These Boots Are Made for Stalking (21 page)

“Kidely bake your selections add pay,” Claire droned in a perfect imitation of the salesgirl’s nasal tone. She laughed, reaching
under the bench for her yellow Matt & Nat bowler bag. “You’re on,” she said, sneaking a peek at her rhinestone-encrusted Motorola.

O
NEW MSGS
.

The words on the screen made Claire’s shoulders slump. “But we have to make a quick stop first,” she said, patting the bag
in her lap. The jingling sound inside made her think of charm bracelets, which made her think of Massie, which made her slump
even lower in her seat.

“Where?” Cam stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hunter green windbreaker, looking curious.

Claire shrugged, trying to look mysterious.

Layne raised her left eyebrow. It hovered over her turquoise liner like a furry inchworm.

“I’m intrigued, Lyons.” She brought her cardboard cup to her lips and tilted her head back to chug the last few sips. The
plastic top popped off, sending steaming hot chocolate sloshing over her waffled gray long-underwear top.

Claire and Cam lunged off the bench to avoid getting hit.

“Owwwwww.” Layne wiped her face with the hem of her shirt, then dabbed gingerly at her scorched red tongue. “Buuuuuuurn.”

Laughing, Claire stumbled into Cam’s windbreaker, wishing she could curl up against it and stay there forever. Or at least
until Massie was speaking to her again.

Claire cringed. “C’mon. Let’s go,” she said, slinging her bowler bag over her shoulder. She ducked around a creaking silver
ladder that was leaned against the coffee bar window, where a woman was stringing up a fresh green garland tied with red ribbon.
Cam and Layne followed.

“Gimme a hint,” Cam whispered in her ear, sending love shivers up and down her spine. But she held strong.

“You’ll seeee,” she teased.

“Great. Now I can’t even taste the samples.” Layne wiggled her tongue pitifully, like Bean did when she wanted an extra treat.

Claire led her friends down the brick-lined sidewalk toward the square at the end of Main Street, weaving between kids on
their bikes and shopkeepers frosting their windows with fake snow. Her bowler bag felt heavy, but not as heavy as her heart
did when she thought about her empty inbox. She wished Massie would text her an insult, at least. Anything was better than
nothing at all.

Finally, Claire spotted their destination: the wishing fountain in the main square at the center of Westchester’s bustling
downtown. Surrounded by colorful, manicured flower beds, the churning stone fountain spewed frothy aqua water tinted copper
by the layer of pennies that rested at the bottom.

Sometimes when Claire was downtown and found a few extra cents in the back pocket of her cords, she’d stop by the fountain
to wish for little things: that she and Cam would magically be on Gchat at the same time, that Todd would quit leaving the
milk carton in the fridge with nothing in it but little-brother backwash, that she’d have a good bangs day at least once that
week. Today, she had way more important things to wish for. Which was why she’d come prepared.

“We’re here,” she announced, scoping out the fountain area for an acceptable piece of real estate. A few families had parked
strollers nearby, and a skater with a Travis Barker Mohawk was doing lazy circles around the perimeter of the flower beds.
Claire staked out a spot between an elderly couple and three little kids tossing Cheerios into the fountain when their mom
wasn’t looking.

“What’s the plan?” Layne looked back and forth between Claire and the fountain.

“We’re making wishes for the rest of the school year,” Claire announced. So far, nothing else she’d tried to keep the PC together,
happy, and drama-free had worked. So she’d have to rely on a little magic.

“Cool,” Cam said supportively. He patted down his windbreaker. “Except I don’t have any—”

“Not a problem.” Claire crouched on the brick square and unzipped her sagging bowler bag. Inside were three plastic baggies
of pennies, one for each of them. She tossed one to Cam and one to Layne, then took the last for herself.

“Ready?” she asked solemnly, pinching her first penny between her thumb and index finger. It was slightly sticky, since the
only baggies she could find at home had had gummies in them at one point. “Go.” She flicked the penny into the fountain and
closed her eyes as it skipped across the water.

I wish my friends would stop wanting to grow up so fast.

Plink. A light breeze swept through the square, and Claire shuddered, hoping that was some sort of sign from the universe.
She didn’t mind the idea of ninth graders as much anymore, especially after meeting Layne’s friends. But what was so wrong
with being happy in eighth too?

PUH-LUUUUUUUUUNK!

