Best Friends for Never (16 page)

“Yup. It's Tommy Hilfiger's birthday party at the Four Seasons. My mom and my sisters are all bringing dates, so I invited Derrington and he said yes,” Dylan said. “That reminds me, I should buy him a pair of long pants while we're here.”

“Sounds to me like he's using both of you.” Massie ran her fingers across a pair of baggy cargos. “Ew! This place is so Gap. Now, can we get out of here before I start thinking these clothes are actually cute?”

“Wait, Massie, what do you mean,
using
us?” Dylan said. “She's right,” Alicia jumped in. “He's getting more stuff than a kid whose parents just got divorced. Kristen, you've practically done all of his homework for the last week, and Dylan, you've been giving him all of the DVDs and video games your mom brings home from work. What has he done for you?”

“Well, he's not using
me!
” Kristen stormed off toward the back of the store.

“Great, now I'll never get out of here.” Massie lifted a white lace cami off the shelf. “I might as well try this on.”

Alicia yanked a denim mini off a hanger and followed Massie to the dressing rooms.

Kristen was sifting through the sale rack but slowed down when she came to the pleated cord mini in chocolate brown.

“How cute is this?” Kristen said. “And it's on sale!”

“No, it's not.” Dylan was standing in front of Kristen, holding the same skirt. “Someone must have hung it there by mistake, because there's a bunch of them at the front of the store.”

Kristen looked at the skirt in Dylan's hand, then straight into her green eyes. “You're not getting it, are you?”

“I'm seriously considering it,” Dylan said.

“Well, I'm wearing it to the fashion show tomorrow night.”

“No, you're not—I am,” Dylan said.

Massie walked out of the changing room in a huff and buried the unwanted white cami under a stack of fleece pants.

“I have an idea. One of you can have the skirt and the other can have Derrington,” Massie said. “Now can we leave? I want to get to Versace Jeans before the mall closes.”

“While we're on the subject, Kristen copied my idea to design reversible uniforms,” Dylan said. “How will you decide who gets that one?”

“Puh-lease,” Kristen said. “It wasn't
your
idea, and by the way, your mother's wardrobe stylist is making your entry and we all know it.”

“That's cheating! You can't hire a professional,” Alicia said as she came out of the changing room. She handed the denim skirt and her credit card to the first salesperson who strolled by. “Can you ring this up? I'll wait here.”

The salesgirl snatched the card out of Alicia's hand and swished away in a huff.

“If you ask me, neither of you should get that idea,” Massie said.

“Why?” Kristen and Dylan asked at the same time.

“Because it's stupid and if one of you wins, I'll have to spend the rest of my life in a reversible uniform.”

The salesgirl returned with Alicia's credit card and her skirt. “Sign here, please, Mr. Antonio Rivera,” she said with a grimace.

“Finally.” Massie sighed. “I have an idea.” Massie was looking at the silk tops but speaking to Kristen and Dylan. “Why don't you guys call it quits on the whole reversible uniform thing and come model for me.”

“Fine with me,” Kristen said. “I sewed the skirt to my pajama bottoms last night by mistake. At least this way I have a chance to be on a winning team.”

“So why don't you do that and I'll take Derrington?” Dylan said.

“OH MY GOD!” Alicia said. “Will you get over him? He's using you guys.”

“He may be using Kristen, but he likes me,” Dylan said.

“He's using
both
of you. I'll prove it.” Alicia plopped her-self down on the white leather couch in front of the changing rooms and pulled out her cell phone. “Come sit down.”

Kristen and Dylan did as they were told and sat on either side of Alicia.

“Talk loud.” Massie's arms were filled with clothes and she headed into the dressing room. “I don't want to miss this.”

“Watch,” Alicia said. “Kris, you have plans with him on Monday, right?”

“Yup.”

Alicia sat forward and sent Derrington a message on her phone. The girls crowded around her, trying to see what she was doing.

ALICIA:
? R U DOING MONDAY AFTER SCHOOL?

DERRICK:
PLAYING SOCCER. Y?

Kristen beamed with pride when she saw his response. “Seeee,” she said.

ALICIA:
PARENTS R AWAY.

DERRICK:
COOL.

