Saturday afternoon, Stella and Cate strolled up Madison Avenue, their arms laden with shopping bags. Cate had taken Stella to a sample sale at the Peninsula Hotel and picked a dress out for her, insisting it would go perfectly with Stella’s coloring. There were only three people Stella trusted with fashion advice: Bridget, Pippa, and her mum. But looking at her strapless turquoise Vivienne Tam dress nestled inside her shopping bag, she knew she could add Cate to that list.
“It really is a beautiful dress,” Stella noted.
“I told you!” Cate singsonged, swinging her Hermès bag in the air.
After the sample sale, Cate and Stella had stopped in all of Stella’s favorite shops: Dolce & Gabbana, Donna Karan, Coach. Then they’d lunched at La Goulue. Stella wanted to hate New York, she really did, but it was nearly impossible when Cate Sloane, connoisseur of fine food and clothing, was her personal tour guide.
Cate squeezed Stella’s arm. “It’s so Zac-Posen-goes-to-Beijing,” she added approvingly.
A group of sixth-grade girls zoomed past on their Razor scooters. A girl in an Ashton Prep tee stared intently at Cate and Stella, almost crashing into a parked Audi.
Stella flipped her blond curls over her shoulder, buzzing from the attention. She could hardly wait to walk into her new school arm in arm with Cate. They’d spend all of English drawing pictures of Jane Eyre in Temperley dresses. They’d plan their shopping route in the cafeteria over Waldorf salads. Most of all, they’d dominate the ninth grade. They wouldn’t just be the best BFF pairing Ashton Prep had ever seen, because they were more than that. They were practically sisters. What could be better?
They turned down Eighty-second Street, the humid August air making the city feel like one massive sauna. Cate pushed into the air-conditioned house and started up the staircase.
“So what are we doing tonight?” Stella asked, following Cate into her bedroom.
“My friends are sleeping over.” Cate dropped her shopping bags in a heap on the floor. Tonight was Chi Beta Phi’s first sleepover of the year, and as sorority chair and all-around most popular girl, Cate had to tackle the most pressing issues: accessories for the first day of school, assessment of their current schedule, and strategies for keeping their lunch table by the window just that—theirs.
“Brilliant—what are they like?” Stella followed her into her bathroom, hovering in the doorway.
“Well,” Cate said proudly, digging through her Kate Spade makeup bag, “there’s four of us. Blythe, Priya, and I have been friends since third grade, Sophie since sixth. We’re kind of like…a sorority. Our name is Chi Beta Phi, and we have rules. We don’t let just anyone in. And I’m pretty much in charge,” Cate went on, swiping Clinique mascara on her already long, already dark lashes. “We’re supposed to vote for the position each new school year, but I was voted in three years ago and nobody has ever asked for a revote. It’s just natural that I would be president—Priya is really funny but too easygoing, and Blythe is pretty and popular but always needs someone telling her what to do. And Sophie is just…Sophie is fourteen going on ten, she’s so immature.” Cate pushed past Stella and out the bathroom door. She pulled Randolph, her stuffed bear, into her lap. “I love those girls, but honestly, they’d be lost without me.”
“So what does it mean to be ‘in charge’?” Stella furrowed her brows.
Cate looked at Stella’s curious face and grinned—she loved a rapt audience. “Well, I hold the first sleepover of the year. And it’s always the most important—we catch up and make plans for September. I also decide where we go and what we do, I get to say who’s in and who’s not, and I know everyone’s secrets,” Cate said smugly, smoothing down Randolph’s ears. “That’s not an official rule or anything, it just seems like everyone comes to me when they have problems.” She shrugged nonchalantly, as if to say, Being charitable and understanding comes naturally to me.
Stella stared out the window at the gray town house across the street, its curtains drawn. Her mates in London didn’t have any rules. Bridget and Pippa always wanted her to decide where they were going for brunch, and took her fashion advice very seriously, but Stella wasn’t “the sorority leader” or anything like that. She just had good taste.
And wasn’t afraid to share it.
Cate’s “sorority” sounded a little like a cult. She pictured them drinking goat’s blood and tattooing Phi Beta Chi into each other’s arms with a Bic pen.
