The Pretty App (4 page)

“You came with the Trogs?” I asked without thinking. Trogs = troglodytes, the name most of us called Audrey and her geeky tech friends.

Leo laughed
again
. What was up with this guy? He showed me his buyPhone covered with the plastic case Lindsay had designed last semester:
TROGS RULE OUR SCHOOL
.

My heart sank. He was one of them.

Audrey tightened the light purple scarf she wore over her emerald hoodie. “Leo’s a transfer from California,” she said. Her pale cheeks were still flushed from the cold, and her eyes avoided mine. “He went to a really good tech school there. And now he’s a junior at Harrison, so Ms. Bates wants us to show him around.”

A really good tech school
. So he was super smart. Just like them. Not like me.

I didn’t know what to say.

“Do you find it upsetting that I’m a trog, Blake?” Leo asked. His gray eyes twinkled. He was messing with me. Embarrassing me. Why couldn’t I just turn around and leave? I wanted to, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate.

“I don’t care what you are,” I said. I cleared my throat again. Why couldn’t I stop doing that? “I’m sure you’ll all have a blast together in the scintillating computer lab.”

Now he was grinning. One of those grins you can’t fake, with straight white teeth and dimples in both cheeks. I looked down at my wrist, but I’d forgotten my watch. “I should go,” I said. “You’re only eighteen once, and I don’t want to spend my night with Trogs and freaks.”

Leo chuckled like he thought I was kidding. “It was nice meeting you, Blake Dawkins.”

Sarcasm. Rude. I turned to walk away, but then I
smashed into Xander’s annoyingly broad chest. Xander barely registered me. “You came,” he said to Mindy.

“You invited these people?” I asked. Xander put his arm around my shoulders, and I smirked at Mindy. “Can you believe our Blake is eighteen?” Xander asked.

Lindsay nodded solemnly. Then she said in a high-pitched, fake-sweet voice, “Our Blake is a vision of who we all hope to be as we teeter on the edge of adulthood.”

“Get over yourself, Fanning,” I said.

The speakers came back to life with a Danny Beaton song.

“Bomp bomp bomp da bomp.

Ooooh Girl!

Ooooh Baby!”

“Should we get this party started?” Nigit asked, grooving his hips in his signature Michael Jackson move. He turned to Lindsay. “It’s like the music gets into my body and takes over,” he said, gyrating faster. “Like my arteries are filled with song, not blood.”

I could feel Leo’s eyes on me. I wanted them to stay there, and I hated myself for wanting it. Wanting
him
. A computer boy . . . Team Audrey member . . .
Trog
.

Nigit wriggled his fingers over his eyes in sideways peace signs. Audrey laughed.

“Steve Urkel called,” I said. “He wants his suspenders back.” I wanted to insult his dancing, but it was just so good.

“Whatever, Blakey,” Nigit said, using the name he called me when we were little. It made my blood boil, but I didn’t want to lose control in front of Leo. Then Nigit did a kick jump and landed on the basement floor in a split. I heard the fabric of his corduroys rip.

“Nice tighty-whities,” I said, pointing at his crotch. I couldn’t see his underwear, but it was a safe guess.

Nigit’s smooth brown cheeks went pink.

Leo glanced between us, and then his slate-gray eyes landed on me. “I think I’m going to like Harrison High School,” he said.

Selfies take over the net! The photos are everywhere. And not just on Public Party Network. With filters better than a
Vogue
cover shoot, THE PRETTY APP shows us American teens at their prettiest, and keeps our hearts pounding as we wait to hear the surprises Public has in store, like:
Fame, prizes, and a nationally recognized title!

Here are some of our faves showcased in the TeensBlogToo
Photo Gallery.
Stay tuned for the reveal of Stage Two of THE PRETTY APP! We’ll be live blogging when Danny Beaton takes the Times Square Stage tomorrow afternoon.

