Dial L for Loser (25 page)

“Hmmmm.” Massie nodded slowly, like she was sizing up DKNY’s new spring line. “I like it.”

“Okay then, start breathing.” Claire inhaled deeply and began walking toward the house. But every crunching step brought her closer to the moment of truth. Closer to getting an answer to the one question she’d asked herself over and over again on the six-hour flight back from Los Angeles. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

“Massie!” Kendra poked her head out of the door like she was someone paying for a pizza in a bathrobe. “Would you mind running to the spa and getting me a bottle of Evian? The fridge is empty and I can’t find Inez.”

Alicia and Claire giggled.

“Sure, no problem,” Massie replied without hesitation.

“Why aren’t you fighting her on it?” Alicia asked. “Don’t you want the gossip points?”

“She ahb-viously needs time to hide everyone. Anyway, we can check our hair and stuff while we’re in there. It’s perfect.”

“Point,” Alicia said as they stepped onto the cold, stiff grass and began making their way across the lawn to the old horse shed.

“It feels kind of good to be back.” Massie looked around the sprawling estate.

“Ah-greed.”

“Don’t you miss the warm weather?” Claire folded her arms across her chest. “Or the hotel? Or the people we met?”

They exchanged glances, then shook their heads.

“Do you?” Massie asked.

Claire shrugged, then tried to refocus on her breathing.

“Are you going to lip-kiss Derrington when you see him?” Alicia asked.

“I dunno. Maybe.” She giggled, then opened the door. “I kind of hope so—”

“SURPRISE!”

“Ehmagawd!” shouted Massie and Alicia at the exact same time.

Claire was too stunned to call Apple-C.

The spa was decorated with colorful “Welcome Home” banners and handmade
Dial L for Loser
movie posters that had been cut from the same poster board Layne used to make her protest signs. Tables filled with cakes and cookies and sandwiches and sushi were in every corner of the room. And every person whom Claire had ever met since she’d moved to Westchester was there. Well, almost everyone.

Jay Lyons was the first to greet her with a giant hug. “I am so proud of you,” he whispered in her ear.

“Thanks, Dad.” Claire felt a lump in her throat. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Claire Bear. Enjoy the party. You deserve it.” He hugged her one last time, then headed straight for the waiter with the tray of chicken fingers.

Claire reached into the pocket of her scrubs and pulled the last gummy worm out of the shredded plastic bag. With a quick cough, she stuffed it in her mouth and held it on her tongue. It tasted like loneliness.

“Thank gawd you’re back!” Dylan and Kristen threw their arms around the girls, practically knocking them onto giant cutouts of Massie and Alicia taken from
US Weekly
. Stacks of the magazine were piled on a nearby table, waiting to be autographed.

The flat-screen TV usually reserved for Kendra’s yoga DVDs played the
Daily Grind
segments on a constant loop. And the paparazzi shots of Claire, Conner, and Abby hung from the ceiling rafters like giant mobiles.

“Where’s the movie star?” Layne shouted. She was wearing a brown pantsuit with a pink Hello Kitty tee underneath.

“Hey!” Claire broke away from the Pretty Committee and gave her friend a hug. “Layne, have you seen—”

“We got you!” Judi interrupted as she entered the spa holding a massive red cake in the shape of an
L
.

“You did!” Claire was about to thank her mother for helping to plan such a great party when she was pulled away by the ex–Country Club girls, who wanted to know every last detail about Conner Foley.

“He’s a really nice guy. A lot of fun to work with,” Claire heard herself say as she continued searching the room for Cam.

Derrington and Josh were by the treadmills, increasing the speed and incline, trying to see who could hold on longer. Two bouquets of daisies were on the floor by their jackets, waiting as the boys worked up the nerve to deliver them.

“Is it so weird being back here?” asked Strawberry, the former leader of Da Crew and the only girl at OCD with enough nerve to dye her hair pink. “You know, now that you’re friends with all these famous people, we must seem so lame to you.”

“I don’t think you’re lame.” She forced a kind smile. “Thanks,” Strawberry gushed. “So, are you rich now?” “Uh…” Claire remembered her parents telling her not

to tell anyone how much money she made because it was tacky. “I can definitely buy a few new things for spring, you know, if I want to.”

“Awesome.” Strawberry stared at her with giddy fascination.

