A Tale of Two Pretties (16 page)

Massie felt like the dance floor had become a tidal wave—the ground suddenly seemed to move under her feet, and the bass from
the DJ booth drowned out her thoughts. Her stomach swooped like she’d just taken an express ride from the top floor of Barneys
down to the perfume-and-makeup basement, and her skin blazed like she was facing down a bonfire that was about to consume
her entire life. If she didn’t stay in Westchester, she would lose
everything
:

The Pretty Committee.

Her alpha status.

The New Green Café.

The Westchester.

Weekend shopping trips to New York.

Landon…

The Pretty Committee!

The Pretty Committee!

The Pretty Committee!

“But… it’s the Lyonses! Your best friend, Dad!”
And mine
, she wanted to shout. She struggled to keep her voice from shaking. “You’ve left me to stay with Kuh-laire before. What’s
the difference between a week and a… year? Or four?”

“We’re a family,” Kendra said, linking her arm with William’s and grasping Massie’s hand.

“And families stick together,” William added.

Massie blinked. This could
nawt
be happening. Of all the problems she’d dealt with this year, it had never even occurred to her that her parents would object
to her plans to move into the Lyonses’ den.

She glanced behind her at the PC, who were back on the dance floor, waiting for Merri-Lee to get back on the microphone for
further announcements. When she turned back to her parents, she started shaking like she was Bean during a thunderstorm.

And then her anger bloomed up inside of her like one of the firecrackers in the backyard. When she spoke, even she was surprised
to hear how dark her voice sounded. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?” she said slowly. Kendra’s MAC Viva
Glam lips formed a small
O
as Massie continued. “You’re ruining my life.”

Massie’s voice cracked. Then she felt a splash of water on her face, and she looked up, wondering if the Marvil mansion had
suddenly sprouted a leak.

She felt another one and blinked, wiping it away with her hand. Then she noticed a smudge of color on her fingertip. It was
the unmistakable shade of Urban Decay Midnight Cowgirl, which happened to be the exact shade of eye shadow Massie was wearing.

And that’s when Massie realized the Marvils’ ceiling wasn’t dripping. No one was tossing champagne over the railing. The chocolate
fountain hadn’t sprung a leak.

Massie was crying.

“Massie?” Dylan tried to make out the glitter-embossed girl heading her way. It looked like Massie and it smelled like Massie,
but this girl was crying. Sobbing, really. And Massie Block did
nawt
sob. Especially in public.

“
Ehma-what-do-we-do?
” Alicia hissed into Dylan’s ear as the girl stumbled into Dylan’s arms. Dylan sniffed her hair and coughed up some Chanel.
Definitely Massie.

“What is it? What happened?” Dylan asked, more gently this time. The PC huddled around Massie on the edge of the dance floor.
She hiccupped.

“I just can’t believe this,” she whispered. “But they’re not letting me move in with Kuh-laire. I’m going to England.”

“What?” everyone cried. Massie nodded, looking stunned.

“They told me—” Massie looked around wildly as the lights went out. A hush traveled through the crowd. The PC looked toward
the stage where Merri-Lee was holding the mic. She winked in Dylan’s direction.

“And… action!” Merri-Lee shouted.

And then the pilot episode of
Marvilous Marvils
began to play on the big screen.

Dylan wanted to be there for Massie, but she was riveted to the screen. Either someone in production had editing skills
or the camera loved Dylan—but either way, she looked ahmazing, if she did say so herself.

As the cameras followed Dylan’s family around on screen, she gaped at her hair. It made Alicia’s hair look like a bad, dull
dye job! And her legs? She sneaked a glance at Kristen’s muscular gams and grinned. Her legs looked at least as lithe and
long. She shook her head in delight as the crowd laughed along with the show. Maybe Merri-Lee had been wrong about the camera
adding ten pounds. Maybe it added ten
points
on the hawtness scale. Dylan looked downright spectacular on screen!

When the opening sequence ended, the party guests applauded and cheered. Even Massie had managed to sniff away the rest of
her tears and clap her hands. Dylan tossed back another piece of sashimi in excitement. Maybe being the star of a reality
show wouldn’t be so bad, after all!

