Claire (14 page)

“Ms. Crowley Brown.” Jay stepped forward. “With all due respect—”

“It’s fine, Dad.” Claire tugged her father’s arm. “Let’s just go inside, okay?”

“But—”

“Dad,
please
.”

He met his daughter’s pleading eyes and, for the first time ever, decided to forgo the pep lecture.

“Very well.” Jay dropped his ballot in the box, waited for Judi and Todd to do the same, then brushed past Lorna with a haughty
tsk
.

Once Claire placed one Kedded foot inside, a man shouted, “Look, it’s the Lying Lyon!” He pushed back the brim on his black
GREETINGS, ORLANDO!
cap and lifted his camera.

Before Claire had a chance to react, photographers surrounded her and started clicking. Claire’s vision instantly became obstructed—not by flashes or infamy-panic, but by a mass of shaggy red hair.

Todd had thrown himself in front of his sister, shielding her from the paparazzi’s scandal-hungry lenses, while proudly displaying his new calendar. Sure, it wasn’t the most selfless move in the world, but it, along with the proud way her parents were flanking her, made Claire realize she wasn’t completely alone. This made her feel that she could hold her head high, despite the unforgiving glares and whispers . . . until SAS grazed by like complete strangers, sending Claire’s short-lived confidence to its grave.

“Are you
okay
with that?” Judi asked, sounding slightly snubbed herself.

“Of course not, Mom,” Claire whisper-hissed, hoping no one could overhear the pathetic details of her social life. She pulled Judi away from the crowd and into a corner. “But what am I supposed to do?”

“Have you tried apologizing?”

“For what? Trying to help?” Claire snapped, immediately regretting her sarcasm. “Sorry.”

Judi grinned her forgiveness. “They’re upset they didn’t win. And it’s easier to blame you than themselves. Give it time.”

The word
time
echoed in Claire’s mind, bolstering her from a place of sadness to one of thoughtfulness, which was soon followed by rage. SACS had one week left together before she moved back north, and this was how they wanted to spend it? In a fight? Over a pageant? A pageant that was notorious for breaking up (F)BFFs? They had to know deep down inside that Claire had been trying to help them. Trying to be a good friend. Trying to be fair. And if they didn’t, they were about to.

“Be right back,” she told her parents, who were starting to settle into their seats with the rest of the crowd.

“Roaaaar!” Jay growled.

Claire hurried away, distancing herself from the embarrassing family motto.

But a sudden drumroll sent her right back to her chair.

Once everyone was seated, the Kissimmee Chamber Orchestra began an instrumental version of Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful.” At first, a few heads turned, then a few more. And before long everyone was ooooh-ing and ahhh-ing as the two finalists entered through the back of the tent and began walking down the pink petal-covered aisle, side by side, toward the stage.

Massie, dressed in a gold silk chiffon dress with black roses across the bust, was breathtaking. Her tan had been dusted in bronze shimmer, and her glossy hair was in a purposely messy updo. Her purple hair streak was made to look like it accidentally fell from the diamond “lips” that clipped it all together. But Claire knew better. Bean pranced by her black rose–covered slides, wearing a gold blazer and matching pillbox hat.

The audience reached into the aisles desperate to touch her, congratulate her—or, for the lucky ones—snap a quick picture. She smiled graciously in the face of fandemonium, slowing to be admired but never stopping.

Gracie, despite her perfect posture, toothy grin, and frilly floral gown, was almost invisible next to Massie Block.

The winner was clear. And once the girls took their spots on the special-edition red Hershey’s Kiss–covered stage, Lorna made it official. Massie covered her mouth in faux modesty and lift-hugged Bean while Gracie blinked back her tears and embraced the alpha.

“Massie! Massie! Massie! Massie!” The crowd cheered and chanted and stomped their feet. Silver balloons dropped from above and the audience stood.

Claire got up with the rest of them but couldn’t bring herself to applaud. Her fists were clenched, her lips curved in a frown. How
dare
Massie crash
her
party? How
dare
she take this honor away from a Florida native who truly wanted it just to satisfy her ego? How
dare
she act like Claire’s Gracie vote might have cost her the tiara?

“And now, the moment everyone’s been waiting for!” Lorna hopped up and down on her cankles as Vonda brought out a large red bundle.

Massie’s pleased expression shifted faster than the storm clouds when Lorna held up the official Miss Kiss dress. The stiff red gown was covered in sequins, from the floor-sweeping hem straight up to the puffy sleeves. It was shaped like a triangle but made for a square.

Claire brushed her bangs out of her eyes. Was this really the same dress she had coveted all those years?

“Massie, I am pleased to present you with the official Miss Kiss dress!” Lorna thrust it toward her. But the alpha waved it away like used toilet paper.

Lorna’s grin faltered. In an obvious attempt to avoid a scene, she pulled Massie aside and smiled through their conversation, just in case people were watching. A minute later they called Gracie over.

“Um, excuse me, everyone.” Lorna ech-hemmed into the microphone. “I just received word that our crowned Miss Kiss has been accepted to a prestigious private school in Westchester and will not be able to perform the required Miss Kiss duties.”

And just like that, a new Miss Kiss was anointed, and
she
couldn’t
wait
to wear the dress.

