The Ashley Project (17 page)

“Okay. Hair. Uh. I dunno. . . .”

A. A. wished he would spit out a number, any number, just to get this thing over with. He didn't have to take it so seriously—except that was the thing. No one ever joked around with the rank calls. That was what made them so special. It was like getting a little sneak peek into a boy's mind, and somehow they had convinced the boys this was a good thing to do. A. A. was convinced that Ashley had come up with the game so she could lord it over everyone how all the boys at Gregory Hall were in love with her. Ashley was the rank call queen.

“Hair,” Tri repeated. He clucked his tongue. “Ten?”

Was he serious? A. A. wrote down “10” and kicked Lili on the ankle for snickering. Lili and Ashley had teased her about Tri forever, and this was so not helping.

In the end, Tri gave her the highest rank yet in the history of rank calls: a perfect one hundred. Not even Ashley had merited that from Jonathan Tessin, the Gregory Hall eighth grader who had such a huge crush on her he used to send her slobbery IMs every day until she had to change her online handle.

A. A. didn't know what to make of it. She knew he had to be sincere, since Ashley and Lili had called Tri for their rank calls last year and he'd given Ashley a “4” for personality, while Lili had merited a “10” for intelligence—which meant he was being sincere, since she knew Tri thought Ashley was a nightmare and that Lili was really smart.

“Wow. One hundred. I don't think that's allowed. Nobody's that perfect,” Lili teased. “He must be really into you.”

“He's my friend,” A. A. emphasized. If she had to rank Tri, she'd probably give him the same score, not that she would ever get the chance, since the girls never ranked the boys—the calls only went one way. Although
she'd have to take a few points off for height, if she was being totally honest.

“Girls can't be friends with boys, everyone knows that,” Ashley said. Ever since she had made them watch some old movie that was her mom's favorite, Ashley had taken to quoting from it as if it were a manual on modern dating. Which was silly, since everyone knew that movie was from, like, the Dark Ages.

“Ashley, that is so stupid,” said A. A., but she kept hearing Tri's low voice—when did it get that low? Had she never noticed before?—amplified on the speakerphone and wondered if Ashley could possibly be right.

Did Tri like her? Did he want to be more than friends? She thought back to the last time they'd hung out. He'd come over the other week so they could watch a
Dr. Who
marathon together. Then she'd beat him on the Xbox as usual, and then he left. He had acted exactly the same way he always did. He certainly didn't act like he was in love with her or anything ridiculous like that.

She wondered what laxjock would think if she told him about Tri. Would he be jealous? He seemed too cool to be jealous. And besides, Tri was just her childhood friend. Laxjock was older, wiser, hotter. Dex's image came to mind.

A. A. pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees, curling into a ball. Next to her, Lili was getting ranked by a guy from St. Aloysius, Ashley was trying on her new Chanel lip gloss, and Lauren was passing around mugs of hot chocolate her housekeeper had just brought up to the room.

She took a sip of the dark, rich drink. It was made the way A. A. liked it—not too sweet, with only a dollop of whipped cream on top instead of a melted marshmallow. Tri always made the hot chocolate when they hung out at his place, since A. A. tended to burn it. Cooking was not one of her strong points. He always remembered to add the whipped cream.

A. A. imagined the two of them as a couple, holding hands when they walked down Union Street, Tri waiting for her in front of Miss Gamble's, the two of them meeting for coffee. Tri
kissing
her. His handsome face leaning in toward hers, his eyes closing—he did have the longest, darkest lashes she'd ever seen on a boy, she had noticed once when he fell asleep on their couch watching television—and pictured their lips touching over a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

She made a face. She could sooner imagine Tri beating her at Call of Duty.

“I'M TIRED,” ASHLEY SAID, WHICH
was her cue to let everyone know the sleepover party was over. It was almost three o'clock in the morning and they'd tried on all of Lauren's clothes, a remarkable amount of which had never been worn and had dangling price tags to prove it. And they'd danced around the room trying out some new Pants-Off Dance-Off moves, and rank-called half the guys in the Gregory Hall directory.

