THE GUESTHOUSE

THE LIVING ROOM

Monday, December 15th

12:53 P.M.

Alone at the Lyonses’ house, Massie flipped through the channels on their small-screen TV and wondered how anyone could live with a television this tiny. “How do they even read the captions on The Hills on Telemundo?” she asked Bean.

Bean whimpered in response.

“I know you need a walk, but I can’t go outside like this.” Massie pulled the Lyonses’ burnt-orange, handmade afghan around the overalls she’d been forced to wear. She prayed that whatever lived inside the stinky old yarn was asleep.

She checked her phone for the 137th time and sighed. No new texts. Yes, she’d Lycra-ed her friends out of the sleepover, but still. Why weren’t they worried about her? Why weren’t they sending her e-cards or ginseng smoothies?

On All My Children, a well-dressed older woman was plotting to gain control of a multimillion-dollar company. She enlisted the help of a sidekick whose idea of high fashion was gold lamé stockings with Converse sneakers. Massie grimaced. What these people needed were makeovers, not company takeovers.

Click.

A family sitcom came on that Massie had never seen. The oldest son was apparently obsessed with a girl from school whom the rest of the family hated. She had long blond hair that she kept in a perfectly maintained ponytail, and she traipsed around school telling people why they were in or out of style. She seems ah-mazing, Massie thought. But then a boy with dark curly hair and bluer-than-blue eyes came on screen, reminding her of Landon. Her heart constricted like a too-tight bra.

Click.

On a local station, a news reporter with thick eyebrows was interviewing people at the Westchester Mall. Apparently, the mall was suffering record-breaking lulls in sales.

Probably because they keep declining my credit card!

Click.

She felt her eyes fill with tears and threw down the remote.

Bean looked up. She had refused to sleep in, on, or around any of the Lyonses’ afghans or blankets, so she was perched awkwardly on the white coffee table.

“Poor thing,” Massie said. “You must be freezing.”

Bean whimpered and reached her paw for the door. But Massie just took the dog in her lap and petted her, trying to think of what she should do next. It was a free day, after all. Maybe she could go through Claire’s makeup and give herself a manicure and pedicure. Through the window, she could see the exterminators starting to dismantle the striped canvas tent. Thank Gawd. If Massie had to live at the Lyons’ one more day, she’d go crazier than Lindsay after a run-in with the paparazzi.

Her phone exploded with incoming texts.

“Ehmagheddon!” Massie shrieked. She looked down at her texts and read them one after another, a smile spreading across her face. Her friends missed her!

Dylan: Sorry we fought… School n-sane!

Alicia: Forgive & forget? Got sprayed with Jovan Musk. I smell like cus!

Kristen: Sorry ’bout r fight. LBRs R sitting @ 18!

“Woof!”

“I’m sorry Bean, you will just have to hold it,” Massie said distractedly. She could feel her malaise lifting like teased hair. Her friends needed her—just like always. Mini rebellion aside, they recognized her as their forever-alpha.

Then her phone buzzed with a new message from Dylan: a video of Claire and Layne standing on a table in the middle of the New Green Café, pumping their fists and jumping up and down. All around them, LBRs were doing some sort of weird arm and hand signals, like a bunch of queerleaders.

Then, the audio clicked in and Massie heard what they were chanting: LET’S BE REAL!

LET’S BE REAL! LET’S BE REAL! LET’S BE REAL!

Massie’s emotions swirled like a Pucci scarf. This was unheard of—and the opposite of acceptable. LBRs at Table 18? Claire and Layne on a table, chanting ridiculous things that didn’t even rhyme? Totally unfashionable people trying to take over the school? One absence, and her empire crumbled. She opened a group text to all her friends.

Massie: How could you let this happen?

No one responded. Massie rolled her eyes and sighed. This was no time to push her friends away. If anything, she needed them more than ever. Massie texted again.

Massie: Claire is bread in the oven: about to be toast!

Her phone immediately pinged.

