Invasion of the Boy Snatchers (18 page)
“Now remember,” Massie whispered before Alicia left the estate, “not a word of this to Kristen and Dylan. For some sick reason, they seem to like Nina, and they may end up telling her.” She held out her pinky.
Alicia wrapped her finger around Massie’s and swore. Then Claire did the same.
The next afternoon, Claire could hardly sit still through her classes. She couldn’t wait to see what Nina was really like. If her plan worked, Massie and Alicia would be forever grateful. And if it didn’t, they’d never listen to her ideas again. The second the bell rang; Claire bolted out of English and ran down the hall.
When she got to the booth, Alicia and Massie were already there, staring at the tiny TV monitor they’d gotten from Todd.
“This is so strange,” Massie noted. “The camera’s not moving.”
Claire pushed her way closer to the monitor. They were looking at a lopsided shot of a gray cement floor and the legs of a bench. A white sweat sock was lying in the background. “Maybe she fainted.”
“I wish,” Alicia murmured.
“Did one of you tell Kristen or Dylan?” Massie looked directly at Claire with her amber eyes. It felt like they were shooting heat rays straight to the back of her skull.
“I didn’t,” Alicia promised.
“Me either,” Claire added. “Maybe it fell off.”
“How could it? I stuck it to the outside of her bag.”
“Duh.” Massie rolled her eyes. “She’s a notorious bag-swinger. I noticed that the first day I met her. I assumed you would have picked up on it too.”
Alicia shrugged. She looked down and aimlessly began drawing tight spirals on a wooden desk with her silver Tiffany pen.
“This sucks,” Massie stated matter-of-factly.
“I knew we should have gone shopping.” Alicia slammed her pen down. “At least we would have had outfits for the dance.”
Claire was desperate to lighten the mood. “Hey, wouldn’t it be weird if we saw our own backs on the camera and then we turned around and Nina was standing right behind us?”
Suddenly the girls heard someone sniffle behind them. All three of them screamed and jumped to their feet. They started waving their arms and hopping up and down in hysterics.
“What is your problem?” Kristen was standing in the doorway with tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Ehmagod Kristen.” Massie put her hand on her heart. “You scared us.”
“Who did you think it was?” Kristen asked. “Chucky?”
The girls started laughing. Kristen waited patiently for them to stop.
“How did you find us?” Massie asked.
“I saw Claire run here after class and I—,” Kristen said. “Wait—do you not want me here?”
“No, it’s not that,” Alicia explained. “We just thought you had soccer practice.”
“That’s Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Kristen corrected. “Where’s Dylan?”
“She went home early because she’s sick,” Massie reminded her. “You know that.”
“Oh yeah.” Kristen looked at the ground. She twirled her index finger around her blond hair while a stream of tears fell down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Claire finally asked.
She burst into hysterical sobs. “My mom is insisting on chaperoning the dance because I’ve been getting so many detentions lately.”
“What?” Massie screeched.
“No offense, but that woman needs to join a gym or something,” Alicia offered. “She’s obsessed with everything you do.”
“That
woman
is her
mother
,” Claire said. “Don’t you guys ever get in trouble?”
Alicia and Massie looked at each other and shook their heads.
“How am I ever going to kiss Kemp Hurley if my mom is watching me all night?” Kristen whined. “I’ll never win that bet, unless . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Unless what?” Massie asked.
“Unless Dylan’s flu gets worse.” Kristen closed her eyes, crossed her fingers, and bit her bottom lip. She looked like an
American Idol
contestant waiting to hear if she’d won.
Claire was reminded of the dance and sighed. “Can we go to the mall?” she asked.
Massie whipped her head around. “
Kuh-laire
, did you just say what I think you said?”
“Seriously,” Alicia said. “That’s my line.”
“I know, but maybe if I have a cute outfit, Cam will change his mind.”
“I like the way you’re thinking,” Alicia purred.
“I think you should buy a cute outfit, but not for Cam,” Massie suggested. “You need to move on. We all do. Maybe you should kiss someone else at the dance.”
