These Boots Are Made for Stalking (20 page)

Without the slightest hesitation, Ankle-Bird gripped the brass door handle and let herself in. Massie bounced on her knees,
craning her neck to catch a glimpse of Landon. But all she saw was the navy door slamming shut, making Massie more of an outsider
than she’d ever been in her life.

An hour later, while Bean napped in the bed of leaves next to her, Massie was thanking Gawd that her iPhone had Internet capabilities.
Imagining Landon, Ankle-Bird, and Bark together inside was like imagining her parents lip-kissing: too horrible to consider.
So she hadn’t. Instead, she’d indulged with some online retail therapy to numb the pain in her heart. If she couldn’t have
Landon, there was always Lanvin.

Bean let out a tiny, defeated snore. Stroking her puppy’s warm ears for comfort, Massie checked the clock on her cell for
the billionth time. Maybe she should just give up and take Bean home. After all, her heart wasn’t the only part of her that
was numb: She’d lost feeling in her fingertips somewhere between
ShopStyle.com
and
CoutureCandy.com
.

Just then, Landon’s front door swung open and Ankle-Bird emerged, with Bark at the end of a Burberry leash. With slow, pained
steps, Bark inched his way down the brick walkway, whimpering under his breath. Ankle-Bird bent down and massaged Bark’s paw,
murmuring something under her breath.

“Ehmagawd, Bean,” Massie whisper-snapped. “Bark’s more of a drama queen than Layne.”

Bean’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of her crush’s name. When she saw Bark, she leapt up and tried to bolt for the driveway.
Massie gripped her by the cashmere cowl-neck and pulled her back into hiding.

As Ankle-Bird led Bark down the driveway, Massie stared at the front door, waiting for Landon to emerge. Where was he? And
where was Ankle-Bird going without him?

Bean bared her professionally whitened canines, obviously wondering the same thing.

“Only one way to find out,” Massie said, pushing herself to her feet. The tingling feeling in her boots was partly because
she’d been sitting on her feet for the past hour. But it was partly from fear too. Not knowing what Ankle-Bird was up to was
like not finding out you’d tucked your corduroy mini into your tights until last period: Being in the dark was humiliating,
but finally finding out the truth was humiliating squared.

Massie shook the tingling feeling from her feet one at a time, brushed away the leaves smashed to her butt, and got ready
to follow that bird.

The second Ankle-Bird and Bark turned onto the road, Massie scooped up her puppy and tiptoed across the leaf-strewn lawn,
hot on the trail. The sound of Bean’s excited panting in her ear spurred Massie on in her quest for the truth. Landon Crane
was her most adorable, stylish, mature crush yet. And she wasn’t going to let him go without a fight. Even if it was a totally
unfair fight, with MINI Cooper convertibles and naturally frizz-free hair involved.

When Massie and Bean veered onto the maple-lined street, Ankle-Bird and Bark were only a few steps ahead, since Bark’s drama
limp was slowing him down more than complex carbs. Massie ducked behind a black luxury SUV parked in front of the house next
to Landon’s, her knees slamming into the pavement. Pain radiated through her, and she stifled a yelp. Bean nosed her way behind
a front tire.

Slowly, Massie inched her way out from behind the SUV, falling into step behind Ankle-Bird.

“Um, I know you’re back there.” Ankle-Bird’s voice floated back to Massie. “I can smell your granny perfume.”

“Ex-hu-use me?” Massie’s fear tingles turned to anger. Her grip tightened protectively around Bean, who let out a delicate
sneeze.

“It took Landon two bottles of puppy shampoo just to get that smell out of Bark’s fur last night,” Ankle-Bird said coolly.

“At least I don’t smell like liver,” Massie snapped, wishing she’d had more time to come up with something better.

Ankle-Bird stopped walking and whip-turned around. Instinctively, Massie took a step back, then instantly regretted it. High
school girls were like dogs: They could smell fear.

Kneeling to the pavement, Ankle-Bird opened her palm, revealing a small red liver treat. Bark lapped it up happily, and Bean
squirmed in Massie’s arms, desperate for her crush and a snack.

Puh-lease.
No wonder Bark loved Ankle-Bird so much. Massie could have been bribing the puppy all this time too. Except she hadn’t thought
of that.

“Of course, torturing Bark’s poor nose is nothing compared to what you did to his foot.” Ankle-Bird swooped down and lifted
Bark from the pavement, tucking him under her arm.

