by Zoey Dean
Coco looked at the rest of the team, their eyes still focused on her. “There are a lot of barrel turns right now—but that doesn’t mean you all have to be doing barrel turns.” She pointed to Maribel and Lucia. “It’s a waste to hide you behind all these tall girls. You two need to be in the center. And Taylor.” Coco looked right at Taylor White. “You just need to show us that beautiful smile of yours.” Coco went through every girl in the group, until the entire team knew exactly what they had to do to step up their routine.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Coco said, reaching into her giant zebra-striped bag. “You can’t go out dressed like umbrellas.” She handed the girls tiny silver shorts with shimmery pale leotards. In the light, they sparkled like rainwater.
Anais gasped. “It’s exactly what I envisioned us wearing!” she said as she took the new costume.
“They’re perfect,” Taylor cried, turning the shorts over like a Christmas present.
“Don’t tell Haylie,” Coco whispered. “Or she’ll go bananas.”
“Coco.” Maribel looked up at Coco with her big eyes. “I’m so sorry about you being water boy. We’ve all talked about how this blows. It just seems like there’s nothing we can do. Ruby won’t allow us to change the dance. And Haylie threatened to drop our blooper reel on the intranet—and show it at ExtravaBAMSa, in lieu of our performance—if we do anything against her.”
Everyone knew that the Bam-Bams kept a super-secret reel of moves from the girls’ auditions, usually showcasing sillier moves and mistakes. Generally it was a way to laugh at how far everyone had come. But no one besides the dance team was supposed to see it.
Coco flinched at the idea that Haylie had threatened to make their audition tapes public. This was more than just power going to her head—this was full-on treachery. Coco couldn’t believe how much she’d underestimated Ruby and Haylie’s ruthlessness.
Maribel was still talking animatedly, excited to get this off her chest. “And I can’t deal with that before ExtravaBAMSa,” She pointed to her twin sister, Lucia. “We have relatives flying in from Chicago to see us perform.” Lucia nodded solemnly.
“I wish you were captain,” Taylor said wistfully.
“It’s such a bummer you’re the water boy,” Anais said, looking at Coco sadly.
“I wish you could do this dance with us,” said Eden.
“I know!” Taylor cried.
Coco smiled. “Actually, there is a way. I’ll do the new dance with you. We’ll leave Haylie onstage, doing her own dance. She’ll look stupid in her costume, and she’ll have to get out of the way for us.”
Maribel blinked, twice, and exchanged glances with Lucia. Taylor, Ames, and Eden smiled like spies who’d just been given a top-level mission.
“Sounds like a plan!” Maribel said, speaking for the group.
“Well, I’m just so happy to help you all,” Coco said, trying to hide how relieved she felt to know that her captainship had not been a one-day joke. “We can practice our routine here next week,” she said casually, buzzing with excitement over this new plan.
Coco looked into the sea of faces staring at her respectfully and understood why her mother had emphasized the respect of her peers so much. Earning it was the best feeling in the world. Next week couldn’t come fast enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
becks
Wednesday September 16
4:20 PM Teach Ellie to “surf”
7:20 PM Sunset? What time is sunset? Why does it have to be so late?
Straddling her surfboard in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, Becks closed her eyes and felt the last few rays of sunlight on her face. It was Magic Hour, right before sunset, which meant that the sun was starting to cast its shimmery pink glow over the ocean. Becks and Ellie had spent all afternoon surfing—if you could call it that. It was more like three hours of: yelling instructions at Ellie, one almost-standing-up moment, zero good conversation, and waaaaay too much shivering and not-surfing.
Becks realized an entire afternoon had gone by and she hadn’t surfed a single wave. She sighed. What a waste. It was like going to Coffee Bean and getting a water.
“All righty, Becks,” Ellie giggled as she straddled her board. She was wearing her black Roxy bikini. “Mama Ellie’s gonna do it this time.”
She paddled quickly, her skinny arms turning like wheels in a hamster cage. She got her feet on her board, but then, just as she began to stand up, she crumpled into the wave. Her board bounced back to the ocean, and Ellie bobbed after it, for what felt like the four hundredth time that day.
