Birthday Vicious (18 page)

A dozen muscular guys, all painted surreal shades of gold and purple, stalked the yard on towering stilts, puffing billowing clouds of flame over the heads of arriving guests. Two performing monkeys darted up and down the sawdust-strewn path, weaving through the legs of incoming visitors, tumbling and springing like the cutest miniature acrobats.

Two photographers, one still and one HD video, wound through the crowd, capturing everyone's amazed reactions for posterity. Ashley had wanted an elephant to
be performing tricks out there as well, but the permit got held up at city hall. Typical! She tried to talk her father into flying in an elephant from the San Diego Zoo—she was sure they had a few extra they wouldn't miss for a night—but he was too busy cooing at her mother's belly and meeting with the Hopi Indian craftsman who was hand-carving the new baby's crib out of bleached whalebone and willow sticks to lift a finger about Ashley's eleventh-hour wildlife crisis. Double typical!

At the gated entrance, William, the dignified, silver-haired family butler, dressed in a lion suit, held a walkie-talkie behind his back and stood next to Silvana, the prettiest of the Spencers' maids. These two family retainers had extremely important jobs tonight. Silvana, dressed (semi against her will, though she should have been grateful) in a tight-fitting assistant ringmasteress costume, complete with fishnet tights, a red jacket, and a jaunty black silk top hat, was holding a Palm Pilot, its screen revealing a miniature master copy of the guest list. She checked off names as guests arrived, announcing each person to William.

His job was simple. As soon as Cooper arrived, the butler was to call Ashley on his cell phone. Then, and only then, would she prepare to make her grand
entrance. She wished she knew Cooper's last name. All she'd been able to tell Silvana was that Cooper was around fourteen, super hot, and possibly a Greek oil tycoon's heir.

Silvana had rolled her eyes at Maria—Ashley totally saw her!—and asked if he'd be wearing a toga. Either Silvana was incredibly ignorant or this was some kind of Honduran in-joke. Cooper better not be wearing a toga! Actually, Ashley didn't really care what he was wearing, as long as he turned up.

When she'd gone to the marina the other day to look for him,
Flown the Coop
had lived up to its name. The boat was gone. She'd stared at its empty berth for a while, then kicked a coil of rope lying on the deck in frustration. But even if he'd never even RSVP'd, he had to be there tonight. He just
had
to.

But seven turned into seven thirty, and still no Cooper. William looked up at the window a few times—or at least his giant lion's head turned in her direction—and gave a mystified shrug of his furry shoulders. The yard went from thronged with wowed guests to almost empty, as everyone moved inside to be wowed all over again by the big-top interior and the acrobats zinging about overhead. Soon it was seven forty-five, and the
fire-eaters were climbing off their stilts and lolling about on the lawn, drinking cans of Red Bull. Her mother was knocking at the door, saying that everyone was asking where the guest of honor was hiding.

Ashley really couldn't wait any longer. She called William, hoping that Cooper had arrived without her noticing. Maybe William had forgotten to call. Maybe Silvana had withheld vital information from him, just because she was annoyed that the top hat was flattening her bouffant hair.

“Not yet,” William mumbled into the phone; it was hard to talk, Ashley supposed, when you were dressed as a lion, especially with the wind blowing your mane into your mouth. “But we'll stay here until he arrives.”

“Thanks, William.” Ashley sighed. At least someone was looking out for her.

“Darling!” Her mother flew into the room, a dazzling smile lighting up her beautiful face. Ashley was
so
glad she'd managed to talk Matilda out of dressing like a clown. Just because she was pregnant didn't mean she was balloon-shaped just yet. Matilda looked glam in her sexy tiger outfit, like a cuddlier version of Catwoman, her blond hair pulled back into a swinging ponytail, little tiger ears perched on her head.

“I'm ready, Mommy,” Ashley said, submitting to a makeup-smudging kiss, and only half listening while her mother reminded her that the city's health and safety inspector needed to make sure she was thoroughly harnessed before permitting any acrobatic descent.

