“Hey.” Massie nodded at no one in particular. Her head was starting to throb from the overwhelming combination of cheap body spray and self-righteous ninth-grade beta.
The rest of the trampires half-waved, bouncing awkwardly in their heels like they had to pee.
“Trick-or-treaters,” Brianna muttered under her breath. “How cute. Candy’s by the door.”
The boys glanced at Landon, Miles, Ace, and Scott, who were all in street clothes, and reddened. Derrington was staring at the cashmere throw on the couch like he’d trade his Xbox and his Pro Evolution Soccer 2009 game just to have something to cover his bare chest.
“Remember when we used to go trick-or-treating?” Liz murmured, dragging the throw over the back of the couch and wrapping herself in it.
“Not really,” Brianna shrugged. “It was kind of a long time ago.” She side-glanced at Massie. “Vampires. How original.”
Massie’s stomach twisted into a giant Twizzler. Next to these girls, she looked paler than Kristen Stewart in January. Did Landon like girls who were super-tan? Was it too late to sneak a quick cheek-pinch?
Massie swallowed her insecurities, leveling her gaze at Brianna’s carrot-colored face. “Are you dressed as a statue?”
Brianna rolled her eyes. “No,” she said, a flicker of uncertainty passing over her face.
“Then why are you so bronzed?” Massie fired back.
Landon busted out laughing. Even Scott, Ace, and Miles cracked a smile.
And Bean and Bark ran victory laps around Massie’s feet.
The Pretty Committee, Layne, and Landon raised their palms for a round of high fives. Massie could feel a confidence comeback on the way. As she sashayed down the line, high-fiving her friends, she wondered whether she should slap Landon’s palm hard, like she meant it, or soft, in a more feminine—
Suddenly, her left heel caught in a loop in the sisal carpet, and she dove forward, her hands clawing desperately at the vanilla-scented air. It was as if someone had TiVo’d her public humiliation, and was playing it back in excruciating slo-mo. She caught a glimpse of Dylan’s widened emerald eyes and glossy lips, which were parting in horror as the gap between Massie and the carpet narrowed.
“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” Dylan’s voice sounded far away, like she was yelling underwater.
Her stomach bottoming out, Massie threw her right leg forward to break her fall.
A long, pained squeal rose up from the floor, and Massie looked down in time to see her heel piercing Bark Obama’s paw.
“Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiippppppppp!”
“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmagaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawd,” Massie screamed.
Kristen’s nails grip-dug into Massie’s arms, pulling her off the pug.
“Bark!” Panic pulsed in Landon’s eyes as he swooped down to rescue his puppy.
“Bark! I’m so sorry!” Massie shook free of Kristen’s grasp and dropped to her knees, reaching for Bark’s shaking paw.
“No!” Landon pulled Bark away, shielding him from Massie like he was a precious designer tote and she was Winona Ryder on a shoplifting spree.
Massie hurt-widened her amber eyes.
“I mean… it’s fine,” Landon said quickly. “He’ll be fine. It was an accident.” But his eyes were stormy, like the Caribbean during hurricane season.
Massie tried to meet his gaze, but he was too busy soothe-petting Bark to notice. Her heart, and her confidence, sank through the floor.
A tiny smile twitched at the corners of Brianna’s mouth as she watched Landon tending to Bark. Shifting her attention to Massie, she narrowed her eyes. “Um, isn’t it past your bedtime?”
Massie wanted to strangle her with Bean’s collar. But instead, she whirled around on her heel, signaling to her friends that it was time to go.
“I’ll check on Bark tomorrow,” she whispered, too ashamed to look at Landon. She picked up Bean and tucked the pug under her damp, stress-stained armpit.
“Nighty-night,” Brianna said dryly.
“Text you later,” Landon said halfheartedly, without looking up.
The PC and their crushes were silent as Massie stalked out of the house and through the yard. Tears threatened to spill onto her pale cheeks, but she refused to let two orange-tinted LBRs make her cry. She hugged Bean to her chest and tried to put on a brave face.
But how was she supposed to do that when her puppy smelled like some ninth-grader’s cheap perfume?
THE BLOCK ESTATE
MASSIE’S BEDROOM
Friday, October 31st
9:57 P.M.
