Why hadn’t he called? Did he seriously prefer over-bronzed ninth-grade girls who wore minis to movie night and hadn’t trick-or-treated in years? Massie had texted over the weekend to make sure he knew that for her, Halloween was all about the fashion, not the candy. But what if he thought she was immature? Sure, every magazine worth its weight in ad sales said men prefer younger women, but what if Cosmo had been misleading her all this time?
Massie pressed her hands into the soft leather seat, her entire body buzzing with nervous energy. Or was that just the Range Rover, navigating the crumbling, cracked concrete of the ADD driveway?
“Ehhhhhhhhmagaaaaaaaawd,” Alicia’s voice trembled as Isaac shifted into four-wheel drive. The Kevyn Aucoin liner she’d been holding to her lips shook violently, giving her a jagged, plum-colored mustache.
“Hahaaaaaaaaa,” Kristen giggled.
Claire crossed her arms over her white Inhabit henley and stared out the window. “It’s not that bad.”
Massie ignored her and popped the mix she’d made last night into the CD player built into the leather bench. Immediately, Avril Lavigne’s “I Can Do Better” blasted from the speakers. All Claire needed was a little taste of an upgrade, and she’d come around. She always did. In fact, Massie had been upgrading Claire since the second she’d moved to Westchester from Orlandull. If it weren’t for Massie, Claire’s closet would still be filled with puff-painted Keds and tacky baby tees that read things like THIS SHIRT IS BANANAS or NERD FETISH.
“Positions,” Massie announced as Isaac pulled around the front circle. She retied the sash on her See by Chloé camo dress.
Everyone except for Claire reached into their handbags, producing the sleek silver binoculars Massie had brought for the stakeout.
“How long is this gonna take?” Claire sighed, checking her Baby G-Shock watch. “I’m supposed to ride bikes with Cam later, but I have to finish my homework first.”
“This is your homework.” Massie pressed the cool metal to her eyes, examining a group of baggy-jeaned boys playing Hacky Sack in front of the flag-less flagpole. Their hems were muddy and torn, and they were wearing Simples. Ew. “Only instead of an A, you get a C.”
“C?”
“A crush,” Massie said, clarifying the obvious.
“I told you,” Claire huffed. “I don’t want a—”
“Ehmaspandex!” Dylan pointed out the window.
“Where?” Kristen swung her binoculars toward the other side of the Range Rover. A girl with Pippi braids wearing a Syracuse hoodie over hot-pink stretch pants skipped over to a waiting blue Honda.
“Dylan!” Alicia whisper-hissed. “Don’t point. You’ll scare it away.”
Dylan stuck her tongue out at Alicia, then reached into the crumpled bag of M&Ms in her lap. “It’s like a whole different world out here.”
“I feel like we’re on safari.” Alicia adjusted the sleeves on her army-green Twenty8Twelve fitted blazer. “Watching the poor and fashion-challenged in their natural habitat.”
Kristen sank back into the leather bench. “Don’t say ‘safari,’” she groaned. “If I hear one more ‘This one time? In Africa?’ story, I’m going to import a lion to eat him.”
Massie leaned toward the front seat and lowered the divider. “Just park here,” she called over the sound of the music. “We’re going to sit for a minute and check out the scene.”
Isaac nodded and pulled over to the curb, next to the freestanding ADD cafeteria.
“At least Dempsey doesn’t keep losing bets,” Dylan grumbled. “Josh bet Derrington he couldn’t beat him three times in a row at Soccer FIFA 09.”
“And?” Kristen grinned.
Dylan’s chin dropped to her green Free People cardigan. “Now he has to wear his clothes backward till Christmas.”
Massie fought back a smile. Landon may not have returned her texts, but at least he put his clothes on the right way.
The jostling stopped when Isaac shifted the Range Rover into PARK, but Massie’s insides didn’t stop vibrating. She dipped her hand into her purse and tapped her Nars bronzing powder with her fingertips, sneaking a quick cheek-swipe when the other girls weren’t looking.
The creaking clang of the final bell echoed across campus, and the building’s main doors swung open.
“Time to upgrade, girls,” she announced as herds of ADD kids spilled onto the front lawn.
