Dial L for Loser (2 page)

“Thanks!” Kristen beamed.

The girls pushed back from the table and threw their bags over their shoulders. Claire waved goodbye to Kristen, then followed Massie, Alicia, and Dylan into the bright atrium.

“Let’s go to Juicy,” Dylan suggested.

“No,” Alicia whined. “Neiman’s.”

“Let’s start at BCBG and we’ll work our way left,” Massie insisted. “Don’t worry, we won’t miss a single store.”

Claire stuffed her hands in her empty pockets and yawned. Her parents didn’t need to ground her for getting expelled. Being sentenced to a lifetime at the mall was punishment enough.

T
HE
B
LOCK
E
STATE

D
RIVEWAY

Tuesday, March 3rd

2:30 P.M.

Massie pulled a worn copy of
Us Weekly
from her leather Miu Miu shoulder bag and flipped to the red-carpet shot of Abby Boyd. The actress’s dark boob-length mane was one part wave and two parts shine. It was a total ten.

“Isaac?” She unclipped her seat belt and tossed the magazine onto the driver’s lap. “Does my hair look like
hers
?” Massie stroked her new hair extensions the same loving way she petted her devoted pug, Bean.

“Buckle up,” he insisted, never taking his eyes off the road. Once they came to a complete stop, he lifted the glossy photo to his face. “Yours looks
better
.” The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “I said that when I picked you up from the salon.”

“Yeah, but that was five minutes ago—you could have changed your mind.” Massie giggled so he’d think she was joking, even though she wasn’t.

“Well, I haven’t.”

“Swear?” Massie held out her pinky.

“Swear.” Isaac wrapped his baby finger around hers and shook. “You look like a glamorous movie star.”

Massie leaned back in the cushy seat and winked at the picture of her favorite actress-slash-hair-muse. They were both wearing black tights, dark denim minis, and ankle boots. The only difference was their tops: Abby had on a white mesh see-through beater over a turquoise bra, while Massie had opted for a green-and-brown striped Ella Moss sweater. She had to draw the line somewhere.

“Where to?”

“Alicia’s,” Massie chirped. “The girls are waiting for me. We’re going to the mall.”

“Again?”

“Yup.” She tried to sound excited, but after yesterday’s six-hour spree it was clear that March was all about discounts on size-ten winter boots and XXL turtlenecks in primary colors. If only they had been expelled in December, during the holiday and resort collections, or in April, when the spring lines were out. But no—she was trapped in shopping limbo doomed to four weeks of sale-surfing. First school, now this—her entire life was on hold.

Isaac stopped in front of the iron gates that surrounded the Rivera estate and tapped the horn. It was impossible to see if the girls were coming, because a cluster of maple trees—which had somehow managed to keep their leaves through winter—blocked the stately stone mansion. But the familiar click-clack of heels assured Massie that her friends were only a few feet away. Quickly, she glossed her lips and smoothed her six-hundred-dollar ’do.

“Who’s ready for another day at the mall?” she bellowed as the girls piled into the Range Rover.

“Shhhhh.” Kristen pressed a finger against her mouth. “I’m supposed to be at the library.”

“And I’m supposed to be at Alicia’s, talking to her dad about the lawsuit,” Claire whispered.

“I’m allowed to go to the mall.” Dylan forced a camouflage cap over her thick red curls. “As long as I buy my mom a jar of La Mer face cream.”

“I can do whatever.” Massie gathered her extensions into a ponytail, then let them fall over her thin shoulders.

“Ehmagawd! Your hair!” Alicia squealed. “I totally heart it!”

“Huh?” Massie acted confused, like she had forgotten about it. Her beauty had to seem effortless, or they wouldn’t be as awestruck. “Oh, you mean my extensions? You like ’em?”

“You look ah-mazing.” Dylan tugged on her navy Daryl K scoop-neck sweater until it hung off her shoulder.

“Kind of like Abby Boyd,” Kristen offered.

“I totally agree.” Claire smacked her thigh.

“Really? Abby Boyd?” Massie tried to suppress the resounding
yay!
building inside her. “I never would have thought that.” She stuffed the
Us Weekly
toward the bottom of her bag while avoiding Isaac’s knowing glance in the rearview mirror.

“So, I was thinking.” Kristen unbuttoned her lime-green coat and tossed her book-filled Prada in the very back. “Maybe instead of shopping… we should see a half-price matinee.”

“Ew!” Dylan winced. “Those things are filled with old ladies who smell like pee and vitamins.”

