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OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL
THE CAFÉ
Monday, January 26th 12:07 P.M.
“Virgins! Virgins! Virgins!” Massie shouted. Dylan and Kristen joined in. It wasn’t long before the entire lunch crowd in the Café was chanting and chewing.
Sage Redwood, a tree-hugging eighth grader, adjusted the garlands in her long wavy hair and straightened the flashing neon VIRGINS sign that hung on the wall above the cash register. It was obvious from her proud smile that she had been waiting for this moment for a long time. She was minutes away from cutting the red ribbon and launching the first alcohol-free cocktail kiosk on campus. And Massie, Alicia, Kristen, and Dylan, who were also known as the Pretty Committee, had received a personal invitation from Sage to be the first girls to try them.
“I can’t believe Sage got Principal Burns to agree to this.” Dylan shook her head. “These fruity drinks better have a lot of caffeine in them or I’ll never make it through World Issues.” She was dressed in an all-black pantsuit with pink pinstripes because her mother, Merri-Lee Marvil, the famous talk-show host, had told her vertical lines were slimming.
“I miss our Chai lattés already.” Kristen tilted the hot pink vinyl rain hat Massie had given her. “Remember when Sage was handing out those pamphlets last semester about the exploitation of coffee plantation workers in Sri Lanka and marching around the halls waving signs that said, STARBUCKS IS A TOTAL HAS-BEAN?”
“Yeah, didn’t I throw iced cappuccino on her?” Massie put her index finger in her mouth and raised her eyebrows innocently as if to say, “Whoopsie.”
The three girls laughed at the memory of Sage covered in coffee and fat-free whipped cream.
“Yeah, but she still thinks it was Audrey Capeos.” Dylan coughed into her sleeve. Massie noticed that her hack sounded a lot worse than the night before and stepped away from her. She didn’t want to be sick and snotty for Derrington’s soccer game.
“I love your crimped hair. It looks so rock star.” Sage was looking at Massie and twirling a pair of giant silver scissors around her index finger. “I read about it in your blog last night, and I’ve already asked my mother to get me a crimper next month for my birthday.”
“That’s so cool, Sage.” Massie made a mental note to make crimpers out by the end of the month.
“Speaking of your blog,” Kristen piped in, “I love what you wrote about exchange students being out. I mean, what was up with that girl? She seemed so slutty.”
“If she’s smart, which I doubt, she’ll stay far away from me,” Massie said. “Because if I ever see her fat boobs near Derrington I’ll—”
“Not like Derrington would mind.” Kristen’s words crashed down on Massie like a heap of shoe boxes from the back of her closet.
“Hey, Kristen, maybe you should started dressing like her. Then no one would mistake you for a boy,” Massie suggested.
Dylan giggled.
“Kahnts a tol.”
“You’re welcome.” Massie was unfazed by Kristen’s hurt expression. “Are you ever going to let us see this mysterious haircut?” She reached for the pink rain hat.
“Never.” Kristen slapped Massie’s hand.
“Ouch!”
Kristen finally smiled.
“Massie, I thought for sure you’d write about your new brooch obsession in your blog.” She was looking at Massie’s big red rose pin that was fastened to the lapel of her red velvet blazer.
“No way.” Massie shook her head. “I want to wear them for at least a week before everyone starts copying me. I’ll make them in as soon as I get sick of them.”
“Rewtehav,” Kristen said.
“Wanna hear something else that’s in?” Massie asked. As soon as she said those words, she wished she could take them back. She knew it wasn’t the right time, but would it ever be?
“What?” Dylan asked.
Massie took a deep breath. “Bedroom sharing.”
“Huh?” Kristen said.
Massie told them that the Lyons family was staying in Westchester and that Claire would be sharing her bedroom until the extreme makeover on the guesthouse was done.
“How long will that take?” Kristen asked.
“Coupla weeks,” Massie mumbled.
“Gawd, aren’t you two sick of each other yet?” Dylan snapped. “I mean, you just spent the holidays with her in Aspen and now—”
“It may get a little cramped, but it’s better than having them move to Chicago, right?”
Kristen and Dylan shrugged and said nothing.