The girls bolted upright, ready for action.
“Make sure all the kids are carrying lots of books,” Massie said loudly enough for Isaac to hear, as the girls all pulled out their cells. “We want to make sure high school challenges us to reach our full potential.”
Massie: Translation: if u see any hawt boys, take their pics. I’ll have Landon ID later.
Alicia: Done.
Kristen: Done.
Dylan: And done.
Claire just pulled her math textbook out of her Roxy backpack.
Massie was about to lecture her when the doors of the main building flew open, and out stepped a boy in perfectly faded Genetic Denim jeans and a gray Black Hearts Brigade T-shirt. His inky black curls glinted in the bright November sun, his blue eyes shone, and the messenger bag slung over his shoulder was definitely designer—Prada? Dolce? Bean yip-licked the window.
“Target locked on and acquired,” Massie said, as Miles, Ace, and a bunch of other guys crowded around Landon, talking and laugh-punching one another.
“Ehmagawd!” Dylan and Alicia squealed.
“Who’s that?” Kristen pointed to a girl making her way up to Landon. Her waist-long dreadlocks were dyed half red and half yellow, and she wore a gray Levi’s denim jacket, black bike shorts, and red Converse sneakers.
“My eyes!” Alicia jammed on her sunglasses at the sight of the offending outfit.
“Shhh!” Massie pressed her nose against the window, watching as the Ronald McDonald look-alike handed something to Landon. He smiled, the same way he used to smile at Massie the week before. She dropped her silver binoculars in her lap.
“Who is that?” Even Claire slammed her textbook shut and stared.
“Probs just a friend,” Massie said, her mouth suddenly dry. She resisted the urge to grab McDreads by the hair and sling-hurl her across the potholed lawn. “Older guys usually have a lot of girl friends, but they’re not, like, girlfriends.”
Landon pulled out his phone and asked the girl something. Ehmagawd. Probably her phone number.
The PC were silent, pity filling their faces. The already taut sash on Massie’s camo dress was starting to feel like a boa constrictor, squeezing all the confidence from her body. She should’ve known Landon would ditch her like all the other guys she’d ever crush—
Ping.
Landon: Just got the SnoopDawg 2000. Awesome! Thx!
And just like that, the sash felt like a warm hug reminding her that miracles happen every day.
Massie: No prob. Thought u could use it to check on Bark while he recovers…
She neglected to add the best part about the gift: She could use the SnoopDawg 2000 to keep a close eye on Landon.
Landon: Totally. Where r u? Want 2 get the dogs 2gether?
“Isaac!” Massie gripped her cell for dear life. “We’ve gotta get home! Now.”
Isaac turned around in his seat, looking confused. “But what about your campus tou—”
“Canceled!” Panic twisted in her stomach like a carb-loaded, oversalted mall pretzel. Every second the Range Rover stayed parked in the ADD lot was another second she could get busted for being a crush chaser.
The PC collapsed back in their seats as Isaac peeled out of the parking lot, muttering something under his breath.
When the Range Rover was safely out of Landon’s line of sight, Massie texted back, allowing herself to sneak a tiny breath of relief.
Massie: Play-d8 sounds gr8. Plans 2day tho. Friday?
Landon: Def. Where?
Massie: My house. The spa. Bark can get in the jacuzzi. The heat is gr8 4
pain.
Landon: Perfect. Bark will be psyched. Me too.
“Spill!” Alicia begged, leaning forward.
Even Claire looked curious.
“He’scomingtothespaFridayafterschool!” Adrenaline pulsed through Massie’s veins faster than her fingers could text. She’d just invited a Ninth. Grade. Boy. To her Jacuzzi.
“Tell him to bring his friends!” Dylan bounced up and down in her seat.
“’Kay!” Massie bounced back.
Massie: Oops! 4got I already told the Pretty Committee they could spa. Bring ur friends!
Landon: U sure?
Massie: So sure I’m raising my hands!
Landon: ????
“Done and done.” Massie tossed her phone back into her bag, too worn out to text-explain the deodorant joke. Beads of sweat formed at her temples, and she sank back into the leather bench and closed her eyes. Text-managing her own love life, not to mention her friends’, was exhausting.
