It's Not Easy Being Mean (2 page)
“Why would they want to—?”
“It makes them feel better about their sorry selves. That's why.”
“Point!” Alicia lifted her finger.
Massie took another swig of Tab Energy and slammed it down on her mirrored pedestal night table. She fell onto her bed beside her ah-dorable sleeping black pug, Bean, allowing herself to get swallowed by the cluster of white faux-fur pillows as if surrendering to an avalanche. “If we don't look ah-mazing times ten, everyone will think the Pretty Committee's lost its magic and we'll be blog food.” She lifted her arm out of the fluff and checked her silver DKNY bangle watch. “It's already 4:27 p.m., and not a single outfit has been approved.”
“Point!” Alicia plopped down beside her.
Bean lifted her head and growled.
“You're right,” Dylan pouted. “Sorry.” She joined them on the bed.
Claire turned and closed the window.
“What about the soccer lesson?” Kristen grabbed the white wooden bedpost and stretched a hamstring.
“Ew! Why would we want to spend our last hours of freedom doing
that?
“ Alicia shuddered, as if Kristen had suggested using their blush brushes to scrub toilets in the boys' locker room.
“Um, starting tomorrow, you're members of OCD Sirens. Remember?”
They all looked at her blankly.
“Gawd, don't any of you want to learn how to play before you join the team?”
“Opposite of yes.” Alicia reached to the floor, picked up her
Teen Vogue
, and crawled under the feathery purple duvet cover.
“Leesh, I swear, if we don't make it to the finals because you—”
“Hey!” Massie stood and held up her palm like a crossing guard. “Kristen, are you mad at Alicia?”
“No, I'm just—”
“Then why does it sound like you want to socc-er?”
Everyone cracked up except Kristen, who folded her arms across her green Juicy hoodie and looked up at Massie's new multicolored crystal chandelier as if begging it to give her strength. “It was
your
decision to join the team.”
“We had no choice.” Dylan punched the mattress. “It was the only way Principal Burns would let us back into school.”
“You had to pick an extracurricular activity,” Kristen reminded them. “No one said it had to be soccer.”
“We thought it'd be a good way to bond with the boys.” Massie twirled the diamond stud in her left earlobe.
“And burn calories.” Dylan rubbed her flat stomach like someone who'd eaten too much chocolate-chip cookie dough.
“And tone.” Alicia curled into the fetal position.
“Claire,
you
like soccer, right?”
“Yeah, but I have to meet my agent in Manhattan, so I'm gonna miss practice.”
Clenching her fists, Massie fought another urge to tear Claire's white-blond hair out of her ah-nnoying, conceited, movie-star head. “Are you seriously going to pass up a summer cohosting pool parties and gossiping about boys to
work?
“
“Um, yeah,” Claire said, in a who-wouldn't sort of way.
“Point!” Alicia lifted her finger out from the duvet.
Dylan and Kristen giggled while Massie contemplated her sudden need to make Claire cry. She wanted to hurt her feelings and crush her confidence and treat her like an unworthy, unimportant, undesirable loser. Maybe then Claire would understand how Massie felt, being dumped for a stupid movie.
All of a sudden, a shock of angry boy music filled the room. Massie raced to her silver cube of an alarm clock and slammed the off button. But the electrified screaming wouldn't stop. It sounded like someone had placed a gigantic set of Bose headphones around her alabaster-white walls and cranked up the volume on some basement dweller's amplified nervous breakdown.
“It's coming from outside.” Dylan assumed her old position by the bay window. “More fans.”
Bean jumped off the bed and barked her way to Dylan's side.
Everyone followed.
“I wonder what they're gonna buy?” Kristen pinched her bottom lip.
“Hopefully Todd.” Massie lifted Bean and stroked her ears.
“Ehmagawd!” Alicia covered her highly glossed mouth like a shocked
American Idol
winner. “It's not a fan. It's Skye Hamilton.”
“Listening to AFI?” Kristen crinkled her perfect, J-shaped nose.
“Imposs!” Massie marched across her ivory sheepskin area rugs and pushed the girls aside.
“Who is that?” Claire asked, catching her balance on the wall.
“Eighth-grade alpha,” Massie explained, her eyes fixed on Skye.
“Check out that yellow Porsche convertible,” Kristen ogled.
“Check out the driver.” Alicia rolled her shoulders back like she was offering her C-cups to the universe. “I fully heart guys who wear dark jeans with gray tees. And I double fully heart black wavy hair.”