“It’s a lot of pressure,” Cate continued, smoothing down her glossy dark brown hair. “But the secrets are little things—like Blythe’s. She’s a serious spray tan addict. If there were a rehab clinic for spray tanners, I’d have an intervention and send her there. She’ll disappear for a whole weekend and she’ll tell Priya and Sophie that she’s in Cabo, then she’ll go spray tanning three days in a row.” Cate giggled, the words spilling out of her mouth. “And Blythe wears a ‘Little Lady’ training bra. Because she doesn’t have boobs yet.”
Stella’s eyes widened. “No way—even Lola doesn’t wear those anymore!” She erupted in a fit of giggles.
“I know. And Priya tells everyone she goes to sleepaway camp in the Adirondacks, but her parents have been sending her to science camp for the last three years, where she’s gotten obsessed with dissecting things. Seriously, Lola’d better keep an eye on Reese’s Pieces.” Cate paused, wondering if she’d said too much. But who was Stella going to tell, her loser sister? Besides, she loved a rapt audience. Every time she spoke, she imagined herself up onstage, delivering the lines to a theater full of enamored fans. This was better than when she’d played Nellie in South Pacific.
“Sophie’s secret is the funniest,” Cate went on. “She still plays with Barbies.”
“No!” Stella gasped.
Cate raised her hand up as if she were being sworn in at court. “She has a whole collection of them—she keeps them under her bathroom sink. She says she never plays with them, but every time I go over there they’re in different outfits.” Cate cackled, remembering the last time she’d looked under Sophie’s sink. One Barbie had her hair in a French braid and was wearing a neon green wet suit.
Cate eyed Stella, her perfect blond ringlets swinging as she threw back her head and laughed. Cate loved the Chi Beta Phis, but Stella was different. Stella would never buy Barbies or cover up a spray tan streak with a giant Band-Aid. It was nice to finally have…an equal.
The deck was lit by tiki torches. Chenille blankets were draped over the padded teak couch and the big chaise lounges, and citrus-scented candles sat on the small side tables, making the warm night air smell like lemonade. There were bowls of each girl’s favorite snack: Terra Chips for Priya, apple-and-brie sandwiches for Blythe, and gummi bears for Sophie. Mojito and cosmo mocktails sat on the coffee table in pink polka-dotted martini glasses.
Tasteful and elegant, but it doesn’t seem like I tried too hard, Cate thought.
She had been waiting for tonight all summer: the night she’d get to hear the full story of how Blythe met Jake Gyllenhaal in Mykonos, the night they’d finally steal Priya back from her camp bestie—some French girl named Audrey who had tried to convince her to wear power-washed denim—and the night she’d tell them all about Charlie, her first kiss. They’d spent two blissful days together on Kapalua Bay beach in Maui, snorkeling and laying out near the coconut groves, sipping virgin piña coladas. Sophie was going to be so surprised, she’d choke on her retainer.
Cate laid out five sleeping bags in a spiral on the roof deck, then stood back to admire her work. Four of them were perfect pink plaid, with mauve lining that matched Cate’s couch. The fifth was Winston’s old camping bag from the eighties, a huge battered black thing complete with a hood. Cate cringed. It looked like they had invited a dead body to the sleepover.
Cate pulled her iPhone out of her pocket to text Blythe.
CATE: DO U HAVE AN XTRA SLEEPING BAG 4 STELLA?
Her phone instantly buzzed with a reply.
BLYTHE: IM @ YR DOOR. Y??? IS STELLA COMING???
Cate frowned down at the glossy screen of her phone. Ever since she’d heard Emma’s spawn were moving in, she’d complained to her friends nonstop about the injustice. She didn’t want to seem like a total schizo, suddenly falling all over her new sister and inviting her to their sleepover.
Just then the intercom next to the door crackled and Winston’s voice called out in the warm night air. “Cate—your friends are here.” Stella walked to the sliding glass door, tugging it open.
