Unfriendly Competition (3 page)

“Just asking,” I said, my tone short like hers.

Brit took a breath and leaned forward on the couch, toward Julia.

“What are you and Trix working on?”

That was Brit. Always trying to stop fights before they started.

“What do you care?” Julia asked. She yanked her short hair into a ponytail. Pieces escaped around her face. “You're on the YENT. Like you want to know what advanced rider Julia is doing.”

If Brit was fazed by Julia's comments, she didn't show it.

“We're friends,” Brit said. “So I do care. But you don't have to tell me.”

I didn't get Julia. After I'd helped prove that Jasmine had framed her and Alison, she'd at least made an effort not to openly hate me. But now, it was as if Brit and I had done something to her. She only really made an effort—and not always a great one—to be nice when Heather was around.

Before Julia could respond, the door opened and Heather and Alison walked in with two full trays of snacks and drinks.

“Hey!” Alison said, her greeting waaay more enthusiastic than Julia's.

Brit and I said hi to Heather and Alison as they set the trays on the dark-wood coffee table.

“Thanks for the snacks,” I said.

Heather smoothed her black leggings and folded her arms. “Trust me,” she said with the famous cocky-Heather look on her face. “I didn't drag Alison to the common room with me just to feed all your faces. You're going to need the caffeine and sugar, 'cause you'll be here as long as it takes to make my party plans perf.”

“It's going to be amazing,” I said. “Don't worry.” Everyone else nodded.

That made Heather smile. She handed us all legal pads with purple paper and pens.

“You obvi want it to be
big
, right?” Alison asked. “I mean, a crazy-huge blowout where we invite everyone.” She paused. “Well, by ‘everyone,' I mean all the cool people we know.”

Heather stared at her paper for a second. She blinked her mascara-coated lashes then looked up at all of us from her center spot on the couch.

“I was totally going to go that route, you know, like, the most luxurious party this school has ever seen. But . . .”

“But what?” Julia asked.

Heather gave her a look. “
But
that's what everyone expects. And I don't do what everyone thinks I'm going
to do. I'm thinking a supertight invite-only party. Just us and a few other people. I mean, we really
don't
like too many other people.”

Alison smiled. “So true. I love it! It's your birthday, so we're going to do whatever you want.”

I sneaked a glance at Julia—her lips were pressed together and she wasn't saying a word. Julia wanted a huge party, I knew it. But she wasn't going to argue with Heather. Not when Heather already seemed kind of annoyed by her attitude lately.

Heather looked around at all of us, perfectly waxed eyebrows raised. “Start taking notes—hello.”

We all looked down at our papers, waiting for her to continue.

“I want to throw it here,” Heather said. “Something cozy—not anything where we have to get crazy dressed up. We'll make a small guest list, order food, and watch a ton of movies that we haven't had time to see lately.”

Guests

Food

Movies

I wrote on my paper.

“That sounds perfect,” Brit said. “I'd want a quiet party, too. I love the idea of watching movies. We could
do a theater-themed party and transform the living room into a theater. We could have popcorn, M&M's—all the movie snacks.”

Heather nodded, smiling. “I love that. And you guys pick out the movies. You know what I like. Or . . .” She eyed all of us. “I should
hope
you do.”

“We'll get the list right,” Alison said. She turned to a fresh sheet of paper, covering it with her hand as she wrote. “I've already got ideas.”

Julia was the only one who hadn't said anything so far. I tried to send her an ESP message to say
something
before Heather jumped on her.

“That sounds fun,” Julia said, almost as if she'd heard me yelling at her in my brain. But her enthusiastic tone sounded fake.

Heather turned her head toward Julia, her blond hair whipping around. She stared at Julia for a long time. Brit and I exchanged quick looks—both of us braced for a fight between the two of them. But Heather looked away from Julia and then back at us.

A tiny part of me felt sorry for Julia, but selfishly, I was glad it wasn't me. It had always made me feel worse when Heather ignored me and left me to worry about what she was going to do instead of attacking me. I
wondered if Julia felt the same or if she was used to that kind of treatment by now.

“Let's talk food,” I said.

And the five of us got into it and spent the next hour going back and forth about snacks and drinks. We decided on oversize soda cups, popcorn, lots of candy, and invites shaped like movie tickets.

“We should definitely have—” Heather stopped when her phone rang.

She picked up her BlackBerry, frowning when she saw the screen.

“My mother,” she said to us, her tone matching her frown.

She pushed the call button and held the phone to her ear. “Hi, Mom,” Heather said.

The rest of us looked back at our notepads, trying not to look as if we were listening to Heather's convo.

“Um, no, Mom, really,” Heather said, her voice rising. “That's really generous of you and Dad, but my friends and I already started planning it and—”

Heather rubbed her forehead with one hand, listening. “Mom, I
know
turning thirteen is a big deal, but I—”

I could tell that Heather was struggling to keep her cool because if she fought back too much, Mrs. Fox
wouldn't even listen to her. Kind of like she wasn't listening now.

“I've watched you plan so many amazing parties,” Heather said. She took a huge breath, trying to keep her voice steady. “That's why I'm telling my friends exactly what to do. They understand just what I want—a lowkey party in my suite.”