“That's the cutest guy I've
never
seen.” Dylan sighed.
“
I've
seen him.” Kristen fanned her cheeks. “On an Abercrombie bag.”
“How does her hair look so good?” Dylan twirled a shiny red ringlet around her finger, then burped. “I'd look all Chuckie from
Rugrats
after a ride in that thing.”
“Can you see what she's wearing? Is it dance-y?” Alicia rested her forehead against the windowpane. “Her parents own Body Alive Dance Studio. Not only is she ah-mazing at ballet, modern, jazz, and tap, but she gets whatever she wants from the B.A.D.S. apparel store.” A steam puff of envy marred the glass as she sighed. “Can anyone see her legs? I bet she's wearing a leotard, or maybe a unitard.”
“Um, you're the only ‘tard I see,” Massie snapped, refusing to publicize her Skye obsession.
“Why haven't I noticed her before?” Claire asked, poking her head between Massie and Alicia.
“She's always with the boys.” Massie tried her best to sound unimpressed. “That's why her group is called the DSL Daters.”
“Why?”
“Because they make super-fast connections,” she replied flatly, like it should have been obvious.
“Do you think she's here to buy something of mine?” Claire asked, sounding one part shocked and two parts psyched.
“Come awn!” Massie rolled her eyes. “That'd be like Paris Hilton asking Hermione Granger to borrow something for the VMAs.”
“Point.” Alicia lifted her finger. “She's been a regular at Fashion Week since she was potty trained. I heard she sat beside the Harajuku girls at the L.A.M.B. show this year.”
“Con-firmed.” Dylan drew a check mark in the air. “My mom saw her there.”
“Look!” Alicia giggled. “Todd is giving her Claire's Powerpuff Girls jammies.”
The almond biscotti Massie had eaten after lunch pulled a sudden U-turn.
“
No!
Those have a blueberry stain on the butt!” Tiny beads of sweat gathered above Claire's cherry ChapStick-covered lips.
“There's no
way
Skye Hamilton is an FOC,” Massie murmured in disbelief.
“A what?” Kristen let out a phlegmy cackle.
Massie lowered Bean into her white miniature four-poster bed, giving the girls a moment to ponder her latest expression. Finally, and with pride, she blurted, “FOC—fan of Claire's.”
“I heart that!” Alicia beamed.
“Brill!” Dylan high-fived Massie, who then high-fived Kristen.
“Toddddd!” Claire pressed her clammy palms against the windowpane.
“Wait! Skye is giving the pajamas
back
,” Dylan announced like a sportscaster. “Now she's shaking her head and reaching into her stone-colored Juicy Couture Sienna bag, and pulling out…a gold envelope. She's handing it to Tiny Nathan…no, Todd…no, Tiny Nathan…no, she's taking it back, teasing them…and…Ehmagawd, she's making them cross their hearts and hope to die.…Now she's…Ew! She's giving them each a…
Ewwwwww!
“
“Ewwwwww!” everyone screamed.
“Did she just kiss my brother?” Claire shouted over the screech of Porsche tires and scream of angry guitars.
“And Tiny Nathan!” Alicia squealed as the bright yellow car zipped off down the street.
Relief warmed Massie's icy fingertips like a pair of Chanel lambskin-and-fox-fur gloves. The beautiful blonde who hung out with high school guys and who had created the fashion trend Massie secretly labeled “dancey couture” wasn't at the Block estate to buy something of Claire's. She hadn't lost her cool and become an FOC. Skye Hamilton was as alpha as ever. An anxious flutter wormed its way through Massie's belly.
So why
was
she there?
Digging her thumb into the white remote, she shouted, before the window had fully opened, “Bring that envelope up here ay-sap!”
Todd and Tiny Nathan were too busy running around the wagon, giggling and punching each other, to respond.
“Todd, I mean it!” Massie shouted.
“Todddd!” Claire echoed.
Massie tugged the gold crown on her charm bracelet, desperate to know what was inside that envelope. And more important, whom it was for.
“Want me to sit on his chest and fart?” Dylan asked with a hopeful smile. “Kristen can tackle him and I can—”
“Not necessary.” Massie held her palm in front of Dylan's emerald green eyes. “I got this.” She winked, then cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Alicia, put your shirt back on!”
Todd and Tiny Nathan froze.
Alicia gasped. Massie quickly gave her a play-along-or-change-schools look.
The boys' shoulders were shaking with laughter as they buried their faces in their gray Gap hoodies.