Excerpted from www.TeensBlogToo.com by Xi Liang

By the next day, tons of kids had uploaded their photos. And everyone looked better than they did in real life. Filters like
Geometric
could shade a plump face so it was
subtly more angular, and
Perfection
gave you clear, glowing skin.
Peroxide
whitened teeth,
Mascara
lengthened lashes, and
Flyaway
smoothed hair. Nothing obvious, just the kind of thing magazine retouchers do on a regular basis. It was kind of weird to think that models and movie stars got this kind of treatment all the time. No wonder they always looked amazing.

I X’d out of
TeensBlogToo
. Then I touched the sleek new Pretty App icon on my phone and clicked on
PUBLIC PRETTY COVER PICS
.

“That again?” Joanna asked, but she leaned closer to peer over my shoulder.

“You know you want to see them, too,” I teased her, elbowing her gently. We were at U.P. Mall in the dressing room area of the Deb next to a disheveled rack of clothing. The college-age sales girls all acted too cool for us, and they kept flitting in and out and talking about whose turn it was to go on break. A techno remix of a Danny Beaton song thumped against my eardrums, and Joanna mouthed along with the words: “
Girlz, girlz, girlz, you got what it takes to make me go wild
.”

Jolene emerged wearing a cheap-looking lime-green sweater with cherries way too close to her nipples. “Um, no,” I said as Joanna bopped her head in time with the Danny Beaton song. Jolene’s face fell, so I added, “Because it’s just not the right color this season.” The wooden chair was making my butt go numb, and I wanted to go to Coach. But I was trying to be sensitive to Jolene’s budget. “Why don’t you try that one?” I asked, pointing to an
aqua-colored three-quarter-sleeved T-shirt hanging outside her door.

Jolene smiled and disappeared with the top into her dressing room.

“Did you put your pictures up yet?” Joanna asked as I typed
#HarrisonHighSchool #SouthBend #Indiana
.

“Of course,” I said. I’d selected a shot Sean took at last night’s party for my cover photo. (One of the only photos that wasn’t too sexy, just in case my parents saw it.) And then I added a bunch of pictures to my gallery, using
Candlelight
, which cast the perfect shadows across your forehead and cheekbones, and
Moonlight
, which darkened everything in the background of your photo and shone a silvery light only on your face and body. Other photo-sharing apps used filters to make the actual photographs look awesome, but the Pretty App used filters to make the
girl
in the photograph look awesome. It was so addictive. Who wouldn’t want to click a button and look better?

Photos were searchable by name or high school, and nearly eight thousand high schools had entered. I wanted to see whether Audrey and her friends were participating. Almost everyone else had gone Pretty App crazy. Why not them?

FANNING, LINDSAY.
I tapped the screen and a full-body photo of Lindsay in a kimono-style ikat-print dress came to life. Then the slideshow flashed a close-up of her face with bright red lips and lashes heavy with mascara. Stylish, as usual. And she hadn’t used any of the filters as far as I could tell.

“What do you think Stage Two of the app’s going to be?” Joanna asked, staring over my shoulder at Lindsay.

“We’ll find out tomorrow,” I said, typing
MORALES, MINDY
. Click. I frowned at digital Mindy and how perfectly her mane of caramel-colored curls framed her delicate features. She’d used
Moonlight
, too, and the full-body profile showed how big her boobs were. Xander loved big boobs. He was cliché like that.

“The blogs are saying it’s going to be even bigger than last year’s app contest,” Joanna said.

I raised my eyebrows at her. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” I said, trying to play it cool. But what if she was right? You had to be able to build an app to enter last semester’s Public contest, which meant I had a better shot at winning the Kentucky Derby. But if this year’s contest involved prettiness, then I had a chance.

I searched McCARTHY, AUDREY. For her cover photo, Audrey had posted a white piece of paper with light blue watercolor letters spelling:
I am so much more than a pretty face
.

I blew out a breath. No arguing with her there.

Chantal Richardson, Sara Oaks, twin-girl basketball players from Harrison, and a bunch of kids from other high schools commented on Audrey’s picture with things like:

I’m with you!

Boycotting the Pretty App!

Get real, Public!

Jolene’s door flew open, and she posed for us wearing tiny black corduroy shorts and the aqua T-shirt. She looked
gorgeous. “Get the top,” I told her. “I have shorts like that you can have. I don’t wear them anymore.”

