Revenge of the Wannabes (18 page)

“Yeah,” Kristen said.

Massie was too excited to speak.

“Well, she’s really sending me to St. Barf’s.” Dylan pulled the cherry out of her piña colada and bit off the stem.

“That fat camp in upstate New York?” Massie asked.

“Yup,” Dylan admitted. “I forget the real name; it’s something like St. Bartholomew’s. But whatever it’s called, it’s supposed to be good. Half of the guests on my mom’s show have been there.”

“Why are you going?” Kristen said.

“My mom doesn’t think I have the self-control to stick to my diet.”

“I didn’t know you were on a new diet,” Massie said.

Dylan rubbed the cherry stem between her thumb and index finger. “I guess that’s her point.”

“Well, you look
beautiful
to us,” Massie said, drawing Dylan into another group hug. “Dieting is hard. You think I have an easy time staying away from sugar? I swear I don’t know how Claire stays so thin.”

“I bet her poop is shaped like a gummy bear,” Kristen said, then cackled at her own joke. Massie and Dylan laughed too.

“We love you, no matter how fat you are,” Massie said before their next group hug.

“Thanks, you guys.” Dylan wiped her runny nose on Massie’s shoulder. “I guess the cool part is my mom told me if I lose ten pounds, she’ll get me a nose job.”

Massie looked at Dylan’s tiny button nose. “You want a nose job?”

“Nah,” Dylan said. “She’s just trying to be nice.”

“Cool.” Massie clapped. “Now who wants some Rice Krispie Treats? I iced them myself.”

“Wait, what about
your
secret?” Kristen narrowed her eyes.

“Oops, I totally forgot.” Massie knew she’d never get away with it but loved herself for trying. “Thanks for reminding me.” She paused. “This goes to the grave, right?”

“YES!” Dylan and Kristen shouted.

Massie picked her nails, trying to look nervous. “My secret is that Alicia was right. I had a crush on Cam Fisher.” She raised her eyes and looked at their faces. They looked anxious to hear more.

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “And?”

“And it started at my boy-girl Halloween party and kept going past the OCD fashion show. We e-mailed for a while and I thought he was sweet, but when I found out Claire liked him, I gave up.”

“What? Why?” Dylan said.

“Uh, because I knew I could find someone else and Claire probably couldn’t.”

“That is sooo sweet of you,” Kristen said, and then paused. “Wait, why did you tell her that he was an EW and that she should break up with him? Is it because you realized you were hopelessly infatuated with him and you couldn’t bear to see him love another?”

Massie forgot they had witnessed that and had to think fast.

“NO, I told her that because I realized he was a total Harris wannabe and I was trying to protect her. By that time I was totally over him anyway.”

“Oh,” Kristen said.

Massie hoped to God that answer satisfied her. “Group hug?”

“You may have a broken heart, but it’s made of gold,” Dylan exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around Massie.

“You’re the best friend anyone could ever have,” Kristen said as she joined them.

Suddenly Massie heard someone walking in the dried leaves outside the barn.

“What was that?” Dylan hissed.

“Is someone listening?” said Kristen. “I’ll die if anyone heard I’m poor.”

“I bet it’s Claire,” Dylan said. “I mean, can we completely trust her?”

“Yes,” Kristen and Massie said at the same time.

“Well, you never know,” Dylan said.

“It was probably just Bean,” Massie said, looking at the doggie door.

“Wearing boots?”

Massie felt her insides freeze when she thought of their secrets falling into the wrong hands.

“I’m positive,” Massie said, trying to stay strong for the others. Unsure of what to do next, she walked over to her sleeping bag and sat down. She felt a little dizzy and slightly nauseous.

“Ehmagawd,” Massie gasped.
Bean was sound asleep on her pillow.

“What is it?” Kristen shouted.

“Nothing, stay there, it’s okay,” she said, covering Bean with a cashmere blanket. “I thought I saw a mouse, but it was just my cell phone.”

Massie hung her head between her knees and prayed for the sick feeling in her stomach to pass.

T
HE
B
LOCK
E
STATE
D
RIVEWAY

8:45
PM
November 21st

The tires on Claire’s green bike crunched over the gravel as she rolled it down the Blocks’ driveway. She stopped every few steps, held her breath, and listened, just to make sure Massie, Kristen, and Dylan didn’t hear her. She didn’t want them to know she was sneaking off to Cam’s with Alicia. They’d call her a FEW (Friend of Eternal Wannabes) and that would be the end of their friendship, which had only just begun.