Kristen: art

Dylan: art art

Alicia: Point!!! art

Massie felt a sudden burst of energy—something that felt almost like happiness. Let Claire enjoy her little coup now. Let her and Layne think running a school was as easy as scooping raisins onto their Cheerios. Let them hop up and down in their Keds. When Massie’s house was bug-free and she was reunited with her wardrobe, she would remind these losers what LBR really stood for.

Bean let out a long, high-pitched whimper.

She sighed. “Okay, okay. Come on. But we’re only going to the end of the driveway!”

Throwing the afghan over the overalls, Massie grabbed Bean’s leash and walked to the front. The second she opened it, though, Bean was overcome by her own burst of energy. She ran forward, barking loudly, tugging Massie forward, down the driveway and around the corner.

“Bean!” Massie said. “Slow down!”

But Bean wouldn’t listen. It was warmer today than it had been recently, but a cold wind bit at Massie’s cheeks and her feet slipped over the icy sidewalk.

“Slow down!” They whizzed past the Keatings’ Spanish-style mansion, then tore through the Vanderwoudes’ snowy front yard. The afghan caught on the spindly branch of a barren crab apple tree—and stayed there. All Massie could do was look back as it hung forlornly from the branch like an orange ghost.

Cars honked, and a blue-outfitted USPS worker laughed at her. But still Bean didn’t slow down. Massie’s lungs burned and her eyes watered as she sprinted after her puppy, down Mayfair Street, then around another corner… where she led Massie straight into the leash of another dog.

She followed the leash up to a strong hand, a navy cashmere coat–covered arm, a broad shoulder, a perfect jaw, a high cheekbone—and finally she found herself staring into Caribbean blue eyes. Her heart immediately started hammering.

“Landon?”

He looked down at the ground. “Hey.” His voice was as cold as the icy air blowing past them.

A red Jetta drove by, and a light turned on inside the white colonial home next to them.

Massie looked over to see Bean squatting on a dead flower bed as she peed… and peed… and peed. Each squirt extinguished a little piece of Massie’s will to live. But finally Bean stood up and jumped on Bark, who yip-laughed and squirmed away. Bark then jumped on Bean, who howled with happiness.

Landon let out a great, loud, sputtering cough. Massie’s face burned from shame. Of all the people on Earth she could have run into at that very moment in her OshKoshB-kill-me-now Claire-iffic getup… It probably looked like she’d escaped from preschool. She wanted to crawl behind a fire hydrant and hide, but the only thing lamer than wearing a bad outfit was running away in shame.

Landon finished coughing and turned back to stare at her. “I thought the fresh air would make me feel better, but now I’m not so sure.”

Oh Gawd. The sight of Massie in her baggy denim ensemble was making him sick. It was probably bad fashion–induced anaphylactic shock, or worse—death by eyesore.

Landon wiped his nose with a tissue. “Sick day.”

Even though it was snotty, Massie was jealous of the tissue. She wanted to be that close to him. “Oh,” she said. “Right.”

Massie looked at him more closely. He was as ah-dorable as ever, of course, but his usual healthy glow was slightly dimmer. His nose was red and his forehead looked pale, and there were dark, mascara-smudge-looking circles under his eyes. For a moment, she was overtaken with the urge to follow Landon home, tuck him into bed, and order him some tomato soup with grilled Parmesan croutons.

But then she remembered that he was about to dump her, and she quickly shook off the Florence Nightingale fantasy.

“So why are you home today?” Landon said.

“Working on a project,” she lied, straightening her shoulders.

Landon looked at her overalls.

She thumbed a denim suspender. “It’s, um, part of the project—a psychological experiment to see if people act differently when they’re wearing embarrassing outfits.”

Landon’s eyes narrowed. He made a motion like he was going to speak, but then he stopped himself.

Bean tugged at her leash, rolling over and over with Bark. Massie braced herself as Landon shuffled his feet a little, trying not to notice the adorable pair of Pumas he was wearing. “Well, good luck with that experiment.” He turned to leave, but didn’t move.

“Wait!”

Landon raised his thick eyebrows in a yeah what is it sort of way. Massie had no idea what to do next. She had never been so lost for words. Crushing on a ninth-grader was terrifying. All she could do was feel underdressed, underglossed, and underworded.

