Social Order (4 page)

Lauren had come pretty close herself to committing social suicide the week before the dance. She'd told the Ashleys
exactly
what she thought of them. Not much, as
it turned out. The truth hurts and the truth was, it was a big mistake.

Once upon a time (just last year, actually), Lauren had been a fashion-challenged, work-study ugly duckling, but this semester, ever since her father had made unbelievable amounts of money, she had been transformed into a svelte, well-dressed, full-tuition-paying swan. A swan with a hidden agenda. To destroy the Ashleys.

She wanted to put an end to their reign of terror and make life better for everyone in the seventh grade. And the only way to do it was from the inside. She had to be part of the group if she wanted to rewrite the rules of the game. And rule number one was: play to their vanities.

She made her way to their table, carrying her tray of yogurt and spelt bread—Ashley's daily lunch, which was now the most popular option on the refectory's organic menu.

A few parents had voiced concern about the new item's super-low-fat quality (did it even have any real nutritional value?), but Lauren had overheard Ashley telling Lili that as far as she was concerned, the new spartan diet was a blessing in disguise for the student population. They could all stand to lose a few pounds!

As she stood in front of their table, Lauren could feel her ears turning red. She didn't have to turn around to know that the entire seventh-grade class was staring at her back. No one ever approached the Ashleys directly. And never at lunch.

Just a few weeks ago, Ashley herself had invited Lauren to sit with them at their table. It had been a huge triumph, the likes of which had never been seen at Miss Gamble's. Sheridan Riley, famous for hero-worshipping the Ashleys, had once been allowed to lean against the wall next to the table, but that was as close as anyone else had ever gotten.

If Lauren had any hopes of returning to the head table, she'd have to prove herself worthy all over again. If she ended up slinking away, she could count on spending her entire year huddled in the library every lunch hour. And nothing at all would change.

Lauren glanced at a ragged group of misfits by the door. Would it hurt Ashley to stop making that Darth Vader breathing noise every time Cass Franklin walked by? Or for Lili to tell Daria Hart when the Honor Board was meeting, since Daria was a member? Or for A. A. to let Candace Yen actually play during a soccer match rather than just sit on the bench the whole time? Lauren
knew what being invisible was like, and she wouldn't wish it on anybody.

Luckily, she had an ace up her sleeve. A foolproof plan to win back the Ashleys' friendship. The news she was about to spill was sure to get her a seat at this table every day of the week from now on. And once she had a seat at the table, maybe she could have a say in how things were run around here.

She cleared her throat.

Ashley Spencer raised an eyebrow, looked once at Lauren, and then turned back to Lili, as if Lauren wasn't even there. Lauren tried to exude confidence, even if the other two Ashleys didn't look too welcoming either.

“I . . . I have something to discuss with you all,” she announced, her palms sweating as she held on to her tray. She glanced quickly at A. A., hoping to get a sort-of-friendly smile. Everyone always said that A. A. was the nicest of the Ashleys, but she was acting pretty stuck-up today, staring off into space as though she wanted to be somewhere else.

Lauren felt beads of sweat forming on her brow, and she was glad she had accessorized her uniform with a shrunken velvet blazer, black tights, and her high-heeled spectators. She might be doomed to outsider status, but
at least she looked like an Ashley from the outside. She noticed they were all wearing colorful Pucci scarves tied around their necks.

“
You
have something to discuss?” Ashley asked, wrinkling her pert, freckle-free nose with distaste. “Is this, like, a committee meeting for some lame club we would never join?”

Lili glanced wryly at her.

“It's about a TV show,” Lauren hurried to say. “A TV show we could be in.”

“We?” asked Lili, suspicious but clearly interested.

Lauren nodded. This was the
hook
. . . .

But A. A. was still staring into space, twisting one of her pigtails, and Ashley continued to look affronted, as though she couldn't believe that the interloper was presuming to set the agenda.

