These Boots Are Made for Stalking (10 page)

“Of course.” Massie nodded. “Bean has an extra pair of these, if you want,” she said, handing Landon the pair of water wings
from Bark’s doggie bag.

“Great.” Landon scooped Bark off the floor and carried him to the hot tub, sliding on the wings and placing him in the water
next to Bean. The puppies closed their eyes, hovering weightlessly in the sandalwood-scented water.

“Man, this place is awesome.” Aidan stretched out, semi-putting his arm around Alicia. She blushed and sank lower into the
water so the bubbles covered her C-cups.

“Nooooo kidding,” Landon groaned, easing in next to Scott.

“You ever see these guys in concert?” Scott asked Kristen, jerking his head toward the iPod, his sandy waves covering one
eye. “It’s, like, a spiritual experience.”

“Seriously?” Kristen looked hypnotized. “Cool.”

Massie beamed at her girls, lifting her legs over the edge of the tub. What had she been so nervous about? The upgrade was
going smoother than—

“Ehmagawsh!” Claire’s voice bounced off the seafoam-colored tiles. “Cam! It’s Massie and Landon. And… some guys.”

Massie whip-turned around, nearly tumbling off the edge of the tub. Claire was standing there with her arms crossed over her
gray Old Navy hoodie, arching her white-blond eyebrows smugly. Behind her were Cam, Dempsey, Derrington, and Josh.

Massie felt a tiny bronze sweat droplet slip from the tip of her nose to her left boob, staining her yellow bikini top. And
then another. And another. Her confidence, along with her makeup, was disappearing faster than Dylan’s Halloween candy stash.

“’Scuze me,” Massie wheezed, planting her dripping soles on the cold marble floor. Whipping a towel around her, she slipped
and slid across the spa, leaving faux-tan footprints behind her. Too bad Claire hadn’t picked a better outfit. It was definitely
gonna be her last.

“We were just in the neighborhood, and we thought we’d stop by.” Claire grabbed Cam’s arm and dragged him toward the Jacuzzi,
smearing Massie’s footprints with her Keds along the way. “Hi. I’m Claire,” she said, sitting with Cam on the edge of the
tub. The rest of the boys filed in behind, leaving Massie seething at the door.

“Hey, girls,” Claire sang. “Look who’s here!”

Alicia stared down at the bubbles bursting beneath her nose.

Kristen dragged Bean to her chest, pretending to adjust her water wings.

And Dylan’s smile evaporated when she saw Derrington, whose soccer uniform was on backward.

“Hey.” Luke, Aidan, Scott, and Jackson nodded at the guys.

But the PC’s ex-crushes just stood there. Massie debated making a break for the main house and leaving the girls to fend for
themselves. But she’d never make it barefoot all the way to the house without destroying her pedi. Plus, giving up would mean
Claire had won. So she stalked back to the Jacuzzi in her makeup-stained suit. Why hadn’t she thought to bring a backup?

“You get dressed in the mirror or something?” Luke cracked, craning his neck toward Derrington.

Aidan snorted and clapped Luke on the shoulder.

Dylan sank a little lower in the hot tub. The water level was inching past her lips and tickling her nose. She looked like
she wanted to sink to the bottom and disappear forever.

“Lost a bet.” Derrington finally spoke up, without tearing his gaze away from Dylan. He shrugged. “What’re you gonna do?”

“I hear ya,” Luke nodded sympathetically. “One time I lost a bet and had to shave my whole body.”

“Ew!” Alicia squealed, then slapped her palm over her mouth.

“For real?” Derrington’s eyes lit up. “Like”—he lowered his voice—“everything?”

Luke nodded solemnly.

“Awwwwesome!” Derrington bellowed. He lumbered over to the hot tub, wearing his soccer cleats on the wrong feet. Massie sucked
in a sharp breath, resisting the urge to trip him. Even though he deserved it for showing up uninvited.

“You guys go to Briarwood?” Aidan asked.

“Yeah,” Cam nodded.

“I heard the new building was really sweet,” Jackson said, leaning back as Bean and Bark doggie-paddled laps across the Jacuzzi.

