Kristen (11 page)

Thwack
!

Or have freedom and no one to share it with?

Thwack!

The sun was bearing down on her unprotected scalp like a judgmental eye. And the deserted black tar roof offered no relief. In fact, it felt like she was burning in a concrete hell, and, certain she deserved it, Kristen chose to stick it out.

Technically, with no job, no friends, and no crush, hell was everywhere she went, but up here, no one could see her cry . . . or sweat—two things she had been doing all morning.

Finally, Kristen allowed herself a long sip of tap water from her Evian bottle. She wiped her mouth on her salty arm, then pulled her black Razr from the pocket on her white H&M cargo dress (which would accidentally get caught on a nail and be ripped to shreds one week before the Pretty Committee got back).

No messages.

Thwack!

She shuffled across the scorching tar to retrieve her ball but stopped midway when her cell vibrated. It was a text.

From . . .
Dune
!

Dune:
Need to talk ASAP. Where are you?

Kristen:
Roof. Pinewood bldg. Take elevator to ninth floor.

Dune:
See u in three minutes.

Three minutes?

Thwack!

Kristen tried to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the bottom of an abandoned Budweiser can, but hot beer trickled out all over her arm and made her chive-scented BO smell even worse. She ran around the perimeter of the roof, looking for a faucet, but found nothing. Maybe she could text Dune back and tell him to come over in an hour. After she had some time to shower and rehearse her this-is-why-I-left-a-buddy-behind speech.

But it was too late.

A car door slammed below, and, sure enough, Brice’s blue Chevy Avalanche pulled away.

There would be no shower.

Thwack!

No gloss.

Thwack!

No rehearsal.

Thwack!

No—

The metal door to the roof opened suddenly with a pump-hiss.

Kristen dried her eyes, then turned slowly, as if weighed down by shame.

A stocky blond with frizzy hair and brown terry cloth jumper stood before her fanning her face. “I bet you could get a killer tan up here,” the girl said. “It’s much closer to the sun than my roof. You can feel it.”

“Ripple?” Kristen’s heart sank like the elevator she wished she was taking her back down to her condo.

“Yeah, sorry.” She shrugged. “I pulled Dune’s phone out of his pocket just before Dad dropped him off at GAS.”

“Why?”

“If you got a text from me, would you have responded?” She lifted her face to the sun-soaked sky.

Kristen didn’t have to say a word. They both knew the answer.

“What do you want?” she asked, kicking the black-and-white ball. It rebounded off the wall and landed right back at her cleats. A move she wished Dune had been there to see.

Ripple pulled a black elastic off her wrist and tied back her perma-parched hair. “Turns out Skye got accepted to Alphas after all.”

For an instant, Kristen felt lighter than Kate Bosworth. Then she realized Skye’s absence wouldn’t bring her any closer to Dune. That was so yesterday. So before-he-saw-her-turn-her-back-on-Layne. “And?”

“
And
she’s being all
un
toward the DSL Daters.” Ripple kicked a cigarette butt with her clear jellies. “She’s dismantling the group. Says she only wants to hang with dancers now.”

“And?”

“
Annnnnnnddddd
I want you to be my tutor again so I can get Massie-fied. I’m offering you your old job back. You’ll get to see
Duuuu-uuuuune
.”

The heat on the roof suddenly seemed unbearable.

“Forget the job.” Kristen lifted her hair and fanned he back of her neck. “I’ll tell you what you need to know for free.”

Ripple speed-nodded and air-clapped. “I’m ready.” Her mouth hung open, ready to gobble up whatever Kristen had to offer.

“Massie thinks wannabes are LBRs minus ten.”

Ripple crinkled her brows in confusion.

“If she thinks you’re trying to be like her, she won’t like you. She only likes people who like themselves. And she only respects people who like themselves more than they like her. You have to accept who you are and own it. So if you’re living your life to impress other people, which is what
you’re
doing—”

“And what
you’re
doing,” Ripple snapped.

Ouch!