ALICIA:
WANTED 2 HAVE HOT TUB PARTY.

DERRICK:
WHO'S GOING?

ALICIA:
ME

DERRICK:
TIME?

“What time are you supposed to play soccer?” Alicia asked Kristen.

“Four thirty,” Kristen said. Her smile faded.

ALICIA:
4:30

DERRICK:
I'LL B THERE.

“Looks like we have our answer.” Dylan dabbed on a bit of lip gloss. “He obviously doesn't like you very much.”

Alicia turned to face Dylan. “What time are you supposed to meet him on Wednesday?”

“Six,” Dylan said. “Why?”

But Alicia didn't answer.

ALICIA:
SORRY, MADE A MISTAKE. HOT TUB ON WEDNESDAY AT SIX. STILL COOL?

DERRICK:
WOULDN'T MISS IT.

“And that, my friends, is what you call a dirtbag.” Alicia dropped her phone into her Prada and got up to check on Massie's progress. “You can take the guy out of the Halloween costume, but you can't take the Halloween costume out of the guy.”

Massie hurried out of the dressing room. She didn't want to miss Dylan and Kristen's reactions.

The girls were silent. They couldn't even bring themselves to look at each other. Kristen crossed and uncrossed her legs and Dylan helped herself to a handful of mints from the silver dish on the magazine table that was in front of them.

“I can't believe him,” Dylan said. “He was so excited to go into the city with me.”

“Yeah, about as excited as he was to play soccer with me,” Kristen said.

Dylan grabbed another handful of mints and slid the dish toward Kristen. She shook her head no and smiled thanks.

“I'm such an idiot,” Dylan said.

“For thinking Derrington would like you?” Kristen said.

“NO!” Dylan snapped. “For letting him come between us.”

“I know.” Kristen uncrossed her legs and turned to face Dylan. “We have to get back at him.”

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed. She slapped her hand against her heart and closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head. “What were we thinking?”

“We weren't.”

“Hug?”

“Hug.”

The girls hugged and vowed never to let a guy come between them again, especially a horn dog like Derrington.

“Does this mean you two will join my team and be my models?” Massie asked. She had jeans in every wash hanging over her shoulders and bright-colored tops draped across her arms. “We can rehearse tonight.”

“Does this mean we have to be nice to Claire?” Kristen asked.

“I hope not,” Dylan said. “I'm still mad at her for IM'ing us from Massie's computer.” She turned toward Massie. “She totally had me convinced that you thought I was fat.”

“And that you wanted us to wear jean shorts and tights to school,” Alicia said.

“I still can't believe you thought I would actually send IMs like that,” Massie said.

“So then why do we have to be nice to her?” Dylan said.

“Because she'll thread all of our needles since she doesn't have any nails,” Massie said. “So try not to piss her off or
we'll
have to do it.”

“Done.”

“Done.”

Massie was waiting for Alicia to say “and done” but then remembered she wasn't part of their team.

“By the way, Alicia, can I have your bag?” Kristen was staring at the black-and-white Abercrombie model that was swinging back and forth in Alicia's hand.

“Sure, you can have the skirt too if you want,” Alicia said, handing it over. “I don't really like it.”

They waited by the doors near Neiman's for Massie's driver to pick them up. As always, Isaac pulled up in the Range Rover exactly on time.

They spent the ride singing to the radio and gossiping about the annoying girls in their grade, just like they always did. But something felt different. It was the first Friday night in over a year that Alicia wasn't sleeping over at Massie's.

They pulled up to the black iron gates in front of Alicia's house and Isaac helped her gather her bags.

“Have fun at the sleepover. I'll miss you guys,” Alicia said as she backed out of the SUV. “I hate that I have to compete against my best friends in the entire world. This whole thing sucks.” She contorted her face into a pouty frown.

But Massie wasn't buying it. Alicia's brown eyes sparkled and danced a little too much for someone as tortured as she had just claimed to be.

OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL
SAGAMORE HALL

6:45
PM

November 8th

Backstage, the models were panicking. Some had stage fright. Others simply refused to put on their uniforms because they thought they looked fat or they didn't want to change in front of Eli.

Claire stood by the refreshments table and licked chocolate icing off her fingers.

