It's Not Easy Being Mean (20 page)

“What'd you say?” Claire asked, desperate to hear Massie's confession a second time, to make sure it was real.

“I said”—she rolled her eyes—”I'd pro-ba-bly miss you.”

Even though Claire's paste-covered hair was stuffed in a shower cap and her left eyebrow was blond while the other was black and bushy, she felt more confident than she had in her entire life.

“That's what I thought you said.”

“So does this mean you'll stay?”

There was a loud pounding on the door.

“Open up. It's an emergency!”

“Use the one downstairs, Todd!”

The girls covered their mouths and giggled.

“No!” He jiggled the handle. “I need to talk to you. It's about the lawyers.”

“What?”

“Open!”

Claire rolled her eyes and cracked open the door. “Speak.”

Todd burst in.

“What are you wearing?” Massie pinched the lapel of his white linen sport coat and rubbed it between her fingers. “You know it's only April, right?”

“So?” Todd smoothed a hand over the side part in his orange hair.

“
So?
That's a summer suit.” Massie snickered. “And what's with the three-quarter sleeves?”

“It's vintage.”

“What do you want?” Claire barked, resenting her younger brother for interrupting their most heartfelt moment ever.

“I
want
to talk to the lawyers.”

“’Bout what?”

“Emancipating me from Mom and Dad.”

“Why?” the girls asked at the exact same time.

“Because I've been grounded for thirty-three days and it's totally unfair.”

“No, it's not.” Claire pushed her brother toward the open door. “You skipped school, hid in the back of the Range Rover, and stowed away on our trip to
The Daily Grind.
It's
totally
fair.”

“I have a case. I want to divorce Mom and Dad and live on my own.”

“Well, you'll have to find another lawyer.”

“And another suit,” Massie added.

“Why?” Todd stomped his forest green Converse high-tops.

“Because I told the lawyers to leave.” Claire looked at Massie. “For good.”

“Huh?” Massie asked Claire's blond eyebrows, as if noticing them for the first time.

“I quit the movie.”

“What?” Todd and Massie yelled in unison.

“I told them I wanted to stay.” Claire's heart pounded, just like it had in Lake Placid right before she kissed Cam for the first time. “In Westchester. At OCD. With you guys. And Cam. I'm tired of missing out on everything. And I'm over looking like a Brillo pad.”

“
Yes!
“ Massie air-clapped and bounced on her toes.

“You turned down a major motion picture?” Todd slapped his hand against his forehead. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe.” Claire smiled peacefully.

“I definitely want out of this family!” Todd stormed into the hallway, slamming the door behind him.

Massie checked her silver Coach Whitney watch and then, without a word, removed the cap from Claire's head. “Why didn't you tell me you were going to stay?”

“Why didn't you tell me you were going to miss me?”

“Point.” Massie lifted her finger in the air, Alicia style.

Claire giggled and pulled Massie in for a hug.

The instant Massie hugged back, Claire knew she'd made the right decision. The Pretty Committee was going to dominate the eighth grade. And what could possibly be more fun than that?

T
HE
S
OCCER
S
TADIUM
S
IRENS VS.
M
EERKATS

Sunday, April 11th

2:19
P.M.

Cam leaned forward in his seat, raised his A&W root beer, and rested a warm hand on his girlfriend's shoulder. “To blond Claire and the end of her movie career.”

“For now,” she giggle-warned.

Alicia, Dylan, Derrington, and Josh clinked waxy paper cups. “To blond Claire.”

While everyone toasted the good news, Massie lowered her black Stella McCartney sunglasses and raised the rim on her olive green army cap.

Skye was one section over, to their right, surrounded by the DSL Daters. All five girls wore identical gray stretch pants, black ballet slippers, and different-colored slouchy knit sweaters. Gold bangles, braided macramé bracelets, leather bands, and platinum link chains lined their arms like mismatched sleeves. Rumor had it they added a new bracelet every time one of them kissed a boy. Judging from the swarm of cute high school guys buzzing around them, a visit to Tiffany was minutes away.

“I'm going to the bathroom.” Massie stood.

“Again?” Derrington asked from the row of bleachers behind her. “You've gone like ten times in the last hour. Besides, I have something to show you.” He pulled a tiny silver camera from the pocket of his A&F camo shorts.

