It's Not Easy Being Mean

by Lisi Harrison

  Layne slammed down her quill.

  “If we like you, we will act like it. If we don’t, we won’t.”

  “Fine.” Layne resumed writing.

  Alicia stood. “That’s our offer. Take it or leave it.”

  She sat.

  “I have one more thing,” Claire said. “No more eyebrow jokes.”

  Layne bit down on her locket.

  “You mean we can’t refer to them as the Bush twins anymore?” Massie snickered.

  “No!”

  “Hmmmm.” Massie rubbed her chin like she was mulling it over. “On one condition.” She glared at Layne. “Is the picture of Tricky still inside that locket?”

  Layne spit it out of her mouth and nodded.

  “Wipe it off and give it to me.”

  The way Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen looked at her, Massie might as well have borrowed Claire’s Keds.

  “Why do you want this?” Layne clutched the gold necklace.

  Massie wiggled her fingers. “Deal or no deal?”

  “Will you stop making fun of my clothes?” Layne asked.

  “I’ll try.”

  “No deal.” Layne popped it back in her mouth.

  “Okay, fine. Deal.”

  “And you’ll compliment me in public?” she pressed, slowly removing the heart-shaped locket from between her wet lips.

  “Fine, fine, whatevs.” Massie held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Just give it to me before your saliva burns a hole though it.”

  Carefully, Layne lifted the tarnished gold chain over her wig and slid it across the table.

  Ignoring her friends’ puzzled glares, Massie picked it up with a piece of legal paper, disenfected it with Evian, and then dropped it in her clutch. “Looks like we’re all done here.”

  “One more thing.” Alicia walked a stapled document over to Layne. “This confidentiality agreement was created by my father, Len Rivera, a lawyer.” Alicia folded her arms across her chest. “You and Claire need to sign it.”

  “What is it?”

  “It says you will never, ever, ever tell another human being, dead or alive, that you found the key before we did. This fact—which we are about to erase from the history books—should never appear in print, code, tattoos, foreign languages, or journals, or on handheld or desk-based electronic devices, billboards, or Tshirts, or engraved on jewelry or anything else we haven’t thought of.”

  Layne dipped her quill and scrawled her name at the bottom of the document.

  “Kuh-laire.” Alicia blew Layne’s signature dry. “Massie will bring this over for you to sign later this afternoon.”

  “’Kay.”

  “Great. Then are we done?” Layne unclipped her cape.

  “Not quite.”

  “Oh.” Layne untied the black bow that held the low ponytail in her wig and dangled it above Massie’s palm. A tiny key hung off the end. “Will you unlock me?” She held out her wrist, which was still handcuffed to the metal safe.

  “Given.” Massie unlocked Layne’s handcuffs and then grabbed the box that held the key to her future.

  THE BLOCK ESTATE THE GUESTHOUSE

  Saturday, April 10th

  4:26 P.M.

  “Signature, please.” Massie thrust a piece of paper and a black Montblanc fountain pen in Claire’s face the instant she opened the guesthouse door.

  “Hey!” She folded her arms across her mint green J. Crew oxford. In her denim Gap miniskirt and pineapple-covered Keds, Claire looked like a sweet suburban schoolgirl. It was her attempt to remind the lawyers she wasn’t a gorilla, even though she resembled one from the neck up.

  “Where were you?” Massie pushed past her and entered the Lyonses’ house like she owned it, which technically she did. “I’ve been calling. I thought you were supposed to be home all day planning your big Hollywood career.“ She said career like most people would say snot.

  Embarrassed by the mess of coffee mugs and stacks of crumb-filled plates the lawyers had left behind on the dining room table, Claire guided Massie toward the stairs.

  “They left an hour ago, so my mom took me to CVS. We just got back.” Claire swung the crinkly drugstore bag like a limited-edition Chanel.

  “Whatevs.” Massie shrugged. “As soon as you sign this confidentiality agreement, I’ll be out of your hair.“

  “Hey! No eyebrow jokes. You promised.”

  “Ooops, sorry.” She quickly covered her mouth. “I forgot.”