Her accusation hit Kristen like a much-needed bucket of ice water. For a dumb nine-year-old, Ripple was kind of smart.

“Correction—it’s what I
was
doing.” Kristen jammed her toe under her soccer ball, flipped it up, and caught it. “Those days are over. Class dismissed.”

THE PINEWOOD

KRISTEN’S ROOM

Thursday, July 23

11:33 A.M.

“THE COMMITTEE IS ASSEMBLED,” announced the computer-generated voice.

Kristen sat at her white IKEA desk and lowered her eyes, unable to face what she had done, or the people she had done it to.

“What do we stand for?” she asked under the cover of her Cleopatra wig.

“BOB,” they answered.

“And what does BOB stand for?”

“Brains over beauty!”

Kristen sighed and then decided to just say it. “I am officially resigning as the leader of the Witty Committee,” she told the grass-stained hem of her white silk goddess dress.

“What? Why?”
Bill Gates screeched. His unconstrained passion forced Kristen to lift her eyes. “We thought you called the meeting to thank us.”

“Well, that too.” Kristen felt like she had one of David Beckham’s fur balls in the back of her throat. “What you did for me last night was—”

“Not last night, girl.” Oprah shook her head.
“Today.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Skye got her acceptance letter to Alphas this morning, didn’t you hear?” Shakespeare smirked. “And I am pleased to say I wrote her entire essay with a quill.”

Einstein, Oprah, and Bill applauded.

Kristen grinned but wasn’t exactly sure why. “What did you do?”

“I got rid of her for good.” Shakespeare smiled. “Heaven knows I was no help when it came to last night’s tech circus. So I contributed in my own way and wrote a brilliant essay in iambic pentameter.”

“Seriously?” Kristen grabbed the sides of the screen and kissed it like it was Aimee’s face. “I thought you guys were mad at me.”

“We were,” Layne said, using her best German Einstein accent. “But after the Witty Committee rescued me from the country club cops, we thought about all the stupid things we did when we were in crush mode. And we decided to forgive you.”

“Like what?” Kristen giggled in anticipation.

“You know the hole I drilled in the pipes at Briarwood?” Layne smiled sheepishly. “The one that caused the wave pool to leak and destroy the whole facility?”

Kristen speed-nodded. She had no idea where this was going, but she certainly remembered getting the news before summer break that the boys’ school had collapsed and was submerged underwater.

“Well, I did it because I wanted my crush, Dempsey, to go to OCD.” Her cheeks turned bright red. Surrounded by the silver wig, she looked like a Christmas tree ornament draped in tinsel.

“No
way
!” Kristen covered her mouth in shock. “How did you know it would work?”

“The OCD manifest states that in the case of emergency, one school will take in the other.” Layne shrugged. “It was a no-brainer. He gets back from Bali mid-September. I can’t wait to tell him the news. I’ve already reserved a locker for him next to mine.”

Kristen’s hand was still on her mouth as she shook her head in utter disbelief.

“And I intercepted Skye’s first essay so she’d stay in Westchester.” Bill Gates dabbed his forehead with a screen-cleaning cloth.

“Since when do you like
Skye
?” Kristen squealed, feeling one percent jealous. Even though she didn’t like Danh in
that
way, she liked that he liked her. And she loved that he liked her more than Skye.

“I don’t.” Bill’s neck was starting to break out in red blotches.

“
Tell
her,” Oprah gently nudged.

“I like
you
,” he blurted. “I was hoping she’d stay here, Dune would stay with her, and you’d be free.”

“Awwww,
Bill.” Kristen touched her heart. “I’m so, so—”

“It’s okay.” Bill smiled like he meant it. “I’m moving on.”

“You see,” Shakespeare spoke up, “I agreed to wear this stupid costume and write with a feather because I like Bill.” She looked up, so it appeared she was making love-eyes at Bill on Kristen’s screen. Bill glanced down at her quadrant and smiled.

The two giggled as if they had already made it official with a lip kiss or two.