“Hey, speak of the devil.” Claire was heading toward the back of the line with her kooky friend Layne. “Over here!” She waved.
Claire was wearing a puffy orange vest, a white sweatshirt, and navy cotton pants.
Massie heard Dylan whisper to Kristen, “She looks like a crossing guard,” but ignored her.
When Claire kept walking, Massie flipped open her cell phone. The bells that hung off her antenna swung back and forth.
“What is your obsession with Claire? Are you dumping us because I have short hair?”
“No, she’s dumping us because I’m fat. And we don’t have boyfriends like they do.”
Massie felt her stomach leap when Dylan said “boyfriends.” She couldn’t wait to see Derrington on Friday at the soccer game.
“I’m not dumping anyone,” Massie snapped. “I just thought Claire could cut the line and wait with us.”
“Don’t you mean the devil?” Dylan hissed.
“What?”
“You called her that, I didn’t.” Dylan smirked.
Normally Massie would have fought back, but she was distracted by Nina, who seemed to be modeling the latest knockoffs from Contempo Casuals. Everyone standing on line stopped talking and stared. She swung her butt cheeks slowly from side to side as she passed, hypnotizing the crowd with her steady, confident sway and the click-clacking of her knee-high leopard boots.
She stopped at the front of the line, right in front of Massie.
“Hola, I’m Nina.” She applied a fresh coat of bloodred lipstick. She snapped the tube shut and reached out her hand. Massie shook it, with caution.
“Funny, I expected you to have a stronger grip.” Nina smirked.
“I didn’t want your fake nails to snap off.”
Kristen and Dylan giggled.
“You are not the first person to think they’re fake.” Nina held out her nails and admired them. “They’re so perfect, no one believes they’re real.”
“Just like those?” Massie said, looking at Nina’s chest.
“Exactly.” Nina winked.
Massie couldn’t believe the frizzy-haired girl from Alicia’s pictures suddenly had so much confidence.
“I love your boots, Nina,” Lucy Savo called out as she passed.
“Yeah, they’re really awesome,” Becky Charsky agreed.
“Gracias.” Nina flashed a toothy smile.
Massie casually rolled up the bottoms of her long jeans, revealing the round toes on her new violet Kate Spade pumps, and made a mental note to start wearing shorter pants. Maybe then more people would notice her fabulous shoes.
“There you are, Nina. I thought I lost you,” Alicia called as she walked toward the Virgins line. She was moving at a normal, casual pace, which for Alicia, a notorious slow walker, meant she was in a hurry. “I’m glad you found everyone.”
In a desperate attempt to honor New Year’s resolution number seven, which was “Treat all friends with kindness,” Massie resisted calling Alicia “Mini-Me.” But it wasn’t easy, considering that Alicia’s hair was styled exactly like Nina’s. They were both wearing super-slick, tight ponytails, which Alicia never usually did because she claimed they pulled on her scalp and gave her mi
graines.
At least Alicia was still dressed like herself. She was in her usual mix of Ralph Lauren separates: Blue Label cargos and a corduroy blazer with a floppy felt flower on the lapel. Nina was wearing super-tight low-waisted jeans that were tucked into her boots and a red faux-fur mini-jacket that barely covered her ribs. Her flat, tanned stomach was completely exposed.
“You better be careful,” Kristen said to Nina. “That outfit violates OCD’s dress code. You could get suspended.”
“Yeah, last time we dressed like that, Principal Burns told us we’d have to start wearing uniforms. If it wasn’t for my mother we would all—”
“Puh-or favor! I already got sent to that birdie lady’s office.” Nina sounded proud of her violation. “I told her my outfit was a traditional Spanish ensemble and that taking it off would be an insult to my people.”
“And she believed you?” Dylan sounded genuinely impressed.
“I’m still wearing it, aren’t I?”
“That is so cool,” Kristen gushed. “Massie, I wish you’d thought of that when we got in trouble for wearing our Dirty Devil Halloween costumes to school.”
“Uh, I was a little busy trying to plan the first-ever boy–girl Halloween party to think up stupid excuses,” Massie said.
