“Isn’t danke German?” Kristen giggled.
“Oh, whatevs,” Massie shrugged. “They dan-kare.” She padded over to Dylan’s pile of bags and pulled out a baby blue cashmere hat with earflaps and tassels. It looked like something Kuh-laire would wear. With a wince, she dropped it back in the bag. “You really did buy everything.”
“I maxed out my card,” Dylan admitted. “But it was totally worth it. I got open-toed booties in faux leopard and faux cheetah.”
“Ohhh,” Alicia whine-pouted. “I’m faux jealous.” Her shoulders were covered with spiderweb-like indentations from lying down on the massage table. “I can’t buy anything right now. My parents told me they would send me to the Spanish Riviera for a week if I didn’t shop from Thanksgiving to Christmas.” She buried her nose inside Dylan’s Saks bag and inhaled a Ralph Lauren sweater-coat. “Ahhhh! It’s better than new puppy smell.”
Bean lifted her little black head and growled.
“She was only kidding, B,” Massie assured her pup, applying a coat of Pineapple Spice Glossip Girl to the pug’s mouth. The pug licked it off and then sneezed. “My parents would never shop-block me.”
“Must be nice,” Kristen said with a frown.
“It is,” Massie beamed.
THUNK!
THUNK!
THUNK!
Three snowballs hit the windows, slithering down the glass like snot. A peal of high-pitched laughter followed the barrage. Kristen and Alicia threw on thick robes, and the four girls raced to the windows.
Claire, dressed in a My Little Pony cap and a bright red puffy coat, was pelting snowballs at Layne and their new friends—a willowy blonde and a petite brunette.
“They’re ruining my snow!” Massie stared at the once pristine yard, which was now covered with LBR boot prints.
“Cheap footwear leaves the most horrible tracks,” Dylan sighed. “Like the abdominal snowman.”
“You mean abominable snowman,” Kristen corrected.
Dylan pinched some snow off her fluffy hood and dropped it onto Kristen’s head. “Takes one to know one.”
“Ew, lice!” Alicia giggled, pointing at Kristen’s scalp. “Let’s go before we catch it,” she joked, backing away.
Kristen shook her blond hair in Alicia’s face.
“Ahhhhhh!”
Massie drew an X on the foggy window, her finger squeaking on the pane. “It’s too bad we can’t give Claire lice. Maybe her ah-nnoying friends would leave.”
THUNK.
THUNK.
THUNK!
The girls jumped back as another round of snowballs smacked into the barn.
Todd dashed in front of the window and bowed, proud to claim responsibility for the latest round.
Massie whipped her iPhone out of her robe pocket. “Unless…”
“Is there a lice app?” Kristen asked, twisting her damp hair into a sloppy bun.
“I wish,” Massie smirked, her breath clouding the window as she coaxed her brain into constructing the ultimate plan—a plan that would accomplish her sinister goal without implicating her sinister mind. Seven breath clouds later, she had it. And sent an urgent text to Claire’s younger brother.
Massie: Come 2 the barn ay-sap. Impt.
Bwoop.
The message had been sent. Seconds later, Todd and his best friend, Tiny Nathan, appeared in the doorway. Todd looked like a freckled Buzz Lightyear in his puffy white-and-green snowsuit. Nathan resembled a poo in his three-sizes-too-big brown snow pants and matching hooded coat.
Todd sniffled. “You wanna join our team?” He pulled off his hood. His orange hair was spiked with sweat. “We’re called Big Balls.”
Nathan giggled. And then Todd giggled. And then Nathan giggled some more.
“No, this is nawt about joining your—”
Massie’s iPhone buzzed.
Kristen: ??? R U doing?
Alicia: ??? Does this have 2 do w lice?
Dylan: Ha! Big balls.
Massie: Quit bugging me. Trust me.
Massie reached for the pack of Mango Surf–flavored Orbit sticking out of Dylan’s purse and popped a piece in her mouth. She bit down, recalling the satisfying flavor that squishing the competition usually left in her mouth. “I just learned a new massage technique that I’m dying to try on someone. It’s supposed to increase scalp circulation and prevent hair from sweating.” Massie waved away the imaginary smell coming from Todd’s head.
Alicia and Kristen exchanged confused looks. Dylan snatched the pack of gum out of Massie’s hand and stuffed four pieces in her mouth.