“Oof.” The thick strap of Claire’s borrowed Jimmy Choo Sky bag dug into her shoulder as she lugged her loot across Massie’s white-carpeted bedroom floor toward the sleeping bag circle in the middle of the room. Every muscle in her neck, arms, and shoulders throbbed from the weight of the night’s stash. But Claire felt about trick-or-treating the same way Massie felt about her Ab Blaster workout DVD: If you couldn’t feel the burn, you weren’t doing it right.
“Which is worse?” Sitting cross-legged at the head of her sleeping bag, Alicia was studying the label on a tin of pumpkin spice malt balls. “Trans fat or saturated fat?”
Dylan plopped down on her hunter green sleeping bag, then slapped a palmful of gourmet popcorn to her mouth. “Traaaaaaans faaaaaaaaat,” she burped.
“Guh-ross.” Kristen lifted her Juicy Couture cotton nightie over her nose. “Jalapeño?”
“Sí.” Dylan nodded happily.
“I’m trading anything with this many calories anyway.” Alicia resumed calculating protein-to-fat ratios on her iPhone.
“How come Layne went home so early?” Kristen turned to Claire.
“Wardrobe malfunction.” Claire dropped her bag to the floor and eased into her usual spot between Kristen and Dylan. “Her costume gave her a rash, so she had to go home and take an oatmeal bath.”
Dylan snorted.
Alicia wrinkled her button nose. “That’s what she gets for going synthetic,” she decided, pointing and flexing her feet absently.
“Poor Chewie.” Kristen smile-braided a few blond layers, then finger-combed her hair and started over again.
Drawing her knees to her chest, Claire watched as Dylan snuck a mini Twix and Alicia admired her polished toes. It was moments like this that made Claire want to pinch herself, just to be sure she was actually here, in Massie Block’s bedroom, hanging with the Pretty Committee like things had always been this way. Like she belonged.
She flinched at the memory of last year’s costume. What had she been thinking, co-hosting a Halloween party dressed as a Powerpuff Girl? Of course, last Halloween hadn’t been all bad. After all, she’d met her ah-dorable crush. And she was here now and she finally belonged. Now that the PC was reunited and Massie’s Friday-night sleepovers were back to normal, everything was perfect. Except…
Claire eyed Massie’s empty lilac sleeping bag and her fluffed pillow, where Bean was curled up in a ball. On the other side of the room, Massie was sitting on the edge of her bed, jamming her iPod onto the sleek portable dock on her nightstand. Her candy bag sat untouched next to her.
“We can’t start withoooout you,” Claire sang, trying to sound upbeat. She tried to get a read on Massie’s mood. But Massie’s flat-ironed tresses were shielding her expression like a silky chestnut curtain.
“You guys go ahead,” Massie murmured. “Be right there.”
“You sure?” Claire nibbled her thumbnail. If it weren’t for her stupid N.H.L.B. rule, the sleeping bag circle would be complete. But instead, she’d led Massie into certain heartbreak. Crushed by her crush, she’d probably slip into a deep depression for the rest of her teenage years. And it would be all Claire’s fault, for dragging her friends to that darkened house in the first place.
“I’m sure,” Massie mumbled.
“’Kay. I’ll count us in.” Alicia swept her jet black locks into a high pony. “Ah-five, ah-six
, ah-sev-uhn, EIGHT!”
The girls giggle-squealed as they flipped over their totes, emptying mountains of sweets onto the heads of their sleeping bags.
“This has got to be the most candy anyone’s ever gotten on Halloween ehhhhh-ver.” Kristen’s sapphire eyes glinted. She dug her hands into the pile, lifted the candy, and let it slip through her fingers. “Definitely my personal best.”
“Same.” Looking down at the colorful spread of gummies, candy bars, sours, and toffee in front of her, Claire felt an anticipatory sugar rush.
“News flash.” Dylan pinch-lifted the corner of a cellophane-wrapped bar. “Protein bars do nawt qualify as candy.”
“Mine!” Kristen and Alicia slapped the carpet with their palms.