“You should wait here.” Cate stopped her. “I’m excited you’re coming to the sleepover, but I don’t know how Priya, Sophie, and Blythe are going to take it. Let me warn them first.” She smiled sweetly, then slipped through the door and descended the stairs to greet her guests.
Warn them? Ohh-kay. Stella shrugged off the weirdness and dipped her finger into the yellow candle wax. She rolled it in a tiny ball and flicked it off the roof. On a terrace across the street, a man in blue silk shorts smoked a cigar. A car alarm blared in the distance. New York, Stella realized, had its own sound track—even the ambulances sounded different than in London. It would take a while to get to know its smells, sights, and sounds.
Just then, the sliding door opened and Cate emerged, followed by three girls, each clutching a puffy paisley Vera Bradley tote.
A girl with dirty blond hair and gray eyes stopped when she saw Stella. Her skin was so tan it looked like she’d eaten radioactive oranges. Blythe. Stella zeroed in on her boobs, but they looked too big to be contained in a “Little Lady” training bra.
“Blythe,” Cate said, “this is Stella.” Stella stood and reached out her hand, but Blythe just pressed her lips together into a smug smile.
“Hi.” She threw her bag down on the deck and walked over to the couch, where she kicked off her bumblebee yellow flats. Stella glanced at the two other girls, wondering what that was about.
Priya had pale brown skin and sleek black hair. When she tilted her head, a silver stud in her nose sparkled. Sophie was shorter, and younger looking. Her nose was a little sunburned and she had light brown hair that looked like it had been straightened with a one-hundred-degree industrial iron.
“This is Priya and Sophie,” Cate said. Priya nodded and joined Blythe on the couch, picking up a mocktail. Sophie and Cate settled in between Priya and Blythe, taking the last remaining spots.
Stella dragged over a chaise lounge and sat in front of them. Across from her, Sophie was blatantly staring at Blythe’s boobs, which looked like they might pop out of her white strapless Juicy Couture dress. “What’s the deal, Jessica Simpson?” she finally asked.
“Funny.” Blythe smiled mysteriously. “Let’s just say Greece was good to me this summer.”
Cate eyed Blythe’s chest suspiciously. “Becca Greenleaf grew boobs last summer but it turned out it was just the Victoria’s Secret water bra.”
“What about my nose ring? No one even noticed,” Priya pouted.
“I noticed,” Sophie squealed. “I told you at the door!”
“I noticed too,” Stella added, but still none of the girls looked at her. She was beginning to suspect that Chi Beta Phi might actually stand for Cold Bratty Prisses.
“I have some news too,” Cate said, going over to the table where her MacBook Pro was sitting. She smiled as she sat back down with the laptop. Stella went around to the back of the couch to look over her shoulder.
Cate pulled up iPhoto and clicked through a few pictures of her vacation in Hawaii. “These are pictures from Maui.”
She clicked past one of her and Andie next to a palm tree, white plumeria flowers tucked behind their ears. Andie was laughing, and for the first time Stella realized how pretty she was. She had wide, round brown eyes and thick rows of dark lashes. Her cheeks were rosy, and her features were tiny and delicate, like a porcelain doll’s.
“And this,” Cate cooed, stopping on a picture of her and a tan, rugged-looking boy with a dimpled smile, “is Charlie.”
It had been taken on the first day she met him, after they came back from a group diving trip to the Molokini reef. He had sat with her on the top deck after she scraped her ankle against a piece of coral.
“O M to the G!” Sophie screamed, crawling over Priya to get a better look.
“He’s really cute.” Priya nodded at the picture, hypnotized.
Stella leaned against the back of the couch. The boy was wearing a white T-shirt and had light brown bangs that fell in his face.
“Real fit,” she agreed, under her breath.
“Fit?” Sophie asked curiously, turning around.
“He’s from Minnesota,” Cate continued, reveling in the attention. “He even calls soda ‘pop’!” Her voice squeaked with excitement. They had e-mailed a few times over the summer, and Cate had suggested New York as the destination for his next family vacation. The only thing better than telling her girls about Charlie would be introducing them to him.
