Massie (3 page)

The reporter click-closed her blue Bank of America pen and dropped it in her beige
Horse & Rider
canvas tote.

“Wait. . . .” Massie searched for a friendly face.

But everyone slowly backed away. Even the
Horse & Rider
reporter—the one person who’d understood heringenuity in the face of a challenge.

She hurried toward Brownie and hoisted herself into the saddle before the pre-tears pinch behind her eyes turned into full-blown sobs of humiliation.

“I was wrong, B,” She told her horse as she cued him to leave. “Losing isn’t bad.” She cantered past her ex-friends, leaving them behind in a cloud of dust. “It’s awful.”

GALWAUGH FARMS SLEEPAWAY RIDING CAMP

HORSE STALL A

Monday June 8
12:06 P.M.

“Wait up!” Jacqueline called from Zac Efron. “I said I was sorry!”

Massie checked her side-gloss mirror. Zac and Jacqueline were at least five stretch-limo lengths behind Brownie, galloping up the rocky trail. And Whitney and Oreo were two more behind them.

“Let’s go,” she muttered in Brownie’s ear, then leaned forward and triple-tapped his leg. The horse picked up speed and didn’t stop until they were inside the stable.

Massie jumped down, hitched her horse to the side of the wood stable, and then raced to the open barn door. She gripped it with both hands and leaned forward, using all of her weight to slide it shut. Then she kicked it with her black Hermès riding boot. Her eyes filled with tears—not because she’d scuffed the black leather, or because she’d been asked to leave Galwaugh after six years of riding excellence, but because Jacqueline and Whitney, her summer GLUs,* had betrayed her. And that hurt more than her throbbing big toe.

* GLU = Girls Like Us. Though really, only the Pretty Committee could be truly considered GLUs. Whitney and Jacqueline were hot-weather friends only, the kind that, after classes started, Massie might see once, maybe twice. They’d try to hold on with e-mails and JPEG swaps but would quickly realize it wasn’t the same without horses. These girls were Forever 21 Friends—poor quality that didn’t last.

“Open up!” Jacqueline banged from the other side of the heavy wooden door.

Massie dried her eyes on the velvet sleeves of her blazer. Salt was terrible for the material, but so what? The entire outfit had been exposed to friendship betrayal and was now soiled for life. It was dead to her. Just like—

“What about me?” Whitney whined. “I wasn’t even
there
.”

“Go away!” she called, and meant it. It wasn’t like a fight with her real friends on the Pretty Committee.

“We’ll make Selma call her grandfather and have him—”

“It’s too late, Jacqueline.” Massie unclipped the strap on her Galwaugh Girls helmet and tossed it into a murky water trough. “You’re supposed to
have
my back, not stab it.” Massie pressed her ear against the barn door, listening for their response.

“Forget her,” Whitney’s muffled voice told Jacqueline. “Let’s hurry back to the cabin and get her shelves before Selma does.”

Seconds later, they giggle-galloped away on their horses.

Massie faced the door, numb with disbelief. The
clip-clop
ping sounds of Oreo and Zac Efron faded and then vanished completely,

Pore-clogging dust particles hung in the light-streaked stable air, but Massie walked through it without concern. She would have plenty of time for facials now—a reality that was still sinking in. Thoughts of angry parents, summers without Galwaugh, and too much free time drifted in and out of her mind, each one competing to be the thing that drove her to tears. But she refused to give Lill or Selma or the Forever 21 GLUs that much power. Massie Block was stronger than that. Way stronger.

Until she made eye contact with Brownie.

He batted his gold-glitter lashes and sighed peacefully when she wrapped her arms around his warm neck.

Massie sniffled. “I’m so sorry I let you down.” She sniffled again. He smelled like the inside of a new leather handbag. “I know you waited all winter for this. And now you’re going to be stuck here, all alone, with a bunch of LBR horses. . . .”

The sob-heaves came fast and furious. Snot bubbles popped from her nose, and black mascara boogers gathered in the corners of her eyes. But Brownie just stood there patiently, allowing himself to get squeezed and snotted on while his best friend said goodbye. And that made Massie cry even harder.

