Tuesday, December 16th
3:26 P.M.
Claire and Layne stood by Claire’s locker in the middle of the after-school rush.
“I just can’t believe this is the same school we were in just yesterday,” Claire said, shaking her head sadly as Rachel Walker teetered past in four-inch stiletto boots, pain evident on her face. The day before, OCD had felt like it was under a magical spell. But by Tuesday afternoon, the comfort-over-couture movement seemed like a dry marker–induced hallucination. “How could things have changed so fast?”
But Claire didn’t need to wait for an answer, because she was looking right at it and its name was Massie Block.
“Take that!” Becca Wilder was pointing her Jovan Musk at the alpha. But Massie—hands covered by yellow latex gloves—just pulled out a mini fan as Becca spritzed, sending the musky cloud right back in Becca’s face. Kristen, Alicia, and Dylan cheered Massie on, high-fiving one another in their own sets of rubber gloves.
“Arg-ul-Jovan!” Becca gurgled, her cheeks turning bright red.
“Repeat after me,” Massie said coolly. “Alg-ge-boob.”
Becca’s sweatshirt-covered shoulders sagged like Kirstie Alley’s couch. “Algeboob,” she mumbled.
Each syllable was like a baseball bat to Claire’s heart. It had been like this all day. Massie had reappeared at OCD that morning, wearing a pair of overalls so gorgeous that people were walking into lockers while gaping at them. They’d been such a hit, she’d started taking orders for custom-made “Massie-alls” since first period.
In theory, Claire knew the overalls had to be the ones she’d left in her closet, although looking at them now, that just didn’t seem possible. The old ones had been a shapeless sack. But these were perfectly fitted to each leg and dyed a deep indigo. The straps were black silk ribbon tied into bows on both of her shoulders, contrasting perfectly with the deconstructed ivory tank she wore underneath. The outfit was both tough and sweet, just like a jawbreaker—and just like Massie.
In a few short hours, the alpha had managed to turn almost everything back to the way it had been before the supposed dawn of a new Claire-a. Massie had fanned away every Jovan spray, held out a gloved hand to every nail polish remover spritz attack, mocked every mock turtleneck, and scoffed at every pair of sweats until almost every girl had changed her outfit or simply gone home for the rest of the day.
“I just really thought the Claire-a would have some staying power,” Claire said, sticking her math book on the top shelf of her locker.
“Was Joan of Arc such a defeatist?” Layne asked pointedly, adjusting her lens-less, square black glasses.
Across the hall, Massie let out a delicate little sneeze. Becca quickly took a packet of tissues out of her sweatshirt pocket and handed them to her. In lieu of thank you, Massie just said, “Now, should I put you down for a pair of Massie-alls?” Becca nodded before walking away, muttering something about her GPA taking a dive.
Behind Massie, the members of the PC smiled and nodded too. Yesterday they’d looked miserable, annoyed, and downright scared. But at the moment they looked more unflappable than Teflon. And maybe Claire was imagining it, but it seemed like the PC (latex gloves aside) were dressed even more stylishly than usual, perhaps to counteract the day of clothes freedom. Alicia wore head-to-toe Ralph along with gold drop earrings and a peacock feather headband. Dylan’s sapphire blue tank dress fit her like a glove. And Kristen’s hair shone in the sunlight.
“Good job!” Layne yelled irritably as Massie let out another delicate sneeze.
Massie’s eyes flicked over Layne’s elastic-waisted maternity jeans (The better for eating hot dogs in, she’d told Claire) and camo Crocs. “Sorry, I can’t say the same. Achooo!”
Layne rolled her eyes and turned back to Claire. “What’s with all the sneezing?” Maybe it wasn’t just about the Jovan Musk cloud hanging in the hallway.
Claire shut her locker door with a bang. According to the rumor mill, Massie and Landon had shared a super-romantic, dog-leash-involved lip kiss the day before. Apparently he was sick, and now she was wearing her cold like some girls wear their crushes’ sweaters. Kori had overheard Massie tell Alicia in math class that she “never knew H1N1 could be so romantic!”
Weird as it was, after all that had happened between them, some little part of Claire was sad to be missing out on this. If they were still on good terms, Claire would have been the first to know. She and Massie would have lounged on Claire’s bed, drinking Smartwater and writing fake wedding announcements.
And now not only weren’t they friends, Massie wasn’t even bothering to be mean to her anymore. She was just acting like Claire wasn’t there at all. Like she was a useless little bug who’d already been tented and exterminated.
Claire sighed.
“Buck up,” said Layne. “More French fries for us. We still have a few converts, anyway.” She pointed to a clump of seventh-grade girls in sweats standing near the exit. Their unmade-up eyes were growing wide with fear as Massie made her way over to them.
“Not for long,” Claire pointed out.
Massie and the rest of the PC made their way toward the exit, gossiping and giggling just like usual. They were all looking at something on Massie’s phone.
Anger washed over Claire, from the roots of her blond hair down to the tips of her lime green Keds. Her revolution was fading faster than a fake tan, right before her eyes.
But as the sweats-wearing seventh-graders put in special orders for overalls, the anger turned into a tidal wave of sadness. Not because the Sweat Girls were choosing Massie… but because Claire couldn’t.
No matter how many bugs they put in Massie’s bed, or whether she’d had a truly humiliating lip kiss, or was kicked out of her house or separated from all her possessions, Massie had the ability to rise from the ashes, to take a pair of overused, gross denims and turn them into something beautiful.
And it was inspiring.