The only thing good about seeing Ellie mess up was that it meant that Becks’s plan was perfectly in action: Ellie was getting just comfortable enough that Becks would be able to embarrass her at Surffest.
“No worries—I’m gonna nail the next one!” Ellie chirped, totally unfazed by her string of failures.
Becks rolled her eyes and looked at her white stucco house in the distance. For the first time ever, she wished she were home instead of on her surfboard. She’d had no idea how cold it could get when you were just sitting in the middle of the ocean and not surfing. Her teeth were chattering.
“I saw that eye roll!” Ellie said teasingly. “Watch me,” she commanded. Then, like a windup toy, she paddled her stick-skinny, copper-tan arms in fast circles through the water. Just when Becks expected Ellie to fall, her black bikini popped above the crest. Ellie was standing up! And she was riding the wave all the way to shore!
Becks’s heart soared with surprise and pride. “Yeah, Ellie!” Becks screamed. “GO! GO! GO!” Becks watched Ellie ride the wave all the way to the shore before she hopped onto the sand. Ellie waved her arms and did a chicken dance like a football player who had just made a touchdown.
Becks felt a surge of nostalgia, remembering her own excitement the first time she stood up on her board, in Oahu, when she was four. A tiny part of her was jealous that Ellie got to have that thrill, which only happened once in lifetime.
It was unfortunate, because even though she didn’t want to, Becks was starting to like Ellie. She was kind of fun. And Becks had to give the girl credit: She was obsessed with getting better at surfing. All the times Becks had wanted to duck in early, Ellie had insisted they stay out until she got better in some way. Minus the Rubybot factor, Ellie was close to cool. Becks shrugged away those feelings and quickly paddled to catch a wave so that she could go talk to Ellie on the shore.
“DID YOU SEE ME, BECKS?” Ellie screamed, as Becks dragged her board out of the ocean and onto the white Malibu sand. It was almost dark, and the houses were like shadows on the shore.
“Yeah, that was a start,” Becks said casually.
“Um, earth to Becks?” Ellie said, smiling. “Is that all I get? I just stood up on my board!”
“Okay. Good job, you stood up,” Becks muttered, feeling a tiny nagging voice in her head saying, Just say congratulations. But then she heard someone clapping. She turned around and saw Austin, wearing tattered green cargo shorts and a tight black T-shirt, his brown hair flopping lazily in his blue-gray eyes. “Nice work, Professor Becks! You should teach a class!”
Becks stood taller, beaming with pride. She’d never been called that before. And yet there Austin was, proud of her for having taught someone to do something they both loved. It was the first time she’d felt good around him in a while. She was relieved to know that they could connect as friends, since things had been so awkward following the Pinkberry debacle.
Ellie put her hands on her hips and giggled flirta tiously. “How about some props for the excellent student?” She batted her eyelashes like she’d read a manual on How to Steal a Guy.
Austin turned to Ellie. He seemed impressed by her boldness. And then it hit Becks like a ten-foot wave: Austin had said he couldn’t like a girl who couldn’t surf, and now Ellie could.
I’ve created a monster.
Ellie smiled, enjoying the attention. “We should all go grab Pinkberry to celebrate!”
The word Pinkberry lingered in the air like the stench of sewage at El Segundo Beach.
“Nah, I should get going,” Austin said, looking down at the sand before he slunk back to his house.
“’Byee!” Ellie called after him. He didn’t turn around.
Becks’s cheeks flushed and she remembered all over again why she could never ever be friends with Ellie. Sabotage was game on.
Becks turned to Ellie and smiled. “That was seriously great!” she said in her happiest fake voice. “But if you really want to impress the folks at Surffest, we should learn one more move.”
Ellie smiled at Becks, as if deciding whether or not to take the plunge. “Okay,” she said finally, tugging at the black straps of her bikini. “Sweet.”