A splash of fountain water splattered Claire’s kelly green angora hoodie, and her eyes snapped open.

“I WISH MY BOOTIE CAM PATENT GOES THROUGH AND I’M A BILLIONAIRE BEFORE FOURTEEN,” bellowed Layne. Her baggie was completely
empty.

“Layne!” Claire giggle-accused. “There were like fifty pennies in there!”

Layne shrugged. “But I really, REALLY want that one to come true.”

“Too bad,” Cam said slyly, flicking one of his pennies over the top of the fountain spray like he was going for the extra
point in paper football. “If you say ’em out loud, they definitely don’t come true.”

Claire nodded in agreement.

“Wrong!” Layne lunged for Claire’s baggie, digging out a handful. “I WISH CLAIRE AND CAM WOULD THINK I’M HILAAAAAARIOUS.”
She flung the pennies toward the fountain, and all but one rained into the water. The last one bounced off the curved edge
of the fountain and onto the tan orthopedic shoe of the old lady next to Claire.

“LAYNE!” Claire and Cam burst out laughing. “QUIT IT!” Claire apology-shrugged at the old lady, who gripped her husband’s
hand and shuffled to the other side of the fountain.

“See?” Layne spread her arms open wide. “You laughed.”

Claire shook her head, closing her eyes again.
I wish Cam and Layne and I will never stop being friends. Ever.
In the midst of all the PC drama, Cam and Layne were her tried-and-trues, the friend equivalents of Massie’s go-to Citizen
boot-cuts and black BCBG cami.

Claire opened her left eye, sneaking a peek at Cam. He was winding up for another wish. She closed her eye again.
I wish Cam and I are wishing the same things.

Plink.

“I WISH I GET THE LEAD IN THE SPRING MUSICAL AND GET DISCOVERED BY AN INDIE AGENT AND GET FAMOUS AND START MY OWN LINE OF
CUSTOM-DECORATED SNEAKERS,” Layne yelled.

“You don’t even have any pennies left,” Claire murmured out of the corner of her mouth. Then another wish popped into her
mind.

I wish Massie would stop being mad at me for liking my crush so much and wanting other friends.

Plink.

A lump rose in Claire’s throat. It felt like she was trying to swallow a jumbo marshmallow but couldn’t. Immediately, tears
stung her eyes, and she opened them, feeling the weight of her social dilemma drag her down like a million bags of pennies.
Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t she just pick her own friends and her own crush, and be happy?

Layne sidled over to Claire, giving her a silent side-hug. It was like she understood without Claire having to say a word.

“Thanks,” Claire sniffed, rapid-blinking her tears away before Cam saw them. But he was still dutifully flicking his pennies
into the water, his eyes screwed shut. Claire felt a fresh rush of love for her crush.

“Hey. You wanna hang out with me and Cara and Syd this afternoon?” Layne asked. “There’s a matinee at the Westchester Community
Theater.”

“Maybe. What show is it?”

“Westchester Side Story.”
Layne grinned. “It’s the little kid production. Syd directed it, so we’re all going.”

Claire nodded uncertainly. Part of her just wanted to go home, curl up on her couch, and forget this week ever happened.

“And then afterward we’re all hanging out. It’ll be fun.”

Cam opened his eyes, stuffing his penny bag in the pocket of his windbreaker. “Count me out,” he volunteered. “I had to go
to my cousin’s kindergarten school play last week. And videotape it.” He shuddered at the memory.

“So?” Layne turned to Claire. “Up for a girls’ night?”

Claire hesitated, staring at the ground. If only it were as simple as Layne was making it sound. Sure, the older girls were
cool, and hanging out with them at the auction had been fun. But how could she possibly have a good time with new friends,
when Massie’s text-silence was so loud she could barely think straight?

She closed her eyes and pinched another penny from the bag, flinging it desperately into the fountain.

I wish I didn’t have to choose.

Massie’s and Bean’s reflections in Landon’s brass door knocker made them look like giant bobblehead dolls, and Massie’s insides
felt just as shaky.

“Wish me luck,” she murmured to her puppy, leaning closer to the polished brass for a quick gloss check. The faded sheen of
her Glossip Girl Toasted Cinnamon gloss was barely visible, but re-glossing wasn’t an option. In her hurry, she’d accidentally
left her Spy bag with Mary and Bark. The idea of going in glossless made her feel even shakier, like she was that Brookstone
massage chair and Layne had turned the dial to
MAX
. She lifted the heavy door knocker and held both her breath and the knocker, but she didn’t let it clang down just yet.

