  MASSIE: EARZ

  KRISTEN: I. C.

  ALICIA: W8ER THERE’S A HAIR IN MY TACO

  KRISTEN: I siiiiiiiii

  MASSIE: WHAT? I CAN’T EAR U!

  It wasn’t until they all burst out laughing that Dylan realized she was being made fun of.

  Her eyes shifted from Alicia to Massie to Kristen. “What?” she asked. She noticed their attempts to hide their phones and went straight for Alicia’s because she was the weakest and the easiest to tackle. “What did you write?”

  Dylan scrolled through to see what they had written.

  “Oh yeah?” Dylan laughed. “At least I didn’t look deep fried on national television,” she said to Alicia.

  Even Isaac laughed at that one.

  Massie felt an unexpected wave of warmth roll through her stomach. She called it the “the feeling.” It happened whenever she had a genuine “I love these people” sensation. It didn’t come around too often, but when it did, it was so powerful it could actually make her tear up.

  As if the moment had been too good to be true, Massie checked over her shoulder, just to make sure Claire wasn’t in the backseat, breathing down her neck and listening to everything she was saying. She wasn’t. Things were finally back to normal and everyone was exactly where they belonged.

  THE JAGUAR BACKSEAT

  8:10 A.M. October 1st

  “Please tell me you are going to the Blocks’ OCD benefit auction Friday night,” Claire said to Layne. They were sitting in the back of Mr. Abeley’s freezing cold Jaguar with their bare feet pressed up against the gusty air conditioner vents, trying to see who could hold out the longest without moving. They never played for a prize, just glory.

  “We go every year,” Layne said. “If we can steer clear of Massie and her friends, we may actually have a good time.”

  Claire leaned into the front seat of the car and craned her neck around so she faced the passenger seat.

  “Chris, are you and Fawn going?” she asked. She popped a gummy bear in her mouth and held the bag open for Layne.

  “We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Chris said.

  Claire mouthed, “Yes!” to Layne. She couldn’t wait for Massie to meet Fawn.

  Chris turned toward Claire. She noticed his eyes were the exact same color as his royal blue Polo shirt.

  “The place is set up like a five-star food court. They have chefs serving every type of dish you could ever imagine.”

  But he could have been quoting a computer manual and Claire would have been glued. If she had to say one nice thing about Massie, it would be that she had great taste in guys.

  “But the best part is watching Mr. Block get drunk and make an ass out of himself,” he said.

  “Chris!” Mr. Abeley snapped.

  “What, Dad? You know it’s true.” Chris laughed. “Last year he juggled, and dropped, three bottles of champagne.” He turned toward the backseat to face his sister. “Layne, I worship you for e-mailing me the video at boarding school. I must have forwarded it to every guy at Kingsley.”

  Claire laughed. She was excited to go to the party, especially now that she had someone on her side.

  “Feel like moving your feet yet?” Layne asked. She was baiting Claire, hoping for a victory after her two-day losing streak. “I think your toes are turning blue.”

  “Don’t worry about me, I can handle it,” Claire said, knowing a few weeks ago she would have already surrendered.

  OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL THE STEPS

  3:25 P.M. October 3rd

  Girls covered the stone steps in front of OCD, waiting to get picked up after school. The crisp air felt like it was trying to push the last remaining of bits of warmth out of the way so it could take over for good. And it seemed everyone was embracing the new season by wearing the latest fall fashions.

  At least half the girls were wearing stiff dark denim jackets that begged to be broken in.

  “Looks like there was an explosion in the Levi’s factory,” Kristen said.

  “Seriously, doesn’t anyone think for themselves anymore?” Dylan wondered.

  Alicia hit Massie on the arm.

  “Ow!” Massie rubbed her arm.

  “Burberry poncho, no punch-backs!” Alicia cheered.

  A girl shrouded in what looked like a horse blanket rolled her eyes and sped past them.

  “You are so dead,” Massie joked. She cracked her knuckles and tried to look tough. She did a quick scan of the outfits in the general vicinity in hopes of immediate revenge, but she was out of luck.

  “You may want to wear a layer of padding to the auction tonight,” Massie warned. “My mother’s friends still think Burberry is cool.”

  “Does anyone want to get ready at my house?” Alicia asked.

  Dylan looked at Massie, waiting for her response.

  “I can’t,” Massie said. “Chris Abeley is coming, which means I only have three hours to become a ‘ten.’ I’m definitely going to need my own hair dryer and stuff.”

  “I can’t either,” Dylan said.

  “Kris?” Alicia asked.

  “I have to get started on my extra-credit assignment,” Kristen announced.

  “How’d you convince your Women in the Workforce teacher to give you one?” Massie asked.

  “She was so relieved that no one was seriously hurt and no parents decided to sue after the lip gloss incident that she said I could make up my own. I read ahead in my economics book and noticed chapter 11 was called “How to Declare Bankruptcy.” So I e-mailed my teacher and she said that if I can figure out how to file correctly, she’ll give me an A,” Kristen said.

  “Genius!” Massie clapped. “Don’t worry, we’ll find another, better way to take over the school.”

  “I wasn’t
worried about that.” Kristen smirked.

  “I know. That comment was meant for me,” Massie said. She flashed her friend a big-toothy smile.

  When Massie got home, the Block estate was already buzzing with excitement. Men and women from the furniture rental place were unloading long wooden tables, people from the florists were scurrying around holding giant bouquets of tulips, and caterers had taken over the kitchen. Everyone in town would be at her house by 7:30 P.M. It was a huge deal.

  Massie snuck up to her bedroom and locked her door just in case her mother wanted her to do any last minute errands. She needed time to unwind and focus on getting ready.

  She slid five CDs in the stereo, hit shuffle, and opened her closet door. Then she stood back, crossed her arms, and appraised her weapons, wondering which was best suited for tonight’s battle: Jimmy Choo high-heel mules, Miu Miu wedges, Calvin flats, Jimmy Choo sandals, DKNY stiletto boots, or the Marc Jacobs pumps? Jimmy Choo high-heel mules, of course. It was important for Chris to see her in something sexy instead of the sporty outfits she always wore riding.

  She felt a wave of resentment toward Claire shoot through her body. If she had been allowed to go on the Labor Day shopping trip, she would have had a much wider shoe selection to choose from.

  After several outfit changes Massie chose a purple chiffon dress with a halter strap that tied around her neck. Simple and elegant. She made sure Bean looked just as stylish by dressing her in a white doggie button-down with gold bone buttons. She grabbed Chris’s Yankees hat off her desk and sprayed Chanel No. 19 on it just so he’d have her on the brain next time he wore it.

  The muffled sounds of the band playing Sinatra’s “Mack the Knife” seeped through Massie’s bedroom walls, which meant the party had officially started.

  “Massie?” Kendra’s voice came over the intercom. “Everyone is asking where you are. Come on down.”

  “’Kay,” Massie called into the white box. “Let’s go break some hearts, Bean.”

  Bean turned around in a circle and headed out the door.

  Massie searched the big white tent in her backyard for her friends, but she couldn’t see them. She was about to dial them up to find out where they were when she spotted Chris Abeley at the bar. She thought about waiting for the girls to arrive before she talked to him so they could see how cute they looked together, but Claire was already with him, so there was no time to waste.