“Wait, you just threw your first boy–girl party last October? I’ve had boys at my parties since the fourth grade.”
Dylan sneezed, “Slut.”
Massie was the only one who laughed.
“Did you just call Nina a slut?” Alicia snapped.
“Dylan, that’s so dure.”
“What is dure?” Nina asked.
“It means rude,” Kristen offered. “It’s jumble.”
Nina shrugged.
“No, I swear. That was a real sneeze.” Dylan grabbed a napkin off a nearby table. “My cold is getting worse.”
Massie wanted to scream. Why were her friends being so nice to Nina? Couldn’t they see that she was a manipulative liar? Massie reached inside her hip-hugging Yves St. Laurent money belt and fished around the inside for her latest Glossip Girl flavor. Today’s delivery was Cinnabon. It had arrived that morning and it was ah-mazing. It actually smelled and tasted exactly like the warm cinnamon rolls from the mall.
“What is that aroma?” Nina asked. She crinkled her button nose and waved her hand in the air.
“Dylan?” Alicia said.
“It wasn’t me.”
“It smells like my grandmama’s kitchen.” Nina held her nose. “And she’s a terrible cook.”
“Yeah, it is kinda sweet.” Kristen sniffed the air.
Massie turned her back and quickly wiped her lips on the back of her hand.
“Nina, will you be okay here with my friends while I go do my newscast? It’s my first one ever, and I don’t want to be late.”
“Of course, cousin,” Nina assured her. “I will be just fine here with your leetle friends.”
“Who are you calling leetle?” Massie snapped.
“If the bra fits …” Nina half smiled.
Kristen and Dylan giggled. Massie swallowed a big gulp of air to keep herself from breaking New Year’s resolution number seven on the first day of school.
“Don’t worry about me, Alicia, I’ll be fine. Buena suerta.”
“Thanks.” Alicia’s cell phone rang as she was turning to leave. She checked her Tiffany watch, sighed, then answered. “Hola? I mean, hello?”
Massie rolled her eyes.
“Uh, hola, Celia.” Alicia crinkled her thick dark eyebrows and looked at Nina. “It’s your sister,” she mouthed.
Nina waved her hand in the air frantically. “Not here,” she mouthed back.
“She’s calling from Spain.” Alicia’s expression was urgent.
“I’ll call her back,” Nina whispered loudly. “When I’m not at school.”
Alicia covered the phone with her hand and whispered to her friends, “You should see her sister’s wardrobe: it’s beyond! They’re always in style magazines in Spain and people are always stopping them—”
“Cousin!” Nina snapped. “Just get rid of her.”
Alicia relayed the message to Celia and snapped her phone shut.
“Gracias.” Relief washed over Nina’s face. “I don’t have time to give her advice about boys right now. Dios, she can be so needy.”
Massie nervously twirled her charm bracelet around her thin wrist. How did Nina know so much about boys? Did she ever get nervous when she talked to someone she liked? Would she know how to act around Derrington?
“I’m off to the broadcast booth.” Alicia waved. “See you next period.”
They watched Alicia weave her way through the clusters of girls gathered around the Virgins kiosk. Once she was out of sight, Massie, Kristen, and Dylan turned and stared at Nina. She stared back at them.
“What?” Nina finally said.
The high-pitched wail of microphone feedback cut through the Café, and everyone covered their ears.
“Sorry,” Sage apologized softly into the mic. “It gives me great pleasure to welcome you to OCD’s first alcohol-free cocktail kiosk.” She cut the red ribbon around the cash register with her giant scissors, and everyone clapped and woo-hooed.
“Welcome to Virgins!” Sage shouted into the microphone.
Nina looked over her shoulder. Gaggles of giddy girls were bumping into her as they jumped and cheered like they were at an Usher concert. She shook her head as if to say, “What a shame.”
“Is this place really called Virgins?” she gasped.
Massie nodded.
“Well, then, I shouldn’t be here, that’s for sure.”
Massie gasped out loud by accident then felt her entire body stiffen out of embarrassment. Now Nina would think she was a prude.
Dylan and Kristen’s mouths hung open in shock, but there was also a twinkle of admiration in their eyes, like they were actually impressed.