“Is this the new Kings of Leon?” Dempsey examined the iPod dock on the wall. “Track eight is, like… spiritual.” He turned
up the volume and rocked out on air drums. The vibrations from the bass made Massie’s entire body shake. Or maybe that was
pure rage.

“No way!” Scott jumped up, soaking Kristen’s hair. Her pouffy waves shriveled instantly. “I was just saying that.” He glanced
down at Kristen. “Wasn’t I just saying that?”

Eh-ma-OUT!
Massie wanted to scream. Then she wanted to strangle Claire with the laces from Derrington’s cleats. She probably would have,
if she wasn’t so sure Landon would think that was a quote-unquote “immature” way to handle conflict.

Dylan’s, Kristen’s, and Alicia’s eyes all widened in panic, silently begging Massie to do something. But she was too shocked
to think straight. Their exes weren’t supposed to be friends with their upgrades! It was unnatural! The only people in the
history of the universe to make it work were Demi, Ashton, and Bruce. And nobody believed them anyway.

“Guitar Hero! Smash Hits!” Josh yelled from the dry section.

“Score!” Derrington hobbled-ran toward the glass door that separated the wet and dry sections of the spa. Dempsey followed,
like Josh had just announced he was giving away free hundred-dollar bills with a side of cheese fries.

Finally. When the last of the exes had crossed over into the next room, Massie slid the glass door shut and turned the lock
with a satisfying click, separating the men from the boys.

“Claire? Cam?” Massie sang, crossing back toward the tub. “Jacuzzi?” She lifted a fluffy towel from the top of the stack and
whipped it at Claire with extra force.

Claire ducked, and the towel sailed over her head. “No thanks. Forgot my suit,” she mumbled.

“Too bad.” Massie sat on the cool marble edge of the Jacuzzi and slid into the steamy water next to Landon. “Sorry about that,”
she said as she giggle-shifted a little closer to him, breathing in the scent of his CK Eternity Summer cologne and allowing
herself to relax for the first time all night. Dempsey and Derrington could eat their hearts out. Not that they were paying
any attention. But still. “You know middle-school boys. Sooo immature.” She exchanged knowing glances with the rest of the
PC.

Bean poked out her tongue in agreement, lapping up the scented Jacuzzi water. Then she scooted across the hot tub toward Landon
and Massie. Bark nipped her tiny purple bikini bottoms between his teeth, dragging behind.

“No worries,” Landon assured her.

Pulling Bean toward her, Massie glanced up at Claire and Cam. Skin flushed and arms crossed tightly over her chest, Claire
was obviously furious. But from her spot on Cloud Nine, Massie was finding it hard to care.

“And then she goes, ‘Kuh-laire? Is this the OCD Spring Fling?’” Claire huffed, pacing back and forth between the rumpled chocolate-colored
duvet on her bed and the window that looked over the Blocks’ main house. “‘’Cause we don’t need chaperones.’”

“Ha!” Layne’s snort blared from the Dell laptop on Claire’s white wooden desk. The computer teetered precariously atop a pile
of desk clutter, which included a few back issues of
CosmoGirl,
a flyer with the Briarwood Tomahawks’ home game schedule highlighted in pink, and an open French workbook.

Claire resumed her Skype-rant. “So I told her I wasn’t gonna chaperone her sleepover, either, and we left.” Claire whipped
back the aqua piqued-silk panel that hung over her window. Massie’s windows were dark, which meant the PC was sleeping in
the spa tonight. Good. The last thing Claire wanted was to watch her friends giggling about their new crushes. “Can you believe
her?”

“Actually, yeah.” A sharp, crunching sound filled the room. It felt like sandpaper rubbing against Claire’s last nerve. She
stalked over to the speakers and turned down the volume. “We’re talking about Massie Block, remember?”

“I know.” Claire shoved up the sleeves of her Powerpuff Girls pajamas and yanked out her wooden desk chair. She hadn’t worn
these since she’d moved to Westchester, and she was way too old for them now. But there was something comforting about the
soft, worn fabric. It reminded her of a simpler time.