“Can it wait?” Massie pushed her glasses back up, shielding her eyes from the blazing sun. Even if she hadn't been repulsed by Derrington's bedroom—which she so had—she would have hit pause on his little show-and-tell. She had more important things to deal with.

Claire, who was sitting in the boys' row sharing a bag of peanuts with Cam, leaned forward and whispered in Massie's ear. “You've been walking by her all afternoon flashing that key. She hasn't said a word.”

Massie sighed. Claire was right. Skye was ignoring her. What if she knew Layne found the key first? Or what if she was holding a grudge because Massie had approached her? The cold-shoulder thing was giving her serious chills. It was time to put her secret plan into effect and pray that it didn't backfire.

“Block.” Derrington kicked her bleacher. “Check this out.” He thrust the camera in her face but Massie waved it away. “I have to go.”

She scurried past her friends' denim-clad legs and raced up to the LBR Jr. section, five rows behind her.

“Todd, can I talk to you for a minute?”

The ten-year-old was sandwiched between Tiny Nathan and some kid wearing a floppy red-and-white-striped Cat in the Hat hat.

“It's important.”

His friends teased him with a chorus of
woo-hooos, awwwyeahhhs,
and kissy sounds.

Massie folded her arms across her chest and tapped her black suede Miu Miu clogs, letting him know this was serious business.

“I need a favor.” She dragged him to the very top row.

Todd puckered his lips.

“Ew, nawt that.” She smacked his light blue Orlando Magic cap. “This.”

Massie handed him an ah-dorable pink vellum envelope. Inside was Layne's gold locket, complete with the picture of Tricky and a note that said:

Skye,

Here is the pony you asked for. One day i hope i can get you the real thing.

Happy Graduation,

xo Chris Abeley

Ps—please don't thank me. Ever! I really mean it! please don't! I'm very very shy.

“Go give this to Skye and I guarantee she'll give you another kiss. Only this time it will be in front of everyone.”

“Really?” Todd's face lit up.

“Yup.” Massie grabbed his scrawny shoulders and glared into his dark eyes. “But you can't tell her it came from me. If she asks where you got it, tell her some high school guy paid you to deliver it.”

“And she'll kiss me?”

Massie nodded. “Vigorously.”

“In front of everyone?”

“Yup, now go!” She practically kicked him down the bleachers.

“Watch this!” he shouted to his friends when he passed.

Casually, Massie returned to her seat.

“What's
he
doing there?” Claire gasped, noticing her brother tapping Skye's shoulder, trying to distract her from a shaggy blond clutching a gray skateboard.

“That kid is my hero,” Josh snickered.

Alicia rolled her eyes.

The Pretty Committee stood, mouths agape, as Skye broke away from the skater, took the envelope from Todd, and read the note. Seconds later, she handed the package to the DSL Daters, who fanned their faces and squealed like they were holding an invitation to Zac Efron's birthday party. As promised, Skye threw her decorated arms around the redhead and gave him a juicy kiss on the lips. Todd turned to his friends and threw his fists in the air.

They cheered like he'd just scored the winning goal.

“What was that all about?” Alicia asked in shock.

“I dunno, but it looks like someone's getting a new bracelet,” Massie whisper-smiled to herself.

Once seated, she pulled the Coach key-chain necklace out of her burnt orange Barneys cashmere sweater vest, lifted it over her head, and twirled. The tiny handbags smashed into her knuckles and the chain coiled around her index finger, practically cutting off all circulation to her hand.

“Yes!” Josh jumped to his feet along with the rest of the navy-and-yellow-clad Sirens fans.

“Goal!” Derrington wiggled his butt while Cam and Josh smacked it.

Only the Pretty Committee remained seated.

“Get up,” insisted Derrington. “Kristen just scored.”

“She did?” Massie she climbed up on the bleacher with the rest of the Sirens fans. A soccer-ball-size lump of pride stuck in her throat as she cheered for her ex-teammates and one of her best friends. “Numba seven!”

“One-nothing for the Sirens!” Claire shouted.

“People who don't know us must think we're real fans.” Dylan clapped.

“Puh-lease.” Massie rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows us.”

“Point!” Alicia giggled.

The crowd settled. And the game was back on.

“We totally used to be on that team,” Alicia told two eighth-grade girls in front of her.