She looked up at his white-blond, fur-covered face, her arms still wrapped around his regal neck. “Don’t worry about me, Brownie. I’ll be fine.”

Brownie stomped the hay-covered ground.

“I will, I promise. Kristen is staying in, taking some lame extra-credit course at OCD over the summer, so she’ll be around.” Massie tried to sound upbeat so Brownie wouldn’t worry. “Or I could meet up with Dylan in Hawaii or Alicia in Spain or Claire in Orlan-dull. I have a billion options.”

Brownie sighed again. Only an LBR would chase after her friends during the summer, and he knew that. But Massie had to stay positive for both of them.

Just then, there was a knock on the barn door.

“Your driver is here,” Lill announced from the other side of the stall. “You have exactly . . .” She paused, probably to check her wannabe-vintage, probably-fake-gold chain pocket watch. “. . . seven minutes before we escort you off the premises. Are you all packed?”

“No,” Massie called, trying not to sound like she’d been crying.

“Then you’d best get a move on.”

“I’d rather stay here with Brownie.” She squeezed her horse a little tighter.

“What about your clothes?” Lill countered.

Massie pictured her riding wardrobe—stacks of black velvet blazers, an array of earth-toned jodhpurs, and four pairs of shiny Hermès boots. Hardly a typical summer wardrobe.

“Keep them,” Massie insisted
.
“They smell like poo.”

“Spoiled brat,” Lill huffed as she crunched away, the worn heels of her old leather boots grinding against the pebbles on the trail.

“Old!” Massie whisper-barked. It was all she could manage under the circumstances.

She spent her last six minutes and forty-five seconds at Galwaugh Farms Riding Camp combing the braids out of Brownie’s hair and reassuring him that she would be fine. That she would visit every chance she could. That she would hold her head high. That she would never let on how much she was going to miss this place. That she would do something
fabulous
this summer. Something alpha fabulous. Something that would show the world she was still number one.

She just had no idea what.

With thirty seconds left, Massie pulled her new iPhone from her blazer pocket and sent a quick message to Glossip Girl, notifying them of her new summer address. Then she entered her State of the Union, hoping that someday soon she and Brownie would be able to look back on all of this, toss their glossy manes over their shoulders, and giggle.

CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION

IN	OUT
Horse Glue	Summer GLUs
Bean	Brownie
ME

THE BLOCKS’ RANGE ROVER BACKSEAT

LONG ISLAND, NY

Monday, June 8
1:56 P.M.

While Isaac was wrapping up his ah-nnoyingly long lecture on the importance of good sportsmanship, Massie secretly thumb-texted the Pretty Committee.

Massie
: Got the hoof from galwaugh. Put glue on Fall-a Abdul’s saddle. :) Had no choice! Off 2 Hamptons house. Come spend the summer. Plenty of room & tons celeb parties. xox m

Seconds later her iPhone hummed.

Kristen
: Sounds like a sticky situation. LOL. Can’t leave W-chester till summer classes r done. Miss you!

Alicia
: Hola! If the glue fits, wear it! Can’t come. Just landed in Spain. Ah-mazing here! Call u l8r. I heart u!

Dylan
: I always knew u were stuck up! LOL x10!!!! JK.Packing for Hawaii now. Aloha!

Claire
: Come visit! Stay in r guesthouse. :)

Massie powered down. She rested her head against the cool window and stared at maple trees as they whizzed by.

Everyone’s summer plans seemed to be set, except hers. Like Selma’s pathetic, lumpy butt on the saddle, she was stuck and speeding toward a situation she didn’t know how to get out of.

THE BLOCKS’ SUMMER ESTATE

SOUTHAMPTON, NY

Monday, June 8
2:13 P.M.

Preparations for Kendra Block’s fifth annual summer charity ball were well under way. This year’s theme was “It’s Easy Being Green” and was all about recycling, reusing, and reducing. Although from the look of things, Kendra had not
reduced
a thing.