“The Massie Block who threw salmon at you and dumped gazpacho on your head when you first moved here?” Layne was sitting cross-legged
on her own bed, a giant bowl of pretzels mixed with Halloween candy in her lap. Her handmade bejeweled
SAVE THE MALES: DON’T BE A H8R
tee glinted in the light of the undulating lava lamp nearby. “The Massie Block who tricked you out of wearing the Dirty Devil
Halloween costume she wore last year? The Massie—”

“I get it, Layne.” Claire plopped into the chair, sitting on a crumpled pair of Massie hand-me-down AG Jeans. The button dug
into the back of her thigh. She yanked the pants out from under her and flung them across the room. They landed in a defeated
heap on the carpet. “But that was last year. We weren’t friends yet.”

Layne shrugged, digging a handful of pretzel mix from the green plastic bowl in her lap. “Just saying,” she mumbled over a
mouthful, “I don’t get why you seem so surprised whenever Massie does something mean.”

“Claaaaaaaaiiiiirrrrree!” Judi Lyons’s voice sounded from the kitchen, over the labored churn of the dishwasher. “You in for
family game night?”

“In a minute, Mom!” Claire yelled back.

“Easy!” Layne slapped her palms over her ears.

“Sorry,” Claire said. Absentmindedly, she pulled a red colored pencil from her drawer and doodled a tiny heart on the chipped
white desktop, bearing down harder than usual. The desk was covered with different-colored sketches, symbols, and notes, more
than half of them Cam-related. “It’s not just Massie,” she said. “It’s everybody else. I mean, how can they be so shallow?
How can they not even care that they’re ditching their crushes for these new guys they don’t even know?” She re-outlined an
old CL
CF note from seventh.

Layne swallowed. “So how’d Dempsey look?” She smoothed her unruly brown waves and licked the pretzel crumbs from her hot pink
glossed lips.

Claire ignored her, staring at the giant corkboard that hung over her desk. It was covered in photos of Claire and Massie,
blowing kisses in the back of the Range Rover… Claire and Dylan, clinking plastic spoons at Pinkberry… Claire, Kristen, and
Alicia in their trampire costumes, making sexy-scary pouts in Massie’s entrance hall. The girl in those pictures looked like
Claire. And she even looked happy. Like she fit in with the perfectly glossy girls in the photographs. “It’s like their souls
got sucked on Halloween, and now they’ve changed into these girls who don’t care about anybody but themselves.”

Layne snorted, spraying a shower of chocolatey pretzel bits into the webcam lens. She licked her finger and wiped the bits
away, leaving Claire with a partially brown-smudged view. “Claire. These girls have never cared about anybody but themselves.
They’ve always been this shallow.” She paused, her brow crinkling like she was constipated. “Maybe they’re not the ones who’ve
changed. Maybe you’re the one who’s gotten your soul sucked.”

The harsh reality of Layne’s words felt like a knockout punch to the gut. But maybe the words hurt so much because they were
true. She’d traded her old Levi 501s for Sevens and her short, fluffy bangs for brow-skimming, razor-cut ones. Her outsides
definitely looked different… did her insides look different now too?

“Maybe you’re right.” Suddenly, Claire’s limbs felt heavy, like they were filled with lead. “Maybe I have changed.” She closed
her burning eyes, flashing back to the very first moment her Keds had crossed over the threshold to Massie Block’s world.
Standing in the middle of Massie’s spotless white iPad in denim overalls and homemade jewelry, Claire had felt like a cheap
pleather bag that had accidentally been thrown in with a display of calfskin totes when no one was looking. She was like Splenda
to Massie’s sugar, or flip-flips to her Ferragamos.

What would her life be like now if the Lyons hadn’t moved into the Blocks’ guesthouse when they’d gotten to Westchester? What
would she be like? Would she still be wearing friendship bracelets instead of hand-me-down gold bangles? Would she have friends
like her old friends in Orlando, who didn’t care about labels or older boys?

Wiping her mental slate clean, she tried to picture a life without the constant stress of Pretty Committee breakups and makeups.
Without the pressure of having her outfit rated every day at school, or always feeling like she was trying to catch up with
Massie and Alicia. But her mind was totally blank. The Pretty Committee had become her life.