“Hey, loser.” Todd tapped Claire on the shoulder. He was wearing a T-shirt that said
MY SISTER IS MORE FAMOUS THAN YOUR SISTER
. His little friend Tiny Nathan was standing beside him nibbling on a mozzarella stick.

“Hey!” Claire turned her back to Strawberry and bent to hug her brother.

“Easy!” He pushed her away. “Calm yourself, woman.”

“Relax.” Claire rolled her eyes. “I was trying to get away from that stalker. It had nothing to do with you.” She mussed her brother’s red hair. “But it is good to—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Todd kicked Tiny Nathan in the shin.

“Ow!” He grabbed his leg. “Whadd’ya do that for?”

Todd shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Here.” Todd reached into the pocket of his Levi’s. “This is for you.” He pulled out a bag of gummy worms and slapped them into Claire’s palm.

Her heart felt heavy with sadness. “Thanks.” She tried to smile. But it was impossible for her to look at a gummy without seeing Cam.

“Wait, there’s more.” Todd reached inside his pocket. This time he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He tossed it at Claire, then chased Tiny Nathan into the “wet section” of the spa.

Claire caught it and squeezed it in her fist, unsure of what to do next. What if it was from Cam? Or worse, what if it wasn’t? But wait, who else would it be from? She made a break for the door and managed to slip out undetected.

The cold air did nothing for her sweaty pits and clammy hands, but it still felt good. Once she was sure no one was around, Claire sat on the frozen grass and unfolded the note slowly, as if it were an explosive that could detonate in her face.

She inhaled courage, exhaled fear, then read.

C,

Meet me behind out back.

C

She read the C-note three more times, then stuffed it in the pocket of her scrubs.

“Cam?” She stood. “Are you out here?”

“Hey.” He rounded the side of the shed.

Claire stared at the boy who’d filled her thoughts for the last three weeks, wondering where to begin. A hug? An apology? A neck-sniff?

“Did you get my e-mail last night?”

He looked at her with his blue eye and green eye and nodded.

“Well?”

He put his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are.” Claire started to smile.

“Yes, I am.” He smiled back.

“So you forgive me?”

“Massie called me three times to explain.” He took a step toward her. “So yes, I forgive you.”

Her stomach fluttered.

“So are you really going to show me what you learned on set? Or were you kidding when you wrote that?”

“I wasn’t kidding.” Claire giggled when she thought of her bold e-mail.

Cam took another step.

Then another.

And another.

Without thinking, Claire hurried toward him and pressed her lips against his. They were cold but soft. She pulled back for a split second, took a breath, and then leaned in again, only this time slower. And on the count of three she poked her tongue into his mouth. He met it with his and—

Cl-eh, Cl-eh.

Cl-eh, Cl-eh.

Claire pulled away from Cam and looked over her shoulder. Her heart was pounding from the kiss and the excitement of seeing him again.

“Is that your phone?” he asked.

“Oh.” She felt her cheeks redden. “Yeah. Sorry.” She pulled it out of her jacket pocket and answered.

“Hello?”

“Please hold for Miles Baime,” crackled a woman’s voice on the other end. After a brief pause, she returned. “You’re on.”

An authoritative man took over. “Claire Lyons, Miles Baime.”

“Uh, hi?”

“I’m a talent agent at The Artist Farm.” He paused for a reaction, but Claire had no idea what to say.

“I saw some selects from
Dial L for Loser
, and I think you’re a real natural. I’d like to represent you and take you to the top.”

“Seriously?” Claire shouted.

“What is it?” Cam dug his hands in his pockets.

She lifted her finger as if to say,
I’ll tell you in a minute.

“Dead serious. Can you swing by my office on Monday?”

“Uh, I’m back in Westchester.”

“Well then, we’ll have work on a plan to move you out here,” Miles said over the click-clack of his keyboard.

“Uh, okay.” Claire was stunned. “I mean, let me think about it. I mean, let me talk to my parents.”

Miles gave her his number and insisted she call him first thing Monday morning.

Claire snapped her phone shut. Did she really have a future as an actress?

“Who was that?” Cam kicked the frozen grass with his black-and-white Adidas.

“Some Hollywood agent guy,” Claire said, very slowly. “He wants me to move to California.” She blinked. “And become an actress.”

“You’re not going to do it, are you?” he asked. “You know, now that you’re back at OCD?”