“Yaaaaay!” Dylan, Alicia, and Kristen shouted. Dylan reached over and pressed the PLAY button on Massie’s mix. Lady GaGa’s “Love Game” came pumping through the sound system.
When Massie opened her eyes again, Claire was glaring at her. Her face was frozen in a Kristin Stewart–like grimace. But Massie refused to let Claire ruin her fun. The Pretty Committee were ready to upgrade.
Even if Claire was being a total downer.
OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL
THE NEW GREEN CAFÉ
Tuesday, November 4th
12:04 P.M.
Claire’s denim-covered knees bounced uncontrollably underneath Table 18, making the tall stacks of Seventeen, Vogue (regular and España), and In Style on its surface quiver like a minor earthquake had struck the New Green Café.
“Claire.” Massie slapped her palm on the stack in front of her, pinning a scantily clad Sienna Miller to the bamboo table. “Are you Julianne Hough?”
“No.” Claire reached for her gummy stash to calm her nerves, but the sugar-smudged baggie in her lap was empty.
“Then quit shaking it.” The rest of the PC snorted at the pages of their style bibles while Massie swiped the latest issue of Vogue from Alicia’s pile. She flipped to the middle. “If I get Jakkob to do blunt bangs, do you think I’d look fifteen?” she mused into the glossy pages. “Or, like, eleven?”
“Could go either way,” Alicia mused, side-glancing at Claire’s bangs.
Dylan nodded, taking a long swig of her Blue Bubble Gum Jones Soda. “Risky.”
“Ah-greed,” Massie decided, tossing her side bangs past her decidedly bronzed cheekbones.
Claire’s eyes traveled nervously back and forth between the mini vegetable gardens on her left and the Borba-stocked stagecoach on her right. Olivia Ryan was giggling with Kori, Strawberry, and Meena at Table 4. Seventh-graders jostled between the bamboo tables, carrying trays of teriyaki tofu, steaming bowls of black bean chili loaded with soy cheese, and plates of crispy veggie samosas. But instead of soothing her, the warm, spicy aromas that filled the café were starting to make her sweat. Where was Layne? According to the clock over the frosted glass doors, she was a full four minutes late. Which meant that Operation Save the Males was not off to a good start.
After yesterday’s trip to ADD, Claire had to accept the truth: Unless she took action immediately, the PC would be spa-partying with a bunch of older guys by Friday. Hot tubs, dramatic breakups, strange new crushes: It would be like the Blocks’ spa had been transformed into the set of The Real World: Westchester. Starting in…
Claire checked the clock again.
“Three days and six hours.” Massie slapped her magazine closed, prompting the rest of the girls to do the same. “That’s how long we have till Landon and your new crushes show up at the spa.”
Alicia re-glossed.
Dylan sucked in her cheeks.
Kristen stretched her triceps.
And Claire gulped.
“Which means we’re running out of time to update our looks so they’re ninth-worthy.” Massie yanked at the hem of her eggplant-colored Design History sweater. “WHICH means all changes have to be approved by the end of lunch.”
“Lunch?” Dylan moaned, scavenging the table for food. But every square inch was covered with style mags.
“It’s a figure of speech.” Massie said.
“Oh.” Dylan leaned back in her chair, looking weak.
“Now remember,” Massie instructed the PC. “Nothing drastic. We’re just going for a look that’s us, only better. And a year older.” She paused, glancing at Claire’s black Gap turtleneck. “Or three. Whatevs.”
Claire rolled her eyes, sneaking another look at the clock. Now Layne was seven minutes late.
“I’ll start.” Alicia lifted an issue of People from her pile, opening to a dog-eared page that featured a spread on the cast of Gossip Girl. “I’m going Jessica Szohr,” she announced with a quick hair toss. “Shiny hair, boho fashion with a splash of Upper East Side.” She paused, as if waiting for applause.
“Isn’t that kind of your look already?” Kristen looked up from Sports Illustrated.
“Given,” Alicia grinned. “Only this’ll be sexier.”
“What makes it sexier?” Dylan drained the last of her soda.
“A bikini.”