“Let’s get our nails done.” Alicia wiggled her fingers in the air.

Claire sighed. “It’s too bad we aren’t allowed on OCD property.”

“Why?” Massie pinched her eyelashes to make sure her mascara hadn’t clumped.

“Because Layne is leading a protest to get us back in. And it would be cool to watch.”

“Hmmmm, Layne.” Dylan twirled a red ringlet around her index finger. “I forget. Do we like her?”

“I do,” Claire snapped, and turned to the window.

“What time is it happening?” Kristen asked.

“After school.”

Massie consulted her Coach watch. “Isaac.” She unbuckled her seat belt and put her hand on his shoulder. “Can you drop us on the corner of Birch and Worth?”

“I’m not taking you anywhere unless you buckle up.”

She rolled her eyes. After nine years, Isaac was more like a second dad than the family driver.

“Here! This is perfect!” she shouted when he pulled up to the crosswalk. “We’ll get out here.”

“I’ll pick you up in a half hour,” Isaac announced. “Don’t be late.”

Kristen grabbed her Prada bag out of the backseat. “Ugh,” she grunted as she hooked it over her shoulder. “These books weigh a ton.”

Massie buttoned her white faux-fur jacket and put on her aviators, despite the gray sky. “Leave ’em in the car.”

“Can’t.” Kristen sighed. “My mom is all-knowing.”

“Does she know you’re paranoid?” Massie slammed the door and Isaac drove off.

“Well, what if we get caught?” She adjusted her bag again.

“Big deal.” Massie finger-combed the ends of her extensions. “It’s not like they can expel us.”

“Point.” Alicia lifted her finger and drew an invisible number one in the air.

“They could cancel the board meeting and decide not to let us back in.” Claire wrapped a multicolored polka-dot scarf around her neck.

“Lose the scarf and we won’t get caught.” Dylan giggled. “You can see that thing from space.”

Everyone laughed.

“Let’s go.” Massie led the way toward campus. The faster she walked, the more her hair bounced and swayed. She felt free! No more homework, tests, or sweaty phys-ed classes. If she wanted to read magazines for five hours while Jakkob glued hair to her scalp, she could. Life was hers for the taking. So why did she feel like an empty tube of lip gloss, a hollow shell with nothing left to give?

“We should take cover in the faculty parking lot,” Kristen suggested. “It gives us a perfect view of the Great Lawn and we can hide behind the cars.”

“Fine, but we enter from the back,” Massie added. “Hurry! The bell is going to ring in—”

“Fifty-five seconds,” Kristen interrupted.

“Fifty-four seconds,” Massie insisted. “Come awn!”

They scurried around the block giggling and shushing one another.

“Wait up,” Alicia called. “You know I can’t run.”

“Just watch what we’re doing and copy!” Dylan shouted.

“Apple-C!” Claire yelled.

“Not funny,” Alicia panted.

They didn’t stop until they reached the foot of the parking lot. “This is weird,” Kristen whispered under her breath.

No one else said a word.

They stood gazing at the assortment of fuel-efficient cars that stood between them and their old school. Massie felt like a ghost of her former self, coming back from the dead to take a final glimpse at the life she was leaving behind… the life she had taken for granted.

She wanted to ask her friends if they missed the eraser smell of the halls. Or the rambling, dorky stories their English teacher would tell them about his hairless cats. Or text-messaging during study period or laughing during lunch or counting the compliments they’d get from the LBRs (losers beyond repair) or going to the soccer games at Briarwood Academy and flirting with their crushes. But she didn’t. It was her job as the alpha to keep their spirits up.
They needed her.

Rrrriiiinnnng!

“There it is,” Massie announced. “It’s showtime.”

“Quick!” Kristen cried. “Get behind that VW.”

“Which one?” Dylan panicked. “There are, like, ten of them here.”

“The dirty white one with the ‘Less Bombs, More Art Supplies’ sticker.” Kristen pointed to a beat-up car sandwiched between a GMC Jimmy and a gold Ford Taurus. “It’s in the first row.”

They crouched next to the expanding oil stain between the rear tires.

“Perfect view.” Massie wiped her cold, clammy hands on her black tights. That same nervous flutter she’d felt in her stomach right before she lip-kissed Derrington in Lake Placid was back.

“Aren’t you so glad we’re free?” Dylan asked.

“Given,” Alicia purred. “We can do whatever we want whenever we want. We don’t
have
to come here ever again.”

