“Everyone will be trying to act all cool to impress the boys, and no one will be themselves,” Layne said.
“I think guys will make the party better,” Claire said. “My old school was coed and everything seemed much easier than it does at OCD. For one thing, boys don't fight half as much as girls and they have other things to talk about besides clothes.”
“I think this party is an excuse for Massie and her friends to show off. How much do you wanna bet they'll dress up as cats or Playboy bunnies or French maids just so they can look hot?”
Claire turned her entire body to face Layne's. “Have you ever gone to school with boys?” she asked.
Layne leaned over the driver's seat and rested her chin on her mother's arm.
“Mom, did my nursery school have boys?”
“Yes,” her mother answered. “Now get your head off me before I get into an accident.”
Layne sighed and flopped back in her seat.
“See,” Claire said. “You have no experience. That's why you're scared.”
“What experience do you have?” Layne whispered. “Have you ever gone on a date?”
“Who needs a date?” Claire whispered back. “Recess three times a day with boys can teach a girl a lot.”
Finally Claire could say she had done something no one else at OCD had, even if it was just playing tag with boys during recess and getting her hair pulled in class. She intended on milking her so-called experience as much as she could.
Mrs. Abeley pulled the car into the circular driveway of the Block estate.
“Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Abeley.” Claire winked at Layne before she stepped out of the Lexus. “I'll call you later,” she whispered.
Claire made extra sure to close the door gently behind her. One of the many lessons she had learned from Westchester's elite was never to slam a car door. Apparently it was a heinous crime, as heartless as kicking a puppy.
Judi Lyons drove up right behind her. She rolled down her window and lowered the volume on the car stereo that had been blasting Kelly Clarkson.
“Claire, will you help me unload the groceries?”
Claire watched the Abeleys' luxury car round the circular driveway and glide away from the Block estate. She turned back to her mother.
“When are you and Dad going to get a real car?” Claire asked. “Aren't you tired of driving around in this ugly Ford Taurus rental?”
“Since when have you started paying attention to cars?” Judi looked at her daughter with a trace of suspicion in her eyes. She handed Claire two bags of groceries.
“I'm curious, that's all. I think you and Dad deserve something better.”
Claire stopped walking and lowered the heavy bags onto the driveway. She readjusted her grip and lifted them again.
“Better than a Taurus?” Judi said. “Why waste the money? This car is perfect for us. Anyway, I thought you loved it.”
“I did,” Claire said. “I just think it's time for a change.”
“Well, when you can afford something better, let me know,” Judi said.
Claire was too ashamed to answer and wished she had never brought it up.
They carried the bags into the kitchen and set them down on the white Formica breakfast table.
“Thanks for your help. I'll unpack them,” Judi said. “Don't you have a party planning meeting?”
“Yeah, it's at four o'clock,” Claire said. “I still have fifteen minutes.”
After inhaling two bowls of Cap'n Crunch, Claire headed over to the main house. According to her pink Baby G-Shock, she was five minutes early. She rang the doorbell three times, hoping to get a few minutes of costume talk with Massie before Landon arrived.
“Claire, I'm glad you finally made it,” Kendra said while she took Claire's coat. “Massie and Landon are waiting for you in the sunroom.”
The hallway was warm and toasty compared to the crisp October air, and Claire felt her cheeks tingling as they thawed. A Thanksgiving smell filled the house. This was thanks to Inez, who was in the kitchen preparing dinner—crispy chicken, twice-baked potatoes, pecan pie, and frozen yogurt for Massie. Claire slipped off her sneakers and made her way to the “greenhouse.” Three walls were made of glass and faced the backyard. But instead of plants and flowers, it was filled with a pool table and a stocked bar.
“Massie, are you familiar with the word jux-ta-po-si-tion?”
Claire heard a woman ask. The stranger pronounced every letter and every syllable she spoke, like she sharpened her words with knives before she used them. “Because that's what I'm going for here. The instant you place two opposites beside each other, or jux-ta-pose them, you get magic. This is why I think the theme of your party should be—”
Her sentence came to a screeching halt when Claire entered the room.