When she made it safely to the street, Claire threw her leg over the middle bar and plopped down on the black padded seat. The jeans Alicia lent her were too tight and Claire could feel the button digging into her stomach. She’d called Alicia to tell her they were too small, but Alicia insisted she wear them anyway.

“Guys love tight jeans,” she told Claire. “Trust me.”

But these days Claire had no idea who to trust. …

Was Massie really looking out for Claire by telling her to stay away from Cam? Or was Alicia right? Was Massie just jealous? Claire shook the questions from her head and hoped the answers would come soon. She was about to face Cam and still had no idea what to tell him.

Claire flicked on her bike light and pedaled as fast as she could, trying to ignore the cold winter wind that bit her ears and stung her hands. She’d thought about bringing a hat but didn’t want her bangs to be pressed against her forehead when she saw Cam.

At the corner of Holly and Rutherford, Claire slammed on her brakes and waited for Alicia under the streetlight. They’d promised to meet a block away from the Fishers’ house so they could show up together.

The wind whistled as it snaked around the naked tree branches above her, and the chimes on the front porch of 50 Holly started clanging like they did in horror movies, right before someone got stabbed. Claire bit her nails and searched the street for Alicia. …

Suddenly Claire heard a “pssst.” Or at least she thought she did. She didn’t want to turn around suddenly, afraid of what she might see.

“Claire,” the voice whispered again. “Sorry I’m late.”

Alicia appeared under the yellow light on a brand-new vintage-looking Schwinn. The red-and-silver bike looked thick and heavy, like something kids from the 1950s rode on paper routes. But because Alicia was on it, it looked cool.

“Why are you whispering?” Claire asked, not realizing she was whispering too.

“I have no idea.” Alicia laughed.

Claire giggled nervously.

“Where’s your hat?” Alicia pulled the white cashmere cap off her head and stuffed it in her bag. It had looked beautiful against her dark complexion, but Claire knew exactly why it had to go.

“I didn’t want it to mess up my hair.” Claire rolled her eyes, fully aware of how girly and silly she sounded.

“That’s why I brought these.” Alicia pulled out a wood brush and a black-and-white art deco compact. She brushed her hair and the sweet smell of green apple conditioner filled the air. It mixed with her Angel perfume and completely canceled out Claire’s new kiwi oil from the Body Shop.

“You want?” Alicia held out the brush and mirror.

Claire took them and brushed her bangs. The metal bristles scratched against her forehead, but she ignored the pain.

“Remember,” Alicia said, dabbing frosty pink gloss on her plump lips, “don’t act dorky and squirmy when you’re there. Try to be confident. Boys are like dogs—they can sense fear.”

Claire pulled a thin tube of vanilla-flavored Softlips SPF 30 out of her front pocket and rubbed it across her mouth. “How do you know all of this?”

“I have a lot of
experience,”
Alicia said.

“Aren’t you even a little bit nervous to see Harris?” Claire asked.

“Puh-lease. Do I
look
nervous?”

“No.”

“How
do
I look?” Alicia asked. “Rate me.”

“Huh?” Claire said.

“Out of ten,” Alicia said. “Ten being the best.”

“Nine point three,” Claire said knowing it was an understatement. Alicia looked beautiful. Her dark eyes were lined with black pencil and her lids were dusted with a touch of sparkly gold shadow. Her cheeks were rosy and her hair was thick and smooth. Claire couldn’t see Alicia’s outfit under her gray fitted coat but knew it had to be incredible.

“Why not higher?” Alicia asked.

“You can only get higher if you’re really dressed up,” Claire said, making up her own last minute rule.

“Good.” Alicia sounded satisfied. “I like that.”

“What about me?” Claire asked shyly.

“Eight point seven,” Alicia said. “Love the tight jeans and the lavender sweater, but you lose points on the paint-stained Keds.” Alicia shrugged. “Sorry, but you know how I feel about sneakers.” She took one last look at Claire and then held out her hand.

“What?”

“Give me that lip stuff,” Alicia said. “I can’t stand to see you put that back in your pocket. It puts a lumpy line in the jeans.”

Claire slapped the tube down in Alicia’s glove like she was giving her five. “Is there anything you
don’t
know?”

