My Little Phony - 13

by Lisi Harrison

  The crazy circus had finally ended. She was home. Finally.

  She skipped into the living room, where her parents were waiting on the white linen couch.

  “Thank Gawd you’re back!” Massie said. “You won’t believe what I had to endure while you were gone. I couldn’t use any of my credit cards! They were all declined. Can we sue?” Massie expected their jaws to drop in horror and shame for what they’d put her through. She expected a barrage of apologies and promises to give her the black diamond bangles from her Christmas list early, just to make up for it. But her parents just stared at her. And not in a good way.

  Her mom’s amber eyes were red. And she could have sworn her dad had at least three more gray hairs than when he’d left.

  “You don’t look tan,” Massie said, suddenly. “Why don’t you look tan? Or rested?”

  Kendra shot her husband a worried look.

  He clenched his square jaw. “Do you want to start?” he said quietly to his wife.

  “Why don’t you go, dear?” Kendra whispered back.

  William pulled up his black Armani pant leg and crossed his legs. Then he rolled up the cuff of his green pinstriped button-down. Massie recognized the motions. He’d gone through the same routine that summer when he’d fired their gardener for forgetting to put the sprinklers on timer. “We have something to tell you, Massie,” he said.

  Kendra patted the cushion on the couch next to her. “Maybe you should sit down.”

  Massie felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. “Ehmgawd,” she said, scratching a sudden itch that had popped up on her leg. “Did you find more bugs?”

  Her mom let out a fake, high-pitched laugh, the one she used on William’s business partners when they tried to be funny but weren’t.

  “We lied to you,” Kendra said.

  “Lied?” Massie echoed. Her tongue felt thick.

  “We weren’t really in the Bahamas. We were at the Hamptons house, getting it ready for sale.”

  SALE?

  “What?” Massie grabbed the cushion below her like it was a floatation device and she was in the middle of an emergency landing. “But you love that house!” The Blocks spent every summer there. Her mother had gone through four different designers to make sure every last crystal sconce and eighteenth-century-style molding was correct.

  “The market has taken a dip,” Kendra said. Her forehead creased with concern. Massie had never seen Kendra’s forehead move at all, let alone crease.

  Massie’s heart started hammering in her chest. “Are you going to buy a different house, then? A smaller one?”

  “No,” William said simply.

  Kendra reached out and patted Massie’s hand. “Everyone’s lost money recently, honey. It’s affected the whole world.”

  Massie’s entire body felt cold. She stared at her father. “Like, how much money?” Her own voice sounded hollow, even to her own ears.

  Her father smiled at Massie, but his eyebrows crinkled the way they did when he was worried. The room was completely silent.

  Suddenly, there came a crazy, high-pitched, dog whistle–toned scream. Massie reached her hands up to plug her ears. And then she realized that she was the one screaming. She slapped her hand over her mouth and forced herself to swallow her scream. It settled into a hard ball in her stomach.

  They were kidding. Of course they were kidding. They had to be kidding. This was some sort of elaborate ruse they’d concocted on the plane back to New York. A little welcome home joke before they presented their beloved daughter with her own brand-new yacht. She just had to calm down.

  Fire breath in…

  Fire breath out…

  Fire breath in…

  Fire breath out…

  Fire breath out…

  “Well, then,” Kendra said finally. She cleared her throat. “We’re going to have to make a few changes around here.”

  “Wait. Wait a second. You’re serious?” Massie said.

  Kendra nodded.

  “Like, we’re not going to be able to put the tennis courts in this summer? What about Andre? Will he give you lessons only twice a week now?” Massie felt a small, carat-sized tear wobble in the corner of her eye.

  Kendra pressed her lips together. “I’m not really that into tennis right now.”

  “Not into tennis?” Massie screamed. “Am I going to have to wait to get my new Louis Vuitton bags? And what about my allowance?”

  Kendra said, “Well, not right now…”

  “Little changes will go a long way,” her father said, trying to sound cheerful. “We’ll bounce back. Eventually…”

  Massie’s breath came in short, rapid bursts. Her heart panged dangerously, and she could almost swear there was a tingling in her left arm. Is this what it feels like to have a heart attack? “When is ‘eventually’?” she managed to ask.