“Let's
all
take our shirts off,” Dylan bellowed.
“I'm in!” Kristen grabbed the brown Ella Moss T-shirt dress off Massie's floor and tossed it out the window. “Wow, I feel so free!”
“Me too!” Dylan lobbed a white Petit Bateaux tank.
Massie reached into the pile of clothes beside her mannequin, grabbed a handful of skinny jeans, and whipped them into the cool April breeze.
Moments later, the Blocks' lawn was covered in rejected back-to-school clothes, and Todd and Tiny Nathan stood panting in Massie's doorway, wearing matching army green Crocs and clutching a reflective gold envelope.
Sunday, April 4th
4:32
P.M.
“I told you they were faking.” Tiny Nathan punched the inside of the empty red money belt strapped to his narrow hips.
Massie lunged toward Todd and plucked the pristine envelope from his sweaty grip. Everyone rushed to her side.
Bean crawled under the oatmeal-colored cashmere blanket on her princess doggie bed and sighed.
“No, I told
you.
“ Todd smacked his petite friend on the back of the arm. His money belt jingled like a Unicef box on Halloween.
“No, I told
you
!”
“It's not addressed to
anyone!
“ Kristen blurted.
“What did Skye say when she gave it to you?” Claire asked her brother. Before he could answer, Massie ripped open the sticky seal and dumped the contents on her purple duvet.
“A CD?” Dylan asked.
“Is it labeled?” Kristen leaned closer.
Massie read the miniature gold letters on the spine. “It says
alpha
.”
“That's us!” Alicia bounced in her yellow patent leather ballet flats.
Massie hurried to her G5 and fed it the mysterious disc. She had a hunch about the contents but didn't want to say anything. Not until she was sure. Her heart thumped while she waited for the computer to stop wheezing like an asthmatic and read the CD.
Alicia's chocolaty Angel perfume, mixed with Claire's sugary gummy-worm breath, mixed with Kristen's coconut-scented Paul Mitchell mousse, mixed with Dylan's watermelon Bubble Yum, mixed with Todd and Tiny Nathan's corn-soaked Frito fingers, engulfed her.
“Everyone take five steps back!”
Massie waited for the sound of retreating footsteps on her hardwood floors. “If your name is Todd or Tiny Nathan, you have three minutes to gather my clothes from the lawn and deposit them in the laundry room. If you don't, I will tell everyone at OCD and Briarwood Academy that you peed your pants when Skye Hamilton kissed you. One Miss Sixty…two Miss Sixty…three Miss Sixty…four—”
Thanks to the reflection on her twenty-inch computer screen, Massie didn't have to turn around to see the 10-year-old boys shoving each other out her bedroom door.
Suddenly, the
ffhhht
sound of a match striking a scratch pad came through her speakers. Then a
whoosh
. A smooth, pale female hand illuminated by an orange flame came into focus. It was lighting the wick of a white Tocca votive.
Everyone gasped. Massie wiped her clammy hands over the purple faux-fur padding on her desk chair.
“Ehmagawd, that's Skye's mouth,” Kristen pointed to the Ferrari-red lips that filled the screen. “I can tell by that little beauty mark to the right of her philtrum.”
“Her
what
?” Massie hit pause.
“The philtrum is that groove between the nose and the lips,” Kristen announced. “Sorry, I assumed everyone knew that.”
“Maybe everyone named Wikipedia,” Dylan snapped.
“Quiet.” Massie pressed play.
The camera pulled back, revealing a close-up of Skye's flawless face. Her thick, buttery blond waves and Tiffany-box blue eyes, along with the warm flicker of the candle, made looking at her head-on painful, like staring straight into a beautiful sunset.
“
If you are watching this,
“ Skye whispered, her raspy voice crackling like cellophane wrap on a gift basket, “
you have been chosen.
“
“Ehmagawd!” Massie hit pause again and swiveled her chair around. “I knew it. She's giving me the key!”
“So the key is really real?” Alicia squealed.
“What key?” Claire asked.
“Does this mean the
room
is really real?” Kristen crinkled her eyebrows.
“
What
room?”
“So is key season legit?” Dylan spit her gum into Massie's mosaic-tiled trash can.
“What is
key season
?” Claire stomped her watermelon-spotted Keds.
“Allow me,” Alicia insisted. She gathered her shiny black hair into a smart bun and fastened it with a silver Tiffany pen from Massie's desk. “Rumor has it there's a secret room at OCD the teachers forgot about, and the alpha eighth grader has the key—”