Service vans with logos that read GREEN WITH ENVY PARTY PLANNERS, SIMON SWINTON’S STRING QUARTET, NATURE’S CANDY CATERING, DIVA DOG GROOMERS, GREEN THUMB FLORISTS, BORN AGAIN CRYSTAL, And JERSEY BOYS VALET filled the tree-lined driveway that led to the six-bedroom Southampton estate. The staff bustled about, setting up burlap-covered tables, perfecting all-green exotic floral center pieces, and filling the infinity pool with floating soy candles. The grassy grounds buzzed with pre-party excitement, and Massie expected them to buzz even more now that she was home.

“Here we are.” Isaac opened the back door of the family’s silver Range Rover. Massie slid off the buttery tan leather seat and stepped onto the gravel driveway, her eyes fixed on the glossy white double doors of the stately mansion.

“Did you tell Mom and Dad what time I’d be home?”

Isaac looked away. His steely blue eyes were shaded by a black baseball cap, a casual accessory he allowed on sunny days to keep his balding head from burning.

A tsunami of disappointment swelled in Massie’s chest. “Why aren’t they waiting to greet me?”

“They must be extremely busy with the party.” Isaac dabbed his beading forehead with a linen hanky, then stuffed it in the pocket of his yellow gingham Brooks Brothers dress shirt. “Everyone RSVPed ‘yes’ this year.”

Massie lifted her tortoiseshell Diors and breathed in the salty Southampton air. “I’ll be ready to dress-shop in fifteen,” she told him, realizing she’d need a ground-goddess-chic ensemble for tonight’s festivities.

“I’ll be here.” Isaac smiled like someone trying to pretend he wasn’t concerned about something.

Massie turned the large brass handle on the glossy white front door and stepped inside. The black-and-white checkerboard floors were buffed to a high shine, reflecting the champagne pink chandelier overhead. The adjoining dining room contained a couple hundred tote bags, refurbished from Colombian coffee sacks. Massie couldn’t help but peek inside at the swag-bag goodies:

• Bobbi Brown beach-scented candle

• Tan baby tee that read USE ME on the front and REUSE ME on the back

• Jonathan Product Dirt Texturizing Paste

• L’Occitane Lavender Harvest Foaming Bath

• Juice Beauty Blemish Clearing Serum

• Philosophy Hope in a Jar Moisturizer

• Fresh Brown Sugar Body Polish

• A card good for ten free classes at Om Yoga in Southampton

• A raffle ticket for a trip to an eco-resort in Costa Rica (courtesy of Leo D!)

“Hullo?” she called toward the winding
Gone with the Wind
staircase. “I’m
baah-aaack
.”

Suddenly, the sound of acrylic nails speed-tapping on a keyboard echoed through the foyer.

“Bean!” Massie dropped to a squat and stretched out her arms. The black pug leapt into her embrace. She smelled like a mix of Massie’s dad’s coconut suntan oil and her mom’s sweet Cartier perfume. “I missed you soooo much!” Massie kissed the dog’s forehead.

“Don’t worry—we won’t be bored or lonely this summer. I know a ton of people out here. And we’ll probably be so busy suing Galwaugh for wrongful termination of an alpha rider we won’t have time to miss anyone . . . except Brownie.”

Bean hyper-licked Chanel No. 19 off Massie’s neck.

Massie tossed her mint green quilted Marc Jacobs bag at the foot of the stairs, then quickly yanked off her dusty riding boots before any stable dirt could dislodge onto the cream-colored runner. Then she took a deep breath and headed up to greet her mother.

“Heyyyy.” Massie beamed as she entered the airy master suite, poised to reassure her probably concerned parents that she’d bounce back from the morning’s upsetting incident.

She padded past the lit gas fireplace and the gold silk duvet–covered canopy bed toward the open French doors.

Kendra, dressed in a tan Burberry tracksuit, was standing outside on her terrace. Like a queen overlooking her kingdom, she monitored the staff on the back lawn with intense concentration. “I am absolutely thrilled beyond thrilled.” She petted the back of her dark brown bob.