She nearly choked, though, when the sound of her burping—the loudest, longest noise she’d ever made—echoed from the screen
and landed among the five hundred guests currently captivated by the show’s promotional reel. Real-Dylan froze while Reality-Dylan
burped again. So did everyone else in the mansion.

From the dance floor, the entire party watched on the big screen as Reality-Dylan burped, tripped, and cried her way through
the various scenes she’d shot with her sisters. She got caught sneaking ice cream at midnight. Sleeping with zit cream slathered
over her chin. Falling out of her window in her flannel pajamas and spraining her ankle,
her lone clog dangling from the branch of a bush.

Real-Dylan tried to hide behind Kristen’s high ponytail, but it was no use. Reality-Dylan was out there for the world to see.
And Real-Dylan would never be able to hide her flaws behind her hair or her black AmEx ever again.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, the promo reel zoomed in on a close-up of Reality-Merri-Lee having a heart-to-heart
with Reality-Dylan. Real-Dylan felt her hands grow clammy and the sweat begin to pool under her arms. She crossed her fingers
in hope that her Dove Clinical Protection would deliver its promise. She wanted to run over to Massie and cover her ears like
Merri-Lee used to do whenever she had Kathie Lee Gifford over for dinner when Dylan was a kid. She remembered this scene—she
just hadn’t realized at the time that it was being filmed.

“Mom, can we talk?” Reality-Dylan asked, the camera closing in on Dylan’s fire-red hair and glowing skin.

“I just found out some awful news about Massie,” Reality-Dylan said. The crowd in the Marvil mansion watched in silence, transfixed
by Dylan’s wide, innocent, impeccably accented eyes. “Her family’s lost all their money,” Reality-Dylan confessed.

On screen, Merri-Lee sighed and began to assure her daughter that the Marvils would never have to worry about that, because
she’d set up trusts for each of her girls, which they would all have access to when they turned twenty-five
or when they won their first Oscar, whichever came first.

Real-Dylan hung her head, the blood rushing to her face. She was so
ah
-shamed. How stupid could she be? She should have known not to spill any secrets to Merri-Lee once she’d learned they’d be
filming a show. And now Massie had to live with the knowledge that the world was going to find out she was once middle-class!
She would kick herself, except that her Jimmy Choos were limited-edition, and the last thing anyone needed was another catastrophe.

“Dylan,” Massie’s voice broke through the roar of the crowd as they responded to the end of the promo reel, applauding and
laughing at the wild and crazy antics of the Marvil girls. The lights came back up. People began moving to the outside fire
pit to watch the firecrackers or the front yard to watch Merri-Lee film Nancy Kerrigan in a special “Return to the Ice” feature
that would air the following week.

“I’m so sorry, Massie,” Dylan cried.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Massie said, shrugging. Her tears had cleared up and she looked calm and serene, like Sandra Bullock
in her first public appearance after her divorce. “I’ll be fine. Everyone knows reality shows are toe-dally fake!”

Dylan sniffled. “They do?”

“They
are
?” Claire asked in surprise.

“Given,” Alicia croaked.

“I just can’t believe how stupid they made me look,” Dylan
said, covering her eyes as a running reel of her flaws flashed before her eyes.

“Stupid? Dylan, did you see that opening scene? You looked ah-mazing times a million!” Massie said.

“You looked like Isla Fisher!” Kristen chirped.

“Scarlett Johansson when she had red hair!” Alicia added.

“Little Orphan Annie!” Claire shouted. Massie gave her a withering look. “I meant, happy and little and red,” Claire explained.

Dylan sniffled again. “I mean, I
did
look pretty great, physically speaking,” she concurred. “But the burping, and the falling, and the secret-telling…”

“Are you kidding me? You’ll be the hit of the show!” Massie said, looping her arm through Dylan’s. “Did you see how your sisters
came across? Opposite of enthralling!”

“Boring times ten,” Alicia agreed.

“
Seventeen
magazine isn’t going to want to interview a couple of suh-noozers who fight about boys, are they? No, they are
nawt
,” Massie answered her own question. “They’re going to want to talk to the girl who can burp all the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s
new song. The girl who can tumble out of a window and still walk away with her bed head held high!”