“Why didn’t you try it out on Kristen, then?” Tiny Nathan pointed out.
“This isn’t sweat.” Kristen smoothed the wet hair on top of her head. “It’s melted snow, okay?” She flashed Dylan a thanks a lot look.
Dylan blew her a glossy you’re welcome kiss.
Todd’s eyes darted between the two girls in confusion.
“So whaddaya say?” Massie asked Todd, putting the attention back where it belonged. “Wanna give it a try?”
“Oh. Okay.” Todd hopped up onto the couch and lay down. Tiny Nathan promptly pulled out his cell phone and started angling for a photo.
Kristen shrugged her athletic shoulders. Alicia finger-combed her dark locks to glossy perfection. And Dylan peeled a flattened gum-bubble off the tip of her nose.
Massie’s friends were the best that Octavian Country Day had to offer. Still, without Claire she felt emptier than Beyoncé after the forty-day master cleanse. But when betas defected to other crews, alphas didn’t beg them to come back. They drove the betas further away. And if a little brother got hurt in the process, so be it.
“Here I go.” Massie held her breath, stuck her hand into Todd’s matted locks, and gingerly began rubbing his head. Who knew when he’d last washed it? She made a mental note to Purell before eating.
“I can feel it working,” Todd muttered into the ecru linen cushion. After a few minutes, his breath became regular and heavy.
Dylan ran her hands through her hair the same way Massie was running hers through Todd’s. Alicia elbowed her. “What?” Dylan asked, her red brows rising. “Todd said it was working.”
Kristen inched closer to Massie and mouthed, What are you doing?
Watch, Massie mouthed back. Then she fake-coughed and “accidentally” spit her gum onto Todd’s head. It disappeared inside a mass of red curls.
“Oh no!” she cried, quickly working the wad into his hair. “My gum!”
Todd’s head popped up. “Whhhaa?”
Tiny Nathan looked up from his phone and burst out laughing.
Massie widened her eyes in what she hoped looked like horror—and innocence. “Ehmagawd. I’m sooo sorry.”
Todd stuck his hand up and felt his sticky, artificially flavored Mango Surf–encrusted locks. “I’ve been gummed!”
Kristen and Dylan snorted back giggles. Alicia tightened the belt of her robe.
“It’s almost the same color as your hair. Maybe you should just leave it,” Tiny Nathan suggested. “You could stick stuff to it, like paper clips and things.”
Todd felt around the back of his head for the gum clump. “True.”
Massie shook her head vigorously. “No, no, no. We can’t leave it there. It’s dangerous. It can”—her eyes landed on Tiny Nathan—“stunt a person’s growth.”
In a flash, Todd sat up. His gummy hair stood up from his head like the Statue of Liberty’s crown.
“Stunting is not cool,” Tiny Nathan assured his friend.
“Ooookay,” Massie sighed. “There’s really only one thing to do.” She padded to the spa bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Inside was the silver-plated electric razor her dad kept in the cedar-planked room. She clutched it in her Essie Mint Candy Apple–manicured hands and returned to the main room, where Kristen, Alicia, and Dylan had settled on the couch, watching Todd like he was a monkey at the zoo.
“Now, not everyone can pull off the
bald look. But you have such great bone structure….” She held up the shaver and slid the button up to HIGH. The buzzing sound filled the room.
Todd stared at it, wide-eyed. “You want to shave my head?”
“No,” Massie nodded seriously. “I have to.”
The PC gasped. Todd’s mouth hung slightly slack. Tiny Nathan took out his cell phone and pressed RECORD.
“Think about it. Bald men are so…” She looked at her friends for help.
“Hawt!” Alicia added quickly. “Like, look at Bruce Willis.”
“Isn’t he dead?” Dylan asked.
Alicia shrugged.
“Britney Spears did it,” Kristen pointed out.
“So did Mr. Potato Head!” Dylan added helpfully.
Massie clicked to the Mirror app on her iPhone and held it up for Todd. “Think about how tough you’ll look.”
Todd looked at Massie and blinked. For a second she thought he was going to freak out and run screaming to Mrs. Lyons. But then a huge grin spread over his face.
“And I’ll be so much more aerodynamic!”
Tiny Nathan ran over and gave Todd a high five. “We can beat our luge time!”