“Oh, you started already?” Claire asked. “It's just four o'clock now.”
“Speaking of opposites,” Landon hissed. She lifted her thick black-rimmed glasses and examined Claire's outfit.
“I said three forty-five,” Massie said. “But it's no big deal. I already filled her in.”
Claire sighed. She reached into the back pocket of her old khakis. She never would have worn such snug pants if it wasn't for her bet with Massie. Every time she pulled down her pants to pee, she noticed the imprint of the waistband on her stomach. Of course Massie's outfit was perfect—black tights, pleated denim mini, and a fluffy cashmere cowl-neck.
Twenty-nine days to go.
“It says four o'clock on this note you left for me last night.” Claire pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it out in front of her.
Massie shrugged.
“Wipe that befuddled look off your puss,” Landon said. “And come join us. You're already late enough as it is.” She patted the empty bar stool beside her.
Claire sat down. Landon smoothed her manicured hand over the top of her head, making sure the interruption hadn't caused any hairs to pop out of her tight chignon. “As I was saying, the perfect theme for your event is When Hell Freezes Over.” She clapped and held her hands in a prayer position, waiting for the girls' reactions. She got nothing but blank stares.
“You know, like fire and ice. Together,” Landon said.
“I love it,” Massie said. “Can we build a skating rink?”
“We can do anything you want.” Landon drew her stylus like a sword and started tapping the screen of her PalmPilot while she rattled off some last-minute thoughts.
“I'll need fifteen podiums, twenty severed heads, seven waitresses dressed like Satan, mannequins … preferably foam, a DJ, and at least five pitchforks for every bonfire pit, which I will call … hmmm, what will I call them?”
Landon tapped the stylus against her chin while she thought. “I know … The Pits of Despair. Too genius!” She looked up and noticed the girls staring at her.
“Well,” she continued as she powered down her organizer. “I can probably finish up at my office.”
Claire breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oops, one more thing.” Landon pulled a box out of her bag. “I brought invitations for you. If you don't like the scaredy cats, I have ghosts in the car.”
“It's okay, the cats are good.” Massie reached for the box. “Ghosts are so sixth grade.”
“Agreed,” Landon said.
“Will there be candy?” Claire asked. She didn't care about waitresses or podiums or scaredy cats. The only things she wanted at this party were boys and treats.
“Excuse me?” Landon turned her head slowly to face Claire.
“I was just wondering if there was going to be can-dee?” Claire asked.
“Ignore her,” Massie instructed Landon. “It's her first event.”
Landon pulled a shiny gold business card out of a case and handed it to Claire.
“What does it say under the name Landon Dorsey?” she asked.
Claire looked at Massie. Massie shrugged.
Claire looked at the business card.
<
br /> “It says ‘professional party planner.’”
“Right,” Landon said. Her eyes were closed. “Which means there will be enough candy to keep you puking until I'm back to plan your sweet sixteen.”
And with that Landon gathered her things and tossed her lipstick-covered Starbucks cup in the trash.
“Get started on those invites,” she called over her shoulder. “I want them in the mail tomorrow morning. The party is a week away.”
“'Kay,” they both shouted back.
“Terminator,” Claire said under her breath. “I can't believe you like her. I was waiting for her to take her face off and show us her wires and dangling eyeballs.”
“She'z ah prafeshhhanal pahtee planna,” Massie said, doing her best Arnold impersonation.
Claire was shocked. She'd expected Massie to rush to Landon's defense.
“She'll be beck when we-ya zixteen,” Claire joined in.
Both girls busted out laughing.
“She's a total freak, but she's good,” Massie said. “You just have to trust her and not ask stupid questions like if there will be candy at a Halloween party.”
Claire let out a heavy sigh. Her moment of fun with Massie was over.
