The Ashley Project (18 page)

The silence in the room was deafening. The girls looked shell-shocked from Lauren's outburst. Lili looked pale, and A. A. couldn't look her in the eye.

Ashley merely stood up, hitching up her pajama bottoms. Even first thing in the morning, she was so pretty,
with her blond hair just messed up enough so it looked cute. Lauren knew her hair was tangled into a bird's nest from all her tossing and turning. She felt like a dork all over again, especially with the glasses back on her face.

“Anything else you want to add?” Ashley asked mildly.

Lauren shrugged. She'd already told them the worst. But wait—why not put the final nail in the coffin? What did she have to lose? She looked Ashley directly in the eye, so that they were face-to-face. “Yes, I do. Everyone in school hates you. You don't have any real friends.”

Ashley smiled without showing any of her teeth. “Funny, because I think that tomorrow it's you who won't have any friends, hello.”

“Not that you had any in the first place,” Lili said, shaking her head sadly.

“You guys, I think this has gone on long enough,” A. A. pleaded. She looked at Lauren. “I really wish you hadn't said that.”

Lauren's stomach dropped. Something in A. A.'s tone of voice made her feel a little queasy.

Then Ashley and A. A. brushed aside their bangs. Lauren felt her anger dissipate and turn into the most gut-wrenching horror. They both had “I Love Pee” on their foreheads too.

Oh, holy crap.

“The first person who wakes up always pulls a prank on everyone else. It's a sleepover party tradition,” explained Ashley briskly. “Lili got up first this time. Look around. There are bowls of water on all the other bunks.”

Lauren didn't have to look. She knew they would be there. She had read it completely, completely wrong. She was so off base. How could she be so smart and yet so incredibly stupid at the same time?

“And no one really pees,” A. A. said. “We just put a little water on the covers so you think you did.”

“Look,” said Ashley, showing Lauren her cell phone. Lauren held it and looked at the screen. It showed A. A. sleeping with her mouth wide open, and someone had drawn flies all over it; another photo showed Ashley sleeping with her thumb in her mouth.

“You think you're so special? Check the freezer—you'll find A. A.'s huge bazookas and my Chantelle in there along with your sad excuse for a bra,” Ashley said, as Lauren continued to study the photos.

Lauren's mind was blank. What had she done? She had thought the Ashleys were back to torturing her again, but instead, the prank was an
initiation
into
their group. She was finally being treated like one of the Ashleys, and she had completely blown it!

“We're going,” said Ashley coldly. “Thank God my mom is picking us up early for dance-team practice.”

“Sorry to hear you don't really like us after all,” A. A. said, pulling on a slouchy Gregory Hall sweatshirt over her pj's. “Maybe this is for the best.”

Lili just kept shaking her head.

“Lauren? Piece of advice?” Ashley offered, gazing at her with contempt. “If I were you, I would seriously think about transferring out of Miss Gamble's. Your life there is over. It'll be worse than you ever thought. You thought kindergarten was bad? Welcome to junior high, Zero.”

“Guys, I was just . . . I didn't mean it. . . .” Lauren scrambled, getting up from the floor and tripping on her socks, scraping her knee on the ground. She felt like bawling. This was by far the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Worse than having mud shoved up her nose in kindergarten. Worse because this time, the Ashleys weren't to blame. She had no one to blame but herself.

“Save it, Lauren,” Ashley said, cutting her off.

Lauren watched them pack their bags in silence and walk single file out of her bedroom. She ran over to the window and saw the girls exit the front door and climb
into a tan Range Rover parked by the curb. Then the car pulled away and the Ashleys were out of her life . . .
forever
.

She held her face in her hands and felt the tears flow down her cheeks. How did this happen?

On Monday her life would be over.

LAUREN WASN'T AT SCHOOL ON
monday. She wasn't at school on Tuesday, either, and by Friday no one had seen or heard from her. Lili didn't want to worry, but the sight of Lauren's empty seat in every class nagged at her conscience.

“Maybe she's dead,” Ashley said.

“She's not dead,” A. A. snorted.

“If I were her, I would wish I were dead,” declared Ashley. “Freaking out like that? She's demented!”

