Monday, April 19th
5:30 P.M.
After a therapeutic multi-jet shower with plant-essence-infused water and five different body scrubs, Claire twisted a thick white towel around her clean hair and slipped on a disposable swimsuit—a gift to all spa guests, compliments of the Blocks.
The black one-piece sagged at the chest and gaped around her butt, but Claire was too distraught to care. Her crush had turned out to be a re-gifter and her best friend had obviously walked into some sort of trap. And no amount of cooling eucalyptus creams or warming citrus oils would change that.
After sliding into a pair of yellow Havaianas, Claire flip-flopped her way across the white marble shower floor in the back section of the spa and pushed through the foggy double glass doors, leaving a floral-scented steam cloud of Decleor products behind.
The Pretty Committee, dressed in identical black bathing suits, were waist-deep in the emerald-green Jacuzzi, lounging behind a misty veil of chlorine and periodic blasts of Evian facial mist.
Layne lay barefoot on a white chaise lounge, dabbing her beading forehead with a piece of graph paper torn from her math notebook.
“Aren’t you getting in?” Claire asked, dipping her toe in the hot, frothing water.
“I can’t. I have my—”
“Ew!” Alicia covered her ears. “Don’t say it again.”
Layne sat up. “What word?” The corners of her mouth curled. “Peri—”
The Pretty Committee squealed, their horror echoing off the white tile walls.
“Why do you hate that word so much?” Layne teased with delight. “You’re all gonna get it.” She zeroed in on Alicia’s chest. Her C-cups filled the bathing suit in ways Claire never would.
“I can’t believe you don’t have it already. I mean you’re so developed and—”
“Layne! Opposite of go awn!” Alicia pulled her robe into the hot tub and covered herself. The Pretty Committee cracked up as the heavy terry cloth ballooned, then sank to the bottom. “Will someone puh-lease tell me why she’s here?”
Claire waited nervously for an answer.
None came.
Massie lowered her head into the water, wetting the ends of her hair so that they stuck to her back like a swatch of black velvet. Then she stood, gripped the silver handrail, and stepped out.
After drying her pruning hands with a plush white towel, Massie reached for her phone. Without a word of explanation, she passed the towel around to the Pretty Committee, who somehow knew exactly what to do with it.
Once their palms were dry, she distributed the remaining cells to their rightful owners. The girls held them high above the bubbling water, awaiting further instruction.
“How ’bout a little music?” Layne suggested, oblivious to the ritual unfolding before her.
“Play the CD that’s in my Prada.” Kristen chin-pointed to the black messenger bag in the corner. “You guys are gonna love it.”
As soon as Layne turned to get it, the girls’ phones vibrated.
MASSIE: K, U ASKING G?
KRISTEN: NEED 2 C ESP AGAIN 2 B SURE HE’S HART.
Massie rolled her eyes and typed.
MASSIE: PARTY IS DAYZ AWAY!!!!!
KRISTEN: 1 MORE TIME. I PROMISE.
MASSIE: D, WHAT ABOUT U?
DYLAN: SO MANY CHOICES.
MASSIE: PICK 1.
DYLAN: NEED ESP 1 MORE TIME 2.
Massie sighed loud enough to let Dylan know she was getting impatient. Dylan held her phone high and typed more.
DYLAN: THE WRONG CHOICE COULD B BAD 4 THE PC.
Massie must have known she was right, because she moved on.
Claire’s stomach pretzel-twisted. Was she next? She knew Massie wanted her to ask Cam already, to encourage the others. But how could she, knowing he’d been lying to her?
Luckily, Massie’s heart-stopping glare passed over Claire and landed on Alicia. She was about to press SEND when a song that sounded more like a man projectile vomiting heaved through the white Bose ceiling speakers.
“What is that?” Dylan plugged her ears with handfuls of wet red hair.
“It’s the Saw III sound track,” announced Kristen, as if death metal was something fabulous she’d just discovered, like a cure for blackheads or Britney Spears’s rehab diary.
“Turn it awff.” Massie threw a wooden back-scratcher at the speakers, obviously not caring if they smashed into Tic Tac–size pieces.
“You don’t like it?” Kristen screamed above the guttural wails.
“If the feeling of getting fistfuls of hair ripped from your scalp were downloadable on iTunes, it would be the Saw III sound track,” Massie snapped.
“Point.” Alicia lifted her cell phone an inch higher. “What about the flute music that was playing when we walked in? Can’t we hear that again?”
“That Enya stuff is so mainstream,” Kristen insisted. “Wait until you hear the next track. It’s called ‘Eyes of the Insane.’ The lyrics are—”
“When did you become so alt.com?” Massie asked.
“When she saw Griffin, the dark lord,” Dylan answered for her.
The CD was ejected and the music stopped.
“Thank gawd!” Massie muttered under her breath. “What happened?” Kristen stepped out of the Jacuzzi and padded over to the sleek stereo. She pushed the CD tray back in and hurried back into the warm hot tub.
Projectile-vomit sounds barfed from the speakers once again, and the girls giggle-moaned.
Then, seconds later, the CD self-ejected.