“Now me,” Kristen piped up, tightening her ponytail like she meant business. She had to prop herself up on her knees to see over the listing pile of Sports Illustrated and Harper’s Bazaar in front of her. “It’s all about Hayden.” She held up a ripped Heroes promo ad. “I’m going with a laid-back surfer suit, natural makeup, and a center part.” She yanked the elastic out of her hair, releasing her straight blond tresses to her shoulders. “It makes you look way more mature.”
The girls’ hands flew self-consciously to their side-parts.
Massie nodded. “Dylan?”
Dylan lurched forward in her seat. “Ummm… I think I’m doing Nicole Kidman?” She pawed frantically through the crinkled pages in front of her. “Her hair’s looking really red these days.”
The Pretty Committee all stared at her.
“The point is to look like we’re nawt middle school,” Massie elbow-nudged her. “Or middle age.”
Dylan rolled her eyes. “Fine. Taylor Swift?”
“Good.” Massie straightened up, suddenly looking serious. “Now me.” She released her iPhone to the table and nodded at the neat row of pages arranged in front of her. Sunlight from the large glass windows in the New Green Café illuminated reflective shots of celebrities from Jessica (Biel, not Simpson) to Angelina. Different body parts, accessories, and wardrobe pieces had been circled with Massie’s Smashbox Palm Beach lip liner, with notations like THE HEMLINE! and SMUDGED LINER ADDS 6 MONTHS TO YOUNG-LOOKING EYES! scribbled in the margins. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I narrowed my look down to Leighton Meester, Camilla Belle, or Natalie Portman.”
“So?” Dylan bounced in her seat. “What’s it gonna be?”
The Pretty Committee leaned forwardly expectantly.
“None of the above,” Massie said, swiping the pages from the space in front of her like her bangle-covered forearm was a giant, Chanel-spritzed windshield wiper. “The look I’m going for is… Massie Block,” she finished coyly. “If it’s working, why change it?”
Just as Claire was about to roll her eyes, she caught a glimpse of Layne charging through the glass doors on the other side of the café. She was dressed in a black terry cloth track suit, a white puffy coat, and two army green scarves, and her face was bright red. Stage-winking at Claire, she held up an Evian bottle and doused herself with “sweat.”
Claire bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
“Comin’ through!” Layne bellowed, making a beeline for the Pretty Committee like she was a marathon runner and Table 18 was the finish line.
A pained looked settled over Massie’s tanned face.
“You. Are. Not. Gonna. Buh. Lieve. This,” Layne wheezed, doublin
g over the table.
Massie wrinkled her nose as two drops of Evian sweat dripped from Layne’s nose onto Charlize Theron’s thigh. “Layne, are you a decimal system?” she asked, scooting her chair a few inches to the left.
“No.” Layne coughed, planting her wet forehead on a stack of Us Weeklys.
“Then why are you so Dewey?” Massie cracked.
“Point!” Alicia flip-tousled her hair for volume.
Layne whipped a thick black notebook from underneath her puffy coat and tossed it in the center of the table. It was covered in Fall Out Boy and Metro Station bumper stickers.
Claire crossed her fingers under the table as Massie eyed the worn notebook, clearly trying not to look curious.
“It’s my brother’s journal,” Layne heaved, looking like she might give in to heatstroke at any second.
“Chris Abeley keeps a journal?” Massie looked impressed.
Layne bobbed her head up and down. “Anyhoo, I stole it this morning. And it’s all about how dirty high school boys are and how they like to use middle school girls. Especially private school ones.”
Dylan’s jaw dropped. “For what?”
“You know,” Layne said vaguely. “Dirty… stuff.”
“Ewwwwwww.” Alicia looked half grossed out, half curious.
“Are you serious?” Kristen bit her lower lip.
Claire pinched her thigh to keep from laughing.
Layne nodded. “And I’m pretty sure somebody found out I took the journal, ’cause I was definitely being followed on the way here. But I had to tell you guys, ’cause I know you’ve been hanging out with Landon and stuff.” She glanced meaningfully at Massie.
“Landon’s nawt dirty,” Massie decided, although she looked uncertain. She reached into her hobo and pulled out a fresh tube of Glossip Girl, gripping it like it was a weapon.
These Boots Are Made for Stalking Page 5