Everyone formed the traditional line in front of Gracie to congratulate her and wish her well. And that’s when Claire spotted SAS.

They had pushed their way toward the front, clamoring to be seen with the winner while the cameras were still interested.

“Be right back.” Claire hurried off before her father could roar again.

“Hey,” she said sadly, tapping SAS on the shoulders.

They harrumphed and turned away.

“Hey,” Claire tried again. But they didn’t even look at her. Instead they dug their hands into a shared bag of chocolate-covered pretzels while inching closer to Gracie.

One . . . two . . . three . . . inhale . . . and . . .

“You guys, I’m sorry, okay! Sorry you didn’t win. But you have to believe that I wanted you to.” Still no one said a word. The frustration that came with being misunderstood and ignored jacked up Claire’s heart rate and made her insides tremble: An emotional geyser was about to erupt.

With tears flooding her eyes, Claire stomped her foot and turned to face her so-called FBFFs. “I
cheated
for you. Lost my check—for you! And have been nicknamed the Lying Lion by the press—because of you.”

Still nothing.

Claire sniffled. “I have one week left here. Do you really want to spend it like this?”

Amandy lifted her blue eyes to meet Claire’s. “No, we don’t.”

Claire’s shoulders dropped. She exhaled. She felt instantly lighter. “Good.”

“But it’s either us or
her
.”

Claire gasped like someone who had just been slapped in the face. The decision shouldn’t have been too difficult considering Massie had kicked her out of the Pretty Committee. But still. She resented being asked to make it.

“Why do I have to
choose
? Why can’t I be friends with all of you? Equally?”

Onstage, Gracie took another bow and adjusted her glimmering tiara.

“Because we’re not all
equal
!” Amandy huffed. “When are you going to realize that?”

“We’ve known you longer!” Sarah insisted.

“Much longer,” Sari added. “Like six years longer. Maybe even more. Or is it four years? Wait, maybe it’s nine. . . .”

While SAS bicker-tried to figure it out, Claire fired off a quick text to Massie.

I know UR not tking 2 me but if you were would U make me choose between U and them?

Massie responded immediately.

Massie: No. I know U’d choose me.

Claire: How do U know?

Massie: What would U rather?

Claire flashed back to her first horrific sleepover at Massie’s house. The girls had asked her if she’d rather be a) a friendless loser or b) have a ton of friends who secretly hated her. Back then her answer had been b. But now that she knew what it was like to have friends who secretly hated her, Claire’s answer had changed.

“You know what, SAS?”

Three sets of eyes turned and looked her.

“I’ve made my choice.” Claire turned on the heels of her brown and blue polka-dot Keds and waved goodbye.

“You’re choosing
her
?” Amandy gasped.

“Nope,” Claire yelled over her shoulder.

“Then who are you choosing?” Sara called after her.

“Me!” Claire shouted, not looking back.

The rain was starting to fall in thick, heavy drops, like they had been building up for a while. Everyone scattered for the parking lot.

Claire knew her decision was the right one. Even Todd seemed to think so. But still, her walk to the car seemed like an endless journey filled with deep sighs and nail-biting self-doubt. Miss Kiss was done. SACS was done. Orlando was—

“Well, look who it is,” Jay called out to the girl sitting on the hood of his red Pontiac Torrent holding her dog.

Claire lifted her eyes.

“Hey,” Massie said sweetly, twirling her purple streak. Her gold dress was spotted with raindrops, but she didn’t seem to mind.

The Lyonses instinctively stopped walking. Claire instinctively kept going.

“Where’s your limo?”

“I let him go.” Massie looked out at the snaking line of cars waiting to get out of the lot.

Claire nodded, too weak to figure out what to say next.

Massie popped open her black rose–covered clutch. “Here.” She reached inside and pulled out a pink slip of paper. “This is for you.”

Claire kept her eyes on the alpha while she took it. Then she looked down.

“Huh?” she said to the one-thousand-dollar check in her hand.

“It’s my first-place prize.” Massie beamed.

Claire handed it back. “Congratulations.”

Massie pushed Claire’s hand away. “It’s for you.”

“Why?” Claire was too confused to feel anything but tired.

“Take it. You earned it.” Massie gave Bean a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You worked just as hard on this pageant as anyone.”

Claire looked away. The rain seemed to have gotten heavier. Puddles began forming by the Pontiac’s tires, and people started running for their cars.

“I don’t need charity,” Claire stated. The rain was making her bangs split into a soggy blond
M
.

“It’s nawt
charity
, Kuh-laire.” Massie leaned over Bean to keep her dry. “I did it for me.”

“Why? Because you feel guilty?” Claire pushed her wet bangs aside. “Because you understand why I did what I did? Because you miss me? Because you want me back in the Pretty Committee?”

Massie half smiled. And like a ray of sunshine, it made Claire’s cool wet skin suddenly feel a little warmer. “Because I want you to buy some clothes.”

“Why?” Claire’s teeth began to chatter.

“Because I don’t want my best friend dressing like an LBR in the eighth grade.”

Claire giggled. And then they hugged.

In one more week, they’d be home.

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STATE OF THE UNION

IN	OUT
Purple hair streaks	Summer secrets
Confidentiality contracts
Euro pop stars
Shark-tooth necklaces
Massie & Claire in Orlando