“It’s true,” Dylan agreed. “We’re here because we
want
to be. Not because we
have
to be.”

“Totally.”

All of a sudden, a rush of girls burst through the doors. Most of them wore skinny jeans tucked into their knee-high boots, or Uggs with miniskirts. Some were laughing, while others were on their cell phones. Everything was exactly as it had always been. Even though Massie wasn’t there.

“Kuh-laire,” Massie hissed. “Where is this protest?”

Claire bit down on her thumbnail and shrugged.

Hahhhhh… Hahhhhh.
The sudden roar of a cheering crowd interrupted.

“K, you’re ringing,” Massie snapped.

“Oops. Sorry.” Kristen pulled a scratched silver phone out of her argyle sock and flipped it open. “Hi, Ma.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m studying.”

The girls giggled.

“What do you mean, prove it? How can I prove it?” Kristen opened and closed the Velcro strap on her green-and-white leather Pumas as she listened to her mother’s instructions. “Are you serious?… Fine. No problem.” She quickly flipped her messenger bag upside down and dumped the books on the asphalt.

“What is it?” Massie whispered. “What does she want?”

“Outta the way!” Kristen mouthed. “Hurry!”

They all jumped back, searching one another’s faces for an explanation. When the area was clear, Kristen lifted her phone and snapped a picture of the pavement. She immediately forwarded it to her mother.

“Did ya get it?” She silently invited the girls back. “See, I told you I was alone.… Yes, I’m outside. I needed some air. The heat was blasting in the library and—” She paused. “Yes, I’ll be home by five. Love you too.” She stuffed her phone back in her sock and exhaled. “This protest better work. I can’t handle this much longer.”

“There she is!” Claire stabbed the air with her finger.

Layne was waving a sign made of white poster board that had been taped to a long twig. A grainy, blown-up shot of Claire smiling sweetly was taped to the front, and
SAVE THE LYONS
was painted across the back in big maroon letters. Two Gwen Stefani–wannabes with identical signs followed closely behind her.

“You know, if she would just brush her hair, get a few blond highlights to offset the mousiness, and stop shopping in the men’s department of the Salvation Army, she’d have cute-potential,” Dylan said. “She has nice blue eyes. Small, but nice.”

“They’re green,” Claire murmured.

“Save the Lyons!” shouted Layne and her BFFs, Meena and Heather, as they poked the sky with their signs.

“Ehmagawd,” Alicia screeched. “
This
is the protest?”

“I assumed it would be for all of us.” Claire’s cheeks turned bright red. “I am so sor—”

“Puh-lease! I’m glad Layne’s not fighting for me,” Massie said to the oil stain beneath her feet. “The last thing I need is for people to think we’re friends.”

“Point,” Alicia uttered.

“This whole protest thing is stupid. I feel bad for you, Claire.”

“Huh?” Claire tugged on her short honey-blond bangs. “Why?”

“I just think it may ruin your chances of getting back in.” Massie checked her nails for dirt. “The board may think you’re causing more trouble. They could see you as a threat.”

“Really?” Claire’s blue eyes were wide with fear.

“Yeah, but don’t worry. We’ve taught you a lot. I’m sure you’ll be fine at ADD.”

Claire sat back on the frozen ground, hugged her knees to her chest, and lowered her head.

“Let’s get out of here.” Massie jumped to her feet. There was no way she was going to stick around to watch Claire’s pathetic little fan club treat
her
like last year’s Sevens.

“Wait!” Kristen grabbed Massie’s ankle. “Look!”

A circle of at least thirty girls was forming in front of Principal Burns’s office window with bigger, flashier, more fabulous signs than Layne’s.

“Take pity on the Pretty Committee! Take pity on the Pretty Committee! Take pity on the Pretty Committee!” they chanted.

“Ehmagawd!” Massie crouched back down. “They’re wearing purple tulips in their hair. My favorite color.”

“Look.” Dylan pointed. “That sign says, ‘We Want Massie Back in Class-y.’”

“Love that!” Massie tapped her heart.

“I see one that says, ‘Unblock the Block!’” Kristen chimed in.

“Ah-dorable!”

“Aren’t you afraid you won’t get back into school now?” Claire smirked.

Massie checked her reflection in a hubcap, ignoring Claire’s jab.

“Ehmagawd, there’s one for me!” Alicia clapped.

“Where?” Massie hissed.

“There.” She pointed to Olivia Ryan, whose sign,
ALISHA WE MISH-YA
, doubled as an advertisement for her stupidity.