  “Well, then, I’m not signing.” Throwing the CVS bag over her shoulder, Claire turned and stomped up the creaky wood stairs. An afternoon with cutthroat Hollywood lawyers had inspired her to hold her ground and stick up for herself.

  “Okay, wait.” Massie raced toward the staircase.

  Claire stopped.

  “It’s just that—” Massie fake-sobbed. “It’s just that I’m gonna miss those jokes.” She giggled.

  “We’re done.” Claire hurried into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  The soles of Massie’s riding boots beating against the wooden stairs as she climbed to the top, sounded like a fierce game of Ping-Pong.

  “I’m sorry, okay?” she called. “Open up.”

  Claire paused and examined herself in the mirrored medicine cabinet. Coarse black hair and two wiry black strips above her eyes stared back. A mosaic of honey yellow tiles filled the background. The towels that hung on the silver rod behind her were also yellow, as was the shag bath mat and the matching toilet-seat cover. She felt like a fuzzy bumblebee in a Pine-Sol–scented hive.

  “Kuh-laire, come awn!” Massie shook the silver door handle.

  “Only if you promise not to make fun of me anymore.”

  “Done.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Pinky-swear.”

  Claire turned the lock and opened the door, just enough to sick out her pinky. Massie reached for it and shook.

  “Now sign.” Massie slapped the confidentiality agreement on the white marble countertop. Placing the pen on top of it, she pointed the gold nib to the exact spot Claire needed to sign.

  “I’ll need a minute to vet this.” Claire used her lawyer’s word for examine like it was a term they tossed around on IM twenty times a day.

  “Given.”

  Massie sat on the toilet-seat cover. She unbuttoned her burgundy blazer and pulled a platinum chain out of her barely there cleavage, giving way to a clumpy awkward necklace. A cluster of pastel-colored enamel handbags hung alongside a red leather tag, stamped with the boxy Coach logo. It was exactly what Skye had asked for in her video, right down to the dangling gold key. “Next year is going to be so ah-mazing. This room is gonna mean automatic A-list in high school.”

  Claire ignored her attempts to provoke jealousy, pretending to vet the agreement.

  “Remember that tunnel you were talking about?”

  Claire kept moving her eyes across the words (twelve-point Courier, bold, and all caps), with grave intensity, the way her lawyer had done with her studio contract. “Well, we’re already working on plans to build it, you know, so Cam can sneak in during lunch.”

  “Mmmm.” Claire flipped the page.

  “It’s too bad you won’t be here.” Massie stood. “We have tons of plans. We were gonna get a gummy bear dispenser. But now that you’re leaving, there’s kinda no point.”

  Claire tried to steady the corners of her mouth. It was obvious Massie was upset she was leaving. And it was making her smile.

  “Looks good to me.” She scribbled her name under Layne’s and snapped the black cap back on the weighty pen. “Congratulations. It sounds like the room is gonna be cool.” She reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a box of Revlon’s Frost & Glow blonding kit.

  “Cool?” Massie looked her in the eye for the first time since the eyebrow extensions.

  “Yeah.” Claire tore open the package and snapped on the protective gloves. “It sounds like you’ll have a fun year.”

  “Doesn’t t
hat bum you out at all?”

  “No.” She mixed the blonding powder with the blonding cream. “Why should it?”

  “’Cause you’re not going to be part of it.”

  Claire tied a yellow towel around her shoulders like a cape. “Send pictures.” She painted a thick band of white paste over her scalp.

  Massie’s glossy mouth hung open. “That’s it? Send pictures? That’s all you have to say?” She shut her eyes for a split second and gently shook her head no in a this-can’t-be-happening sort of way. “What about Cam?”

  “What about him?” Twisting and contorting, Claire struggled to reach the back of her head. A glob of dye landed between her collarbones, missing her hair entirely.

  “Doesn’t he want you to stay?” Massie grabbed the dye brush from Claire’s hands and dipped it in the mix.

  “Yeah.” Claire turned, surrendering to Massie. “But he’s the only one.” She pulled off the gloves and handed them over.

  “You mean if other people wanted you to stay, you would?” Massie gathered a handful of black hair and covered it with dye. Then, she massaged it into the hair, making sure the color was evenly distributed.