She looked down at the crowd gathered below. So many people were there—the mayor and his pretty new wife; several stars of that irritating movie about a group of campers who put on a musical; the Sugar network's cameramen, who were stationed in every corner. All the old San Francisco families were represented too. Every girl in her seventh-grade class was probably sick with envy and admiration. But no Cooper. He hadn't bothered to show up.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.

But Ashley could barely even manage a smile.

A. A. HAD TO HAND IT
to Ashley—this was the best party ever. Not a single detail had been overlooked. From the unicycle-riding waitresses with their pink cotton-candy wigs to the master of ceremonies cracking his whip at the front door, the event was totally on-message. Even the canapés were themed. So far A. A. had scarfed down five meatballs shaped like miniature seals and two pastry-case gypsy caravans, filled with mini seafood “lions.” And she was still only in the lobby.

She pushed her way through the crowd, looking for the other Ashleys. A. A. was wearing a slim column dress and sparkly sandals. After the prebirthday shopping trip,
they'd declared a dress truce and agreed that they should all wear a shade of purple this evening.

This would mirror the color of Ashley's first outfit of the night and complement all the other changes she had planned. Lili had dropped the issue of the red velvet dress when Lauren pointed out she might look too much like the red velvet rope sectioning off their private dance floor. Just as well—A. A. was tired of all the arguments. This party might be amazing, but she'd be relieved when all the craziness was over.

A. A. wriggled through a gaggle of Miss Gamble's seventh graders, all talking at the top of their voices and gazing around Ashley's house as though it were the White House. They'd never been here before, of course. They probably thought she had a pink lemonade fountain—spraying out of a giant hose, held by a carved ice-cream clown—in her living room all year round.

Where was Lili? And where was Lauren? A. A. couldn't walk around being fabulous alone. Soon she was going to be sucked into some lame interview with Guinevere Parker, who was standing in one corner, dressed in a
hideous
puce taffeta prom dress from hell and round-toed flats, muttering into a handheld tape recorder.

Maybe she was writing a story about the party for the Miss Gamble's newspaper—or maybe she had nobody to talk to apart from a machine. A. A. almost took pity on her—almost—and then hurried by. One advantage of being so tall was that you could pretend you didn't notice somebody lurking a foot or two below your sight line.

A. A. had worries of her own right now, anyway. It wasn't at all certain that Lili would be here tonight. They had no idea what was going on with her—she didn't come to school and didn't answer her phone, e-mails, or IM, which meant she was probably in the worst trouble ever with Genghis Khan.

A. A. had been inside the house for twenty minutes, and there was no sign of Lili at all. The party wouldn't be as much fun without her. Ashley was going to be all preoccupied with this Cooper dude, not to mention her numerous changes of costume. Lauren was all down-at-the-mouth about losing two boyfriends in one week—not that she was anywhere in sight either. A. A. missed the good old days of the Ashleys, when they all went everywhere together. Boys ruined everything.

Speaking of boys . . . she couldn't stop thinking about Tri. A. A. hadn't seen or heard from him since the other day in the diner, when he told her he'd broken up with Cecily.
What was she supposed to say? Why had he made such a big deal about telling her? It was all totally mystifying.

Maybe he had other stuff he wanted to tell her, but that wasn't possible on Wednesday: Lauren was all upset, and A. A. had felt so bad for her. Tri had backed off, saying he and A. A. could talk about stuff another time. So why the sudden silence? Was the “another time” he had in mind sometime years in the future, like when they were in high school?

“A. A.!” Someone was calling her name, and she turned around slowly, dreading what—or who—she might see. There, stranded on the far side of the ice-cream clown, surrounded by a twittering bunch of Miss Gamble's girls, was Tri.

Her heart clenched—much to her annoyance. So Tri was at the party; who cared? It was no big deal. She knew he'd be here. What she
didn't
know was that he'd look so . . . well, so hot. He was wearing a crisp white button-down shirt, a navy blazer, and pressed chinos. Were her eyes blinded by all the circus lights? Because he didn't even look at all short.

A. A. decided the best policy was to avoid him. Hot or not, Tri was trouble. She was never sure if he liked her or despised her. And if she wanted to live her life on
an emotional roller coaster, she'd just spend
all
her time with the other Ashleys.