Claire side-glanced at Layne and half-smiled.
“Why does this keep happening?” Kristen pressed her hands against the wet tiles, pushed herself out of the tub, and tiptoe-jogged over to the stereo again.
“My Bose has good taste,” Massie replied.
Claire laughed much louder and harder than the other girls, and Massie shot her a curious glare.
“Sorry,” Claire said, but it came out sounding more like “reeeee.”
Massie kept staring. And Claire kept laughing. Then Layne joined in, which cracked her up even more. Desperate to stop, Claire slid underwater, but the muffled roar of the jets scared her into resurfacing before she was completely cured.
“What is going awn?” Massie smacked the bubbling surface of the water.
“Yeah.” Kristen slid back into the hot tub.
The CD started up once again.
And then it ejected.
“Show them,” Claire urged her friend as she fought the twitching corners of her mouth.
“Show them what?” Layne snickered.
“Yeah, show us what?” Massie narrowed her amber eyes, silently threatening social homicide if Layne didn’t comply.
“This.” Layne reached behind the chaise and grabbed a tiny clump of copper wires. She held them out in front of her with pride.
“I just pulled something that looked like that out of my hairbrush this morning,” Dylan joked.
Everyone giggled, except Massie, who refused to spend one more second on the outside of an inside joke. “What are those?”
Layne sat up and cleared her throat. “It’s a cluster of thirty-eight conductors that I knotted, then threaded through a metal bobby pin. But the real magic happens once you attach the—”
“Yawwwwwn.” Alicia stretched her wet arms and patted her mouth.
“Tell them what it does,” Claire urged.
“It’s a signal interceptor,” gushed Layne. “I threw it together with a little help from the World Wide Web. It’s like a remote control.”
“So you ejected my CD?” Kristen asked.
Layne nodded with glee.
“Can you intercept this?” A burst of bubbles surfaced around Dylan’s butt. “S’cuse me.” She giggled.
“Nicely done.” Massie nodded.
“Thanks.” Dylan beamed.
“Nawt you.” Massie giggled.
Everyone cracked up.
“I am very impressed with Layne.” Massie applauded. The Pretty Committee, confused at first by her open display of LBR appreciation, eventually joined in.
Layne stood and bowed.
Claire’s heart swelled with genuine happiness. Finally, her friends were accepting Layne. Her two groups were coming together. No more separate plans or hurt feelings or—
“Um, Layne…” Massie’s voice rose above the applause.
Claire’s heart instantly deflated.
Layne continued to bow and spin and curtsy for her fans.
“Layne!” Massie shouted.
Everyone stopped.
“Yeah,” she smile-panted.
“You may want to use the bathroom.”
“Huh?”
Massie cupped a hand over her mouth like she was about to whisper, yet spoke at full volume. “That thing you have that keeps you from going in hot tubs is making me see red, if you know what I mean.”
“Nooooo!” Trying to catch a glimpse of her backside, Layne spun like a dog trying to chase its tail.
“Ew!” The girls gasped and covered their eyes, but for some reason, Claire couldn’t keep from looking.
“I don’t see any—”
Claire sympathy-blushed for Layne. Unable to face her, she lowered her eyes and focused on her puffy white waterlogged cuticles. It didn’t matter whether Massie was telling the truth or not. Either way, Layne was doomed to days of embarrassing period jokes at her expense. Claire had fallen victim to that when she first moved to Westchester and accidentally sat in red paint.
“Trust me, it’s there,” Massie insisted. “Layne, there’s a bathroom in the back past the showers. Take all the time you need.”
“Thanks.” Layne reached for her clear backpack and bolted toward the double glass doors. She was in such a hurry, she left her phone behind. Claire considered chasing after her, but something told her that if she left, she’d miss out on something big. So she opted to soak for a few more minutes. It wasn’t like Layne needed her phone in there anyway.
“Thank gawd.” Massie bolted out of the hot tub the moment Layne was gone. She wrapped herself in a plush white robe and flopped down on a chaise.
“Well, I’m done.” Alicia squeezed the chlorinated water out of her hair and hurried for the open seat beside Massie.
“Me too,” Dylan echoed.
“Same.” Kristen lifted herself out of the hot tub.
Claire knew she was expected to follow.
Everyone wrapped themselves in robes and curled up on the chaise beside Massie, like a tangle of newborn gerbils.
“Finally, some alone time.” Massie squirted a dollop of Nexxus VitaTress hair-food supplement onto her palm, finger-distributed it evenly, and then passed the tube around.
“Why is she even here?” Alicia snarled.
“Seriously.” Dylan rolled her bloodshot eyes.
Massie sighed, then rested her head against the back of the chair and gazed up at the ceiling like she was considering something that had been weighing heavily on her mind.
“Tell us.” Kristen gently rested her hand on Massie’s terry-cloaked shoulder. “What is it?” Massie’s amber eyes seemed to fill with sadness and something else Claire couldn’t quite identify.
“I have some major gossip to tell you,” Massie told them confidentially.
“How many points?” asked Alicia.
“One thousand.” They leaned forward in anticipation.