“Ehmagawd. That was an accident!” Massie could feel her cheeks starting to flush the same color as her tunic.

“Yeah?” Ankle-Bird blinked. “And what about those ugly booties? Were those an accident too?”

Those were LAYNE’S FAULT!
Massie wanted to scream. Not that she had to explain herself to Ankle-Bird.

Massie’s iPhone buzzed in her back pocket. Dropping Bean to the pavement, she reached for her cell. Bean scampered over to
Bark and started tongue-kissing the side of his face. Puppy love was so much simpler than people love.

Claire:
Hey. Think we could talk sometime this—

Massie shoved the phone back in her pocket without even finishing it. Claire would understand. She was apparently into ditching
her friends for high school girls now.

“I’m just saying,” Ankle-Bird continued with a self-righteous hair toss. “You did some serious damage. You’re lucky those
booties didn’t make his fracture worse.”

Guilt gripped Massie’s stomach and squeezed it like Kendra’s SuperJuicer5000. The fall breeze that fluttered through the trees
and grass seemed to be getting colder by the second, nipping at Massie’s clammy skin.

When the guilt settled, anger took its place. Who did this girl think she was? Just because she had an inked bird on her leg
didn’t make her a pet expert. It was like saying Dylan was qualified to be a judge on
Top Chef
just because she had the number for Happy Dragon takeout perma-scribbled on her palm.

“Excuse me, but are you Secret Service?” Massie sucked in a deep breath and planted her hands on her hips.

“What?” Ankle-Bird tilted her head slightly to the side, looking confused. “No.”

“Then why are you on Obama’s tail 24/7?”

Ankle-Bird chuckled, her eyes softening from icy blue to a warm sapphire.

Massie’s Chanel No. 19 seared at her pressure points. Was Ankle-Bird making fun of her?

“Cute,” Ankle-Bird smiled, scratching Bark’s back with the tip of her boot. “Actually, I’m his physical therapist.”

His what? Ankle-Bird fished two more liver treats from a pouch attached to her belt. Massie resisted the urge to snatch Bean’s
treat from Ankle-Bird’s hand and feed it to her puppy herself. The last thing she needed was to lose Bean to Ankle-Bird too.

“My parents are Bark’s vets, so when he hurt his paw I offered to do his therapy,” she explained. “I’m going to NYU next fall
to major in pet PT.” She tucked a dark, shimmering wave behind her ear. “I’m Mary, by the way.”

“Massie.” Massie’s lower lip dropped slightly, feeling chapped.

“I know,” Mary said simply.

Suddenly, the last two weeks seemed a little clearer, like Massie’s eyes had been dilated and the world around her was starting
to come back into focus. But she refused to let hope inch its way to her heart. Just because Ankle-Bird was a professional
didn’t mean she didn’t still have a major OWCH factor. Think of all the celebs who’d crushed on their employees: Britney and
her agent, Jude and his nanny, Madonna and her personal trainer, Madonna and her other personal trainer… and now Landon and
his puppy PT?

“Guess Landon got two for one,” she said, digging her toe into the road. “A physical therapist and a crush.” She kept her
eyes on the pavement, not wanting to see the truth in Ankle-Bird’s pore-free face.

“Crush?” Ankle-Bird snorted, her hammered-gold chandelier earrings clinking in amusement. “No way.”

Massie’s head snapped up. She searched the older girl’s eyes for signs that she was lying. But all she saw was a flawless
liquid-liner job.

“Landon’s adorable and all, but I’m not really into younger guys.” Ankle-Bird grinned. “My boyfriend’s a freshman at Columbia.”

“Seriously?” Massie’s voice shook with relief, shame, and embarrassment. Tears burned the corners of her eyes, threatening
to ruin her eye makeup and her reputation. Why hadn’t she kept her sunglasses on? And why hadn’t she gone with waterproof
mascara, today of all days?

“Seriously. You okay?” Mary stepped toward Massie and tilted her head slightly, in a way that said,
You can tell me everything. I’m leaving for college in the fall, and I’ll take your shameful secrets with me.

Massie shook her head slowly, fighting the urge to bury her face in Mary’s canary yellow shoulder and sob until her insides
were parched. She pursed her lips together, as if she could lock all her crush insecurities inside and keep them there.

“C’mere.” Mary slid her arm around Massie’s trembling shoulder, guiding her to the curb. “What’s going on?” she asked, sitting
down on the side of the road and patting the cement next to her. Massie sank down next to her as Bark and Bean curled up between
the girls.

