Cate Sloane stood by the foyer window, watching as a limo pulled in front of the town house. She clasped her hands together, resisting the urge to shove her father, Winston, and his new bride, Emma, out the door. They were leaving for their last-minute honeymoon to Tahiti—to go with their last-minute wedding yesterday. Which meant that for one whole week Cate had no one to answer to but Margot, a hearing-impaired retiree in leather pants. Margot was Stella and Lola’s grandmother, and her new stepsisters looked as horrified by her sartorial choices as Cate.
“So we’re off,” Winston said. He glanced around the foyer. Stella’s tall, gawky younger sister, Lola, clutched her cat, Heath Bar, in her arms. At four foot eleven, Cate’s younger sister, Andie, looked like a dwarf standing beside her.
“Now, remember,” Emma added as she hugged her daughters. “Grandmum will—”
“Emma, please,” Margot huffed. She winked at the girls as she tousled her stiff blond hair. “Call me Margot.” Her Derek Lam halter revealed her collarbone, the skin spotted like a snakeskin clutch.
“Right, listen to Margot.” Winston shot Cate a look that said, That means you.
Cate grabbed Stella’s arm so hard her knuckles turned white. “Forget Margot,” she whispered. “We’re in charge.” Cate pictured herself and Stella lying out in their Shoshanna bikinis on the roof deck, drinking sparkling lemonade. They’d spend afternoons shopping for a fall wardrobe at Bergdorf Goodman and late evenings trying out the ginger garlic shrimp at El Quinto Pino or the carpaccio at Buzina Pop. But most importantly, an empty town house would give them the perfect opportunity to launch their new sorority: Chi Sigma.
“We should have a sleepover on the roof deck tonight,” Stella said in her lilting British accent.
“I like the way you think.” Cate leaned in close. “We need to plan a meet-and-greet in the garden—something to officially announce the split with Blythe.”
Cate’s stomach tightened just saying Blythe Finley’s name. Last week, after a huge fight at the Pierre Hotel, Cate and Stella had been banished from Chi Beta Phi, the sorority Cate had founded with her best friends Blythe, Priya, and Sophie. The Chi Beta Phis had been the most popular girls at Ashton Prep since forever. And Cate had been in charge, with Blythe as her trusty second-in-command. But on Saturday, while Stella and Cate were fighting over who should be the sorority’s president, Blythe staged a coup and turned Priya and Sophie against Cate. So now instead of planning her campaign for class president or her fifteenth birthday party at Butter, Cate was starting over. But she was still determined to make ninth grade her year. She couldn’t let some minor detail—like losing all your “friends”—ruin it.
Margot wrapped an arm around Lola’s shoulder and pointed at Winston and Emma. “You two go now! Have fun in Tahiti! We’ll survive without you.”
But Winston hovered in the doorway, his gaze settling on Cate and Stella. He scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll call you as soon as we get there. And if you need anything at all, you have our number at the hotel.”
“You said that.” Cate inched forward, moving him closer to the door. “Three times.”
“Right.” Winston enveloped Cate in a hug. He smoothed down her dark brown hair. “Just be good.”
Cate glanced sideways at Stella and smiled. “We’re going to be just fine.”
Emma and Winston said their final goodbyes, Emma making sure to kiss everyone on both cheeks, Euro style. Then they headed out the door.
Cate watched her dad slide into the backseat of the limo, relieved. Winston and Emma had let them stay home from school today to recover from the wedding, but tomorrow Cate would have to face Blythe, Priya, and Sophie. Blythe was probably in her bedroom right now with Cate’s friends, planning their first Cate-free sleepover or their Saturday shopping route through SoHo. She and Stella needed to get organized—immediately.
Lola waved as the limo pulled away. “Have a brilliant time!” she shouted. Then she trailed up the stairs, Andie following behind her.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m going to dig into some of that leftover wedding cake,” Margot cooed. She retreated to the kitchen, while Cate and Stella stayed on the front step.