The girls paddled back into the chilly ocean. “Watch me,” Becks said. And then that nagging voice in her head got a lot louder, practically shouting, This is really not cool. Becks paddled away the doubt. She stood on her board and then crept her way forward until her toes were hanging off the end. The move was called Toes on the Nose, and she’d learned it a few years earlier at surf camp in Malibu. It was definitely not a novice move.
“That looks hard,” Ellie said cautiously when Becks paddled back to meet her.
“It’s really not,” Becks insisted. It wasn’t a total lie, since what Becks meant was, It’s really not that hard for me. But it had taken her nine years and a lot of practice.
“All righty, Becksy, I trust you,” Ellie said.
“Yeah,” Becks said. “Think how surprised Austin will be when you rip it up at Surffest.”
Ellie smiled, as if imagining herself zigzagging across the waves like a girl version of Kelly Slater. “Speaking of, it’s just a friends thing between you guys, right?”
Becks’s pulse raced. She never discussed her crushes with anyone outside the Inner Circle. Though it was nice of Ellie even to bring it up, like she was asking permission to go for Austin. But then Becks realized: Ellie had seen the Slumbergate video, which meant she knew Becks had a crush. She wasn’t trying to be buddy-buddy, and she wasn’t being considerate. She was rubbing it in.
“We’re just friends.” Becks gritted her teeth.
“Good, ’cause I think it’s only a matter of time before he’s mine,” Ellie said confidently. Before Becks could respond, Ellie paddled back out to catch a wave. Becks watched her from her board. Ellie managed to stand up again, but before she could even begin to move forward on the board, she wiped out, tumbling into the ocean awkwardly while her board bobbed to shore.
If she couldn’t even stay standing, there was no way this girl could get Toes on the Nose in time for the surf exhibit. She’d look like a terrible surfer and make a fool of herself in front of everyone. And it was Ellie’s turn to find out how that felt.
It was almost too easy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
mac
Thursday September 17
4 PM Spinning for 45 minutes to burn negative energy
6 PM Ruby thing @ Bristol Farms
9 PM Post-Ruby steam room/toxins flush
“Today’s going to be really easy,” Ruby said from the entrance of Bristol Farms on the corner of Doheny. It was a high-end grocery store in Beverly Hills that looked like a colonial mansion with a white arch entry-way surrounded by bright green plants. The parking lot was filled with Audis, Mercedes-Benzes, and Lexuses, was filled with Audis, Mercedes-Benzes, and Lexuses, and it catered to young starlets and the paparazzi. It was exactly where Mac did not want to be, because she wanted to be done with PDA (Public Displays of Assistantship).
“I just need you to push the shopping cart and grab the items I tell you to grab,” Ruby said, leaning on her crutches as they stepped into the store, passing a perfectly coiffed Scarlett Johansson clutching a canvas grocery bag on her way out.
Mac hoped that if she smiled and chatted with Ruby it would look like two friends going shopping together instead of an assistant on duty with her boss. Mac felt even more embarrassed, because she was still honoring the deal to not wear anything Ruby owned. Which meant that Mac was left to wear her Vanessa Bruno jumpsuit, way too glam for grocery shopping. Ruby was wearing the same James Perse tee that Mac had worn days earlier with the Paige jeans. Which meant the look was already over.
They passed the cheese aisle, and Mac inhaled the aroma of freshly grated parmesan. Ruby would not stop talking. “I really want your help with the finale ’cause I need it to go off without a hitch. I’m doing my ode to BAMS, to determine if we should release it as my first single from my new album,” Ruby said, seriously. “Does that make sense?”
Mac paused thoughtfully. Even if it was Ruby, there was something about giving people career advice that gave her a buzz. “Yeah. The song is about BAMS, so you know the audience will like the content at the very least. If they like the melody, then you know it’s worth it to debut it in front of a bigger, non-BAMS market and see how it flies.” Mac shrugged. It seemed like common-sense PR work. (As long as Mac ignored the fact that Ruby was using a benefit for the Third World to promote herself.)
“Oooh, you are so smart!” Ruby squealed. “That’s exactly what Brigham says.” She made a concerned face. “He wants me to lip-synch the one we recorded.”