Jolene’s face lit up. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” I said. “Now put your socks back on before you catch something from the carpet.”

Jolene paid for her top, and we left the Deb right as the manager was telling one of the salesgirls that she couldn’t hit on customers. Piano music filtered through the mall, and the smell of hot pretzels hit me like a wave. The air was so chilled I had my army-green jacket zipped to my throat. I was about to complain about the temperature when pain shot through my right foot.

“Ow!” I cried out. A little boy wearing Superman pajama bottoms collected his scooter from where it’d caught on the toe of my metallic kitten heel. He laughed and then zoomed away from us while his mother sucked on an Orange Julius and screeched, “Scotty!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t let your spawn ride a scooter
in the mall
,” I said to the mom, who huffed and puffed like walking was an Olympic sport.

She ignored me. And then I heard laughter.

The hair on my neck prickled as I recognized the laugh. I turned and my breath caught. It was
him
. Standing near the color-coded mall map with Audrey, Lindsay, Aidan, and Nigit.

Leo.

I took a step toward him and grimaced, sure my toe was broken. “Leo,” I said through a tight jaw. “How nice to see you again.”

He was drinking an iced coffee, and I’d never seen a guy who could make drinking an iced coffee look sexy until that moment. “Hey, Blake,” he said, smiling. His low voice hit me somewhere in the stomach. “You okay?”

Audrey looked nervous. She toyed with the pocket of her jeans and inched closer to Aidan, who considered me like he always did: with disdain. Nigit and Lindsay were holding hands and staring at me, too. Where was Mindy? My mind flashed to her rolling around in bed with her big boobs bouncing all over Xander.

“Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine,” I lied. My toe felt like it was being stung by a jellyfish.

I could feel Joanna and Jolene tighten beside me.

“Want to come to Sephora with us?” Leo asked, still grinning. “Lindsay here was just telling me how your ideal nail polish should match your blood.”

Lindsay looked at me through leopard-print glasses. “It’s true,” she said, nodding. “People get confused when picking out the ideal red polish for their skin tone. But if you just prick your finger a little bit, your ideal polish color is the one that matches your fresh blood.”

Audrey turned to Lindsay and said, “You can’t be serious,” but she was smiling. She adored her cousin.

“That’s so
Twilight
,” Nigit said, pretending to bite Lindsay’s neck.

What was wrong with these people? And why were they sort of charming even when they were being so freaking weird?

“You’re disgusting,” Joanna said.

“We’ll pass,” Jolene said.

“No,” I announced, easing my weight off my run-over toe. “We won’t.” I didn’t like the way Leo was suddenly shifting the dynamic of our friend groups. The Trogs didn’t invite us to do things. Ever. And we didn’t invite them. “We’ll go,” I said. I wasn’t about to let some hot guy waltz in and shift the balance of power. “Won’t we?” I asked Jolene and Joanna.

Jolene sniffed.

“Why not?” Joanna said. “I’m always happy to draw blood.”

I smiled at Leo like we’d won.

Audrey rolled her eyes. Lindsay slung a yellow-taxi-colored tote over her shoulder and said, “Let’s go then. Beauty awaits us.”

Audrey took Aidan’s hand, and I felt weirdly alone. I didn’t know how to hang out with Audrey anymore. Lindsay and Nigit shuffled by and I suddenly felt paralyzed. I wasn’t sure how to fall into the group. Should I try to lead the way or stay back? Leo was standing there wearing his hunter-green vest again, and I realized we sort of matched, which made me happy in a super-dorky way, which I didn’t exactly feel comfortable experiencing.

I cleared my throat. “That vest makes you look like a drug dealer,” I said to Leo, and then I started following Audrey and Aidan. Leo’s laugh echoed in the cavernous mall, and I tried not to smile as I turned back to look at him. He caught my eye and held my glance just like he’d done at the party last night.

No, no, no
, I told myself as I turned away from him. He was a Trog, which meant he probably liked straight-A-student kind of girls. Or girls who wore leather necklaces and thumb rings and wanted to save the rain forests. Or girls who stood outside school in androgynous white polo shirts holding clipboards and registering new voters.

