Unfriendly Competition (12 page)

“Done,” I said, stretching my arms above my head.

“Sooo done,” Brit said. “I would have finished it in the morning if I hadn't been able to pull it off tonight. There was so much!”

I went to my dresser and pulled out cozy purple pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt. “I'm changing and going to bed. I'm exhausted.”

“Me too.”

My phone buzzed just as I started into the bathroom. I ignored it, deciding to check it when I came out. I washed my face, brushed my teeth and hair and got into my cozy clothes.

When I came out, Brit was on her laptop.

“I thought you were done,” I said.

“I am. I just got a text alert that the gossip blog was updated.”

“Oh, great.”

I hurried to stand behind Brit, and I read over her shoulder.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE QUEEN!

So tomorrow's the invite-only überexclusive birthday bash for the Queen of Eighth Grade. Didn't get an invite? Only you and most of your friends didn't get one. Don't blame the Queen, however. Her mother, who has planned every aspect of the party, will descend upon Canterwood Crest tomorrow to make sure everything
is perfect for her Park Avenue Princess. This swanky soirée is so hard to get into, even her best friends were probably up for consideration for invites. But don't worry—you'll see pictures of the gorgeous dresses, hot guys, stunning ballroom and a few other party-worthy shots later on this blog. Check back soon.

xx

I didn't even want to read it again—it made me sick and think of the looming consequence of expulsion.

“Heather's going to
freak
,” I said.

Brit shut her laptop, turning around in her chair to face me. “No kidding. When she finds out who's blogging—and she will unless someone else does first—she's going to kill them.”

“I don't even want to talk about it anymore,” I said, pulling back my covers and throwing myself into bed. “It's ridiculous and I'm over it. It's disgusting and Headmistress Drake has to do something soon. She just has to.”

“She will,” Brit said as she headed into the bathroom. “The blogger will be caught.”

11

EPIC PARTY . . . ?

ON WEDNESDAY, I SAW HEATHER A FEW
times in the hallway. Every time, she had one of two expressions—fury or defeat. I almost told her about the real party we were planning just to cheer her up and get her through her mother's party. But I knew Brit, Alison, and Julia would kill me if I told her, so I didn't say a word.

After class, I went to my riding lesson and saw Mr. Conner for the first time since the accident. He was on crutches and he sat in a director's chair for our lesson, but he still barked instructions and didn't let up on us. I was glad. I'd been worried that he'd be in pain and not up for teaching. But he was the same Mr. Conner—just with crutches. He might have made us work even harder than usual.

I hurried across campus after cooling, feeding, and untacking Charm. I passed the ballroom, and there were giant black vans parked in front and people were carrying tables and boxes out of the vans and into the ballroom.

Heather's party started in a couple of hours, and I could only imagine the pressure Mrs. Fox was putting on all the people she'd hired to finish on time and make everything perfect.

Brit was already in our room when I got there.

“Time to start getting ready?” I asked, as I pulled off my coat and boots.

She closed her phone, nodding. “This is
not
the party to make a late entrance.”

I studied her face—noting her flushed cheeks. “Are you going with Andy?”

Brit had been going back and forth about her answer. She said he'd asked her a couple of days ago, but she was still thinking about it. She was being extra cautious and thinking things through, trying to decide if now was the time to start seriously dating with all that we had going on. I didn't want to tell her what to do, but I thought that she should go out with him. Andy was a rider, so he understood her
commitment to the YENT and wouldn't make Brit feel as if she was neglecting him to practice.

Brit smiled. “I said yes. He's really excited—it's so cute. He got a tux and everything.”

“Yay! I'm
so
glad you decided to go with Andy. You guys will have an amazing time. I know it.”

“I think we will.” Brit glanced at our bedside clock. “If we get there on time.”

“How about I shower first, superfast, then you, and while you're showering I'll dry and start to flatiron my hair. We can get dressed and do makeup together.”

“Perf. And accessories.”

“Definitely.”

I grabbed my robe off my closet hook. “Be right out.”

Inside the bathroom, I turned the water on steaming hot. I hadn't been to a party with Jacob in a long time and certainly never anything this fancy or as an official couple. I wanted to look perfect. I opened the bathroom cabinet and pulled out the expensive, special occasion shampoo Brit and I used only once in a while. I put the bottles of Bumble and bumble Gentle shampoo and Super Rich conditioner on the shower ledge. I also felt a body scrub was definitely necessary—Bliss, in Blood Orange + White Pepper. It always made my skin supersoft and smell pretty.