Mac smiled. Jackpot! This was information she could use. Mac carefully filed that tidbit away in the “Operation Take Down Ruby” part of her brain and quickly slapped a smile on her face to uphold her façade. “Well, that makes sense,” Mac said, squeezing the shopping cart handle so she wouldn’t sound overexcited at the turn this conversation was taking. “If it’s a debut, you want to make sure it lands just right. You don’t want to take any chances with a live performance.”
Ruby looked relieved. She stared at Mac seriously, her violet eyes focused like high beams.
“I’m so glad we’re finally friends.” Ruby smiled.
Mac felt a jolt inside her body, but somehow managed to smile back, numb from shock. Did Ruby not know the meaning of the word friend? Did she not know that friends didn’t make friends push grocery carts?
“Oooh, Roquefort samples!” Ruby exclaimed, eyeing the dairy section, where they had laid out mini bites of the stinky French cheese. “I want some!”
Mac shivered—she was very anti-free food. Her mother had instilled in her the fear of germs and of being seen standing up and grazing.
Ruby darted off, leaving Mac all alone with the cart and her black quilted Chanel bag. Mac spotted Ruby’s iPhone poking out of the front pocket. Her heart skipped a beat as she eyed the shiny device. Another Damage Potential opp. And this time, Mac was going to take it.
Mac was about to grab the phone like a South Beach dieter devouring white bread when she realized—it looked . . . different. The iPhone was a tiny bit too wide. It was Swarovski studded.
And totally fake.
Phone clone!
Mac yanked her hand away from the fake phone as though the instrument had been dipped in high-fructose corn syrup. Suddenly the dots connected like a Seurat painting: Ruby had been trying to trick her all along! All those opportunities that Mac had passed up to snoop hadn’t been coincidences. They’d been traps.
Mac’s mind quickly scrolled through a mental slide show:1. Origami bird in the Deener jeans in Ruby’s closet
2. Computer ping, ping, pinging in Ruby’s bedroom
3. Phone left out at the Getty kitchen
4. Presently: phone clone
Mac smiled, pleased that she was worth so much mental energy and even more pleased that she hadn’t fallen for it. She tried to turn the cart toward the rows of condiments, but Ruby was blocking the route, pointing her right crutch at Mac. “Busted! Phone snoop!”
Mac calmly looked up. “Huh?” she said innocently. Ruby eyed Mac up and down, resting her eyes on Mac’s hands, which were very clearly curled around the cart handle. Then Ruby slowly slid her gaze to the dummy phone, which was very clearly not in Mac’s hands.
“Oops!
” Ruby said, staring off at the row of gourmet nut butters. She actually blushed. “I thought—”
Mac shrugged. “I respect your privacy.”
There was a long pause.
“Well, good.” Ruby swept her feathered bangs out of her face. “That was a test to see if I could trust you. And you passed.” Ruby pantomimed clapping. “Now you can really help me with the finale. I need your impeccable taste to decide which napkin design to go with.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Mac said, amazed that she’d gone from enemy to frenemy in one-point-five grocery store aisles. Ruby was finally going to give her some real responsibilities, which she’d promptly abuse. It was all working out better than she had planned.
“I’m also going to need to run my speech by you,” Ruby said bossily. “I need to strike the proper tone—you know, classy but young like me? And we need to pick a color scheme.” Ruby leaned on her right crutch, as if she were stopping to think. “Maybe after we take care of all this social chair business, you could come to my next sleepover?” She smiled. “But, like, not as the butler—as my guest?”
Mac smiled fake-shyly, hoping to seem truly touched by Ruby’s not-really-big gesture. Even if her smile was phony, Mac’s happiness was genuine: She was in. And she was going to make sure that by the time ExtravaBAMSa was over, Ruby was way, way out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
becks
Saturday September 19
11 AM ExtravaBAMSa kickoff in Malibu
12 PM Surf-off
2 PM Celebrate with Austin at BBQ?
Coco, Becks, and Mac were standing on Becks’s beach, holding a private conference in the middle of Surffest.