“You know, you didn't have to get all medieval,” Lili said, cinching the belt on her trench coat a little tighter. “It
was
a pretty tough prank. She was bound to get upset.”

The three of them were walking up the hill back to school on Friday afternoon. Classes had ended early so the seventh and eighth graders could get ready for the mixer, and Lili had met her friends at the corner so they could all walk into the dance together. A. A. and Ashley had gotten ready at Ashley's house, but for the first time in Ashley history, Lili had made excuses and had gotten ready at home instead.

At first it was fun to have the bathroom all to herself for once and not have to fight for space in front of the mirror or listen to that awful StripHall Queens song again, which Ashley would insist on blasting at top volume. But when she couldn't decide whether to curl her hair or to wear it up, she wished Ashley was there to tell her what looked better, and TV was no match for A. A.'s jokey banter.

“I'm sure she'll be back. Maybe she has the flu,” A. A. speculated.

“Maybe,” Ashley allowed, but Lili knew that as far as Ashley was concerned, Lauren had fallen off the face of the earth, and it was safer to stay there than to ever show her face to them again.

Where was Lauren? Would she really miss a whole week of school just because Ashley had pulled some
crazy Mean Girls act? Wasn't she a grade-grind? Sure, the Ashleys would go back to snubbing her as usual—and good luck ever sitting with them at lunch again. But Lauren had survived for years as a social outcast. You'd think she'd be used to it.

“Bet she shows up at the dance,” said A. A. as they arrived at the school doors and walked down the back stairs to the Little Theater, where the dance was being held. They had come early in order to make sure everything was in place, since they were in charge of the event.

“You're on. That's a bet I'll win,” Ashley replied. “Ooh. Look.”

A red carpet led from the elevator all the way to the auditorium doors, which were cordoned off by velvet ropes and stanchions.

“Like it?” Lili asked, unhooking the rope and letting them inside. “Ladies . . . may I present ‘Social Club'!”

“Lil, this is amazing!” A. A. said, looking around at the transformed space. The Little Theater was a multi-use space in the new annex with a stage for student productions, bleacher seats for pep rallies, and a parquet floor perfect for dancing, but it was utterly unrecognizable as the boring old place where they held “MODs,” Middle-of-the-Day announcements.
It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a fabulous New York nightclub.

“Props times three,” Ashley agreed.

“Thanks.” Lili smiled. Crepe paper and balloons? Not at this school. She really had done a spectacular job, if she did say so herself. The full-length windows that ran the length of the back wall were covered with draped velvet, so even if it was midafternoon, it was dark and cool inside. The better to see the light from the ten disco balls installed in the ceiling. By the stage were several low-slung couches and tiny circular tables to approximate a cocktail lounge, and the whole place was decorated with dramatic floral arrangements artfully illuminated by incandescent lighting. A uniformed staff was setting up the fully catered buffet with seafood, prime rib, and sushi stations.

“We're getting TV coverage, too,” Lili told them. “Sheridan Riley's dad is a producer at a local television station and is sending over a full camera crew, and along with the yearbook club photographers, we're going to have real paparazzi from the
San Francisco Chronicle
.”

“How'd you manage that?” A. A. asked, admiring a jet-black napkin with
SOCIAL CLUB
monogrammed on it.

“Simple. I just pitched them a story on the ‘hot
under-thirteen set.' You know journalists are always looking for new trends.”

“Is there a hot under-thirteen set?” A. A. asked, sounding amused.

“Yes. Us. Hello,” Ashley replied, glancing around approvingly.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, we went a little over budget,” Lili said sheepishly.

“Well, that's what the Mothers Committee is for.” Ashley shrugged.

“You guys, I'm so nervous,” said A. A., as they went back to the lockers to put away their coats.

“Today's the day, huh?” Ashley said, removing her coat and hanging it up neatly on her locker hook. “Laxjock—unmasked at last!”

“What if he doesn't like me?” A. A. agonized.

“He's going to like you, of course he's going to like you. He'd be crazy not to,” Lili said, keeping her coat on just a little longer.

