Sealed with a Diss (5 page)

“Point.” Alicia lifted her finger in the air.

“Hurry, pick someone.”

“But it’s so hard to decide,” Dylan whisper-whined. “We don’t even know half of these guys. What if we pick Blisters by mistake?”

“Kristen, go ask Griffin,” Massie pressed.

“He’s a rocker. What if he hates blondes?”

“No one hates blondes,” Massie snapped.

“Well, what if he hates soccer?”

“Or scholarships,” Dylan added.

“Thanks.” Kristen sneered.

A pack of St. Catherine’s girls wearing blue-and-white kilts and birthday hats sat at the table behind them. Two mothers stood impatiently while Kristen’s crush scrambled to wipe down their table. The girls, on the other hand, were so giddy and happy that Claire wanted to chuck the silver napkin dispenser at their heads.

“If only we could get into the room and hear—” Alicia stopped talking when Massie kicked her shin.

“Shhhh. No one is allowed to know.”

“You’re so lucky you have Cam.” Dylan sighed.

“Yeah, real lucky.” Claire sighed back, then lowered her head onto the sticky tabletop.

Claire desperately wanted to tell them about Nikki, but she knew she would have to wait. The day’s mission was to
find
boyfriends, not lose them.

One of the coaches signed the check and the boys reached for their jackets.

Cam finally caught Claire’s eye long enough to motion for her to come over.

She did. And he pulled her back onto his lap. Only sitting with Cam was different this time, like this new lack of trust between them had created an invisible barrier that kept their bodies from melting together like they had before. Claire no longer felt like she was sinking into a warm beanbag. It was more like sitting on a cold brick. She couldn’t help wondering if Cam felt it too, because his arms weren’t resting on her lower back like they had been before. In fact, they weren’t touching her at all.

“Do you want your present now?” he asked softly.

“You
really
have a present for me?”

He unzipped the outside pocket of his JanSport and pulled out a clear baggie filled with red cinnamon hearts. He swung them in front of her dark blue eyes like a hypnotist’s watch. “Of course. That’s why I didn’t want you to snoop.”

“So that’s the real reason? The hearts?”

“Yup.” Cam dug through the plastic bag, avoiding her eyes. He pulled out a small handful and dropped them into her open mouth.

Claire closed her eyes, fighting the fiery sting of cinnamon. Then she bit down.

They were stale and hard to swallow.

Just like Cam’s excuse.

T
HE
B
LOCK
E
STATE
F
RONT
F
OYER

Saturday, April 17th

12:59
P.M.

Hooking a freshly manicured finger around the sage Dupioni silk curtains in the front foyer of the Block estate, Massie peered outside. A mild mix of sun and clouds had inspired her to wear her gold-and-silver-striped V-neck Ella Moss dress (to blend with the gray and yellow tones in the sky) over black leggings and metallic-silver ballet flats. Nature was her only style guide that morning, because she had zero clue where she was being taken—or why.

Would Skye really be there in eight seconds, or was the pizza message another one of the DSL Daters’ jokes?

But at exactly 1 p.m., the familiar sounds of tires crunched over the Blocks’ circular gravel driveway.

Massie released the curtains and ducked.

Now what? Race outside to show Skye she, too, was punctual? Or hang back and wait for the doorbell to ring? Luckily, two short blasts of a car horn made the decision for her.

“’Bye, Mom,” Massie called as she hurried to the tall double doors.

“When will you be back?” Kendra Block’s smooth, post-yoga voice oozed from the tiny white intercom in the corner of the ceiling.

“Before dark,” Massie guessed, hoping she was right.

“Who are you going out with?”

“Skye Hamilton.” Massie checked her reflection in the brass door handle. Thankfully, her new Bumble and Bumble hairspray was hard at work, holding her long, side-swept bangs in place over her left eye. “You don’t know her—she’s in the eighth grade.”

“Daisy Hamilton’s daughter?”

“Um, yeah?” Massie turned the knob and stepped outside before her mother could ask any more questions she didn’t know the answers to. “I’m on my cell if you need me. ’Byeeeeee.”

“Are you wearing a coat?”

Massie quickly slammed the door behind her.

A pine-green Toyota Prius was waiting with the engine running and the stereo blasting Jack Johnson’s “Upside Down.” Skye waved from the passenger seat, flashing a wide, toothy BFF smile, even though this was the first time they’d ever hung out on a weekend.

