The Pretty Committee Strikes Back

by Lisi Harrison

  “That would be so cool.” Claire zipped up her baby blue Old Navy puffy coat. “Do you think she could get Joss Stone?”

  “She can get anyone.” Dylan smiled proudly. “And I bet she could raise the money in like five minutes.”

  “Gawd, where's Isaac?” Massie stood on her toes and looked out into the empty parking lot. She would have said anything to change the subject. Kristen's whole poverty thing was a major snoozer. And Dylan's famous mother was running a close second. The only thing that held Massie's interest these days was Derrington.

  A white Lexus and two black Audis pulled into the lot. Livvy Collins, Alexandra Regan, and Carrie Randolph waved to the drivers as they strolled down the school steps, taking their time so they could finish their conversation.

  “I know Nina was a total fake.” Alexandra buttoned up her winter white Banana Republic boiled wool coat. “But how great would it be to have her on this Lake Placid trip?”

  “Totallyagreed,” slurred Carrie, the notorious fast talker. “Nooneknewmoreaboutguys.”

  Suddenly Massie felt dizzy. It was one thing to hear her classmates idolize Nina Callas—Alicia's Spanish slutbag of a cousin, who was responsible for almost tearing Massie and Derrington apart—but it was quite another for them to consider her an expert in anything other than lying, stealing, and cheesy Euro style. Besides, Massie had assumed that when Nina returned to Spain, things would go back to normal and she would become the all-around expert again. So why wasn't that happening? She lowered herself onto the stone steps. Alicia, Dylan, and Claire sat down beside her.

  “Maybe we could get her e-mail address from Alicia.” Livvy bit down on her plump bottom lip, chewing off her clear lip gloss. “I bet she could give us some killer tips.”

  “Lovethat.” Carrie clapped her lambskin mittens together. “Hey, look, theresheis!”

  “Nina?” Livvy and Alexandra shrieked at the same time.

  “No, A-licia.” Carrie stomped her foot. She pulled her friends by their coats and dragged them down the steps.

  The well-coiffed woman inside the white Lexus honked the horn.

  “Holdonaminutemah.” Carrie stomped her foot again and held up her index finger.

  The two black Audis beeped next. Alexandra and Livvy held up their fingers the same way Carrie had.

  “What?” Massie rose to her feet. Alicia, Claire, and Dylan immediately joined her side.

  “We actually wanted to ask Alicia something.” Carrie seemed to be speaking to Massie's burnt orange suede Michael Kors nonwaterproof snow boots.

  “Well, if it has to do with her trashy cousin Nina, don't bother,” Massie hissed. “She's dead to us.”

  “We just want her e-mail address.” Livvy stepped in. The blond ballet dancer-slash-basketball player was the thinnest and tallest one in the group, but Massie refused to look up at her. Instead, she spoke to the scratched rhinestone buttons on her tacky wannabe antique coat.

  Dylan burst out laughing. “Stupid much? Like they have e-mail in Spain!”

  Claire and Alicia giggled at Dylan's ignorance but Massie shot them a look, warning them to stop.

  Carrie, Alexandra, and Livvy seemed to believe Dylan, because they all turned red and looked away. It was the perfect time for Massie to pounce.

  “Look, I know the only reason you would want to speak to that slut-o-rita is to get guy advice before the trip.” Massie softened her voice so she'd sound sweet and caring. The girls lifted their heads, and Massie stepped down and joined them on their level. “Am I right?”

  “Yeah.” Livvy scraped more lip gloss into her mouth.

  “I totally understand.” Massie patted Livvy's shoulder. “That's why I'm offering a secret kissing clinic before the trip.” She waved her hand behind her back so Claire, Dylan, and Alicia wouldn't question her.

  One of the black Audis honked again.

  “ONE MINUTE, MAH,” Alexandra shouted. Then she leaned in toward Massie and whispered, “What's kissing like? Tell me everything. Don't leave one thing out.”

  “It's hard to describe.” Massie spoke louder than she needed to. “Derrington and I have been making out for a while now—since the holidays, to be exact.” She elbowed Alexandra in the rib and winked. “Thank Gawd for mistletoe, if you know what I mean!”

  Claire cracked up. Massie waved her hand again.