“Adorable,” Blythe proclaimed, as Cate clicked through to another photo of her with Charlie sitting on the lime green surfboard he’d rented from the thatch hut on the beach. She shut the laptop and tucked her legs underneath her.
“We kissed!” she cried, the words tumbling out of her mouth.
“O M Freaking G!” Sophie squealed again, grabbing Cate’s arm.
Cate stared dreamily up into the starry night sky. “It was after dinner,” she said slowly, savoring her friends’ jealous looks. “We were sitting on deck chairs by the infinity pool, and he was telling me about the snow in Minnesota and then…he just leaned in and kissed me. His lips were so soft, it was like kissing a pillow.” Cate took a sip of her virgin cosmo and let out a deep sigh.
Priya fell back against the couch and sighed longingly. “I am so jealous.”
Cate smirked. “It’ll happen one day,” she said condescendingly, looking around at her friends. “For all of you guys.”
Stella tugged on a golden ringlet and let out a laugh. “What kind of kiss was it?”
“What do you mean, ‘What kind of kiss’?” Blythe asked, turning around to lean over the back of the couch.
Stella straightened up and looked at Priya and Sophie, who were watching her. She shrugged. “The first time I snogged Miles Conway, in sixth grade, I nearly choked on his tongue. He was moving it around all crazy, like this.” Stella stuck her tongue out as far as she could and twisted it in circles.
“Ew!” Sophie squealed.
“Snogged?” Priya looked at Cate as if she might be able to translate.
“Sorry—kissed,” Stella explained. “I made up different names for each snog with my friends Pippa and Bridget. We called Miles the electric eel, and then this boy Aiden that Pippa snogged, the brick wall.”
“Well, my kiss with Charlie wasn’t any of those,” Cate said loudly, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Wait—what’s the ‘brick wall’?” Blythe pressed. Sophie and Priya had turned around too, their eyes fixed on Stella.
Stella straightened up. “He just pressed his lips against hers and held them there—he even kept his eyes open!” The girls emitted a chorus of ew!s, laughing.
Cate gritted her teeth. This was supposed to be her moment at her sleepover with her friends. Stella was stealing it.
“And then there’s the great white,” Stella whispered, chomping her jaws twice. “All teeth.”
“Ouch.” Priya winced, giggling.
“I like when they open their mouth just a tiny bit,” Stella continued, running her hands along the back of the couch. “That’s quite nice.”
Blythe, Priya, and Sophie were all turned around, sitting up straight as though Stella were Sergeant Snog, calling them to attention.
“Then there’s—”
“It was just a kiss,” Cate snapped. “Can we leave it at that?”
“Um…okay,” Stella said, a little surprised. She shrugged and walked back to the lounge chair. Cate was glaring at her, her mouth twisted like she’d just eaten a whole bag of Sour Patch Kids.
“Great dress,” Blythe said, leaning toward Stella and pinching the hem of the skirt. Her face glowed in the soft light of the tiki torches.
“My mum got it from a client.” Stella ran her thumb along the neckline of the aqua Betsey Johnson halter dress, satisfied. At the last minute she’d chosen it over her new Vivienne Tam dress, wanting to go with one of her favorites.
“What’s it like having a model as a mom?” Sophie asked, obviously impressed.
“You didn’t tell me Emma was Emma Childs!” Priya nudged Cate. “I had to find out from Blythe.”
Cate smiled weakly.
“She’s just a regular mum, I guess.” Stella shrugged. “It’s weirder with my dad—he’s a duke.” Back home, everyone was obsessed with her parents—they couldn’t go anywhere without a flock of paparazzi. Now that she was in New York, she sort of missed the spotlight.
“Wait—so you’re like a princess?” Sophie asked, her dark eyes bright. She pulled a chenille throw over her bare legs. On the street below, a driver leaned on his horn.
“Not even close,” Cate jumped in, rolling her eyes. “He’s a duke—she would have to marry a prince to be a princess.” Stella looked stung, but Cate didn’t care. They were dressing up as Disney princesses for Halloween this year, and Cate didn’t need any competition for Cinderella. Stella could be Jasmine, fine, but they were already at their queen bee quota: one.