Not aspiring television hosts who were only good at being pretty.

Ick. What was wrong with me? Why was I doubting my Blake-ness? Leo might be one of them, but that didn’t mean he was immune to beautiful girls.

I flicked my jet-black hair over my shoulder and put some extra oomph in my walk. Nothing cheesy, just a little swing in my hips. Thank God I was wearing my Citizens jeans, the ones that hugged my butt like Saran Wrap.

I swore I heard Leo let out a low whistle, but maybe I just imagined it.

We all piled on to the escalator behind Aidan and Audrey. I squashed next to Jolene and watched the top of Audrey’s dark pixie cut lean against Aidan’s shoulder. Her geek-girl romance looked even cuter from this angle, and I felt a pang of jealousy. Audrey and I used to come to U.P. Mall together all the time after school. We’d dare each other to do stuff, like when Audrey dared me to stand up in the middle of
Inglourious Basterds
and scream,
“I have restless legs syndrome!”

“So what’s up, Blakey?” Nigit asked from two steps behind me on the escalator. I swiveled to see him push back his Coke-bottle glasses with a white-gloved hand.
“Why do you want to hang out with us?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer him, so I settled on the truth. “The end of senior year has me feeling nostalgic,” I said. Nigit actually nodded and looked like he understood what I meant, which surprised me. I pointed to his glove. “Why do you wear that thing?” I asked.

“Michael Jackson is my fashion icon,” he said. “I’m thinking yours might be Keira Knightley.”

I felt my mouth drop a little. The last thing I’d expected was one of these weirdos to flatter me.

“You’re spot-on,” Lindsay said, clapping her hands. “Blake’s natural style is a mix of Keira’s edginess and Jessica Biel’s reserved glamour.”

Nigit puffed his chest.

“I thought Blake was going for a Cruella de Vil thing, from what I’ve heard,” Leo said from behind us.

I turned and took in his smug smile. “And exactly what have you heard, Leo?” I asked, thinking of the four thousand terrible things he could’ve already heard about me from anyone at Harrison.

Leo ran a hand over his jaw, looking pensive. “Well, a few kids told me you were up for some sort of Kindness Queen nomination.”

I felt my cheeks get hot. And then the escalator dumped us on the ground floor. Jolene didn’t move fast enough, and my feet knocked into hers. I stumbled, and Audrey reached out her hand to grab my arm, saving me from a face-plant.

Nigit laughed, and embarrassment flooded me. What was I doing with these people? They hated me: They were
making fun of me right to my face. Anger swelled in my chest, the way it always did right before I said or did something I shouldn’t.

I turned to face Leo. “Look, you loser Trog. Let’s get one thing straight. You do
not
want to get on my bad side. Why don’t you ask all those Harrison kids how
that
goes.”

Leo held up his hand. “Whoa, tiger,” he said. “I was just joking around.”

“Well you’re not very funny, are you?” I grabbed Jolene and Joanna and tugged them in the opposite direction from Sephora. The Trogs stood by the escalator, watching us leave.

“They’re not worth our time,” Jolene said as we hurried past Piercing Pagoda.

“I know that,” I said. I felt on the verge of tears and tried to swallow them back. I hated feeling embarrassed. I hated feeling out of control.

“Don’t let them get to you,” Joanna said. “No one cares what they think anyway.”

Joanna and Jolene hooked their arms through mine. At least they were trying; at least we had that.

We maneuvered through Macy’s toward the exit, and no matter how upset I was, gliding past the makeup counters calmed me the littlest bit. I stared at the lipsticks—their beautiful corals, reds, crimsons, and mauves—and the blushes, all rosy pinks and creamy oranges. I smelled the woodsy and floral perfumes. I slowed and reached my finger out to touch the prickly bristles of a Bobbi Brown brow brush. I could’ve stayed in the makeup section forever,
imagining a future filled with beautiful things—but then I saw Nic at the far end of the floor, near the shoes. I started to make my way toward her, but I stopped when I saw her raise her hands and gesture like she was arguing with someone.