“Here's a list of all of the seventh-grade OCD girls and the Briarwood boys.” Massie opened her lavender Clairefontaine notebook and placed it on the bar so Claire could see it. The she reached into her black messenger bag and pulled out a bottle of purple nail polish. “I'll write out the invites for the boys since none of them know you yet, and I'll also cover everyone I mark with a purple dot. You can do everyone else. 'Kay?”
Claire noticed her list was made up of all the girls Massie had once referred to as the LBR (Losers Beyond Repair).
“Who's this?” Claire asked, pointing to the purple question mark Massie had painted beside one of the names.
“Olivia Ryan,” Massie said. “She's a total airhead. No one's seen her since school started. Knowing her, she probably forgets where it is.” Massie tapped the bottle of nail polish against her bottom teeth. “She'll go on my list.”
Massie dabbed a drop of purple over the question mark beside Olivia's name and replaced it with a check. “Oh, and remember,” she said. “Put Claire Lyons and your phone number where it says RSVP so the people you're inviting know to call you and not me.”
Later that night, Claire did exactly what she was told. Only she decided to spell her name M-a-s-s-i-e B-l-o-c-k and include a certain someone's cell phone number with special instructions to “call anytime day or night.”
Claire knew Massie would probably force her to eat lunch in the musty janitor's closet for a month when she found out. But it was worth it. She was tired of being treated like a loser.
“If you can't join 'em, beat 'em.” Claire licked her last envelope and sealed it shut.
THE BLOCK ESTATE
MASSIE'S BEDROOM
11:45 AM
October 25th
Massie stood in front of her full-length mirror and tilted her head to the right. She always did this when she tried on a new outfit. The off-center angle helped her see what she looked like through someone else's eyes. It was the closest thing she had to a second opinion.
“Ugh, I can't wear this either,” Massie said to Bean, who was curled up in a tiny ball on a hill of sweaters. She pulled a red V-neck over her head and tossed it on the bed with the rest of her rejects. Normally, the fluffy purple duvet was the only burst of color in Massie's all-white room. But today clothes in every color were in plain view. Massie put her hands on her hips and evaluated the mess.
“It looks like my closets all barfed at the same time. This bet is a nightmare.”
Bean opened her eyes and stretched.
“Bean, everything in my closet feels stale. If my jeans don't get a few new shirts to play with, they're going to die of boredom.”
The dog licked her paws.
“How am I supposed to go to the mall today and not buy a single thing?”
Bean barked once.
“Nice try, Bean, but Halloween costumes don't count,” Massie said. “I'm talking about something new and cute and envy-worthy. I don't want anyone to think I'm slipping ever again.”
“Honey, we're leaving in three minutes,” Kendra's voice announced over the intercom.
“'Kay, Mom, I'll be right down.” Massie spoke into the box on her night table.
But she was still in her underwear.
Massie peeked out of her bedroom window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Claire struggling to find something non-repetitive to wear. But her lights were off. She was probably already waiting downstairs.
UGH!
Massie's phone rang three times before she found it underneath a crumpled blazer.
“Hey, Kristen, what's up?”
“Nuthin'.” Kristen sounded bummed.
“What's wrong?” Massie held a gray DKNY T-shirt up to her face, then tossed it over her shoulder.
“I can't believe you're not coming shopping with us,” Kristen said. “This is the last Saturday before Halloween, and if we all want to wear the same costumes—”
“Do you honestly think I want to go with Claire?” Massie asked. “Or that I would ever pick her over you guys? Puh-lease! Have we met? I'm making this sacrifice for the greater good of the party and you know it.”
“Sorry. It's just that I'm kind of bummed about Dylan liking Derrington, and Alicia is obviously taking her side because she says Dylan was talking about her crush way before I was, but that's only because I told you and not Alicia.”
While Kristen talked, Massie tried to think of a way to be seen with her friends. What if they bumped into Becca or Liz? It wouldn't look good if she wasn't there.
“Hey, don't you guys have plans to go to the mall today?” Massie asked.
“No. We're going to—”
“Kristen, don't you guys have plans to go to the mall today?” Massie's words were razor sharp.