“I could never—”
“She’s not going to be part of the bet now, is she?” Kristen asked. “I mean, no offense, Claire, but I really want those boots.”
“I told you, I don’t want to kiss someone as part of a bet,” Claire reminded her.
“I think you should do it to teach Cam a lesson.” Massie’s lips curled up in a devilish way.
“Are you going to do that to Derrington?” Claire asked.
“Thinking about it.” Massie took out her Cinnabon lip gloss and patted it on her lips with the wand. Then she puckered up and blew an air kiss. “Maybe you should ask the hearts who you’re going to kiss.”
“Good idea.” Claire reached into her coat pocket and pried the plastic bag open with her fingers. Her supply was running short, and it took a few seconds for her to find a heart that hadn’t been crushed. There was one left. “Okay.” She sighed. “Heart, when I open my eyes after my first kiss, will it be Cam Fisher I’m looking at?
Claire pulled the blue heart out of her pocket and flipped it over. She felt herself smile before she read it aloud.
“What does it say?” Massie asked.
“Read it,” Alicia urged.
“Come on,” Kristen said.
Claire took a deep breath.
“Whatever Your Heart Desires.”
The girls jumped up and down and clapped for Claire’s good fortune, while she sucked on the heart, trying as hard as she could not to let it break.
Thursday, February 12th 12:41
P.M.
The girls were sitting at number eighteen, their usual lunch table in the Café. Alicia was licking the tops of her California rolls, Claire was eating a bowl of Cap’n Crunch, Kristen was drinking whole milk from the carton, and Dylan was pulling the cheese off her pizza, hoping to lose a few extra pounds before the big dance. Massie was the only one without an appetite. How could she possibly digest anything when all the girls in school looked like they were about to audition for a Christina Aguilera video?
Massie made an I-just-sucked-a-lemon face. “Why does everyone look so Nina-ish today?”
“I can’t believe how many people are copying her. How ticepath.” Kristen sat up in her chair so she could pull her denim miniskirt out of her butt.
“I doh, id is pathetic.” Dylan coughed and pulled a tin of imported French lemon drops out of the side pocket on her Chinese silk bathrobe. She was wearing it over jeans, and it actually looked kind of fashion-forward, even though she was just being sick and lazy.
Massie was tempted to call them hypocrites but decided against it. She didn’t want to push Kristen and Dylan any closer to Nina than they already were.
“Massie, how are you going to wear your hair tomorrow night?” Alicia asked as she took a sip of her virgin cosmopolitan. Suddenly, she stuck out her pink tongue. “Ew, this tastes like warm Kool-Aid.”
“Oooh, that reminds me. . . .” Massie pulled out her cell phone and speed dialed Jakkob. “I need to schedule an updo.” She picked at the whole-wheat toast crust on her tuna sandwich while she waited for someone at the salon to answer. “Yes, hi, Casey, this is Massie Block. . . . Bean is great, thanks. She loves the styling gel you gave her. . . . Listen, I was wondering if I could borrow Jakkob tomorrow at around four-ish for a quick updo. I have a big event tomorrow night and I have to look ah-mazing.” She winked at Claire when she said that. “Four-fifteen? Perfect . . . see you then.” She chucked her tuna on wheat in the trash and folded her arms across her chest. “Done.”
“I heard your bommy is coming to the dance.” Dylan turned to Kristen. She laced her fingers behind her head and leaned back in her chair. “That should bake for a romantic evening with Kemp Hurley.”
“Oh, like Chris Plovert is going to think your sinusitis is hot?” Kristen snapped back.
“Maybe you two should call off this bet,” Massie suggested. “It’s tearing you apart.”
“Yeah. Besides, you should only kiss someone if you really love them. Not just to do it.”
“Listen to the expert.” Dylan smirked. “Cam won’t even talk to you.”
“Ouch,” Alicia said.
“He’ll come around.” Claire nodded. “The hearts said so.”
A few seconds later Massie got a text message. She wanted it to be Derrington so badly, she waited a few seconds before she checked it. It was always better be to full of hope than disappointment.