  “I dunno.” Claire bit her lower lip. “Maybe.”

  “I bet your family’ll miss you.”

  “Why? They’d go with me.”

  “Oh.” Massie massaged harder. “Well, what about Layne?”

  “She’ll visit.” Claire pulled a pair of little silver scissors from her bag and ripped off the cardboard wrapper.

  “What about Kristen and Alicia and Dylan? I heard them say they want you to stay.” Massie snapped a shower cap on Claire’s head.

  “Yeah, right.” Claire leaned in toward the mirror. “When you kicked me out of the Pretty Committee, they didn’t care one bit.” Raising the silver scissors, she snipped the thin black thread that had been woven into her brows. A flurry of coarse black hair fell past her blond lashes. Then—snip, snip, snip—more hair dusted the rim of the white porcelain sink.

  Fussing with the tangle of handbag charms around her neck, Massie murmured, “Well, I’d prob’ly miss you.”

  “What’d you say?” Claire asked, desperate to hear Massie’s confession a second time, to make sure it was real.

  “I said”—she rolled her eyes—”I’d pro-ba-bly miss you.”

  Even though Claire’s paste-covered hair was stuffed in a shower cap and her left eyebrow was blond while the other was black and bushy, she felt more confident than she had in her entire life.

  “That’s what I thought you said.”

  “So does this mean you’ll stay?”

  There was a loud pounding on the door.

  “Open up. It’s an emergency!”

  “Use the one downstairs, Todd!”

  The girls covered their mouths and giggled.

  “No!” He jiggled the handle. “I need to talk to you. It’s about the lawyers.”

  “What?”

  “Open!”

  Claire rolled her eyes and cracked open the door. “Speak.”

  Todd burst in.

  “What are you wearing?” Massie pinched the lapel of his white linen sport coat and rubbed it between her fingers. “You know it’s only April, right?”

  “So?” Todd smoothed a hand over the side part in his orange hair.

  “So? That’s a summer suit.” Massie snickered. “And what’s with the three-quarter sleeves?”

  “It’s vintage.”

  “What do you want?” Claire barked, resenting her younger brother for interrupting their most heartfelt moment ever.

  “I want to talk to the lawyers.”

  “’Bout what?”

  “Emancipating me from Mom and Dad.”

  “Why?” the girls asked at the exact same time.

  “Because I’ve been grounded for thirty-three days and it’s totally unfair.”

  “No, it’s not.” Claire pushed her brother toward the open door. “You skipped school, hid in the back of the Range Rover, and stowed away on our trip to The Daily Grind. It’s totally fair.”

  “I have a case. I want to divorce Mom and Dad and live on my own.”

  “Well, you’ll have to find another lawyer.”

  “And another suit,” Massie added.

  “Why?” Todd stomped his forest green Converse high-tops.

  “Because I told the lawyers to leave.” Claire looked at Massie. “For good.”

  “Huh?” Massie asked Claire’s blond eyebrows, as if noticing them for the first time.

  “I quit the movie.”

  “What?” Todd and Massie yelled in unison.

  “I told them I wanted to stay.” Claire’s heart pounded, just like it had in Lake Placid right before she kissed Cam for the first time. “In Westchester. At OCD. With you guys. And Cam. I’m tired of missing out on everything. And I’m over looking like a Brillo pad.”

  “Yes!“ Massie air-clapped and bounced on her toes.

  “You turned down a major motion picture?” Todd slapped his hand against his forehead. “Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe.” Claire smiled peacefully.

  “I definitely want out of this family!” Todd stormed into the hallway, slamming the door behind him.

  Massie checked her silver Coach Whitney watch and then, without a word, removed the cap from Claire’s head. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to stay?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to miss me?”

  “Point.” Massie lifted her finger in the air, Alicia style.

  Claire giggled and pulled Massie in for a hug.

  The instant Massie hugged back, Claire knew she’d made the right decision. The Pretty Committee was going to dominate the eighth grade. And what could possibly be more fun than that?