They gave her a heartfelt thumbs-up.

“Foot long!” called a girl dressed in a pink Splendid hoodie. She had wavy brown hair, full, high-glossed lips, and cool gold aviators—hardly the stadium-vendor type. “Pass it to Ms. Stella McCartney Glasses over there.” She placed the foil-wrapped dog in Dylan's hands.

Massie felt her cheeks redden. “Ew, I so didn't order
that,
“ she announced to the people around her.

“Yes, you did,” insisted the vendor.

“I did nawt! I don't
do
street meat.”

“Eat it!” she insisted before flipping on her hood and sprinting down the steps.

“Who
was
that?” Alicia asked out the side of her mouth.

“Probably some LBR who wants me to get fat.”

“Point.”

“I'll eat it.” Claire waved her hand in the space between Dylan and Alicia's heads.

“Sharing is caring. Let's split it,” insisted Dylan as she peeled back the foil. “Eh. Ma. Gawd.” She held the hot dog across Alicia's lap, lifting it toward Massie's face. “Look!”

“Yes!”

Assuming the Sirens had scored another goal, some LBRs in their section jumped to their feet.

“False alarm.” Dylan motioned for them to sit.

“Lemme see.” Claire's poked her head between Massie and Alicia.

Written with spicy brown mustard, in what they assumed to be Skye's beautiful loopy script, it said, 4 p.m. storage shed.

Excitement in the stands started to build. Sirens fans were sliding to the edges of the bleachers, hollering and clapping. It was as if everyone had gotten mustard messages from Skye.

Kristen was charging down the field dribbling the ball. She circled around a stocky Meerkat, did a kick-fall, and shot the ball straight into the white net.

“That's the game!” Derrington smacked Massie's shoulder.

Everyone cheered and hugged and chanted Kristen's name.

“She's our best friend!” Dylan shouted.

“We used to be on the team,” Alicia announced again.

“We're going to the finals!” Claire yelled as she and Cam punched the mild spring air.

Casually, as if removing a mascara booger from the corner of her eye, Massie reached under her sunglasses and wiped away a happy relief drop. Now Kristen was famous too.

“Block.” Derrington stepped onto her bleacher, then hopped down beside her. “Will you
please
look at this?” He turned on his digital camera and shielded the tiny screen from the glaring sun.

“Fine.” Massie lifted her oval glasses. She was looking at a boring shot of a navy-comforter-covered bed and a hay-colored sisal rug. “So what? It's a room. I'm not even in it.”

“It's
my
room.” He beamed. “I cleaned it for you.”

Suddenly Massie's stomach dipped, like she was riding one of the sea-tossed sailboats etched in his tin headboard.

He cared.

“Wanna come over after the game and see it in person?” His brown eyes were wide with hope, like a little boy asking his mom for a chocolate-chip cookie before dinner.

“I would, but there's something I have to do.”

“Cool.” He turned, in search of his friends. “I better go and—”

“How about tomorrow? After school.”

Derrington wiggled his butt.

O
CTAVIAN
C
OUNTRY
D
AY
S
CHOOL
S
OCCER
F
IELD

Sunday, April 11

3:50
P.M.

“Let me go.” Kristen struggled to break free from Dylan's grip. “I have to shower.”

“We don't have time!” Massie helped drag her through the crowd.

“But some people wanted my autograph.” Kristen looked back at the cluster of fans on the field, surrounding her teammates. “And the coach is taking us out for—”

“We're meeting Skye,” Massie whispered in her sweaty ear.

“Ehmagawd! Skye contacted—?”

Massie slapped her hand in front of Kristen's mouth. They had come too far to blow it now.

The sound of excited chatter faded into the distance as they rapidly crossed campus, finally giving the girls a minute to talk freely.

“I can't believe she wrote the message on a hot dog,” Kristen gasped while wiping her forehead with a pink-and-orange Puma sweatband.

“I can't believe Coach Davis made you captain for next year,” Claire panted.

“I know.” Kristen folded the elastic on her navy shorts, revealing her flat, pale abs. “I'm—”

“Less talking, more walking.” Massie grabbed Kristen's clammy hand, then checked over her shoulder. “Hurry, Leesh. We can't be late.”

“I'm try-ing, o-kay?” She pumped her arms.