“I need to make it quick, because it won’t take long for Layne to figure out I was lying about the whole per—”
“Ew!” Alicia covered her ears. “Don’t say it.”
“I knew you were making that up!” Dylan high-fived her. “Genius!”
Claire hated herself for thinking for a second that the PC would ever respect Layne. She hated herself more for not running into the bathroom to warn her, now that she knew the truth. But one thousand gossip points was major.
Massie glanced at the double doors to make sure Layne was still out of earshot. Then she leaned forward. “IletLaynecometothespabecauseIneedherhelpwithsomething.”
“So it’s a use? Phew.” Alicia wiped her brow. “I thought you were getting soft.”
“What about the gossip?” Dylan pulled a handful of red hair out of her comb and stuffed it into the pocket of her robe.
“YouknowthatbigsecretmeetingIhadwithSkyelastweek?”
They nodded again.
“Well,sheaskedmetomakeChrisAbeleylikeher. Shewantshimtobeherdatefortheparty. That’showIgotusintotheroomearly. ItoldherIwouldhelpherifshegavemethekey.”
“And she said yes?” Kristen’s narrow blue eyes were wide with disbelief. “Just like that?”
“Kinda.” Massie crinkled her nose with dread.
“Whaddaya mean?” Alicia asked.
“ShesaidifIfailedhershewouldtakethekeyawayforgood.”
Everyone gasped.
“But we get it back for eighth grade, right?” Alicia asked.
Massie shook her head slowly.
They gasped again, then exhaled sharply, accidentally blowing out the vanilla-lavender pillar candle beside them. A thin ribbon of black smoke curled toward the high wood rafters.
“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” This time Dylan dropped a clump of hair on the floor.
“Some things are alpha-to-alpha.”
“But this affects all of us,” Kristen insisted.
“I wanted you to focus on getting dates,” Massie confessed. “That’s your priority. Let me deal with this.”
At that moment, Claire felt sorry for Massie. She was obviously stressing over the deal she’d struck with Skye and had been too full of pride to ask her BFFs for help. It made Claire wonder what other things alphas kept inside. And how alone those secrets must make them feel.
“That’s why I’m telling you. And that’s why Layne is here,” Massie assured them. “I need her to help me get access to her brother and—”
Right then, Layne pushed through the double glass doors, and Massie instantly changed the subject.
“And that’s why I switched to AT&T.”
“I’m going to make the switch too.” Alicia nodded enthusiastically.
“But you need Cingular for the iPhone,” Kristen reminded them.
“Point.” Alicia lifted a pruny finger.
Layne stood above their chaises and looked down, her arms folded across her chest like she knew they had been lying. But she didn’t look hurt. In fact, she was smiling in a soft, confident way, like someone about to make the winning move in a long, heated game of chess. “I heard everything you said.”
“That’s fine.” Massie shrugged off the accusation. “It’s no secret that AT&T has a good nationwide calling plan. You should consider switching.”
“No, I mean about my brother.”
Claire smile-bit her bottom lip.
“And Skye,” Layne finished.
Massie focused on the grumbling Jacuzzi jets to keep herself from fainting.
No one said a word.
“Don’t you want to know how?”
They nodded slowly.
Slapping a clump of mousy brown hair to the left of her head, Layne revealed a tiny, putty-colored earpiece nestled in her ear.
“You’re deaf ?” Alicia gasped.
“Hearing impaired.” Kristen was quick to correct her.
“How did you read our lips from the bathroom?” Dylan sounded amazed.
“I heard deaf people have better vision than nondeaf people,” Alicia explained.
“Hearing impaired,” Kristen insisted.
“I’m the opposite of deaf,” Layne beamed. “I have superhuman hearing, thanks to my Spy Ear.”
They stared at the peanut-shaped contraption.
“I knew Massie was lying about my pants, because I was lying about my per—” Alicia held up her palm. “Don’t say it!”
“So I activated my Spy Ear so I could hear what you were saying about me when I left.”
“Where did you get that?” Massie asked with genuine interest.
“EBay,” Layne replied. “But it only works with a Nokia phone, and Nokia doesn’t use AT&T, so you’re out of luck.”
Claire giggled. She was constantly impressed with Layne, who had the uncanny ability to not let the Pretty Committee get to her. It was like she was made of Teflon or something, and their words just slid right off of her.
“So what’s your point?” asked Massie, skillfully managing to put Layne on the defensive.
“I want to help,” Layne answered, helping herself to the tiny available corner of the girls’ chaise.
“Huh?”
“I want to help you make Chris like Skye.”
“Why?” Massie wiggled free from the others and jumped to her feet, causing the Pretty Committee to collapse like a heap of old, worn stuffed animals.
“Just to help.”
“Why?” Her voice echoed against the misty white tiles. “Because I want my brother to get over Fawn. He’s been so depressed lately, and he never wants to hang out anymore.”
“That’s it? It’s that simple?”
“It’s that simple,” Layne assured her. “Oh, but if you could throw in one of those disposable bathing suits, I’d appreciate it. I think it would look cute with my gauchos.”