Claire rubbed her thumb over the red rhinestones on her phone and imagined her life in California. Sunshine, sand, and palm trees, just like Florida. She would be the center of attention and the girl everyone wanted to hang out with. But the best part would be the acting. She’d get paid to do something she loved.

Then she thought of Massie’s Friday night sleepovers and Layne and OCD and her family.…

She lifted her eyes and looked at Cam.

“How could you leave all this?” He waved his arm at the Blocks’ stone mansion, their pool, and tennis court.

How could I not?
she wanted to say. But instead she grabbed his hand and led him back into the party, trying her hardest to follow Rupert’s advice and live in that one moment.

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Lisi Harrison
is the author of the Clique, Alphas, and Monster High series. She was the senior director of production development at MTV and also served as head writer for MTV Productions. She is currently working on her next novel.

Lisi lives in Laguna Beach, California. Her website is
www.lisiharrison.com
.

Pretenders

Monster High

Monster High: The Ghoul Next Door

Monster High: Where There’s a Wolf, There’s a Way

Monster High: Back and Deader Than Ever

Alphas

Movers and Fakers

Belle of the Brawl

Top of the Feud Chain

The Clique

Best Friends for Never

Revenge of the Wannabes

Invasion of the Boy Snatchers

The Pretty Committee Strikes Back

Dial L for Loser

It’s Not Easy Being Mean

Sealed with a Diss

Bratfest at Tiffany’s

The Clique Summer Collection

P.S. I Loathe You

Boys R Us

Charmed and Dangerous: The Rise of the Pretty Committee

The Cliquetionary

These Boots Are Made for Stalking

My Little Phony

A Tale of Two Pretties

A Sneak Peek of
It’s Not Easy Being Mean

T
HE
B
LOCK
E
STATE
M
ASSIE’S
B
EDROOM

Sunday, April 4th
4:14
P.M.

Dylan Marvil pig-pressed her nose against the bay window in Massie Block’s bedroom and then craned her neck slightly left toward the gated entrance of the Block estate. “Um, Kuh-laire? You may wanna see this.”

Dropping the armload of designer clothes she’d been color-coding for Massie, Claire Lyons scurried to Dylan’s side. “What is it?” She pushed up the sleeves on her orange velour hoodie.

“Todd and Tiny Nathan are selling your itchy pink-and-red polka-dot scarf to that fast talker Carrie Randolph.”

Alicia Rivera tossed her
Teen Vogue
on the hardwood floor, slid off Massie’s fluffy, lavender-scented bed, and wiggled between them. Her black velvet leggings were spotted with purple lint from Massie’s bedding. “Ew, that LBR rode her bike all the way over here? To buy
that
?”

“Todd!” Claire shouted at her brother while struggling to unhook the window’s iron latch. “Party scarf wasn’t on the list!”

Kristen Gregory balanced on her tiptoes, straining to see over their heads. Tiny yellow-and-green Puma shorts showed off her sharp soccer calves, which flexed as she bobbed to witness the unfolding scandal. “How much do you think he’s made so far?”

“Too much.” Claire pounded on the soundproof glass. “I can’t believe people actually want to buy my stuff.”

“Me, either,” Massie mumbled, refusing to get distracted by the LBRs who suddenly thought Claire’s cheap machine washables were worth something because she’d starred in a predictable Hollywood movie with Abby Boyd and Conner Foley. She had more important things to think about.

Turning to her swiveling three-paneled full-length mirror, Massie studied her reflection, wondering if she should have saved today’s outfit for tomorrow. Her C&C California black-and-gray-striped V-necked sweater dress exuded confidence over a pair of mint green leggings and gray suede ankle boots. But still, the dress was boxy, and therefore would only know life on Sundays and snow days.

After letting out a long sigh, Massie returned to her life-size mannequin, which ruled the corner of her room between the walk-in closet and her mirror. She fastened a thin gold braided belt around its waist, then stepped back, tilted her head to the left, and took it all in. Cinching the brown Ella Moss T-shirt dress instantly elevated it from a seven to a nine. But still, something was off. Was it the tan linen vest? Too safari? Or maybe it was the espresso-colored Marc Jacobs ballet flats. Yup. It was the flats. They were a little too precious for her first day back at Octavian Country Day School. After her celebrity-studded three-week expulsion, she needed something that said, “I’m back and better than ever.” And right now all she had was, “Hey, guys, how’s it goin’?” She took a long swig of Tab Energy, then tore the poo-colored clothes off the Massie-quin.