All in all, a good weekend, Ashley thought as the four of them made their way to the top floor of Lauren's room and settled in their bunks for the evening. Lauren had a sweet setup; this was way better than sleeping bags. Why hadn't she ever thought of that?

Ashley chose the top bunk. The sheets were so crisp and they opened with an audible crack like they did at the Ritz in Paris. She slipped underneath the lavender-smelling goose-down comforter. Then her stomach grumbled, and she felt a sharp pain in the lower half of her belly. Had she eaten something bad? But this was more than a stomachache. She felt something weird. Something icky. Oh, no. Not here. She jumped up and quickly climbed down from the top bunk, ran down the spiral stairs, and locked herself in Lauren's bathroom. She checked. Yep. Her “little friend” had chosen that moment to arrive.

Lauren's bathroom was a vast space, with a freestanding antique claw tub, a shower stall big enough for three people, and a row of closets. Ashley began opening drawers and closet doors, searching madly. She found stacks of plush towels, hand lotions in every fragrance, dozens of tissue boxes, and cartons of mouthwash and floss, but not one single pad.

Ashley sat on the toilet, thinking. Sure, she could ask Lili or A. A. if they had any, but she didn't feel like announcing it to everyone just then. How could Lauren not have gotten her period yet? As far as Ashley knew, she was the last one in the class. And she had been more than happy to wait. This sucked.

There was a soft knock on the door. She opened it a crack and saw Lauren standing there in those pathetic bunny slippers and that faded old T-shirt. She looked like she was twelve. Okay, so they were twelve, but still, hello.

“What?”

“I need to use the bathroom to take out my contacts.”

“Aren't there, like, eight bathrooms in this house?”

Lauren looked at her. “You don't look good. Do you feel okay?”

“I just got my period, like, for the first time,” Ashley snapped. Oh, well. She had to tell somebody, or else bleed all over everything. “Do you have a pad or something?”

In answer, Lauren walked into the bathroom and opened a drawer hidden behind the towel rack. She handed Ashley a small pink square.

“Oh. Em. Gee. Lifesaver. Thanks,” said Ashley, snatching it quickly.

Lauren kept staring at her. “Do I have something on my face?” Ashley asked.

“No.” Lauren shook her head.

Ashley closed the door firmly. She'd never understand that girl. But she was glad Lauren hadn't made a big deal out of it. She was cool. And she'd pulled off that rank call with Billy Reddy, too. Ashley felt better
knowing Billy had given Lauren a six for body. Everyone knew the “body” question was the most revealing one and showed whether a boy actually liked you or not. Billy obviously just thought of Lauren as a friend. She'd have to ask Lauren if they could hang out with Billy after the lacrosse game next week. Maybe they could all come back to Ashley's house for snacks. Her chef made the best no-carb brownies.

When she returned to the room, the other girls were all watching different shows on their phones.

“You guys, don't be so antisocial,” she chided. “Put down your phones. Let's play Castles in the Air instead. I'll start.” She looked up at the ceiling, charmed by the seascape mural someone had painted on it. “My castle is a classic six co-op in Manhattan, with a view of Central Park. I'm going to grow up to chair benefit committees and get my picture taken in
Vogue
. Alexander Wang is going to be my best friend.”

“You always say that,” A. A. said sleepily from the bottom bunk.

“So what? What's yours, then?”

“My castle is a beach house in Malibu right on the cliffs, and me and my gorgeous husband, laxjock—if he doesn't turn out to be a fat, homeschooled loser—are
going to live there with our four dogs,” said A. A.

“Mmm.” Ashley sighed happily. She loved this game and couldn't wait to grow up. She forced her friends to play it all the time. It was the best way to drift off to sleep, dreaming about what the future held. “Lil?”

“You guys already know what mine is,” Lili said with a yawn from the top of the other bunk.

“The same as Ashley's,” called A. A.

Lili didn't deny it.

Ashley snorted. “You're so predictable, Lil. Good night, girls.”

“Wait!” A. A. protested. “Lauren hasn't told us what her Castle is.”

“Oh, I don't have one,” Lauren said meekly.

“Everyone has a dream, Lauren,” Ashley reprimanded. “C'mon, tell us what you want your house to be like when you grow up.”