Bean lapped at Massie’s trembling cheek, centering her. Reminding her of everything Mary had told them about finding a crush
who liked Massie for all the things that made her a true alpha. And of the list she’d made herself while trying to muster
up the courage to knock on Landon’s door.

Top Three ALPHA Things about ME:

1. Being a devoted mother to Bean and friend to the Pretty Committee, even when CERTAIN people (Kuh-laire) think they can do better.
   
2. Having trendsetting style (duh x 10).
   
3. Being a beyond-loyal crush.
   

So far, Landon only knew the first two things about her. What if he didn’t give her a chance to prove the third? What if he
decided she was too immature, and she never found another crush who—

The brass knocker slipped from her grip and slammed against the door, jolting her back to reality. She shook her head, ridding
her brain of negative thoughts and tousling her hair at the same time. Landon would be beyond lucky to have an alpha like
her as his crush. And if he wouldn’t forgive her, she’d find the strength to move on. Landon Crane obviously wasn’t the only
fashion-savvy crush in the sea. If Jessica, Demi, and Posh could find their perfect matches, nothing could stop Massie from
doing the exact same—

Suddenly, Massie wasn’t staring at her own reflection in Landon’s doorway anymore. She was staring at Landon. His turquoise
eyes clouded over the second he saw her.

“Hey.” She hated that her voice sounded as shaky as she felt. Her eyes traveled from Landon’s dark, almost-time-to-get-a-haircut-but-not-quite
waves to his Prada stretch polo and Diesel five-pocket straight-legs. He was perfection.

“Hey.” But frozen the way he was in the doorway, he also looked like a hawt, angry action figure who was dressed to kill.
And just might.

Massie swallowed. Couldn’t he at least invite her in? Nibbling her gloss-free bottom lip, she racked her brain for acceptable
next moves.

Twenty minutes ago, she would have lied through her teeth. She would have told her (ex?) crush that she had brought Bark to
Pup-A-Palooza because she’d heard Landon would be there, and she’d realized that a sick puppy should never be away from his
owner. Then she probably would have made something up about how the booties were approved by POOPPT (Professional Organization
of Puppy Physical Therapists) and she’d special-ordered them from Finland, just for Bark. Then she would have told Landon
he owed her for the booties, plus shipping and handling and delivery confirmation. Then she would have speed-walked Bean home
and tweeted about how the
L
in Landon obviously stood for
LBR
.

But that was twenty minutes ago. Now, standing in the golden afternoon sunlight on Landon Crane’s doorstep, Massie Block was
a completely different alpha. This must have been how the Ashleys (Simpson and Tisdale) felt in their first post–nose-job
paparazzi shots.

“Massie?” Landon waved his hand in front of her face. The spicy citrus notes of his CK Eternity Summer cologne piqued her
senses, helping her focus.

“We need to come in.” Massie shifted Bean to her other arm, scratching the exact place on Bean’s forehead that made her front
left paw vibrate uncontrollably. Even if Landon wouldn’t say yes to Massie, he couldn’t say no to Bean. “’Kay?” She instantly
regretted asking permission. Alphas didn’t ask. They informed.

Landon shrugged, then stepped aside. “I guess.”

Stung, Massie and Bean swished past Landon into the foyer, her arm brushing against his. Despite the pain in her heart, the
tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up, screaming
true love
.

Landon’s house was nothing like the Block Estate but every bit as inspired. Instead of marble floors, antique mahogany side
tables, and a towering grandfather clock, Landon’s entryway had scarlet walls, slate floors, and framed candids of Landon’s
mom Celia with some of Massie’s fashion icons. Including the real Marc Jacobs.

“Marc’s such a sweetheart.” Celia Crane’s lilting voice sounded in Massie’s diamond-studded ear, making her jump. She whirled
around, resisting the urge to slap her palm over her naked lips in embarrassment.

“Naming the boutique Bark Jacobs was his idea, you know.” Landon’s mom beamed, the wild, dark tendrils around her face accenting
her high cheekbones. Celia was the picture of casual chic in a black-and-white-striped Diane von Furstenberg maxidress and
chunky turquoise accessories. “Good to see you again, Massie,” she said, patting the signature paw-print brooch nestled in
her messy updo. “You too, Bean.”