“Oh yeah, right,” Kristen said. “We've been planning it for days.”
“But remember, you have to act like it was a total accident,” Massie said. “My mom thinks Claire and I are quote friends end quote. If she thinks I had anything to do with this, the party will be off.”
“No problem. Acting is my specialty. My mom still thinks I wear old-lady cardigans and baggy slacks to school every day, doesn't she? We'll call you when we get there.”
The girls hung up and Massie turned to face her closet one last time.
She decided the only way to survive the bet was to treat her old clothes in new ways. This way her mind would be tricked into thinking that she had gone shopping. She threaded one of her father's Armani ties (left over from her short-lived Avril phase) through the loops of her Sevens so it would swing across the outside of her leg when she walked. Then she slid a white Brooks Brothers shirt (mostly for sleeping) over her tank top. She left every button open except the bottom two. Once the sleeves were rolled up and her charm bracelet was fastened, she was ready.
“Boarding school chic,” she said to Bean.
“We're leaving,” Kendra said through the intercom.
Massie walked downstairs and greeted the mothers, Claire, and Todd with a smile. She was pleased to see Claire standing uncomfortably in an ultra-tight mustard yellow T-shirt that barely covered her midriff.
“How does it feel to have your sister borrow your clothes?” Massie asked Todd.
He was standing by the front door, eating a banana.
“Ha! I knew she would notice,” Todd said to Claire with a cocky grin.
His voice was thick and garbled because he spoke with his mouth full. The gooey sound made Massie's stomach turn.
Claire scowled at her brother.
“It's laundry day, that's all,” she said to Massie. “Besides, we never said anything about borrowing.”
“Go for it. Seeing you in Todd's clothes is almost better than imagining you in my old snowsuit.” Massie twisted the dangling tie aro
und her wrist as she spoke.
“Don't get used to it,” Claire said. “My mom told me I could buy a few new things at the mall today.”
Massie couldn't believe how cruel life could be. The corners of her mouth felt like they were carving their way through drying cement as she forced a that's-so-great-I couldn't-be-happier-for-you-if-I-tried smile across her face.
“So you've been keeping track of my ensembles, have you?” Todd whispered all over the back of Massie's neck. “Did you happen to notice the new gray Dockers I got last week?”
His hot breath smelled like banana.
“Did you happen to notice my two-inch Choos?”
She lowered the heel of her boot on Todd's foot. He let out a soft yelp and limped over to his mother's side.
“Love hurts,” Massie said.
THE WESTCHESTER MALL
LEVEL I
12:51 PM
October 25th
Claire and Todd ran through the automatic doors of The Westchester like they had just been dropped at Six Flags.
“Think they have a Dairy Queen here?” Todd shouted to Claire. He was trailing behind because of his recent foot injury.
“Every mall has a Dairy Queen,” Claire yelled over her shoulder. “Massie, wanna come find the gummy store with me?”
“I'd rather not waste my calories,” Massie said while checking her cell phone for messages.
Claire immediately thought of her friends back home. They all loved candy. They bought it together, shared it, and kept emergency supplies stashed away in their closets. The girls in Westchester acted the exact same way. Only to them “candy” equaled shoes and handbags, not sours.
Claire put her hand in the back pocket of her black satin dress pants (ugh, this stupid bet!) and ran her fingertips along the three dollar bills her father gave her before she left the house. She vowed to wean herself off sugar after this final indulgence. The Briarwood boys might think it was immature. Massie definitely did.
“Remember,” Kendra announced. “We're meeting in front of Nordstrom's in ten minutes.”
Sunshine poured through the skylights, filling the mall with warm light. The Westchester looked nothing like the concrete barns Claire and her friends shopped at in Florida. It didn't even have a Spencer Gifts or a Strawberry. Instead shoppers wove in and out of Louis Vuitton, Sephora, and Versace Jeans Couture. They wore big movie-star sunglasses and high heels that clicked and clacked on the shiny marble floors with every step they took.
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