When she finally looked, her heart sank. It was from Claire.
CLAIRE
: Has Derrington called U yet?
MASSIE
:
CLAIRE
: Cam hasn’t called either. I should call. The kiss is tomorrow.
“Don’t call him, Kuh-laire. Make him come to you.”
Claire shot Massie a Thanks-a-lot-for-betraying-my-confidence look, but Massie didn’t care. There was only so much Dr. Phil she could give, especially when things were so terrible with Derrington. She had gone through two tubes of Glossip Girl in one week, and the flavors had been Raisin Pudding and Hay. The stress was driving her to overapply.
“That’s what Deena always says. Bake them cub to you.”
“I love that you’re finally starting to take Nina’s advice,” Kristen said. “If there’s one thing she knows about, it’s boys.”
“I like to think I know a little more than just that,” Nina purred as she dropped a chair down at number eighteen and sat. She was wearing one of Sage’s Virgins for Life T-shirts, with the word
NOT
written across it in red paint.
“FYI, I wasn’t taking
her
advice,” Massie corrected. “I just read about male psychology in
Teen Vogue
.”
“It’s okay to admit you want to be like me. Everyone else has.” Nina looked around the Café and smiled at all of the girls who were wobbling around in knee-high boots, microminis, and tight, revealing tops. “Look, Kristen.” Nina was pointing to a group of girls wearing cowboy hats. “I told you the hat thing would catch on.”
“Ehmagod.” Kristen smiled brightly. “You were so right.”
“I wonder what I am better at?” Nina asked no one in particular. “Fashion advice or guy advice?”
“Nina, are you a magician?” Massie asked.
“No . . .”
“Then why are you acting all delusional?”
“Uh, Massie,” Kristen whispered softly, “magicians do
illusions
, not
de
-lusions.”
Massie felt the prickly heat of embarrassment tickle her spine. “It’s not like she’ll know the difference. She’s from Spain.”
“Who are you calling a magician?” Nina asked as a group of giddy girls approached their table and hovered around her.
“Nina, you have to help me.” Cookie Holsen reached into her purple Dooney & Bourke Nile duffel and pulled out two different outfits. One was a red BCBG satin dress with Spanish ruffles around the sleeves and the other was a black see-through V-necked tank top and a pair of leather short shorts.
Nina rubbed each outfit between her thumbs and sighed. “Do you have to ask?”
“The leather short shorts?” Cookie offered.
“Given!”
“Hey, that’s my word,” Alicia whispered to Massie.
“Not anymore,” Massie whispered back. “She steals everything.”
“Cookie.” Massie curled her index finger so the girl would lean toward her. Once their eyes met, Massie whispered, “If you want to look
stylish
, I suggest the red dress. Ruffles are very hot right now.”
“I want to look like Nina,” Cookie said. “Besides, she has way more experience with boys, so I kinda want to take her advice for now. No offense.” The two girls standing behind her nodded their heads in agreement, then revealed bags full of outfits that were ready for Nina’s approval.
“You know, Massie,” said Elise West, one of Cookie’s friends, “you should have Nina contribute to your blog. You know, when it comes to fashion and boys. Oh, and makeup.”
“Or maybe she should write the whole thing,” offered Alexis Higgins, Cookie’s other friend.
“She’s right, Nina.” Cookie was shifting nervously from one high-heeled boot to the other. “You have better advice than anyone else in the entire school.”
Massie could have sworn Cookie was looking right at her when she said that. And she could feel her insides starting to tremble. It was a combination of extreme anger and pain. Nina was destroying her empire. And she wasn’t even famous!
Nina must have sensed Massie’s frustration. “What is that expression you Americans use?” She snapped her fingers a few times as if that would somehow help her remember. “Ah, yes. Don’t be sad over milk?”
“You mean, no use crying over spilt milk?” Cookie shouted.
“Yes, that’s it.” Nina smiled. “Massie, there’s no use crying over spilt milk. There’s a new fashion goddess in town, and you have to get over it.”