Massie’s high-glossed lips curved into a Cheshire cat grin. She held the buzzing shaver out in front of her. “Ready?”
Bean darted under the couch.
Todd nodded and sat down on a bamboo stool.
Kristen’s jaw dropped.
Dylan let out a shocked belch.
Alicia twirled her diamond studs at top speed.
With one last glance at her friends, Massie lowered the blade. A tendril of bright red hair fluttered to the floor like an autumn leaf. And then another, and another. The buzzing blades mowed easily through the orange glob of gum. She carved a path right down the middle of his scalp. Then she made another path right next it, first on the left, and then another on the right. More and more hair dropped down onto Todd’s skinny shoulders and then onto the camel-colored leather massage table.
“Looks like a motocross track,” Tiny Nathan marveled, lifting his camera.
Alicia covered her eyes.
Massie pictured each tuft of hair as one of Claire’s new friends. And with each strand she lopped off, she felt more and more like the Queen of Hearts, cutting off traitors’ heads in the name of control.
“Done,” she announced triumphantly a few minutes later, when Todd’s head was shinier than a new pair of patent-leather Choos.
Todd hopped off the stool and hurried toward the mirror opposite the fireplace. He sucked in his cheeks, unzipped his snowsuit, and popped the insulated collar. “You’re right,” he nodded at his reflection. “I do have a beautifully shaped skull.” He winked at his reflection, then rubbed the top of his head.
The Pretty Committee giggled into their eucalyptus-scented palms. They weren’t privy to the intricate details of Massie’s plan but were entertained by its execution nonetheless.
“Let’s hit that luge course again!” shouted Tiny Nathan. He punched his tiny fist in the air.
“Wait!” Massie stopped Todd by the door. “It’s too cold to go out without hair.” She reached into one of Dylan’s shopping bags and took out the baby blue cashmere Claire hat.
“Hey,” Dylan protested.
Massie silenced her with a glare. Then she tore off the tag with her teeth, put the hat on Todd’s head, and pulled the flaps over his ears. “Perfect. I actually got it for Kuh-laire. So make sure you give it to her when you’re done.”
Todd nodded that he would, the tassels bouncing around his chin. Massie picked up Dylan’s tray of hot chocolates and handed them to him. “Take these, too, for her friends.”
“Hey!” Dylan hissed. “Why are you doing that?”
“I’ll get you another hat,” Massie whisper-promised.
“I’m talking about the hot chocolates,” Dylan frowned.
“Let it go,” Massie narrowed her amber-colored eyes, arched one expertly plucked eyebrow, and peered out the window. Outside, Claire and her friends were innocently tending to an ill-proportioned snowman. A snowman that, thanks to Massie’s ingenuity, would be on the Block Estate longer than they ever would. Because now, it was only a matter of time….
She opened the barn door and sent Todd and Tiny Nathan back into the cold. The Pretty Committee shrank from the sudden chill that swept in, but Massie faced the freezing temperature, heated by the promise of victory. A promise that warmed her more than a back loaded with hot rocks ever could.
CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION
IN OUT
Snow day School day
Razor blades Razor scooters
Baldheads Redheads (Except Dylan.
Her hair is Pantene-o-licious.
Always was, always will be.)
THE BLOCK ESTATE
THE GUESTHOUSE
Friday, December 5th
3:02 P.M.
The ground glistened like Frosted Mini-Wheats. Claire Lyons’s fingers were purple. Her Florida-born toes had gone numb before she’d packed her first snowball. And she was fairly certain she had bang-cicles. But the sight of Cara Whitman making a snow angel, Syd Martinez shaking snow off herself like a wet dog, and Layne Abeley eating the bag of carrot noses—it warmed her like July.
Claire stuck one blue-button eye then one green-button eye into the head of her snowman and stood back to admire her work. Her creation wore a green plaid scarf, a long orange nose, and twigs for the arms, and it had a snow-and-mud soccer ball at its feet. “Look, it’s a snow-Cam!”
Layne burst out laughing. Little carrot flakes shot out of her mouth. Claire grinned, happy that her friend appreciated the homage to her longtime crush, Cam Fisher, and his different-colored eyes.
“Very avant-garde,” Cara said, tucking a loose strand of blond hair under her white mohair cloche hat. Snow covered her belted black military coat, and her L.L. Bean duck boots were soaked clean through.