Dylan grinned mischievously. “Make me an offer I can’t ref—”
“… GROUNDBREAKING FINNISH RESEARCH FROM THE HELSINKI EDUCATION AND RESEARCH TRUST, OR H.E.A.R.T., HAS PROVEN THAT CONFIDENCE IS THE NUMBER ONE MOST ATTRACTIVE QUALITY IN A PROSPECTIVE MATE,” bleated a woman’s voice from the surround-sound speakers in Massie’s room.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” Claire, Dylan, Kristen, and Alicia plugged their ears. Claire’s head snapped toward Massie’s bed, where the alpha was lying in the center of her fluffy purple duvet. Hands glued to her side, the tips of her fangs peeking out, she looked like a sleeping trampire in a down-filled coffin. Claire’s heart sank.
Dylan leapt up, hopping over Claire and Kristen to get to Massie’s nightstand. She yanked the iPod off the dock and tossed it on the bed next to Massie. The room fell silent again.
“Thank Gawd.” Alicia reached for a sour gum ball.
Massie bolted upright like she’d been brought back from the dead. “Dylan!” she huffed. “That’s my confidence CD!”
“Yeah, we heard.” Dylan wince-rubbed her ears. “And so did everybody in HELSIIINKIIIII.” She lowered her voice an octave, mimicking the sound of the narrator’s voice.
The PC burst out laughing, reaching into their piles and lobbing handfuls of treats across the room in Massie’s direction. Claire crossed her fingers at her side, waiting for Massie’s reaction.
Dodging a flurry of foil-wrapped Hershey’s bullets, Massie cracked a smile. “Shut up.” She slid off her bed and followed Dylan to the circle.
Claire relaxed a little and reached for a giant baggie of gummies Cam had slipped into her bag after the last house of the night. She loved that with Cam, she didn’t have to worry about orange ninth-graders at Halloween parties, or whether he thought trick-or-treating was lame. They were on exactly the same page.
“Ehmagawd, Josh just posted Twitterpics from tonight!” Alicia announced, beaming down at her cell.
“Twitt-er-treat!” Claire giggled.
Massie groaned, scratching behind her sleeping puppy’s ears.
“And he tweeted that we looked ah-mazing in our costumes,” Alicia added. “I swear, that boy is such a twirt.”
“Twirt?” Claire repeated, lowering a sugar crystal–coated gummy onto her tongue.
“Twitter flirt,” Kristen clarified, launching chocolate-covered pistachios across the circle into Dylan’s open mouth.
Claire, Kristen, and Dylan circled around Alicia to get a better look. Alicia scrolled through shots of Josh and Cam making skeletons hump jack-o’-lanterns, Dempsey dodging bloody eyeballs, and Derrington stuffing Twizzlers up his nose.
“There aren’t even any pictures of us!” Kristen complained. “Just a bunch of Dempsey in his mom’s skirt!”
“I still can’t believe my dress was too big on Josh.” Alicia snapped the waistband on her gray silk tap shorts, sucking in her dance-sculpted abs.
“I can’t believe Josh actually wore that dress in public,” Massie added, rolling her eyes.
“And I can’t believe Derrington fit a whole bag of Hershey Kisses in his mouth at once,” Dylan jumped in. Claire couldn’t tell if she was grossed out or impressed.
Suddenly, she realized the other girls were all focused on her, like they were waiting for something.
“Well?” Massie said impatiently, leveling her kohl-smudged gaze at Claire. Even Bean opened her left eye to stare at Claire.
“Ummmm.” Claire balanced the bag of gummies on the thigh of her paisley-print Old Navy pajama pants. Why did she suddenly feel the urge to defend Cam to her friends? To start listing everything that was amazing about him, from the way he looked at her with his one green eye and one blue eye in the second before they lip-kissed, to the way he always offered her his Tomahawks warm-up jacket when she got cold? “I thought all that stuff was kinda funny.” And an hour ago, so did you, she wanted to add.
“You would.” Massie nodded knowingly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Claire felt a knot starting to form in her stomach.
“It means that eighth-grade crushes are beyond immature,” Massie explained slowly, in the same voice she used when she got impatient with Bean or the salesgirls at Neiman’s. “But you wouldn’t get that, ’cause you’ve never upgraded.”
“Upgraded?” Claire repeated, digging her toes into the slick fabric of her sleeping bag.
“Waitaminute.” Alicia loosened her ponytail to release face-framing layers from the grip of her rubber band. She did it whenever she wanted to look older. “Upgrade. Meaning, crushing on boys in the grade above us?”