“You know how there's been a rumor going around that I'm going to star in my own reality show? Well, it's true—kind of. These guys my father met are producers at a new teen cable network, Sugar. Maybe you've heard about it?” Lauren asked, talking quickly. She was getting a little tired of standing, and the sixteen-ounce bottle of water was making her tray heavy.

“Oh yeah,” said Lili, perking up a bit. “They make
the
Boarding School Confidential
series, right? My sister's desperate for them to come to her school.”

“Well, they've been talking to me about a show they're doing,” Lauren told them. This was the
line
. . . .

“You?”
Ashley asked, annoyed.

Lauren tried not to feel too insulted. “Yeah, but the thing is, it's not just me they want.”

“Go on,” Ashley said slowly, her blue eyes now fixed firmly on Lauren. Lili nodded, and even A. A. was paying attention now. “This is a reality show?”

Lauren nodded. “Yup. You know, with scripted scenarios, like
The Hills
used to be.”

“I
love
shows like that,” gushed Lili. “Especially that one in Miami with the models.”

“Or that one in soccer camp where everyone got kidnapped,” added A. A., pushing away her tray of half-eaten lunch. “It took them three months to find them all.”

“So . . . ?” Ashley prodded.

Lauren flipped her hair and took a sip from her water bottle before answering. “The producers want a group of girls. That's what I need to discuss with you today. Do you guys want to play my friends?” And that was the
sinker
. She held her breath. Would the Ashleys take the bait?

For a long moment, it looked as if Lauren would come up snake eyes, but then Ashley spoke. “You mean on television?”

“Us?” Lili asked.

“What do you mean ‘play'?” A. A. wanted to know.

The Ashleys looked at one another. Lauren exhaled and shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I mean, if you don't want to, I can ask Melody and Olivia, or maybe Sheridan and her crew. . . .”

“Don't you dare,” Lili said. They all looked at Ashley, who looked at Lauren, as if weighing her options.

“Sit down,” Ashley ordered.

A. A. moved to the side to make room for Lauren.

Lauren climbed over the bench and lowered her body to the seat by the window. Success! Step One had been accomplished. Her fishing expedition had been successful; now she just had to keep reeling them in until she was one of them.

“Tell us more,” Ashley demanded, her fork in the air. “Tell us everything.”

Lauren gladly told them as much as she could. The show was called
Preteen Queen
and was scheduled to air as a midseason replacement for a karaoke show that had bombed. They were going to start taping episodes as
early as next week if they could find the right girls. The girls who had originally been selected to do it had been fired when the producers discovered that two of them had been caught shoplifting over the summer.

“Serves them right,” Lauren said with a laugh, digging into her salad and grimacing at its tastelessness. Tomorrow she would definitely bring her own sandwich instead of eating this crap. “Anyway, the producers are desperate to find the right girls, and my dad volunteered me. But it's supposed to be some kind of group thing, so I need a group.”

“And you've found one.” Ashley nodded, beaming like a Cheshire cat. “
Preteen Queen.
It's got the Ashleys written all over it, doesn't it?”

“Where do we sign?” joked A. A., drumming her Louboutin Mary Janes on the floor.

Lili had already whipped out her BlackBerry. “When can we schedule the first meeting with the producers, Lo?” she asked Lauren.

And just like that, Lauren knew that once again she had her foot in the door. This time she hoped not to trip on it.

There's been
a lot of movement in the Rank this week. Check out the latest stats and see how our girls are doing! Are your favorites still on top? Or are they about to lose their thrones?

Here's one who's leapfrogged so high she still hasn't come down!

STYLE: 8

Her successful promotion to the head table must be due to her stunning ensembles. Is that a school uniform or the Marc Jacobs fall line?

SOCIAL PRESENCE: 8

Confidence is key to social climbing, and she's as calm, cool, and collected as they come.

SMILE: 5

Only because she still doesn't do it often enough! L-Po, lighten up already, will ya?

SMARTS: 9

The only girl at school who's stopped eating the rabbit food they're serving at the ref. We like a girl who can think for herself.