Maybe it was the concern in Mary’s older, wiser eyes. Or maybe it was the rough warmth of Bean’s tiny tongue. But suddenly,
Massie couldn’t hold it in any longer. Staring down at the ground, she spilled like Perez Hilton. She told Mary everything:
about how she’d gotten ditched by every real crush she’d ever had. About how she was about to lose Landon too. About how the
upgrade had been her idea in the first place, and now all her friends were moving full-speed ahead with older friends or crushes,
while her relationship had stalled out.

When she was done, Mary nodded in a
been-there
sort of way. “Sounds like you’ve had a lot of crushes, but they just weren’t right for you.”

“Until Landon.” Massie shuddered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Yeah. He’s pretty great,” Mary smiled, nudging Massie’s knee with hers. “Sounds like he’s a way better match.”

Massie nodded miserably, feeling a fresh wave of tears spring to her eyes as she thought of his Pradas.

“Plus, sounds like you actually like Landon for Landon,” Mary said. “I mean, did you really like those other guys, or did
you just like the idea of having a crush?”

Massie blinked, clicking through her crush history. There was Derrington, with his seasonally inappropriate wardrobe choices
and embarrassing booty shake. Then there was Dempsey, who couldn’t talk about anything other than Africa, the environment,
and helping other people. Plus, how many soccer games had Massie sat through, her butt frozen to the bleachers, when she’d
rather have been at the mall with her friends?

Was Mary more relationship-savvy than Oprah?

“The perfect guy for you isn’t the one who makes you want to pretend to be someone you’re not,” Mary said wisely, scratching
behind Bark’s ears. “The perfect guy makes you want to be exactly who you are.”

Massie nodded slowly, soaking up Mary’s wisdom like it was La Mer moisturizer. Maybe her exes hadn’t been right for her. Maybe
they’d just been there to show her what she really wanted in a crush: style, an adorable puppy, and an aversion to shorts
in the winter. And she’d found all those things in Landon Crane.

“Thanks,” she said hurriedly, leaping off the curb. “I gotta go find something.” Tucking Bean underneath her arm like a football,
she fixed her gaze on Landon’s mailbox and speed-headed toward her crush.

“What?” Mary called after her.

Massie closed her eyes, feeling the crisp breeze slip past her love-flushed cheeks. “Myself!”

Claire sat on the wooden bench outside the Gourmet Au Lait, wedged between Layne and Cam. She popped the plastic top off her
red to-go cup and blew on the steam wafting from her hot chocolate with jumbo marshmallows. The sugary sweetness of her drink
mixed with Cam’s woodsy cologne and the brisk fall air was making her feel light-headed in the best possible way. Spending
the afternoon with Layne and Cam was almost fun enough to make her forget that Massie hadn’t responded to any of her texts.
Not even the ones marked
URGENT X 10
.

“Wait. Wait,” Cam said over a mouthful of hazelnut whipped cream, sending tiny flecks of vanilla-colored fluff into a huddle
of passing holiday shoppers in Santa hats. The 24-karat sparkle in his eyes was infectious, and Claire couldn’t help smiling.
“Pink feathers and glitter?”

“Yup,” Layne nodded, looking more proud of herself than the time she’d eaten an entire bag of horseradish-flavored jellybeans
dipped in hot sauce without even touching her Coke Zero. “Booties only a mother could love.” Her eyes were bright with pride
and thick turquoise liner.

“Poor Bark,” Claire giggled, scooting a little closer to Cam.

“For real,” Cam snorted, taking a long sip of his drink. When he reemerged, a tiny dab of whipped cream was perched on the
end of his nose. Claire had the sudden urge to lean over and lip-kiss the sugary fluff away. Cara, of Ninth-Grade Doug and
Cara, probably would have. But Claire just wrapped her hands around her cup to warm them, hoping her friends would think it
was the hot drink that was making her cheeks flush. Being this close to her crush confirmed what she already knew: Cam was
the ultimate upgrade, even if he was in her same grade.

“After this, wanna hit Godiva for free samples?” A mischievous glint surfaced in Layne’s eye. “This week is cherry liqueur–dipped
graham crackers.”

Cam made a gagging sound. Then he leaned forward and pitched his empty hot chocolate cup into the painted black wire trash
can next to Layne.

“Bet you guys I eat a whole box before free sample girl gives me the evil eye.”