“Don’t you just love all this honesty?” Oprah gushed.

“So you forgive me?” Kristen asked everyone, but mostly Layne.

“If you promise one thing.” Layne tucked a wiry gray wig strand behind her ear. “Help me get Dempsey next year before someone else snatches him up.”

“I swear.” Kristen lifted her pinky, knowing Dempsey was a total LBR. The blond, green-eyed chubby gamer who worked the lighting board for the Young Actors’ Program at the community playhouse would be lucky times ten to land a girl like Layne.

“Then you’re forgiven.” She lifted her pinky and touched it to the camera on her computer. For a second, her quadrant was filled with an oversize pink finger.

“What are
you
going to do?” Shakespeare asked.

Kristen’s happy bubble popped as her thoughts were forced back to Dune. She had no idea what she was going to do. No idea how to live with this sadness for the rest of the summer. No idea how to convince him to give her a second chance.

“Knock, knock,” a boy’s voice said from her bedroom doorway. “Can I come in?”

She was about to find out.

THE PINEWOOD

KRISTEN’S ROOM

Thursday, July 23

11:55 A.M.

“What are you doing here?” Kristen quickly closed her MacBook, pulled the Cleopatra wig off her head, and jammed it under her green and blue duvet. Her sweat-drenched hair had dried into what probably looked like Donald Trump in a windstorm. And she was wearing the same Greek goddess dress he’d seen her in last night. But she would never compromise the Witty Committee for love again, not even when her looks were at stake. So she grabbed her mint green satin VS robe off the floor and casually slipped it on to avoid questions.

“I came to say goodbye.” Dune hooked his thumbs under the straps of his red Gravis backpack.

Kristen’s stomach pitched. Hope was gone.

“I thought you already said goodbye at the country club,” she said coolly. Inside her mind, a soccer stadium–size crowd jumped out of their seats and cheered for her quick retort and iron resolve.

Dune lowered his black fedora, then stuffed his hands in the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts. A tattered white beater showed off his defined, tanned shoulders, which happened to be slumped forward in shame. “Yeah, about that . . .”

“Whatevs.” Kristen twirled her finger around her locket, channeling Massie and her strength. “So, where are you going?”

Despite the somber moment, he couldn’t help smiling. “Tavarua. It’s an island in Fiji. Totally exclusive, with one of the best breaks in the world.”

“Is this because of
last night
?”

Dune chuckled. He dropped his bag on the floor and hurried over. Unsure of what to do when a CLAM got that close to her and her bed, Kristen slid onto her blue shag area rug, her back resting against a green and white sham. He immediately sat down beside her, smelling like coconuts and sunshine.

“Nah. Earlier this summer I booked a commercial for Billabong.” He beamed. “We shoot on the island for a week, and then Dad, Ripple, and I are going to camp on the beach and surf until my tour starts.”

“Good luck.” Kristen stood.

“Wait.” He pulled her back down.

The warmth of his hand melted the ice behind her eyes. Tears were imminent and only a matter of time. Kristen glanced toward her window as if something life altering was about to happen beyond the pane.

“I thought maybe you could tell me how you did the whole Jell-O thing. It’ll go over huge with the guys on tour.”

She pulled her hand away. “
That’s
why you came?”

Dune blinked several times, as if his lashes were slapping his face for saying something so stupid.

And then he shook his head no.

“Then why are you here?” Kristen’s voice shook. She wasn’t sure if she was offended, heartbroken, or angry. All she knew was that Dune looked like he was gearing up to say something worth e-mailing to her friends, and she could hardly wait a second longer. “Tell me!”

He looked up, his eyes a darker shade of brown than she remembered. “I came to tell you I’m sorry I left you last night. And that I’m sorry I’m leaving you this summer. And that I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to get to know you better.”

David Beckham jumped onto Dune’s lap and purred for both of them.

Kristen ran a hand through her matted hair and smiled in a way that told him all was forgiven. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know who you
are
.” He shifted to face her.