  THE SOCCER STADIUM SIRENS VS. MEERKATS

  Sunday, April 11th

  2:19 P.M.

  Cam leaned forward in his seat, raised his A&W root beer, and rested a warm hand on his girlfriend’s shoulder. “To blond Claire and the end of her movie career.”

  “For now,” she giggle-warned.

  Alicia, Dylan, Derrington, and Josh clinked waxy paper cups. “To blond Claire.”

  While everyone toasted the good news, Massie lowered her black Stella McCartney sunglasses and raised the rim on her olive green army cap.

  Skye was one section over, to their right, surrounded by the DSL Daters. All five girls wore identical gray stretch pants, black ballet slippers, and different-colored slouchy knit sweaters. Gold bangles, braided macramé bracelets, leather bands, and platinum link chains lined their arms like mismatched sleeves. Rumor had it they added a new bracelet every time one of them kissed a boy. Judging from the swarm of cute high school guys buzzing around them, a visit to Tiffany was minutes away.

  “I’m going to the bathroom.” Massie stood.

  “Again?” Derrington asked from the row of bleachers behind her. “You’ve gone like ten times in the last hour. Besides, I have something to show you.” He pulled a tiny silver camera from the pocket of his A&F camo shorts.

  “Can it wait?” Massie pushed her glasses back up, shielding her eyes from the blazing sun. Even if she hadn’t been repulsed by Derrington’s bedroom—which she so had—she would have hit pause on his little show-and-tell. She had more important things to deal with.

  Claire, who was sitting in the boys’ row sharing a bag of peanuts with Cam, leaned forward and whispered in Massie’s ear. “You’ve been walking by her all afternoon flashing that key. She hasn’t said a word.”

  Massie sighed. Claire was right. Skye was ignoring her. What if she knew Layne found the key first? Or what if she was holding a grudge because Massie had approached her? The cold-shoulder thing was giving her serious chills. It was time to put her secret plan into effect and pray that it didn’t backfire.

  “Block.” Derrington kicked her bleacher. “Check this out.” He thrust the camera in her face but Massie waved it away. “I have to go.”

&nbs
p; She scurried past her friends’ denim-clad legs and raced up to the LBR Jr. section, five rows behind her.

  “Todd, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  The ten-year-old was sandwiched between Tiny Nathan and some kid wearing a floppy red-and-white-striped Cat in the Hat hat.

  “It’s important.”

  His friends teased him with a chorus of woo-hooos, awwwyeahhhs, and kissy sounds.

  Massie folded her arms across her chest and tapped her black suede Miu Miu clogs, letting him know this was serious business.

  “I need a favor.” She dragged him to the very top row.

  Todd puckered his lips.

  “Ew, nawt that.” She smacked his light blue Orlando Magic cap. “This.”

  Massie handed him an ahdorable pink vellum envelope. Inside was Layne’s gold locket, complete with the picture of Tricky and a note that said:

  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.

  “Go give this to Skye and I guarantee she’ll give you another kiss. Only this time it will be in front of everyone.”

  “Really?” Todd’s face lit up.

  “Yup.” Massie grabbed his scrawny shoulders and glared into his dark eyes. “But you can’t tell her it came from me. If she asks where you got it, tell her some high school guy paid you to deliver it.”

  “And she’ll kiss me?”

  Massie nodded. “Vigorously.”

  “In front of everyone?”

  “Yup, now go!” She practically kicked him down the bleachers.

  “Watch this!” he shouted to his friends when he passed.

  Casually, Massie returned to her seat.

  “What’s he doing there?” Claire gasped, noticing her brother tapping Skye’s shoulder, trying to distract her from a shaggy blond clutching a gray skateboard.

  “That kid is my hero,” Josh snickered.

  Alicia rolled her eyes.

  The Pretty Committee stood, mouths agape, as Skye broke away from the skater, took the envelope from Todd, and read the note. Seconds later, she handed the package to the DSL Daters, who fanned their faces and squealed like they were holding an invitation to Zac Efron’s birthday party. As promised, Skye threw her decorated arms around the redhead and gave him a juicy kiss on the lips. Todd turned to his friends and threw his fists in the air.