  “Who do you think taught Nina how to kiss?” Claire chimed in. Massie was grateful for the backup.

  “What?” Alicia screeched.

  “Is that true?” Massie heard Dylan whisper.

  Massie stepped in front of her friends, blocking them from the conversation.

  “I have a few spaces left in my kissing clinic if you want to sign up,” Massie offered. “But you can't tell a soul. I've already had to turn a lot of people away, and it wouldn't be fair.”

  “Wewon'ttell.” Carrie squinted and shook her head, her saucer-shaped brown eyes barely open.

  “Swear.” Livvy made an invisible cross on her tacky coat to prove her sincerity.

  “Double swear.” Alexandra crossed her boiled wool twice. “This is gonna be so great.” Her smile revealed a mouthful of emerald green braces.

  “’Kay, we're meeting in the OCD Serenity Chapel Friday after school.” Massie's tone was hushed and secretive.

  “Okay,” Livvy whispered back. “But are we actually gonna have to kiss someone?”

  “Ignore her.” Alexandra giggled. “She's a little bit of a wuss. But I can't wait.”

  The horns honked again.

  “Coming.” Alexandra ran down the steps toward her impatient mother, and the other girls followed.

  “I am not a wuss,” Livvy insisted to no one in particular.

  “Thanks, Massie,” Carrie shouted. “Iwon'ttellanyone.”

  “Shhhh.” Alexandra put her finger to her lips. “It's a secret, remember?”

  “Ooops.” Carrie laughed. “Sorry.”

  “Oh, don't forget the fee,” Massie yelled after them. All three girls stopped in front of their mothers' cars and looked back at Massie. “Twenty bucks a person. Cash only.”

  The girls smiled back and waved goodbye.

  “Are you actually going to take their money?” Claire asked Massie as the girls pulled away.

  “Of course.” Massie half smiled. “I'll donate it to Kristen's Lake Placid fund.”

  “Nice.” Claire gave Massie a thumbs-up. “But do you think she'll take it?”

  “I'll tell her I want to hire her to tape the clinic—you know, so I can put it on my new video blog,” Massie said.

  “When did you start a video blog?” Dylan asked.

  “And when did you become a kissing expert?” Alicia added.

  Massie looked at Claire, silently begging her for help.

  “Over the holidays.” Claire vouched for her friend. “I thought everyone knew that.”

  Massie shook her head. “I don't like to kiss and tell.”

  “Ooops, sorry.” Claire hit herself on the head, like she should have known better.

  Massie was pleased with her friend's willingness to play along. Claire was the only one who knew the truth about Massie's lack of experience with boys and was smart enough to know that Massie wanted to keep it a secret.

  “It's okay.” Massie continued her Oscar-worthy performance. “But if you must know, Derrington and I have been getting pretty busy these days.”

  “No way!” Alicia slapped Massie's arm.

  “It's true.” Claire jumped in. “I walked in on them back when Massie and I were sharing a bedroom. They were in a full-on lip lock.”

  Massie shrugged and looked away, brushing her cheek against her shoulder as she turned. She wanted to look sweet in spite of her new racy reputation.

  “Can we take your clinic too?” Alicia asked. “I played spin-the-bottle a few times in Spain, but those kisses were closed-mouthed. And I'm so beyond ready to go open.”

  “Really?” Dylan teased. “With who?”

  “Josh Hot
z.” Alicia rolled her eyes. “Given!”

  Dylan giggled, knowing full well that Alicia had had a crush on the preppy, Polo-loving Briarwood boy for weeks. But Massie, who knew the rest of the story, casually glanced at Claire, who was biting her pinky nail.

  If Alicia knew Claire had already kissed Josh, she would send her back to Orlando in last year's Louis Vuitton Cerises bag. And it was obvious from Claire's nervous expression that she was well aware of this.

  “What about you and Cam?” Alicia asked Claire. “Have you kissed yet?”

  “Uh, not yet.” Claire's fair complexion turned scarlet. “Any day now. Hopefully the clinic will help me get some confidence.”

  Massie looked out at the emptying parking lot, knowing how hard it must have been for Claire to sound chipper when she talked about Cam. Because the truth was, ever since last weekend, when Cam had seen Claire and Josh kissing after the Briarwood soccer finals, he had wanted nothing to do with her. He wouldn't even give Claire a chance to explain. If he had, he'd have found out that Nina had purposely made it seem like Cam liked her, not Claire. And once he understood that, he'd get why Claire was so hurt, and he'd have to forgive her for kissing Josh. But for now, Massie was the only one who knew any of this.