She glanced over to see what the two other girls were wearing. A. A. had on a sleeveless swingy trapeze dress, the kind that would make any other girl who wore it immediately look ten pounds heavier. But on A. A. it was just right—light, breezy, and effortlessly stylish.
That was the thing about A. A.: She never cared about clothing and yet she always came up with the most fashionable things. Guess it helped when your mom used to be a supermodel. Ashley was wearing some kind of white dress—Lili didn't get a chance to check it out longer, since she was so nervous about what she was about to do.

“You guys ready?” Ashley asked, closing her locker door.

“Yeah,” said Lili. Now or never. She took off her coat and hung it up in her locker, her cheeks crimson.

She turned around, steeling herself for whatever came next. She was wearing the slinky black jersey dress that Ashley had supposedly convinced her not to buy. “I like it,” she said defensively. She squared her shoulders and threw her dark glossy hair back over her shoulders. The dress looked smashing on her, and she was not going to be intimidated into settling for something less. Not this time.

But instead of yelling at her, Ashley only shrugged. “You look pretty, Lil,” was all she said.

Lili exhaled. Okay. So that wasn't too bad. Ashley didn't even seem to care. What was she so worried about? Then she took a closer look at what Ashley was wearing. It was a white chiffon dress with a tight bodice
and a strap that hung over only one shoulder. It had an abbreviated miniskirt with a jagged hem. It was incredibly chic and cutting-edge looking. Plus, it was white, which neither Lili nor A. A. had thought to wear. They were both in black.

“What is that?” Lili couldn't help but ask. “Where'd you get it?”

“Oh, this old thing?” Ashley drawled. “It's from the new Kate Bosworth for Topshop collection. My mom felt really bad about how I didn't have any money when we went shopping last weekend, and she ordered it for me.”

“It's really cool,” Lili said, not even trying to keep the envy out of her voice.

“I know,” said Ashley.

Lili chanced a look in the mirror at her dress. At home it had looked so sophisticated, so daring. But now it was so boring and blah.

It was just another black dress.

“I'll lend it to you sometime if you want,” Ashley offered, as if she could read Lili's mind. “We're the same size, aren't we?”

“I'd love that,” Lili said, smiling back at her friend.
Never underestimate Ashley Spencer,
she told herself. She had tried many times, and Ashley always found a way
to come out on top. Who could step out of her shadow when Ashley kept hogging the limelight?

But there was no time to think about it for too long. As the Ashleys walked into the Little Theater, a screech erupted from the topmost bleachers, where Carly Cohen, an excitable seventh grader, had been keeping watch since three thirty. She yelled those four sweet little words every Miss Gamble's girl had been waiting to hear all day.

“THE BOYS ARE HERE!”

“GENTLY! GRACIOUSLY! GIRLS! GIRLS! CALM
down!”

Ashley smiled. Miss Charm was darting around like a confused bird lost in the sea of adolescent excitement. The etiquette teacher had volunteered to be a mixer chaperone, and she and Mr. Huntley, the elderly math teacher (and the school's only male professor) looked overwhelmed by the ferocious energy of their charges. “Remember your ladylike behavior!” Miss Charm despaired.

But it was no use, Ashley knew. Carly Cohen's announcement was like a clarion call, leading to a mad frenzy as all the girls scrambled to join her at the top of the steps. They crowded around the picture window,
watching intently as a stream of boys in blue blazers exited a yellow school bus and walked toward the school.

“Get down!” Ashley ordered, as the boys disappeared into the front doors. “They're going to be here in a minute!”

Almost as one, the girls clattered down the steps as Ashley instructed, their high heels making a thunderous noise that echoed around the auditorium.

Miss Charm needn't have worried, Ashley thought, as the girls settled themselves quietly on the front bleachers. Ashley took a seat near the middle, Lili and A. A. on either side of her. Like her, they kept their legs prudently crossed at the ankle, and the three were the very picture of demure femininity by the time the boys arrived.

Finally the doors to the theater opened, and the Gregory Hall boys shuffled in, still wearing their uniforms, since they had come straight from class. Ashley kept her nose in the air. Really, the boys could have made more of an effort.