She spun on her pointed Jimmy Choo heel and tried to head toward the sunroom, where she'd heard there were dogs jumping through hoops over mounds of hot coals or something. But the crush of the crowd slowed her progress, and the next thing she knew Tri was next to her, pulling on her arm.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Over here!”

He gestured with his head to a relatively deserted corner near the giant lion's cage where the band would be playing later on. A. A. shrugged and allowed herself to be pulled away. The dogs-jumping-over-coals could wait. Tri seemed like he was bursting with something to say, and that made her feel like
she
was jumping over coals. She wished he didn't have that power over her, the power to make her feel anxious and weird and skittish.

“I've been looking for you everywhere,” Tri told her when they were both wedged against the bars of the cage. He was standing very close to her.

“Why?” A. A. asked.

He leaned close to her, his deep blue eyes fixed on her intently. A. A. couldn't move. She could barely breathe. This was it. What was Tri going to say?

“A. A.!” LILI WAS SO EXCITED
to spot her friend in the corner, by the giant empty lion's cage. She felt as though she'd been living in a sensory deprivation tank for the last few days, denied all gossip, chitchat, and backstabbing. What kind of a life was that? Her parents might as well have sent her to the threatened Buddhist boarding school. She was bursting to talk to someone other than her pillow collection.

She pushed through the crowd, eager to reach A. A. and . . . who was that with her? Tri? Wow, he looked really cute. He didn't even look as short as he used to be.

She was so lucky that her mother had finally relented about the party—mainly thanks to a call from
Ashley's mother, who said that Ashley had been crying all afternoon because Lili wasn't going to be there. At first Lili was touched. Ashley crying because she couldn't come—really?

Then she came to her senses. The last thing Ashley wanted was puffy red eyes at her party. She'd probably talked—or browbeaten—her mother into making the call. But Nancy Khan didn't know that, did she? Lili's mother had stood there in her bedroom, arms crossed, and said that Lili was allowed to go for two hours only, just as a favor to Mrs. Spencer, and that she had to remain under her father's supervision at all times. Nancy would have gone herself, except she had to chair a benefit dinner that night.

Lili agreed, of course. In theory, it was a drag having to come with her dad. In reality, it was no problem at all. He was so busy eating circus-themed canapés and discussing the value of his Google shares with Ashley's dad, he barely noticed Lili slipping away into the living room. It would have been much harder to escape Nancy's clutches!

Still, Lili had to make the best possible use of her freedom, just in case her dad remembered he was supposed to be watching her like a hawk rather than stuffing
his face and socializing. And in that time she needed to (a) talk her head off with the other Ashleys, (b) show off her gorgeous outfit to all the Miss Gamble's plebes, and (c) find Max.

He was going to be here tonight, and he was probably mad as anything with her. The last conversation they'd had was right before the flowers were delivered. Since then he hadn't heard a peep from Lili. He'd probably called and sent text messages, none of which she'd been able to get or respond to. Maybe he thought Lili was dumping him—she had to find him and explain everything, ASAP.

“Hi, pretty!” A. A. greeted her with smacking air-kisses, her cheeks kind of flushed. Tri nodded at her briskly, looking a little annoyed. Uh-oh! Maybe she was interrupting something?

“I haven't missed Ashley's big entrance, have I?” Lili was breathless with excitement about being back in the real world again. A gymnast in a glittery leotard pedaled by on his unicycle, swooping his tray under her nose. “She'll kill me if I missed the special moment.”

“Don't worry—nothing's happened yet,” A. A. told her, shouting over the noise of the crowd. “I don't know what the holdup is. But this whole place is such
a . . . well, a circus! I haven't even seen Lauren yet.”

Lili scanned the packed room, looking for Max. A. A. and Tri weren't talking now. They both seemed kind of uncomfortable.

“I'll see you guys later, okay?” Tri was already walking away, acting all bored with their company.

“Where's his girlfriend?” she asked A. A. as soon as Tri was out of earshot. “What was her name—Celery?”