  “I wanna kiss Chris Plovert,” Dylan declared. “I'm a sucker for a wounded boy on crutches.”

  “I thought you stopped liking him after the Love Struck dance,” Alicia said.

  “I did, but now that I'm a size two, I have no goals.” Dylan pulled off her green hat and fluffed her hair. “My life seems boring and pointless. I need a good make-out to spice things up.”

  “Great, so you're all in?” Massie asked as her family's silver Range Rover pulled into the parking lot, headlights flashing.

  “In,” Alicia confirmed.

  “In,” Dylan agreed.

  “In,” Claire added.

  Massie stepped down off the cement curb expecting Isaac, her driver, to step out of the SUV and open the door for her. Instead her mother, Kendra, rolled down the window and smiled. Some breathy Norah Jones song was playing at full blast.

  “Guess who?” Kendra shouted above the music.

  “Mom?” Massie sounded like she hadn't seen the woman in years. “What are you doing here?”

  Kendra smoothed her freshly manicured hands over her brown chin-length bob and tried to act shocked. But her recent round of Botox injections made her look more stunned than surprised. “Since when is it strange for a mother to pick up her daughter from school?”

  “Since third grade,” Massie responded. “When we got Isaac.”

  “Well, he lost a filling and had to run to Dr. Wilson, and Inez was in the middle of making her scallop linguini so I thought it would be fun to—”

  “You know we drive Alicia and Dylan home, right?” Massie asked.

  “I do now.” Kendra popped the automatic locks on the door so the girls could get in. “All aboard.”

  Massie slid across the buttery soft backseat with her friends, like she always did, leaving Kendra up front alone. She leaned forward. “Mom, we were going to go to the mall. You know, to get stuff for our trip.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Kendra stepped on the gas and the car jerked forward. She slammed on the brakes and the girls fell on top of each other and broke into fits of laughter.

  “Seat belts, everyone,” Kendra shouted over her shoulder.

  No one argued.

  Once they were on the road, the girls started talking about what stores to hit first. But Massie had other things on her mind, like how she was going to teach a clinic on making out when the only guy she had ever kissed was her father. And a quick peck on the cheek was hardly what her friends had in mind. That much she definitely knew.

  THE BLOCK ESTATE THE LYONSES' NEW GUESTHOUSE

  Thursday, February 19th 5:22 P.M.

  “Your room is a total ten.” Layne Abeley flopped down on Claire's new bed and bounced a few times, like she was testing the coils and springs in the mattress. She ran her black-painted fingernails over the glittery stars on the sky blue down comforter and slowly shook her head. “Unbelievably cool.”

  “I know, I love it.” Claire's insides filled up with so much pride, she thought she'd pop, like one of the annoying watermelon Bubble Yum bubbles Layne was blowing.

  Claire pulled off her socks and padded across her fluffy white sheepskin rug. “Can you believe the Blocks paid for all of it?” She reached inside the decorative lemon yellow locker that held her CD collection and reached for her favorite mix, Cam's Christmas Carlos. Claire used to giggle when she saw how he'd accidentally misspelled carols. It made her feel close to him. But tonight, when she fed the mix to her new Bose sound system, her insides felt like they were getting sucked out of her belly button. She felt hollow and empty without Cam in her life.

  “Actually I can believe they paid for it.” Layne's green eyes widened and filled with horror as “All I Want for Christmas Is You” blasted through the four white speakers that hung from the corners of Claire's ceiling. “What I can't believe is that they finally let you toss Massie's dead grandmother's old furniture and get new stuff. I felt like I stepped out of a time machine every time I came over. It took days to get the smell of mothballs out of my hair.”

  Claire chuckled and was suddenly overcome by a rush of warm appreciation for Layne, her special friend: the one she could let her guard down with, shop at Target with, eat sugar and fat with. Layne was not part of the Pretty Committee and probably never would be, and that was more than fine with Claire. It was nice having a friend who saw Westchester the same way she did, through the eyes of a coat-check girl at a black-tie affair.