Massie opened the door and slid in beside a pink child’s seat littered with graham cracker crumbs. A nauseating tangy citrus smell wafted off the orange cardboard happy face dangling from the rearview mirror. Was it too late to suggest they take the Range Rover?

“Welcome,” cooed the laid-back high school guy behind the wheel. “My Christian name is Jarrett, but my friends call me Leaf.” He swiped his shoulder-length butterscotch-colored hair to the left side of his neck. His round, yellow-lensed sunglasses and tweed blazer were a little too wannabe-sensitive-poet for Massie’s taste, and she couldn’t help thinking how cute he would look after a Josh Hartnett cut and a trip to Hollister.

“Leaf and I met at a dance-a-thon last Christmas,” Skye offered. “He was dancing to raise money for poor parents who couldn’t afford to buy Christmas presents, and I was dancing to burn calories before a big jazz showcase I had the next morning. We bonded over Ciara.”

Leaf chuckled at the memory.

“Nice to meet you,” Massie responded, feeling a little jumpy, like one of those characters in mob movies who are ordered into the back of a Lincoln Town Car and forced to make small talk while being driven to the waterfront, where they inevitably get shot.

“So.” Her voice quaked. “What’s the plan?”

Skye nodded at Leaf, who then screeched out of the driveway. “You’lllll seeeee,” she cooed in a playful singsong voice.

Massie leaned forward, hoping a glimpse at Skye’s outfit might tip her off as to their destination. As usual, Skye was dressed in something from her parents’ upscale dancewear boutique. This time it was a tight light pink three-quarter-sleeve ballet crop top. Khaki jodhpurs and black riding boots put an unexpected jockey-chic spin on the outfit, heightening Massie’s curiosity about their afternoon plans even more.

“Can you believe we only have, like, three weeks left of school?” Skye asked her reflection in the side mirror as she straightened her double-wire headband and tightened her butter-blond chignon.

“You private school girls have it made.” Leaf slapped the steering wheel like it wasn’t fair. “You get, like, four months off. I swear, the more money you pay for school, the less you have to go.”

“We’re supposed to use that time to educate ourselves in the real world,” Skye said with a smile, like she knew what a joke that was.

“And how are you educating yourself?” Leaf took off his glasses and glared at her, full of mock doubt.

“I’m taking extra ballet classes in May and then going to South Beach with Isabella’s family for a month. Then when I get back it’s straight to NYC to register for dance school.”

“Very educational.” Leaf slid his round glasses back on. “And you, Massie?” he asked her reflection in the rearview mirror.

“Hanging by my pool with the Pretty Committee. Then in June I go to riding camp at Galwaugh Farms.” Massie purposely sounded blasé to let Skye know that her long-standing membership at the exclusive stables was no big deal, even though it so was.

She waited for a reaction. Something like, “Ehmagawd, you have to be such a good rider to get into that camp.” Or “I heard they only let billionaires join.” But unfortunately, Skye didn’t have a single envious word to say, which made Massie love/hate her even more.

“What about you?” Massie politely asked Leaf, as they turned down Shadow Lane, the winding tree-lined road that led to Galwaugh Farms. She really didn’t care what Leaf was doing this summer. It was more about showing Skye she wasn’t afraid to talk to older guys.

“I’m going to Peru to build a health clinic out of mud, straw, and pebbles.”

Massie burst out laughing, grateful for Leaf’s dark sense of humor. His joke eased her rattled nerves.

“What’s so funny?” He turned toward the backseat.

Massie’s cheeks burned. Before she could come up with a decent reason for laughing at his earnest charity work, Skye interjected.

“See?” She mussed his long, butterscotch-colored hair. “I’m not the only one who thinks building a health clinic will take more than
one
summer.”

Massie leaned her forehead against the window, using the chilly glass to cool her flaming cheeks. Was there something wrong with her for thinking Leaf’s summer plan—building clinics out of mud, straw, and pebbles—was a
joke
? Skye ah-bviously though it was cool. Why didn’t
she
? Massie was overcome with a sudden longing for the Pretty Committee, because they would have found it hard to believe too. She shut her eyes and waited for the loneliness to pass.

When she opened them, they were rolling under the log archway to Galwaugh Farms. The Prius stopped at the log security hut.

“Member number.” The guard leaned inside the driver’sside window.

Leaf and Skye turned to face Massie. She blushed again.