As the car rounded the corner Cate let out a deep breath. “Chi Sigma’s reign has officially begun!” she cried, throwing her arms around her new stepsister. “We need to figure out where we’re going to sit at lunch tomorrow, and how we’re going to announce the sorority.”
“Agreed.” Stella nodded. “I think we should have the meet-and-greet this weekend, for a select group of ninth-grade girls. Maybe in the garden.”
Cate smiled, imagining Betsy Carmichael covering the event for Ashton News. She’d walk around the garden, asking girls what they thought of the new sorority. Much better than Chi Beta Phi, Paige Mortimer would say, sipping her mojito mocktail. Cate Sloane should have gone on her own a long time ago.
“And maybe we could have a few of the seniors over one night,” Cate added. “I’ve always wondered where Ally Pierce gets her vintage jewelry.” Ally was the most popular senior at Ashton Prep.
Just then, Margot’s voice echoed from inside the foyer. “Stella! Where are the forks? I can’t find anything in this house!”
Stella put her finger in the air. “Hold that thought,” she told Cate. “I’ll be right back.” Her blond curls bounced up and down as she strode into the foyer.
Cate stayed on the front step, enjoying the warm early September air. She glanced down the tree-lined street. A white truck was parked in front of the town house next door, ALL-STAR MOVERS! scrawled across its side in annoyingly enthusiastic red lettering. When the Warburtons moved out last month, Cate had half-jokingly asked her dad to buy the house for her for her birthday.
Two stocky men pulled boxes out of the back of the truck, so drenched with sweat they looked like they were in a wet-T-shirt contest. The front door swung open and someone bounded down the stoop. Not just any someone: the most adorable boy Cate had ever seen.
He was tall, with thick black hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes. He wore a tight gray Haverford T-shirt and had an iPod bud in each ear. Cate sucked in a breath. He didn’t belong in the Warburtons’ old town house. He belonged shirtless, in a field—like in some Abercrombie & Fitch ad.
Cate twisted her dark brown hair in a ponytail as the boy ran past. “Hi,” he said with a smile, nodding at Cate. She held her breath as she watched him run up Fifth Avenue.
“Hi,” she whispered, five seconds too late. She tugged on the waist of her Juicy sweatpants, determined. From now on, she wasn’t going anywhere—to the park, across the street, or even to the front window—without putting on her pearl earrings and her NARS cream blush.
In addition to lunches at Aureole and schmoozing with Ashton upperclassmen, Cate Sloane had a new priority on her to-do list this year: make her hot new neighbor her hot new boyfriend.
TO: Danny Plimpton
FROM: Cate Sloane
DATE: Monday, 7:13 p.m.
SUBJECT: Intel?
Dear Danny
We’ve never formally met, but Betsy Carmichael mentioned you collected intel on her Haverford crush this summer. I’d like to hire you on a freelance basis. I’m interested, specifically, in my new next-door neighbor. Perhaps we could discuss more over the phone? I’m at 917–555-2032. Confidentiality is, of course, key.
Regards,
Cate Sloane
TO: Cate Sloane
FROM: Danny Plimpton
DATE: Tuesday, 9:09 a.m.
SUBJECT: The Eagle
Cate Sloane,
Thank you for requesting my services for the collection of intelligence on Eli Alexander Punch, from here on out referred to as “the Eagle.” This e-mail will serve as the formal agreement: In return for services rendered, you will help me win the heart of your new stepsister, Lola Childs, from here on out referred to as “Beautiful Stranger.” I saw her walking to school last week and I have not been the same since. Any information you can gather—secret likes or dislikes she has, photos, her schedule—will serve as adequate compensation. Most important, I’d like to know if she has a date yet to the Haverford Middle School formal.
I’ll text you later today with more information.
Sincerely,
Danny Plimpton
Please note: This e-mail has been vetted by Kirk Plimpton, a partner from the law firm Crowley, Plimpton & Ellis.