Heather waved her free hand in the air, as if in defeat, and slumped backward. I could hear Mrs. Fox's voice though the phone. The cold voice seemed to suck some of the warmth out of the room.

Brit and I looked at each other, sending
this sounds bad
signals with our eyes.

“Okay, Mom,” Heather said. Her voice was quiet. “Thank you.” She moved the phone from her ear, holding down the end call button until the orange AT&T screen flashed and the phone went dark.

Everyone looked at her, but no one spoke. Alison, Julia, Brit, and I were waiting for Heather to speak first.

Heather ran her fingers through her hair and tossed her notebook on the coffee table, almost knocking over Alison's Sprite.

“My mother will be here on Wednesday,” Heather said.

“
What?
” all of us said in unison.

Heather didn't even look furious—just resigned. “Apparently, she's been planning my party for months, and it's not going to be something we throw. She's wants it to be the social event of the fall.”

“And she's
coming
?” Alison asked. “Why? She never visits school.”

Heather's laugh was bitter. “Right? But of course she has to oversee my party to make sure everything is Fox-worthy.”

“There's no talking her out of it?” Brit asked.

“You don't know my mother,” Heather said. “No one dissuades her from anything once she's made up her mind. She's already talked to the headmistress. She's going to be here early Wednesday afternoon to oversee the caterer,
and
the party planner that she hired to basically micromanage every aspect of the party.”

“She wouldn't even consider letting you plan your own?” Alison asked. She shook her head. “I know your mom, but this is so unfair. It's your
thirteenth
birthday. Maybe you can call her back later and try to explain again.”

Heather shook her head. “She won't listen, Alison. You know that.” Heather stared with a blank look for a few seconds. “Instead of movie night, she already
planned a fancy party that would be a big deal even for the Waldorf.”

Julia sat up straighter, her eyes wide. “Details, puh-lease!”

“Oh, it's the usual Fox type of party. Expensive dresses for the girls, black tie for the guys, a transformed ballroom, caviar, and other food that no one will eat.” Heather sighed. “Add to that my mom, who will be in a ridic frenzy.”

“I know how your mom is,” I said. “And you're right, there's no talking her out of
anything.
So, we'll go along with her party, but that doesn't mean we won't have fun.”

Heather nodded, getting up off the couch. “Duh. Be right back.” She walked away toward her room, her shoulders slumped a little.

“We'll go to her mom's party,” Alison whispered. “But we
have
to throw her the party she wants.”

“A surprise party sounds perfect!” Brit said.

The rest of us nodded, stopping the second we heard Heather's footsteps. With the four of us playing party planners, I had no doubt Heather's thirteenth birthday was going to be better than she could ever imagine.

4

TABLE FOR TWO

I HELD UP A ROYAL BLUE CARDIGAN, A WHITE
v-neck tee and skinny jeans. “Date-approved?” I asked Brit.

Brit eyed my clothing choices, nodding. “So approved. With your ankle boots?”

“Love.”

I'd just finished going through my closet, looking for the right outfit for my Sweet Shoppe date with Jacob. I changed, then sat at my desk chair to apply makeup.

“Are you still getting, like, a dozen texts or e-mails a day from guys wanting to go out with you?” I asked Brit.

She blushed. “Please. I've had a couple of guys ask me out, but none I've wanted to date. There just hasn't been that spark—like with you and Jacob.”

“You haven't been here too long,” I said. “I know you'll find someone—when you're ready. You'll meet the right guy.”

Brit put down her phone. “I
might
have met
someone
.”

“What?” I almost dropped my foundation brush. “Who?”

“I was talking to Andy after a lesson,” Brit said. “And he's so sweet and cute and funny.”

“Omigod! Andy would be perfect for you!”

I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of the two of them together before. Andy, an intermediate rider, was one of my friends at the stable.

Brit smiled. “He's so gorgeous. I mean, I don't even know if he likes me since he hasn't asked me out or anything, but we've talked a few times. I
think
he might like me.”

“Andy would be dumb if he didn't,” I said. “He's a really nice guy, Brit. If he wants to go out with you, definitely go.”

“Hopefully, we'll keep talking and he'll ask me,” Brit said. She sat up on her bed.

“He will,” I said, dabbing concealer on my chin. “It's so exciting that you have a crush!”

We both giggled, and I told Brit everything I knew
about Andy—that he was smart, funny, a good rider, and he had pizza at least three times a week. I stopped talking when my phone buzzed.

I opened a new e-mail and saw a Google alert that made me clench my Dior lip gloss—one I only used on special occasions.

“What's wrong?” Brit asked.

I got up without answering her and opened my computer. I motioned her over on my bed, and she watched as I opened Firefox and clicked on a bookmark.

“Oh, no,” Brit said.

We both looked at the screen—staring at the Canterwood gossip blog. The entry was short, but it didn't need to be longer to cause more damage.

Rumor has it that a certain soon-to-be teen queen is having a birthday bash that'll be the blowout of the century. If only all of her lowly worker bees were so happy about the special date. One, for example, would love to see this birthday blow.