Social Order (12 page)

“That's my mother,” whispered Alex, grabbing Lauren's arm. “Unless you want to be put to work filling ice buckets, we better get outta here.”

They ducked into one of the adjoining galleries, which was empty of any other visitors, just as he had promised. Lauren was relieved to find that Alex was just as easy to talk to as Christian. They spent most of their time in the Art of the Americas section, which turned out to be Alex's favorite as well as Lauren's.

“I can't get into paintings,” he admitted, as they circled a ten-foot totem pole from Alaska. “But I really like masks and weapons and all that Aztec and Inca stuff.”

“Pre-Columbian art,” Lauren said, leading him to two of the things she liked best in the whole museum: a Peruvian mini warrior, ornately carved and painted, crouched in the attack position, like some sort of vengeful elf, and a fragment of a stone carving representing the head of a god.

“It says the god is from Guatemala—from the fifth century! I can't believe it's so old,” Lauren marveled.

“It's pretty weird-looking.” Alex nodded, peering into the glass case. Lauren prickled with embarrassment. Maybe she shouldn't have raved about it so much. It was just an old piece of stone found in a jungle. She could just hear Ashley yawning. But so what? Girls like Ashley were lame. Besides, if Alex had been interested in a girl like Ashley, he would be dating one of the Ashleys, but he hadn't. He had asked her out.

But then . . . maybe he thought she
was
an Ashley because of the way she looked now. The old Lauren certainly wouldn't have attracted two lacrosse players to her side. Or would she have? Maybe it was just about confidence.

“We can go look at something else, if you want,” Lauren said, backing away from the display.

Alex turned to look at her, his dark eyes intent and
serious. “It's great that you're interested in, you know,
stuff
,” he said. “Lots of girls can be so . . . I dunno. They're not like you. Most of them just giggle and want to hold hands.”

Lauren returned his smile. She was right. He was interested in her—the real her—not the Ashley exterior. And the thought of holding hands with Alex made her feel weak at the knees. Literally. She might fall over at any second. She completely forgot about Christian. It was all about Alex right now.

“It's cool you know so much about things,” he continued.

“Well, I don't know that much,” she faltered. They were walking into the next room, but her eyes couldn't focus on anything. “And I like silly things as well.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked, his voice playful.

“Yeah, like that new movie about those killer robots.”

His face immediately lit up. “That movie's going to be awesome. Wanna go see it next week?”

“Sure!” Lauren nodded, completely forgetting that she had agreed to see the same movie with Christian just a few hours ago. She supposed she could live with seeing it twice.

She felt like skipping around the room. Christian
and Alex were so nice! And they both wanted to see her again. . . .

One of these days she would have to decide which one she liked better. But not today, and not anytime soon.

“HURRY! YOU'RE THE LAST ONE
to arrive!” Ashley pulled A. A. onto the overstuffed couch, where Lauren and Lili were already stationed, each girl balancing a small plate of goodies on her lap.

The brocade curtains were drawn in the Spencers' den, and the leather-covered coffee table was covered with white platters of pot stickers, mini burritos, and spring rolls, all made by the live-in gourmet chef. Ashley grabbed the remote, dinging it against the carafe of freshly squeezed lemonade. “The show's about to start.”

The television set, a giant flat-screen above the fireplace, was tuned to the Sugar channel. The first episode of
Preteen Queen
was about to be broadcast, and Ashley
couldn't wait. She'd had flyers made and distributed to every girl at Miss Gamble's, to make sure nobody missed the show. San Francisco would be the first city shown, the producers had decided. There would be no more taping until the winners of the regional rounds went to New York. Their lives as reality-show vixens were over, but the fame was just about to begin.

Ashley wasn't the only one excited about this. As soon as the theme music began—“Royals” by Lorde—they all started squealing.

Omigod! There they were on the bench outside school, all looking supercute in their uniforms and Louboutin Mary Janes. The Ashleys were on national television! Her smile faded when she saw the others' dance-team rehearsal, but returned when she watched the next clip—there they were in Manners & Morals, explaining the rules of the Friendship Ceremony to all the nonfamous losers in their class!