“She’s still kind of royalty,” Sophie said in a small voice, offering Stella a tiny smile. Cate glared at her. Sophie was way too nice. When Cate had blacklisted Paige Mortimer for calling Cate stuck-up, Sophie had been the one who cracked first, waving at Paige in gym.
Sophie pulled out her retainer, set it down on the table, and snarfed a handful of gummi bears, ignoring Priya’s ew-do-you-have-to? look.
“So why’d you move?” Blythe asked Stella.
Stella shrugged. “London was just so over—New York is really the IT place to live right now.” She looked out at the glittering skyline and smiled. “And Mum and Winston and all.”
“How long have your parents been divorced?” Blythe pressed.
“Not long,” was all Stella said. She wasn’t about to tell four strangers about her dad’s affair. By Monday, it would end up on Inside Edition.
“Mine divorced three years ago.” Blythe sighed, sipping a mojito mocktail. “My dad says he won’t go near my mom unless she’s wearing a straitjacket.”
“Sounds like someone’s got some issues.” Stella laughed. “Well, my dad is brilliant—really. He still loves my mum; they’re great mates, actually.” Stella wished that were true, but the last time her parents were in a room together, it was to argue over their custody agreement.
Blythe stared into her drink.
Sophie nodded, oblivious. “My parents lived in London for a year when I was a baby, so I’m, like, part British. Now that you’re hanging out with us, you can teach me the language. How do you say—”
“There is no language, Sophie,” Cate interrupted. “They speak English.” And, um, Now that you’re hanging out with us?
Cate dug her manicured nails into the couch cushion. If she didn’t do something soon, the Chi Beta Phis were going to erect a Stella Childs statue and start worshipping it at sunrise.
Cate walked over to the other side of the deck, where the sleeping bags were still laid out. She picked up Winston’s black camping bag and rolled it up with several quick twists of her wrist.
“This sleeping bag really doesn’t fit,” she said, leveling her eyes at Stella. She tied the bag up with a tight knot and dropped it onto Stella’s lap. Her mojito mocktail splashed onto her gold Tory Burch sandals.
“Is your OCD acting up again?” Blythe laughed, eyeing Cate. “It’s not a big deal if they don’t all match—we used to use Sophie’s old Care Bears sleeping bag.”
Stella stood up and shook off her sandals, the sleeping bag tucked under one arm. Blythe was wrong—it was a big deal. Stella didn’t totally get why, but Cate had gone from BFF to be-yotch faster than pleated pants had gone back out of style. Cate clearly didn’t want her here, but Stella wasn’t going to let her have the last word.
“It’s okay. I’ll be more comfortable in my own room anyway,” she said, smiling fakely at Cate. “It was nice meeting you all.”
She’d rather go into Ashton Prep solo than with some pseudo-sorority psychos. After all, she’d never had to fight to be friends with anybody. If there was a permanent A-list, Stella Childs was always at the top.
With that, she threw the bag over her shoulder and strutted toward the sliding glass doors, not bothering to look back.
TO: Andie Sloane
FROM: Cindy Ng
DATE: Sunday, 5:18 p.m.
SUBJECT: I’m back!
Just got back from Maine and can’t wait to see you! And I can’t wait for you to see me. The braces are off and I got my teeth professionally whitened. They’re, like, blinding. I’m practically a supermodel.
Not! But I bet you are. Seriously, are you Emma’s prodigy yet? The first petite supermodel?
And how are her daughters? I bet you guys are giving each other pedicures and being fabulous together right this second. I’m jealy.
Anyway, see you tomorrow at school!
Xoxoxoxoxoxo
Cinds
TO: Cindy Ng
FROM: Andie Sloane
DATE: Sunday, 6:24 p.m.
SUBJECT: RE: I’m back!
I can’t wait to see you, too, and your fab new smile. No, I am not the world’s first under-five-foot supermodel yet. All in time, right?
As for your other question…
Stella = Evil Cate Clone
Lola = Loser Cat Lady
Cate = Just as nasty as ever
I wish I were an only child.
We’re off to some torturous family dinner. Ugh. See you tomorrow.
—A