Massie playfully rolled her eyes, knowing she was seconds away from being mother-smothered. “I thought you would be.” She deposited Bean on the warm stone.

“Of course.” Kendra triple-snapped her fingers at someone on the lawn and motioned for them to move whatever it was they were holding a touch more to the right. “There’s nothing worse than a dripping ice sculpture. A gigantic portable freezer truck sounds perfect.
Gracias
.”

“Huh?” Massie muttered before Kendra turned toward her, revealing a tiny clear headset. She lifted the mouthpiece and fixed her hazel eyes on her daughter.

Massie, not wanting to spend one more velvet-wearing second in the sun, stopped at the grapefruit pink chaise by the open French doors. “Mom, I’m okay. Please don’t make a big deal about this. I’ll get over it. I was thinking a lawsuit or maybe—”

“Your feelings are the
least
of my concerns right now.” Kendra glared at Massie, then flip-flopped closer, her freshly pedicured toes separated by slabs of peach foam.

Gawd, what is wrong with everyone?

Kendra placed her hands on her narrow hips and sighed.

“What you did was awful. Do you realize how upset Selma’s parents are?”

Massie opened her glossless mouth to respond but was instantly cut off.

“And today of all days.” Kendra looked back over the balcony, then sighed angrily. “Ugh! To the left, Ronald. The
left
!”

Bean jumped down off the bed and bolted out of the room.

Kendra exhaled slowly, then continued. “Haven’t you ever heard of
healthy
competition?”

“Puh-lease.” Massie flopped down on the pink chaise. “
Healthy competition
is like those magazines that promise flat abs in two weeks. It doesn’t exist.”

“Mrs. Block.” Inez’s raspy voice beckoned over the small white intercom above the fireplace. “The sommelier needs his check.”

“Be right there,” Kendra answered, her eyes locked on Massie. “We’ll finish this conversation
with
your father. Assuming he can find it in his heart to get off the golf course and help me deal with this logistical nightmare.”

“Whatevs,” Massie mumbled as she stood. Her mother always stressed pre-party. This was nothing new. Tomorrow they’d be getting poolside massages from that hawt Swede Puff Daddy had recommended, and all would be forgotten. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I’m running out to Calypso to get a dress for tonight. Isaac is waiting—”

“You have dozens of dresses in your closet.” Kendra lowered her mouthpiece and stepped back on to the balcony.

“Yeah, those would be great if this was
last
year.” Massie rolled her eyes. Had her mother completely lost it? She hadn’t even hugged her hello.

“Well, they’ll have to do. You’re grounded and are not to leave this house,” Kendra snapped.

“Are you
serious
?”

“Dead!” Kendra shouted at the lawn.

“What?”

“Gavin, those irises are
dead
!”

“Whatevs.” Massie turned on the heels of her chocolate-brown-and-periwinkle argyle socks and marched out.

She stomped into her sea foam green–tiled bathroom, tore off her stuffy riding clothes, and jammed them in the trash.
Gawd!
When had wanting to be number one become a
bad
thing? She cranked on the eucalyptus steam shower. While it heated up, she tapped on her iPhone and went straight to shopbop.com.

Her mother had said she couldn’t leave the house. She’d never said she couldn’t
buy
anything. Within minutes, Massie had added every item from the site’s summer look book to her cart—all fifty-seven pieces. She entered her Visa number and then hit ACCEPT. Steam fogged the screen.

She wiped it clean with a lemon yellow Frette towel and—

“Ehmagawd!”
She quickly cleaned her phone again.

But it still looked the same.

DENIED flashed in bold red letters. She tried her AmEx, her MasterCard, and even her Saks card. But DENIED kept flashing.

Camp, credit, and the cover of
Horse & Rider
magazine, all gone on the same day! Just like that.

Massie thought about crying, but her monthly tear-supply had been tapped that morning at Galwaugh. She considered pleading with Gawd for divine intervention, but He was ah-bviously still mad about earlier. She thought about running away but was suddenly too poor. The only thing she
could
do was disappear into the eucalyptus-scented steam and wait for a better idea to come along.