Landon finally looked up and stared Massie straight in the eye. Her heart pounded even harder. “Look. I know video-chatting with my grandparents isn’t all that cool,” he said. “But…” He straightened himself to his full height so he was towering over her. Massie felt like she was going to faint, right there, in a pile of three-day-old slush and outdated denim. “They’re pretty cool for old people. So if you want to ditch me over it, fine. But just tell me instead of ignoring my texts.”

Massie felt like she had just been run over by a crowd of screaming girls at a Jonas Brothers concert. Landon was embarrassed? This whole time she had been agonizing over her clothes, over the apoca-lips, over the fact that he was on the verge of dumping her. But the entire time he’d been agonizing too, not over how to break up with her, but over whether she thought he was an LBR for liking his grandparents?

A frenzy of barks and sniffs erupted beside them.

“Hey.” Landon smiled. “Easy there, boy.”

“Bean!” Massie called out.

But Bean kept chasing Bark, and then Bark started chasing Bean around the front yard of the white colonial. They started running circles around each other as if it were May Day and Landon and Massie were the maypole.

“Bean, stop!” Massie cried as the leash wound around her legs.

“Bark!” Landon said at the same time, as his own puppy figure-eighted around his legs.

Suddenly Bean and Barked jerked in opposite directions, pulling Massie and Landon together. She felt like she was in a romantic comedy—without the comedy part.

“Oh no!” Massie said as she started to wobble. Landon swayed too, and all of a sudden she found herself an eyelash distance away from Landon’s lashes. Could he smell her Glossip Girl Minted Rose lip gloss? And from this close, she could see his eyes weren’t just Caribbean blue. There were also flecks of yellow, green, and brown—like glitter nail polish.

“I think it’s ah-dorable that you talk to your grandparents all the time,” she said, quietly. “I wish I was closer to my grandparents.”

“You do?” Landon’s voice was almost a whisper. He blushed. Massie thought it made him even cuter.

She nodded. “I was just embarrassed that they saw us kiss. And I thought you were probably embarrassed too.”

Landon scrunched up his nose. “If I was embarrassed, why would I keep texting you?”

She traced a crack in the sidewalk with her toe. “I dunno. Maybe I was embarrassed. It’s never happened before, so I didn’t know what it felt like. And I didn’t call you back because I thought you were going to… that you didn’t…” She blushed. When she looked at him, he was looking right at her. And he was shaking his head, slow and sweet, in a way that made her know that she didn’t even need to finish her sentence.

Their eyes met, and neither of them looked away this time.

Landon smiled. “Don’t worry. No one’s watching.”

Eh.

My.

Gawd!

Landon leaned in. She could smell his cologne. It was something spicy and fresh. But at that moment, she couldn’t even think of the name.

Massie let her eyelids fall closed like a light dimmer, and a moment later she felt his lips on hers. They were soft, and she let herself lean into him a little more.

He pulled away. “I shouldn’t do this.”

Massie’s teeth chattered in a way that had nothing to do with the December air. Not again! “Why?” What did I do wrong? she wanted to shout.

Landon coughed. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Good point.” Faking sick was one thing, but actually being sick was a pretty-buster.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling back. “I guess it is.”

They stood for a moment, looking at each other and smiling. Bark and Bean had calmed down and were cuddled up in yin-and-yang formation on the icy pavement.

Landon gathered Bark’s leash in his hand, getting ready to walk away. “I’d better get back to the house. My mom only let me walk around on the condition that I wouldn’t be out long. But I want to say before I go: You look really…” He hesitated.

Massie closed her eyes. Silly? Unfashionable? Lumpy. Weird. Unmoisturized—

“… cute in those overalls.”

A warm feeling spread throughout Massie’s limbs in spite of the cold as Landon and Bark waved goodbye. Turning to go, she hooked her thumbs through her belt loops, thinking perhaps it was time to bring overalls back into vogue. If anyone could, it was Massie.

And then, just like overalls, Massie was back—and better than ever.