I undressed and hopped into the shower. I didn't take too long, so Brit would have plenty of time and lots of hot water. Brit showered after me, and we both started getting dressed.

“We definitely need to put on our dresses at the last minute,” Brit said. “Otherwise, I'm sure I'll get makeup or something on mine.”

“Me too.”

We climbed onto our beds and started doing our makeup. I applied tinted moisturizer first, then my fave CoverGirl foundation. I did my eyes next—lining them with my sharpened-down-to-a-nub MAC kohl pencil; the thin black line above and under my eyes made them pop. I wanted my makeup to be soft, so I used my dual eye shadow—Like Mink—from Clinique. It was dark brown on one side and shimmery, like sand, on the other. I dusted the lighter color almost up to my eyebrows and used my eye shadow brush to put a dusting of the darker color over my lids.

“Can I use your eyelash curler?” Brit asked. “Mine's being weird.”

I tossed her the curler and she made her lashes flip upward.

I coated mine with black mascara, then dusted my cheeks with my fave Nars blush. A few dots of concealer made red spots on my chin vanish and a dusting of powder over my T-zone took away any shine. I applied a coat of my special going-out gloss from Tarina Tarantino's candy cameo line (thanks for the Sephora gift card, Mom!) and checked my makeup in the mirror. I looked as ready as I could be.

“You look so great!” Brit said. She gave me a once-over. “Wow. Your eyes look especially gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” I said, looking at her just-finished makeup. “You too. I love how you did your blush. You have super-model cheekbones.”

Brit shook her head. “So not true, but thank you anyway.”

We went through our box of shared accessories picked out earrings for both of us and a necklace for Brit.

“Your charm bracelet is perfect, and it goes so well with the skinny silver hoops.”

“And I love your heart pendant,” I said. “It hangs in just the right spot with your v-neck dress.”

“We're going to be the hottest people at the party,” Brit said. She giggled. “Heather might kick us out.”

I laughed. “Total possibility.”

We blow dried and flatironed our hair until it was straight and smooth. After a coat of shine spray, it was time to grab shoes and go. Jacob and Andy were meeting us there.

12

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HEATHER!

BRIT AND I ARRIVED AT THE BALLROOM,
invites in hand, and handed them to the doorman slash bouncer-looking guy at the door. I thought Heather had been joking when she'd said we'd need the invites to get in. But she'd been serious. We'd never have gotten a heeled foot in the door if we'd been without the invitations.

We handed the pieces of paper to a tall guy in a black suit and tie with an outstretched hand. He scanned our invites, almost as if he was checking to make sure they weren't fake, and then waved us inside.

A coat checker took our coats, and Brit and I took a simultaneous deep breaths—looking at each other. I couldn't stop feeling a little nervous—I'd never been to a party like this.

Ever.

We walked down the gleaming hallway, which had just been polished, and Brit opened the door to the ballroom. It seemed as if everyone else had the same theory we'd had about not wanting to be late. The ballroom was full. People from our class, and a few other students from ninth grade, were standing by a buffet table with a dozen platters of food.

“Is that
lobster
?” I whispered to Brit, not wanting to sound dumb.

“I think so. Wow.”

Everything was decorated in deep purple and silver. Mrs. Fox had known exactly what she was doing—picking out a color like purple that stood for royalty. There were deep, cushy purple chairs and couches placed around the walls and corners of the ballroom. Silver, sparkly spirals dangled from the ceiling. The black and white marble floor was slick under my heels, and it caught reflections from the lights. Waitresses carrying trays of sparkling cider in champagne flutes moved through the room, offering drinks to the students. The fifty or so students were all dressed according to the invitation. The girls were in gorgeous dresses and there wasn't a guy without a tux. Shoes shined, diamonds
sparkled, and it looked like a party where I didn't belong.

But it's Heather's,
I told myself. There wasn't any reason to be nervous.

In the back of the room, on the biggest table was a gift pile for Heather. Brit and I hadn't brought our presents for Heather—we were taking the risk of her publicly decapitating us to make tonight's secret party even better.

Seated in one of the purple chairs with Troy and Alison sitting on either side of her, I spotted the birthday girl.