  “We don’t know that just yet,” Kendra said. But the way she said it gave Massie the sinking feeling that her mom did know. Or at least she had some idea. But she wasn’t telling.

  Which meant it was even worse than Massie thought.

  Massie sank down to the floor as the reality of what they were saying sank in. She pulled her knees to her chest, with no regard for how much it was wrinkling her Massie-alls. She stared at the plush carpet in shock. One by one a parade of horrible questions marched into her brain: Would the carpet have to go? Would Inez? Then another, horrible thought hit her. Would Isaac have to go? And what would she tell Landon? And, ehmagawd, what would she tell the PC? How could she be their alpha if she couldn’t even afford a latte at Starbucks?

  “Listen, sweetie.” Kendra knelt down so she was face-to-face with Massie. “We will overcome this.” She squeezed Massie’s hand and tried to smile. But she couldn’t quite do it.

  With that, the one-carat tear that had been wobbling in Massie’s eye finally worked its way down her cheek. Massie could see it glittering out of the corner of her eye. It was followed by another—and another.

  Massie realized it was probably the only sparkle she’d see this Christmas.

  THE GUESTHOUSE

  CLAIRE’S BEDROOM

  Tuesday, December 16th

  8:36 P.M.

  “You doing okay, honey?” Judi Lyons asked, patting Claire on the shoulder. “It’s a lot to take in.”

  Claire nodded, stunned by what her parents had just told her. One minute she’d been G-chatting online with Cam, and the next minute her parents had come into her room with these looks on their faces and said the Blocks were having financial trouble. They were about to go through a very hard time. Big changes were coming.

  “Chin up, kiddo. We’re Lyonses,” Jay Lyons said, pushing himself off Claire’s bed. “And what do Lyons do?”

  “We roar,” Claire mumbled, hugging her stuffed giraffe to her chest.

  “That’s right,” Mr. Lyons nodded.

  “We’re going to be okay, Claire Bear, I promise.” Her mom kissed her on the forehead, then shuffled out of the room behind her husband.

  But it wasn’t her family Claire was worried about.

  It was Massie.

  Suddenly it felt like the past month was nothing but an ugly drawing on an Etch A Sketch that her parents had just shaken, erasing all the hurt and anger and fighting. All that remained was the fact that Massie’s life was about to change. This was about more than head shaving or clothing or where people sat in the cafeteria. It was about the fact that Massie would be devastated.

  In a certain way, money wasn’t all that important. Claire knew that. But having your worst nightmare come true was. So Claire did what you do when a friend is in trouble: She put aside her petty grievances and decided to try and cheer up Massie.

  Grabbing a bag of gummies off her desk and the Gossip Girl DVD set out of her CD locker, she put on her coat, told her parents she’d be back soon, and padded slowly across the icy lawn.

  Inside the Block mansion, things were surprisingly still and calm. The plush rugs were still plush, an
d the freshly waxed floors were still freshly waxed. The display of orchids still emitted their subtle exotic scent from the marble mail table. But even though it all looked the same, Claire knew that everything had changed.

  She walked up the stairs. A thin sliver of cool light escaped from under Massie’s door. “Massie?” she called, softly.

  There was no answer.

  “Massie?” Claire called again.

  Still no answer.

  After a minute of waiting and a quick bang swipe, Claire pushed the door open slowly and tiptoed inside.

  Massie was on her bed, beneath her down duvet, hugging piles of clothes. She was crying softly, her legs making a tent around Bean, who had her nose buried in her paws.

  “It’s me. I heard,” Claire said.

  The lump on the bed didn’t move, but Massie’s tear-soaked voice rose from the pile of down. “What do you want?”

  “I wanted to see if you were okay.” Claire walked over to the bed and put her hand on Massie’s knee.

  Massie didn’t move from her pretzel pose. “I’m doing just great. Ah-bviously.”