“Yeah, I
don’t know
how Massie is going to get by without me.” Alicia shook her head and sighed. “Oh, well. Let’s go.”

Alicia dropped the tube of Softlips SPF 30 in her bag, then pushed off on the pavement with the bottoms of her red leather boots. Claire followed.

“Alicia?” Claire shouted above the wind. “I’m really sorry about what we did to you.”

“I know. Thanks,” Alicia said. “I’m sorry too.”

“Do you think you and Massie will ever be friends again?” Claire reached down and quickly unbuttoned her jeans because she couldn’t bike, talk, and breathe at the same time.

“Doubt it.” Alicia kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I like having my Friday nights free. And I can hang out with whoever I want, especially boys. Massie never hangs out with guys. It’s so boring.”

Claire felt a wave of regret and sadness. She would never know what it had been like to hang out with the Pretty Committee in the golden days, when they were all friends. Claire was a part of the new generation and had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t be as much fun.

“Alicia, do you really think Cam is a Harris wannabe?”

“No,” Alicia said. “For starters, Harris doesn’t write notes like that. That’s all Cam.” Alicia stopped her bike and held out her hand. “Let me read it again.”

Claire stopped too. She felt a sudden rush of cold prickly sweat in her armpits. “Uh, I don’t have it anymore. I lost it.”

“What do you mean?” Alicia held out her hand again.

“Well, Massie kind of got rid of it for me.” Claire regretted telling the truth as soon as she saw Alicia’s mouth fall open. “It was for my own good.”

“Did you ask her to?”

“No, but—”

“I’m sorry, but a good friend wouldn’t do that.” Alicia started pedaling.

Claire knew she was right but couldn’t imagine being on Massie’s bad side again. Nothing was worse than that … not even heartache.

When they arrived at the Fishers’ house, Claire smiled to herself. It was number 277, the same number her house was in Florida … a good sign. They even had the same American flag tacked above the doorway.

Cam’s house wasn’t like the ones in Massie’s neighborhood. The driveway wasn’t circular or a mile long. It seemed barely big enough for their black Mustang.

“Where do they put their other cars?” Alicia whispered. “Do you think there’s a big garage in the back or something?”

Claire shrugged. “Maybe they only have one car.”

“Impossible.”

They dropped their bikes on the front lawn in front of the modest white house. The gray porch that led to the door was cluttered with rakes, skateboards, and Timberland boots. Claire felt instantly comforted by the mess.

A flash of light appeared near the Mustang. Claire and Alicia jumped.

“Hello?” Alicia said, reaching for her bike.

“Yo,” said a deep voice. “Over here.”

As the girls got closer to the hood of the car, Claire thought she smelled a fire. Then she saw another flash of light. It was Harris. He was sitting on top of his car, lighting matches and tossing them on the asphalt.

“Another fun Friday night in suburbia,” he said when he saw them. “Hi, I’m Harris. You must be Claire.”

The instant she looked into his emerald green eyes, Claire felt the backs of her knees tingle. He had a model’s features and a movie star’s charm.

“Uh, yeah.” She shook his hand. It felt strong and a little calloused, like he had been lifting weights. “How did you know?”

“Cam described you perfectly.”

Claire was desperate to ask what he meant. Did Cam say she was pretty and Harris agreed and that’s how he knew who she was? Or did he say she had blond stringy bangs that sometimes split down the middle and looked like an upside-down
V?

Claire remembered Alicia’s advice and tried to act “confident.”

“Thanks.”

The squeak of the screen door distracted them from the awkward moment. Cam appeared wearing a red Volcom T-shirt, torn jeans, and white socks. He ran out onto the front porch, rubbing his bare arms and hopping up and down.

“Come inside—it’s freezing out,” he said, waving them in.

Claire walked toward him, secretly buttoning her jeans under her coat. It wasn’t until she stepped up onto the wooden porch that she realized Alicia and Harris weren’t behind her. They were still on the hood of his car.

“Forget about them,” Cam said. “They obviously enjoy freezing to death.”

But Claire couldn’t just “forget about them.” They were supposed to be her buffers. Now Claire was alone with Cam.

“So,” Cam said, waving his arm through the air. “This is my house.”

Claire stood in the dimly lit hallway and smiled gently at the pea green carpet that lined the short flight of stairs to the second floor. It felt nice to be in a home that didn’t look like a museum.