  Claire's emotions had been up and down like this for days. Whenever she thought about Cam, every bone in her body felt like it had been stuffed with lead. She'd sigh a lot and stare off into the distance, wondering if she'd ever be able to smile again. Then, minutes later, she'd share a moment of true friendship with Layne or Massie and her teeth would start chattering with joy. But one thing had been for sure: both the highs and the lows usually ended in tears.

  “Why are we listening to Christmas music in February?” Layne pulled a pair of bile yellow Converse sneakers out of her Sunshine Tours bag. She dumped a Ziploc bag of black rhinestones on Claire's bed and reached for the glue gun she'd “borrowed” from art class.

  “Cam burned this for me.” Claire curled up in a ball on a stack of pillows on the floor by the window. Inez, the Blocks' live-in housekeeper, had made them from Claire's old T-shirts from Orlando. It was either that or Massie was going to use them to pull poo-berries off her dog Bean's butt, and Claire had given in. She had lived in Westchester for six months, which was long enough to know that the “right time” to wear an oversize Lisa Simpson tee would never, ever present itself.

  “I should have known Cam was behind this cheddar-filled mix.” Layne smeared glue all over the rubbery tops of her sneakers. She pinched a rhinestone and dropped it on the sticky surface. Then she slowly dragged it into position and reached for another one. “Are you going to do your new Keds?” Layne waved a Ziploc full of pink rhinestones in Claire's direction.

  Claire shrugged and curled up into a tight ball. The sound of Layne slurping forced her to lift her head.

  “What's with you and those Go-Gurts? They're gross.” The thought of gooey liquid yogurt in a tube made Claire's insides churn almost as much as they did when she thought about Cam.

  Layne spit a wad of Bubble Yum into the empty tube and tossed it into Claire's blue glass trash can. “Why so cranky?” Layne asked during a long wet burp.

  “Ewww.” Claire buried her face again and wondered why she hadn't told Layne what had happened between her and Cam. She imagined herself saying, “Hey Layne, guess what? Last weekend Cam dumped me.” And immediately had her answer. Speaking those words out loud would make them true and Claire wasn't ready to accept that. Massie was the only one who knew the truth. And that was because she'd had a hot tip from D
errington and possessed a knack for interrogation.

  “Come sit next to me so we can finish these sneakers before Lake Placid.” Layne dropped three black rhinestones onto her shoe at once. Two of them fell facedown.

  “Ugh.” She used her long pinky nail to flip them back over.

  Claire put her Simpsons Orlan-d' oh! pillow on her lap and ran her fingers along the soft cotton. Her favorite sleeping shirt had been reduced to a decorative accent. What had once given her tremendous comfort was now just a memory. Just like Cam.

  “You should put a rhinestone C on each one of your shoes,” Layne suggested. “You know, one for Claire and one for Cam.”

  “We're done,” Claire blurted out.

  Layne lifted her head. “Why?” She ran her fingers through her teased brown hair. “Is it because I'm using glue on your new bedspread?”

  “Huh?” Claire crinkled her pale eyebrows. Then she shook her head and exhaled sharply though her button nose. “No, I mean me and Cam. We're done. He dumped me.” The sound of those words coming out of her own mouth brought a swell of tears to her eyes.

  “What?” Layne jumped off the bed. She crouched beside the nest of T-shirt pillows, unbuttoned her tight pink cords, then let herself drop to the floor. “What happened?”

  Claire wanted to tell Layne the truth, but what if she didn't understand? Or worse, what if she sided with Cam?

  “He said he lost interest,” Claire murmured to her cuticles. “He didn't want to be tied down.”

  “Cam Fisher said that?” Layne asked. “About you?”

  Claire nodded. At that moment, it was physically impossible for her to look Layne in the eye.

  “Did you check for hidden cameras?” Layne asked sincerely. “Maybe you were on some prank show. I mean, there's no way Cam would—”

  “He did, okay?” Claire snapped.

  A heavy, uncomfortable silence hung over their heads like one of Mr. Block's giant striped golf umbrellas.

  “I've got it.” Layne jumped to her feet, refastened her cords, and lifted her index finger in the air. She started pacing back and forth.

  “Maybe he misses the old you.” Her green eyes flickered. “You know, the girl he first fell in love with.”