It took about five seconds for excitement to turn into joy to turn into . . . well, disappointment. Was this what they really looked like? Ashley screwed up her face. She looked completely washed out, she decided. She was way too pale, almost sickly. She'd definitely have to ask for a darker spray tan next time.

But at least she didn't come over all whiny backstabber like Lili, who visibly squirmed when the producers asked her why she kept the dance-team performance a secret from Ashley.

“It wasn't like that!” Lili complained, pointing accusingly at the screen. “I mean—you were busy!”

Ashley didn't say anything, even though she was smirking inside. She'd played the whole thing expertly and had come out smelling like a rose—especially when she hugged the girls after they'd betrayed her.

And at least she had screen time, unlike Lauren. For half of the discussion on the bench scene, Lauren was cut out of the frame altogether. The big close-up was of A. A. protesting too much that she hadn't kissed dozens of boys. Then the screen showed the actual Friendship Ceremony.

“My singing voice is awful!” Lauren giggled. “I'm totally off-key!” Ashley had no idea why Lauren would think that was funny. But it was almost as if Lauren didn't care what she looked or sounded like on television.

“They keep zooming in on the bruise on my neck,” complained Lili. “That's from playing the violin—it's not a hickey!”

“At least you don't look like a ditz,” A. A. moaned.
It was true: The way the show had been edited, A. A. was always staring into space, tapping her desk with a pencil, or examining her fingernails. And whenever she was shown applying lip gloss, the producers had added kissing noises on the soundtrack, reminding all the viewers that she was the one who liked to make out.

Ashley loved it. She couldn't wait for the last ten minutes of the show. She was the only one in this room who knew what was coming.

Then the screen changed, and Lili gasped. “Isn't that . . . isn't that the lacrosse party?” she asked, confused. “I recognize the spiral staircase! But how did they . . .”

The caption across the bottom of the screen flashed the words
HIDDEN CAMERA FOOTAGE
. The picture was jumpy and blurry, clearly taken with a small video camera. A Steadicam, maybe. Something hidden in a backpack, most likely.

“Oh God!” Lauren laughed as she nearly dropped her plate. “That's me standing in the corner by myself!”

The shot showed Lauren all alone, sipping her drink and gazing wistfully around the room. On the show's soundtrack, a solo violin played a mocking lament.

“Now where were the cameras when I was hanging out with those two guys?” she asked.

Ashley curled her lip. Lauren had told them she had met not just one, but two cute lacrosse players at the party, and had gone on dates with both of them last week. Not that any of them believed her, even though it was all over AshleyRank as well. Please. Lauren Page, man-killer? Ashley didn't think so. Lauren was
definitely
behind the blog, for sure. Besides, the cameras didn't lie. There she was looking like a huge loser as always.

“Oh well,” Lauren said. “At least this way they won't know I'm dating both of them.”

This girl really has an overactive imagination,
Ashley thought. “Oh, there's me and Tri!” she said triumphantly. They were laughing and smiling at each other, and at one point Tri reached for Ashley's hand. How lucky that she was the only one with a boyfriend!

Onscreen the footage showed a closet door opening, and then A. A. stumbling out, followed by a redheaded guy with a sheepish look on his face.

“Who's that?!” Ashley shrieked. “A. A., you slut!”

“It's no one!” A. A. protested, looking pale. “I told you, I met some guy—a friend of Tri's—at the party. We hung out in the closet but nothing happened—I can't believe they're showing this part. We were only in
there for a couple of minutes, and all we did was talk! But this makes me look so bad!”

Lauren and Lili consoled A. A., and Ashley made sympathetic noises as she snuggled into her cushion. A. A. was another one in dreamland. As if any girl would go into a closet with a guy just “to talk.” Get serious! This was the best TV show she'd ever seen in her life. She hadn't had so much fun since Aria was loaded in a box with Garret's corpse on
Pretty Little Liars
.

“Omigod!” Now Lili was enraged. “They
di'in't
!”