“Really?” Syd crinkled her pug nose in concentration and turned up the collar on her vintage plaid coat. “I think if we got a pocket watch and a hair dryer, he’d be pure Dalí.”
“I think… your snow-Cam is about to get Van Gogh’d!” Cara pulled out Cam’s blue eye and pressed it into the side of his cheek.
“Ahhhh!” Claire cried in mock horror. “Get her!”
Instantly the air was filled with flying snowballs as Claire and Syd pelted Cara. After a moment, Cara spun around and lobbed a snow grenade at Claire. She giggle-jumped for cover behind an evergreen shrub, then peeked out to see Layne and Cara shaking a branch over Syd’s head.
Syd and Cara, Layne’s ninth-grade community theater friends, were the smartest girls Claire knew. She’d been hanging out with them for the past three weeks and had loved every second of it. With them, it was about culture, not couture, and they cared more about fun than fashion. The four of them had gone Thanksgiving caroling and had made gingerbread cookies shaped like little Claires, Laynes, Syds, and Caras. After being under Massie’s tight rein for the past year, Claire found hanging out with Syd and Cara as comfortable as her favorite Old Navy striped sweats.
She crept out from behind the bush, fixed Cam’s eye, and stuck it back in place.
“Et ezz peek-ture purrrr-fect,” Syd said, stealing Claire’s silver ELPH out of her coat pocket. She circled the snowman, snapping pictures. “I see zis as zee centerfold for Snowteen Magazine!” she said. “Bee-yoo-tiful, darling! Now, give me more, more, MORE. Now, less!”
Claire laughed until her sides hurt. Syd sounded like Luc Coulotte, the artist Massie always hired to paint Bean’s birthday portraits.
Another snowball whizzed past her head and hit the barn’s front door. As Claire watched it fly by, her eyes landed on the four sets of designer boot prints leading to the GLU head-quarters, along with a tiny pair of dog-sized tracks. Just a few weeks ago, Claire’s own square boot prints would have been right there next to them. But now, even though she stood only a few feet away from her former friends, she
might as well have been back in her hometown of Kissimmee, Florida.
A few weeks before, Massie had launched a mission to get Claire and the rest of the PC to upgrade from their eighth-grade crushes to crushes in ninth. And when Claire had refused, their friendship had crash-landed—hard. But it wasn’t until she had caught Claire karaoke-ing with her new friends that Massie had declared war.
Since then, things between the two of them had been icier than the Blocks’ swimming pool in winter. And although Claire had IM’d with Kristen, Alicia, and Dylan over Thanksgiving break, she hadn’t seen the girls, been invited to a sleepover, or been awarded any gossip points. But every time she felt a pang of Massie-itis, Claire reminded herself that Massie’s friendship was like an Hermès Kelly bag: rare and beautiful, but it came at way too high a price.
Claire didn’t know why Massie needed to control her friends, but she did know she was sick of being bossed around. In seventh grade she probably would have gone crawling back to Massie and begged her forgiveness. But that was more than a year ago. She was already three months into eighth grade, and she planned to spend the rest of the year having no drama with her new drama friends.
“I’m going to make a snow Robert Pattinson!” Cara exclaimed, gathering piles of snow with her arms. “Just think how beee-yoooo-ti-fully he’ll sparkle in the sun.”
“Won’t that make Doug jealous?” Syd asked. Cara’s boyfriend, Doug, was the bassist in a band called Smells Like Uncle Hugh. They lip-kissed all the time—even in public.
“Jealousy is healthy in a relationship. When jealousy dies, passion dies,” Cara said, kneeling to pack the bottom globe of the snowvamp. “I read it on the bathroom wall at school.”
Claire felt a ping of jealousy herself. All the OCD bathroom walls said were things like KATIE WAS HERE or YOU’RE UGLY!
“Me-ladies!” Todd emerged from the barn, his eyes lit up like the white Christmas lights strung around the Blocks’ windows. He wore a baby blue cashmere hat with earflaps and tassels. Claire frowned. The hat was totally cute but totally girly.
Tiny Nathan bobbed behind him, balancing a tray of hot chocolates. He held them out with a shaky flourish. “They’re from Massie.”
Belle of the Brawl Page 15