“Ehhhh-xactly.” Massie nodded. “Boys in ninth are so much more ma-toor.” She slipped her Glossip Girl Candy Corn gloss from the pocket of her robe and slathered on a shiny coat. “Which is why I think we should all upgrade our crushes,” she finished dramatically.
Alicia nibbled her lower lip.
Kristen cracked her knuckles.
Dylan unwrapped a toffee bar and crammed half into her mouth.
And Claire’s heart bottomed out faster than the Freefall at Six Flags. Was Massie seriously serious? Claire dug into her gummy stash and crammed a handful into her mouth, waiting for the other girls to jump in and defend their crushes.
The sugar soothed her, but only for a second. Massie was slipping back into her old, controlling ways, which was exactly what had broken up the PC just weeks ago. Claire didn’t know if she could survive another Pretty Committee breakup. She didn’t know if she wanted to. Managing her friends’ fights was getting to be more than she could handle. And she certainly wasn’t going to ditch Cam just because Massie was having crush trust issues.
She glanced up expectantly, almost afraid of the girls’ reactions.
Alicia took a deep breath. “Love it.” She air-clapped, her brown eyes sparkling with interest.
“Ehmagawd, me too,” Dylan sigh-added, looking relieved.
“Same!” Kristen piped up.
WHAT? Claire pressed her palms into the floor to steady herself, feeling like Massie’s bedroom had suddenly been transformed into a giant Tilt-A-Whirl. Had the sugar overload made her friends completely insane? Was it the full moon? She yanked at the tiny hole in the knee of her pajama pants, making it bigger and bigger. It felt like the hole forming in her stomach.
“You’re just gonna ditch your crushes? Just like that?” she squeaked, avoiding Massie’s self-satisfied stare.
Alicia stretched out her legs in front of her, pointing and flexing her polished toes. “Maybe I want a crush who doesn’t wear a dress size smaller than me,” she said lightly. “Boys in ninth don’t dress up for Halloween, so I wouldn’t have to worry about that.”
“Plus, older guys talk about more than just soccer,” Kristen added.
“But you love soccer!” Claire protested, wanting to take her friends by the shoulders and shake them.
“I love other things too,” Kristen said defensively. “Not that Dempsey knows that. He thinks I’m just one of the dudes.”
Claire could feel heat rushing to her cheeks. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart.
“What about you?” she asked Dylan.
Dylan swallowed. “I heart Derrington,” she said simply.
“But more as, like, a younger brother than a crush, you know?” Dylan finished.
“I toe-dally know what you mean,” Alicia jumped in. “Josh is two-point-five months younger than me, and it’s starting to show.” She wound her locks into a messy bun and held them in place with a Pixy Stix.
“He’s the same age we are!” Claire flopped onto her stomach, wanting to scream and yell and cry. But mostly she just wanted to throttle Massie. “Just last week you guys were all in love with your crushes! What happened?”
“They grew up,” Massie said, looking pleased with herself.
“These crushes were fun and all, but it’s time to move awn,” Kristen said earnestly. “Plus, they don’t go to OCD anymore, so…”
Dylan turned toward Claire. “How’re you gonna tell Cam?” she asked, wiping a chocolate smudge from her cheek with the edge of her cami.
Suddenly, Claire felt sick. The kind of sick she felt after washing down an entire bag of gummies with a cherry slushy from the mall.
“I’m not gonna tell him,” she said firmly.
Alicia flashed a devilish grin. “So you’re gonna cheat on him?” she asked, leaning forward.
“No!” Claire screeched, wiping her damp bangs from her sweat-beaded forehead. “I’m not dumping him, and I’m not cheating on him. And I’m definitely not getting a ninth-grade crush!”
“Ninth is the new black, Claire,” Massie snapped, finger-combing her ends. “Not that I’d expect you to get that.”
Claire was too exhausted and confused to argue. The gummies in her stomach were charging toward her throat.
Stunned into silence, she watched as the rest of the girls chattered excitedly about their nonexistent new crushes. Claire picked at the hole in her pj’s. If the girls moved on to ninth, where would that leave Claire? They’d be going to ninth-grade parties, doing ninth-grade things like over-bronzing and underdressing for movie night. And Claire and Cam would be tossed aside like the outfits in Merri-Lee Marvil’s closet. She’d be expired.
These Boots Are Made for Stalking Page 3