CUMULATIVE SCORE: 30

AFTER SCHOOL A WEEK LATER,
Lili's driver was waiting in her mother's black hybrid SUV. Lili always dreaded Monday afternoons, because she had to go straight from school to the Alliance Française to meet with her tutor. Once a week she had to spend an hour “enjoying” Advanced French conversation. She'd always hated French. She'd tried arguing her case with her mother, saying that Spanish would be a more useful language. After all, didn't their housekeeper, groundskeeper, and both nannies looking after her baby twin sisters all speak Spanish?

When Lili grew up, how was she expected to manage her staff if she wasn't fluent in their language?
French was so
eighteenth century
. Unless she was planning to become an announcer at the Olympic Games or play the role of Mulan at Disneyland Paris, Lili didn't see why she had to suffer every Monday afternoon. It didn't help that the only other student in her tutorial was some glaze-eyed surfer from Saint Aloysius, who was there to learn a few phrases before his parents took him on a vacation to Tahiti. He barely said a word, unless it was to ask the French words for “Big Kahuna” and “coral reef.”

Whenever Lili tried to complain, her mother told her to focus on working for the United Nations or the State Department some day. What Lili didn't tell her achievement-obsessed mother, of course, was that her real dream was to run a nightclub in New York City. Well, maybe French could come in handy. She could call it the Moulin Rouge, she thought, gazing out of the tinted windows of the SUV as it passed a row of graceful Victorian mansions.

Lili's parents had their hearts on their daughter being the first Asian-American something—Supreme Court justice, Secretary of State, governor of California. She was expected to follow in her parents' footsteps and graduate from Harvard, of course. Actually, they
expected her to go to Harvard twice—once for her bachelor's degree, and also for graduate school.

Maybe Harvard made you write your admissions essay in French,
Lili thought, her heart sinking at the sight of the cream-colored Alliance Française building, with its neat blue shutters and pristine window boxes, the French flag hanging above the front door waving in the stiff breeze.

But it was hard to be too glum today because of the news Lauren Page had sprung at lunch. Their own reality TV show! Now that was the kind of after-school activity that Lili could get enthused about. She had already cleared a number of windows in her overpacked schedule, and Lauren had promised to call the producers that afternoon to set up the first meeting. They wanted to start filming right away, Lauren had said, because the first episodes of the show would go on air while it was still in production.

The only thing that worried her was the prospect of Ashley trying to take over the show. That would be
so
like her. Ashley couldn't be content with being number one on AshleyRank, or having a boyfriend, or stealing the best outfit at A. A.'s place from under Lili's nose, or any of her other—let's face it—not-totally-deserved accolades and accomplishments.

There was no doubt in Lili's mind: Ashley was already fitting the
Preteen Queen
crown for her blond head. Lili had to make sure that didn't happen, and the first place she planned to start was with Lauren herself. The closer Lili got to Lauren, the more camera time she'd score. As soon as she got home tonight, in the half hour free she had once a day, Lili was going to execute her plan.

She slammed the heavy door of the SUV and marched up the steps of the Alliance Française. She announced herself in French to the pretty receptionist at the desk, then walked up the dramatic, curving staircase to the second-floor private library. She arrived to find her tutor, Madame LeBrun, waiting for her in the elegant, wood-paneled room, seated in a wingback armchair and looking even more thin and pallid than last week.

“Bonjour, Madame,”
Lili said, demurely sitting in a chair and stowing her Proenza bag at her feet.

The French teacher sniffed, pressing a delicate handkerchief to her pointy nose. She had allergies all year round, apparently. She wore a drab gray cardigan over a matching jersey skirt, the collar of her blouse was askew.

Lili shuddered. What about that famous French style? Why wasn't Madame LeBrun wearing an Hermès scarf or a Chanel suit? At least she could have a chic purse—but no. Madame always carried a canvas book bag overflowing with papers and books. It wasn't even a cute canvas bag with her initials embroidered on it, like the one from L.L. Bean that Lili's dad liked to take on their boat. She was sure that if her mother ever got a look at Madame LeBrun, Nancy Khan would demand an instant refund.