  “I’m so, so sorry Massie.” Claire sat gently on the side of the bed. “I’m so, so sorry that this happened to you and your family. It really totally and completely sucks. It just does. But you guys are going to be okay, I know that. And the bright side is that you don’t need money to be happy. I mean, look at me and my family. We don’t have a lot of money, but we’re happy. Your family will be just like that.”

  Massie sniffled, but she didn’t look up.

  “I brought you this,” Claire held up her bag. “It’s Gossip Girl season two. And…” She pulled a small bag of gummies out of her pocket. “Gummy crabs from my emergency stash.”

  “You brought these… for me?” Massie sat up a little, wiping her mascara-stained cheeks.

  “The gummies, yeah. The DVD I found under the couch,” Claire admitted. “You must have left it there at some point.”

  Massie finally looked up. Her amber eyes met Claire’s cornflower blue ones.

  And just like that, Claire felt like they were looking past the weeks of petty fights and stupid pranks, looking past everything they’d been through, and just really looking at each other. And finally each seeing, in the other, what had been there all along: someone to talk to, someone to laugh with, a confidante, a neighbor, a friend.

  Claire smiled. Any moment now, Massie would rise up and throw herself tearfully into Claire’s arms, admitting that Claire was the closest friend she’d ever had and the only person she could ever be herself around.

  Claire would give Massie tips on how to be middle-class. Soon, they’d shop the sale sections together, look for Elie Tahari and BCBGirl at T.J. Maxx, and wear outfits more than once. And Massie would finally learn about the comfort and cuteness that was Nanette Lepore for Keds.

  Massie blinked and smiled slightly.

  Claire opened her arms for the hug she knew was coming.

  “Go away.”

  Claire winced and stepped back. Her cheeks burned, as though Massie had just slapped her.

  Massie propped herself up on her pillows. “When I want advice, I will watch Dr. Phil.” Her cheeks were bright red, and not from MAC shimmer powder. “And the rumor isn’t true, so don’t go spreading it. And don’t come here to gloat. Now puh-lease take your peace offerings, make like autumn, and leaf.”

  With that, Massie threw herself back down on the bed and buried her head in her arms. Claire sat stunned for a moment. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no words would come out.

  Finally, she stood up, feeling as though she were moving underwater. The Gossip Girl case slid off her lap and landed on the floor. DVDs spun out everywhere. Disc 1 hit the wall and cracked in two.

  Claire knew exactly how it felt.

  WESTCHESTER, NEW YORK

  SLICE OF HEAVEN PIZZA SHOP

  Wednesday, December 17th

  4:57 P.M.

  Massie stood just outside the bathroom door of the pizza shop as the scent of garlic, oregano, and melted cheese curled out to meet her. Normally, the promise of a piece of Slice of Heaven’s organic, low-fat tofurkey Sicilian made her stomach grumble and her mouth water, but right then it made Massie feel sicker than really bad sushi.

  The sloping walls of Slice of Heaven—the shop was built in the shape of a pizza oven—felt like they were caving in on Massie. She watched her friends elbow one another and dive into a giant deep-dish pizza, laughing like it was any regular day. And for them, it was. She didn’t know how criminals on the run or people who’d had secret plastic surgery did it. Just a few hours of keeping her family’s secret, and she was ready to explode. How had Kristen done it for so long?

  Somehow, though, she had managed to get through the entire school day without crying in class or blurting out that she was poor. Not that it had been easy. All day long she’d felt like a breast implant about to burst. She had intentionally avoided making eye contact with all her friends. And three times she’d had to run to the bathroom for a stall-bawl. (Well, twice to cry, once to reapply her mascara.) She didn’t know how she could possibly get through an evening with the people who knew her best in the world. The people she used to have so much in common with.

  She watched as Dylan threw back her professionally straightened hair—$1,500 a pop—as she laughed. Alicia pushed her Prada sunglasses—$375—up on her head. Kristen adjusted her rose gold Tiffany heart-key drop necklace—a $410 birthday gift from Massie.