“Member number?” Skye insisted.

Massie scooted forward and waved. “Hi, Pat.”

“Oh, hi, Miss Block.” His wrinkled face wrinkled more when he smiled. “Didn’t see you back there. Go ’head.” He waved them through.

Massie breathed in the familiar smell of horse poo and hay. Was Skye using her to get into the exclusive riding club? It was hard to know for sure, because Massie had never been
used
before. What were the signs? And if this whole “U-thing”really was happening, maybe it would be possible to use Skye back. She ah-bviously wanted something Massie had. And Skye had plenty of things Massie wanted. The situation had definite potential.

“So, what are we doing here?”

“You’llll seeeee,” Skye singsonged again.

Leaf parked in the dusty lot and turned off the engine.

“Thanks.” Skye handed him a Hershey’s Kiss, her signature way of thanking high school boys for rides. “We should be done here in an hour.”

“Take your time.” Leaf pulled out a black sketchbook and a stick of charcoal from his wheat-colored hemp messenger bag.

“So where’s your horse?” Skye asked, once the two of them were away from the car.

“Stable B. Why?”

Skye consulted her pink pigskin Coach watch. “Can we be there in three minutes?”

Massie nodded, suddenly overwhelmed by guilt. It was the first time she had ever set foot on the farm without bringing star-shaped carrots for Brownie.

“Why are we here?” she tried again.

“You’lllll seeeee.”

Something inside Massie suddenly snapped. If she didn’t muster up some self-respect soon, it would be all over school Monday that she’d let Skye drag her around like a cheap Samsonite.

“Tell me or we’re not going.” She dug her metallic ballet flats into the dirt. So what if Skye was the eighth-grade alpha at OCD? They weren’t at OCD; they were at Galwaugh. And here,
she
was the alpha.

Skye checked her watch again. “Fine, but let’s walk.”

“Fine.” Massie smoothed her silver-and-gold dress, then led the way down the stone walkway toward the stables. “Now
tell
me.”

Skye pulled a gold heart-shaped locket out from her modest cleavage. “I got this from Chris Abeley almost a week ago.” She paused, obviously waiting for a reaction. “And I haven’t heard from him since.”

But Massie gave her nothing. Her mouth was too dry to speak. If Skye found out the necklace had not been a love gift from Chris Abeley but, instead a cheap trinket that had once belonged to his LBR sister, Layne, she’d kick Massie back to the first grade.

Skye tugged the chain. “It came with a note.”

“Really? A note?” Massie did her best to sound surprised, even though she knew exactly what it said. After all, she’d written it herself as part of her desperate scheme to win Skye’s key competition.

“Yeah.” She pulled a worn piece of paper out of the thin back pocket of her khaki jodhpurs and unfolded it. She looked over her shoulder, then leaned in toward Massie and read it aloud.

Skye,

Here is the pony you asked for. One day I hope I can get you the real thing.

Happy graduation,

xo Chris Abeley

PS—Please don’t thank me. Ever! I really mean it! Please don’t! I’m very, very shy.

“Pony?” Massie asked, purposely sounding dumb to keep her cover. “I thought he got you a necklace.”

Skye grabbed her wrist and pulled Massie behind a thick oak tree, as if they were being watched. She cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered, “Remember when you came to my house during the key competition?”

Massie bit her tongue, afraid that even the slightest sound might give her away.

“And remember how I thought you were there to find out where I’d hidden the key, but you said you were there because Chris sent you over to find out what I wanted for graduation?”

Massie nodded. Her armpits flooded with sweat as she remembered using that pathetic excuse. It was still hard to believe Skye bought it. Or had she?

“I said I wanted a pony, remember?”

Massie nodded again. The faint smell of her baby-powder-scented Secret deodorant quickly came and went.

“And you must have told him that, right?” Skye asked, her blue eyes wide.

“Um, yup,” Massie answered.

“Well, you know how shy he is, right?”

Massie nodded in agreement.

“So there I was at a soccer game, when some fifth-grader taps me on the shoulder and gives me
this
—”

While Skye struggled to open the clasp on the locket, Massie smiled at the memory of asking Todd Lyons, Claire’s little brother, to deliver the necklace and making him promise to say it was from Chris. Her plan had been so elaborate it was hard to believe it had actually worked. Unless, of course, Skye knew she had been tricked and had brought her to the woods to—