Dylan felt her lips curl up. Massie and the rest of the PC had a point.
Seventeen
was all about quirky girls like her. Maybe she could even pen her own column! She could get extra credit for English class!

But then she sighed and felt her good mood recede again. Massie was the only person who could manage to talk her out of her
bad moods.

Who was going to do it when Massie was gone?

The bass from the band was making Alicia’s butt vibrate as she sat on the edge of the balcony, her legs dangling off. She
kicked her Manolos back and forth. Next to her, Dylan was performing damage control on Claire’s Fiberwig mascara, pulling
flecks of black makeup off her cheeks from where her tears were still falling. Massie and Kristen were leaning against the
railing, their arms interlocked around each other’s necks and their faces more morose than the audience at a Fall Out Boy
concert.

When the sky lit up with another round of firecrackers, Alicia straightened up and tried to blot her face with the back of
her hand. She realized this was getting a bit ridiculous. The entire Pretty Committee was in shambles. She had never seen
Kristen cry so hard—not even during the first, second, and third times they’d all watched
Titanic
together—and she’d never seen Massie cry, ever. Since Massie broke the news about her inevitable move to England, Claire
hadn’t mentioned Cam once, and Dylan hadn’t burped in over an hour. It was like some New Year’s Yves version of
Freaky Friday
.

“Okay, everyone,” Alicia pulled up her legs and turn-swung herself around until she was facing her friends. The moon shone
down on her like a spotlight during the final scene of a
Broadway show. “Tonight has
nawt
gone the way we planned. But the night’s
nawt
over yet!”

Everyone nodded in agreement and looked at Alicia with a glimmer of hope in their eyes. Even Massie looked like she was counting
on her to come up with some sort of solution to make them all feel better. She scanned through her brain, searching for ideas.
She felt like a giant blinking DANGER sign was flashing at her, warning her that she was veering too close into alpha territory,
but it didn’t matter now. Massie needed her. The PC needed her. She was going to have to face her beta-fears for the sake
of her friends.

She pulled her phone out of her Alexander Wang clutch and double-checked the last message she’d received from Hermia. If she
had deciphered it correctly, it meant that Hermia was downstairs in the Marvils’ library, giving psychic readings again, just
like she had on the first New Year’s Yves party that had brought the Pretty Committee together. She stood up.

“This is opposite of acceptable!” she cried. “Everyone, get up and follow me.” She snapped her fingers twice for good measure,
and because she wanted to see how sparkly her OPI Midnight Mambo nail polish could be in the moonlight.

One by one, the PC stood up and formed a line in front of Alicia. She walked down the row, peering at each of their faces.
She was on a mission, but first she had to make sure everyone looked presentable. Merri-Lee had standards, after all.

“Massie, you know tragedies are no excuse for unglossed lips.”

Massie raised her eyebrows but didn’t say a word as she applied another coat of Glossip Girl. Alicia moved on to Kristen.

“Your wing-tipped eyeliner has made a serious crash landing. Have Massie reapply it.” She moved down the line to Dylan.“Moroccan
hair oil. Plus, the scent will soothe you.”

When she finally landed in front of Claire, Alicia sighed. She examined her windblown hair, her pale lips, her skin that looked
parched for color. She just shook her head and stepped away to face everyone. Claire shrugged and bit her lip.

“We have to face Hermia and get some answers,” Alicia explained. “Ready? Okay!”

Kristen half-raised her hand. “Do you really think Hermia will be able to tell us anything?”

Alicia smirked at the memory of her first meeting with Hermia, but it made her sad, too. She met Massie’s gaze and held it.
“She predicted we’d all become friends, didn’t she?”

Massie gave the briefest of nods while Kristen, Dylan, and Claire all smiled. Then they followed Alicia down the main staircase
and down a hallway into the library. The ornate double doors were closed, blocked by a long line of people waiting for their
turn with Hermia.

“Excuse me,” Alicia called loudly, pulling the PC in front of her. It was a given that she would cut the line to see Hermia
(again). This was an emergency, after all.