  Her friends had so much luxury in their lives. Well, not Kristen, maybe. But were Alicia and Dylan aware at all of how much privilege they had? Did they even appreciate it? Their lives were so carefree—they could buy anything they wanted, and they had no idea how lucky they were.

  From now on, the only things Massie would have of value were her friends. But that, she had to admit, was priceless.

  And a-one, a-two, a-one, two, three… Massie straightened her spine and gave herself a silent countdown. On four, she forced herself to reenter the dining area with all the confidence of regular old pre-poverty Massie.

  Only no one had told the six-year-old running around the pizza parlor that Massie was trying to make an entrance. He ran straight into her, knocking her into a busboy, who dropped the four empty pizza tins he was carrying with an ear-shattering CLANG. The PC and their ninth-grade crushes looked up and laughed.

  “Party foul!”

  “Man down!”

  Massie did her best to regain her composure and model-walked her way over to her friends’ tables. “I didn’t realize it was kindergarten hour,” she said, throwing a nonchalant eye-roll toward the offending tyke, like, Can you believe some parents?

  “Point!” Alicia high-fived Massie as the boys smirk-nodded.

  Massie sat down next to Landon.

  “Vampire Weekend,” Scott was saying to him, “is clearly the new Kings of Leon. I heard their concerts sell out in minutes. We have to go.”

  Landon smiled at Massie. Immediately, the tight knot in Massie’s stomach loosened. What was it about the way Landon’s ink-black hair fell over his glitter-nail-polish blue eyes that made her feel better than a full-body seaweed wrap? Even the fact that she would soon be living in a cardboard box didn’t seem so bad, especially if she had Landon to bring her blankets from the Ralph Lauren Home collection and bottles of L’Occitane Verbena room spray.

  “Have you heard the Comas?” said Luke, tucking his thick blond hair behind his ear. “They’re the new Vampire Weekend.”

  “Actually they’re the old Vampire Weekend,” mock-scoffed Jackson, giving his friend a playful jab on the shoulder before helping himself to another slice of Garden Green pizza. Jackson was a strict vegetarian. “Frightened Rabbit is the new Vampire Weekend.”

  “Frightened Rabbit?” Alicia nibbled on the corner of a Margherita slice. “That sounds like a horror movie, not a band’s name.”

  Dylan twitched her nose. “Th-th-th-th-th-that’s all folks,”
she said, taking a bite of an imaginary carrot.

  “Well, if you like Frightened Rabbit, then you should also listen to Aunt Martha,” Scott said. Scott’s first, second, and last love was DJ’ing, and he was always finding the newest of the new bands—the more obscure, the better.

  Jackson just shook his head and threw a piece of tofu sausage at Luke. Within seconds, broccoli, pepperoni, and other such toppings were flying through the air.

  “Food fiiiiiiiiiiiiight,” Dylan burped.

  Massie shook her head. Apparently boys in ninth weren’t that much more mature than the Briarwood boys.

  Kristen was staring at Massie, a strange look on her face. “Is everything okay?”

  “Obviously,” Massie said. In her head she whispered, Not.

  Kristen squinted at her. “Are you sure? You look a little pale.”

  A wave of fear rippled up Massie’s spine. Had Kristen been able to sniff out the poor on her? And the desperation that came from trying to hide it? Was it a we can smell our own kind of thing? Kristen, after all, had been poor for years before anyone found out. She clearly had a lot of practice in hiding it.

  “I’m just worried the new Louis Vuitton messenger bag won’t be released in time for the summer. I would hate to reuse last year’s.” Massie narrowed her eyes, daring Kristen to challenge the truthfulness of the statement, even though there was no LV messenger bag on the horizon.

  “Oh, okay,” Kristen said, looking unsure.

  Massie breathed a sigh of relief. That was a close one. And then she realized with a sudden stabbing pain that even if LV was developing a new messenger bag, she would not be able to buy it. She added it to the list of disappointments she’d been compiling since she had gotten the news.

  Landon nudged Massie with his knee. Normally little butterflies spread out from the point of contact whenever Landon touched her, but poverty seemed to have numbed her to love. “Isn’t that your friend?”