Massie came over to grab a bottle of Smart Water.

“Well, this is it,” Massie said. She looked incredible. Her straight hair was loose and wavy and she looked like a French model in her new outfit, a frilly see-through cap-sleeved shirt with a beige cami underneath and a peach skirt that swished and swayed when she walked. And she was already wearing the black beret they'd promised to save for the show.

Claire saw that exact outfit in
Teen Vogue
when she was researching design ideas. The skirt alone cost $350.

“You look really good,” Claire said. She looked down at her new red moccasins and wished her mom had let her buy something with a low heel instead.

“Thanks,” Massie said. “What happened to your hand?”

“Doughnuts.” Claire looked embarrassed.

“No, the Band-Aids.” Massie adjusted her beret to give it more of a tilt.

“Oh, I got a few blisters from threading all those needles last night. But it's no big deal. I had fun,” Claire said. “Especially when we did the fashion shoot. I can't wait to e-mail those pictures to my friends back home.”

“Yeah, it was fun.” Massie sounded surprised. “I can't believe we stayed up until four o'clock in the morning. Thank
Gawd
for espresso machines.”

“And Dylan's farts,” Claire said. “They kept me alert for hours.”

Massie cracked up. Claire laughed too, then rubbed her tired, burning eyes. She felt better than she had in a long time.

“Well, at least they finally forgave me for sending those IMs,” Claire said.

“Yeah, and
all
you had to do was sew their uniforms and make them popcorn while they watched E! for three hours straight,” Massie said.

“It was worth it.”

“What are you
doing
here?”

Claire turned to see one of Pia's butt-kissing teacher's assistants approaching. She held a clipboard and had a walkie-talkie clipped to the side of her Sevens. “Why aren't you in hair and makeup?”

“We're not models,” Massie said. “We just happen to look
ah-mazing
.”

“Well, it says right here that you both signed up for model's robes.” She flipped through the pages on her clipboard.

“We don't want people to see what we're going to be wearing,” Massie said back.

“But you're just presenting.” The assistant sounded confused.

“That's what you think,” Claire said.

Claire and Massie rehearsed their lines one last time, checked in on Kristen and Dylan in the makeup chairs, and then snuck over to the curtain to peek out at the audience.

The DJ was already blasting music to the house. The show was still fifteen minutes away and the seats were already full.

“Opening night of
The Producers
on Broadway didn't look half this packed,” Massie whispered to Claire, their heads poking through the red velvet curtain. “Look—there are the editors from
Teen People.
Front row center.”

“God, there are so many photographers.” Claire bit down on her thumbnail.

As impressed as she was by the turnout, Claire really only cared about seeing one person. She searched the audience, looking for the mess of black hair, the slouchy posture, and the brown leather jacket.

“Girls, you should be with your models,” Principal Burns cawed.

Claire had never seen Burns at such close range before. With her pointy hook nose and her tiny eyes she really
did
look like a buzzard.

“The show is about to start and I need you in your places,” she said. “Now, fly!”

The girls giggled all the way to their places. They couldn't believe the bird lady actually told them to “fly.”

Everyone was lined up according to the order of their appearance onstage. Massie, Dylan, Kristen, and Claire were last.

“I hope people don't fall asleep before our turn,” Dylan whispered.

The hairstylist had glossed each one of her red ringlets individually so they glistened and bounced. Her already piercing green eyes had gotten the smoky treatment from the Bobbi Brown makeup artist. They were glowing.

“Trust me, we're in the best position,” Massie said. “Right after we go, the audience votes. So if we make it into the finals, we'll be fresh in their minds.”

“Wow, we got lucky,” Claire said.

“No, we didn't,” Massie said. “I called Pia last night and asked for this spot.”

“And she just gave it to you?” Kristen kept her neck perfectly still as she talked to keep the tower of blond hair on her head from collapsing.

“Don't forget, this whole contest was
my
idea,” Massie said. “It was the least she could do.”

The music stopped and the houselights fell. The room was surprisingly quiet except for the sounds of people shifting in their seats and folding their programs while they got comfortable. But as soon as Principal Burns took the mike, they exploded with applause. The sound made Claire think of frying bacon.