The grainy footage showed Max pulling away from Lili in the butler's pantry. The dialogue was muffled, so the producers had helpfully provided the text at the bottom of the screen. “It's just weird.” “What's weird?” “I'll see you around, okay?” Then Max abruptly left the pantry, walking away as fast as he could. The camera zoomed in on Lili looking shell-shocked, her eyes glistening with tears.

“God, Lil!” shrieked Ashley. “You never told us you cried!”

“Shut up!” Lili yelled, her cheeks aflame as she tried to smother Ashley with a tasseled pillow.

The other day Lili had finally confessed what happened the night of the party, and the Ashleys had a three-way conference call as Lili gave them the blow-by-
blow of Max's mystifying hot-and-cold actions. Ashley was truly sympathetic but gratified that she was so lucky to have Tri, who would never do a thing like kiss her and then dump her all in the same second. She conveniently forgot about the fact that Tri had yet to express any interest in kissing her in the first place.

The hour-long show whizzed by, in Ashley's opinion, although A. A. was going on about it being the worst hour of her life. Ashley wished it was
longer
. Where was Tri? She couldn't believe he was missing her triumph. He said he was going to try and make it, even though he had something boring and unimportant to do, like homework.

“Okay, is everyone ready to vote?” Ashley asked, picking up her phone, ready to dial. “Only one of us can go through to the next round.”

All the girls grabbed their phones, dialing madly. Ashley was glad she'd told the house staff to watch on the kitchen television. They'd promised to vote for her many times. Of course, the other girls probably did the same with their families' employees, but Ashley was counting on her household's many phone lines to tip the scales in her favor. Not that she was too worried. She definitely came across as the most likeable one.

“Hey—sorry I'm so late.” The door creaked open, and Tri poked his head in.

About time! Ashley snorted. “Get your phone out!” she ordered. She'd have to be mad at him another time. Right now she needed him to cast a vote. Make that a hundred votes. “You have to keep dialing this number. I need you to vote as many times as possible.”

“What am I voting for?” Tri sat at the end of the sofa, scratching his head.

“It's not
what
,” Lili corrected him. “It's
who
.”

“You're voting for me,” Ashley informed him, raising her voice when Lili starting squealing in protest. “Get your own boyfriends if you want votes!” she said merrily.

“Which number . . .” Tri murmured, squinting at the split-screen images.

“A. A. is at the top,” Lauren told him. Ashley rolled her eyes. Little Miss Helpful was just going to confuse him. Guys were
much
slower than girls when it came to the important things in life. “And then it's Ashley. And then it's—”

“Look—this is the number.” Ashley walked over and thrust her phone in his face. “A. A. can ask that guy she made out with in the closet to vote for her. She doesn't need your vote.”

“I already told you, I didn't make out with anyone.” A. A. looked down and didn't meet Tri's eyes. She stared at her phone, pounding the keys.

“Really? That's unusual,” Ashley said innocently, wriggling back into her seat. A. A. was in such denial! She could protest all she wanted that nothing had happened, but Ashley knew the truth. A. A. must think they were all born yesterday.

That secret party footage was a killer. It was sure to clinch the deal. Ashley was so glad she'd sent Jasper that text after the lacrosse games on Saturday with her latest brilliant brainwave, and that he'd been able to find a production intern willing and able to do the dirty work on such short notice. Everyone watching at home was sure to vote for Ashley now. Who wanted a wallflower, a slut, or a backstabbing meanie to be their Preteen Queen?

“Dial faster,” she urged Tri. She noted with annoyance that he was staring intently at the screen, which was rolling credits while showing close-ups of the girls. His gazed lingered just a little too long on the shot of A. A. in her tiny dance-team uniform.

A. A. DIALED SO MANY
times her fingertips were numb. But it didn't matter. She knew that. Nobody would be voting for her, because that TV show made her look
awful
. Unlike Lili and Ashley, she didn't care very much about making it to the next round of the show, but she did care that she'd been made to look like a boy-crazy idiot on television. All the stuff filmed at school was bad enough, but the secret party footage was even worse.