“Uh, Nina, do you work at 411?” Massie asked.
Kristen and Dylan giggled in anticipation of Massie’s next line.
“Huh?” Nina squinted like someone who was having trouble hearing.
“’Cause that was way too much information!”
But deep down inside, Massie was starving for more.
OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL
THE CAFÉ
Monday, January 26th 12:38 P.M.
Claire and Layne Abeley were standing at the back of the Virgins line, waiting to place their juice orders. As soon as the cheering died down, Layne turned to Claire and picked up the conversation where they had left off, just before Sage cut the ribbon.
“So why do you think Cam wants to try and kiss you?” Layne stuffed a handful of jalapeño-flavored soy nuts in her mouth, then wiped her salty fingers on her bright yellow Shirley Temple sweatshirt. A green seasoning skid mark was streaked across Shirley’s cute little pug nose.
Claire absentmindedly brushed the salt away. “Because he gave me a mix CD at Alicia’s party last night and”—Claire pulled the CD out of her red JanSport backpack—“look at the playlist.”
Layne grabbed the CD out of Claire’s hand and started reading the names of the songs out loud. “‘Do You Love Me,’ by Kiss; ‘I Want You,’ by Kiss; ‘I Kissed a Girl,’ by Jill Sobule; ‘Kiss,’ by Prince …”
“Shhhhh.” Claire knocked Layne in the arm and looked around the Café to make sure no one was listening. “Silent reading, please.” She watched Layne’s narrow green eyes move back and forth across the jewel case while she scanned the rest of the list.
“I’ve never even heard of these songs,” Layne whispered. “Are you sure he didn’t steal this from his grandfather?” She was never one to hide her feelings.
Claire rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t Layne just be happy for her? “He gets a lot of music from his older brother, Harris,” Claire whispered back. “But that’s not the point!”
“Sorry.” Layne bent down and pulled up her pink socks so that they covered her thic
k kneecaps. The socks didn’t match her yellow ruffled miniskirt and sweatshirt or her orange-and-blue-checked Vans, but that was what made Layne Layne. And Claire had decided a long time ago to accept her for who she was. After all, Layne had accepted Claire back when no one else would, and that was something Claire would never forget. “So you want to kiss him?” Layne twisted her newly hennaed jet black hair into a messy ball and clipped it with a pink glittery banana clip.
Claire nodded without a moment of hesitation. Then she popped one of Cam’s red cinnamon hearts in her mouth and tried her hardest not to chew it. It was a game she had been playing with herself all morning: if she could suck the candy until it disappeared, she and Cam would kiss at the dance. If she bit it, they wouldn’t.
“Is that slutty of me?” she asked.
“No, I think it’s romantic.” Layne gently placed her hand on her heart and made a swooning face.
Claire giggled and turned bright red. “Okay, can we change the subject, please?”
“Sure,” Meena said as she and Heather broke into their conversation. “I have a new subject.” She pulled a pair of black-and-red-striped leg warmers off her arms and stuffed them in the outside pocket of her Hello Kitty wheelie suitcase. “So, are you really going to be sharing a bedroom with Massie Block?”
“Yeah, are you?” Heather asked.
Their blunt bob haircuts had been dyed the same color as Layne’s, and Heather had cut super-short bangs. Claire thought they looked like comic book characters.
Meena and Heather were Layne’s best friends and the only other girls at OCD who shared Layne’s eccentric style and addiction to protests.
“I think we know her well enough now to stop using her last name.” Claire tried to hide her excitement. But it was hard. She loved that people were starting to find out that she and Massie were friends. It did more for her status than the latest Marc Jacobs bag ever could.
“Okay, then is Massie really your real friend this time?” Meena pressed. “Or is she just using you again to get something she wants?”
“No, it’s real this time.” Claire still had a hard time believing it herself.
“Hmmm,” Layne said.
“Does this mean you get to borrow her clothes?” Heather adjusted her makeshift belt, which was really a cute stuffed snake that she’d won at Coney Island when she was four. It was so bulky, she was having a hard time keeping it tied around her tiny waist.
Invasion of the Boy Snatchers Page 5