Lauren tossed and turned in the bottom bunk. Finally she spoke. “My castle is a tiny cottage in the woods. Something small and wonderful and perfectly cozy. There's a garden in the back, with the most beautiful flowers, and a library filled with all my favorite books.” She held her breath.

“Do the seven dwarves live there?” teased Lili.

“Or Grandma and the big bad wolf?” A. A. laughed, but her voice was warm.

Ashley could picture Lauren's tiny little cottage. It seemed weird to want something so small, but it sounded pleasant enough. Maybe some people didn't like to dream big. To each her own. Not everyone could be an Ashley Spencer, hello. Not even Lili, even though she wanted it bad enough, anyone could see that.

“I think it sounds nice,” Ashley murmured. “I like it.”

WHEN LAUREN WOKE UP THE
next morning, she felt a rush of warm water on her skin, and she jerked awake with a start. Her hand was immersed in a bowl of warm water and her sheets were damp. What was this? She pulled out her hand and looked at it dumbly, shaking droplets all over the floor. She blinked, looking around the room. Everything looked fuzzy without her contacts, and she fumbled for her glasses, which she'd placed near her pillow. They were thick glass-bottom specs with a broken black plastic frame held together by duct tape. Now that she wore contacts, she hadn't seen the need to buy new glasses and had stubbornly held on to them as a souvenir from her old life.

She put them on and the world came into focus. The Ashleys were sitting cross-legged on the carpet across from her.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Ashley said.

“Or should we say Peeing Beauty?” asked Lili with a laugh.

Lauren felt her throat constrict, and she kicked off the comforter. Everything was wet. It was mortifying. How could this happen?

A. A. handed her a mirror. “If you break it you get seven years' bad luck,” she said, and the Ashleys erupted into mad giggles.

Lauren looked in the mirror. Someone had written “I Love Pee” on her forehead in red ink.

“The girls at school are going to love hearing about this,” said Lili cheerfully.

Lauren blinked, fighting an onslaught of tears. She'd never found practical jokes very funny, but this was too much. Especially after she'd gone to bed believing that the four of them could be real friends after all. Last night she'd even felt
close
to Ashley. It was so weird to see her like that—all nervous and jumpy just because she'd gotten her period. She'd never thought of Ashley as having problems before, but last
night Ashley had seemed . . . insecure. Almost like a real person. She'd gone to bed thinking she had finally made three new friends.

But that obviously wasn't the case this morning.

“Maybe we should call Billy and tell him about how she's not toilet trained yet,” Ashley mocked, filing her nails with an emery board and leaving nail dust all over the carpet.

“Maybe her parents should use rubber sheets,” agreed A. A.

Lili danced around, waving her cell phone. It was a photo of Lauren sleeping with her mouth open, drool coming out of the side of her lips. She tried to snatch it away, but Lili held it just out of reach. “This is so going on our Tumblr!”

Lauren wiped the letters on her forehead, leaving an ugly red mark. Her eyes filled with hot, angry tears. This was their idea of friendship? “Screw you guys,” she said bitterly. “I'll show you.”

“What was that?” asked Ashley, tossing aside her nail file.

“You heard me,” Lauren spat.

“Jeez, Lauren, take it easy,” A. A. urged. “It's just a joke.”

But Lauren was tired of being the butt of the Ashleys' jokes.

“You guys suck. You're just a bunch of losers,” she said, her voice gathering speed and fervor. She felt reckless and liberated. All the resentment she'd felt at being left out and picked on all those years—she remembered the taste of mud all too well—plus all the terrible lies they spread about her even after she tried so hard to be just like them—the pig nose, the Mafia rumors.

“You're all fake and pathetic. Lili can't breathe without asking Ashley if she can. A. A.'s a boy-crazy ditz and Ashley—you're just
so mean
. You could be a nice person, but you aren't, you choose to be the exact opposite. You're just a spoiled, rotten little monster.”

There. That would show them. She took a deep breath and expected the sky to come crashing down. But the earth was still moving. She had told them exactly what she thought of them and she'd survived. But now what?