It's Not Easy Being Mean Part 6

"So?" called Kaya, still crouched like a chipmunk. "It's not a crime to be here."

"Actually, it is." Kristen put her hands on her hips. "No one is allowed to be on school property after hours unless accompanied by a member of the faculty. It says so in the OCD handbook."

"Then why are you you here?" Penelope straightened up and twirled her curly brown high-pony. As usual, she was dressed like a burglar, in black AG cords and a black turtleneck. here?" Penelope straightened up and twirled her curly brown high-pony. As usual, she was dressed like a burglar, in black AG cords and a black turtleneck.

"I lost my keys," Ma.s.sie jumped in.

The two girls exchanged a glance.

"In the chapel chapel?" Kaya stood beside her partner in crime.

"Yeah. I was praying this morning." Ma.s.sie smirked. "But it didn't work. You're still ah-nnoying."

Kaya gasped.

The Pretty Committee giggled.

"Penelope, are you a big b.o.o.b?"

"No." She snorted.

"Then why are you hanging?"

The Pretty Committee burst out laughing.

"You heard her," Alicia snarled. "Leave!"

Penelope and Kaya stared back defiantly.

"Okay, then." Ma.s.sie flipped the power switch on the thin microphone clamped to the side of the altar. She leaned forward and pressed her glossed lips against it. "Kaya peed in her sleeping bag at my third-grade birthday party! And Penelope once sneezed during synchronized swim and-"

"Okay, fine!" Penelope took off faster than the cowardly lion in The Wizard of Oz. The Wizard of Oz. And Kaya was right behind her. And Kaya was right behind her.

The girls exploded with laughter until Claire's cell rang.

"Is it Cam?" Ma.s.sie wiped her tear-soaked cheeks.

"Yup," Claire said before checking the screen. Her tingling feet were never wrong. "Hullo?" She jumped off the stage.

"Hey." He sounded like he was jogging or pacing. "What's wrong? Did you make your decision? Are you moving?"

"What?" Claire's blond eyebrows practically smashed together. "No. Why?"

"You called like three times and I got worried."

"Oh." Claire felt an overwhelming need to touch his shoulder. "I just wanted to ask you something."

He sighed. She could hear his relief.

Ma.s.sie gave Claire the hurry-up-and-get-on-with-it hand signal.

"Um." She walked up the steps to the stage. "I was thinking, uh, maybe we could come over tonight."

"We?"

Claire walked down the steps.

"Yeah." She looked at Ma.s.sie, her wide blue eyes screaming for help. "We."

"Soccer lessons," Ma.s.sie mouthed.

Kristen rolled her eyes.

"We want soccer lessons." She hated lying to him, and wondered if he sensed her blushing. "'Cause we're joining the OCD Sirens."

"Sure." He laughed. "But I can't tonight."

"Why?" Disappointment spread through Claire's body like a wave of p.r.i.c.kly heat. And would rage through Ma.s.sie's like a brush fire.

"I have a science test first period tomorrow and if I don't get a B-plus or higher, I'll-"

"We'll only be there for a few minutes," Claire heard herself whine.

Ma.s.sie stomped her foot, obviously sensing the outcome. "Make him say yes."

"How about tomorrow?" Cam asked, sounding hopeful.

"Uhhhh, hold on, I'm losing my signal," Claire lied again. Once she was by the chapel doors, she said, "That's better," much louder than she needed to. Then she turned in toward her phone. "I can't tomorrow," she whispered. "I'll be in Manhattan, meeting with my agent. What about Thursday?"

"Soccer practice."

"Oh." Claire bit her thumbnail.

"How about Friday?" he offered.

"Are you sure you can't do tonight?"

"I wish I could, but-"

"That's okay, I understand." Claire didn't have to look up to know that the Pretty Committee was surrounding her. She could hear them whispering and shushing one another. "See you Friday."

"Bye."

Claire said goodbye in her head, but in reality she just hung up the phone.

"Friday?" Ma.s.sie snapped. "That's the soonest we can get in there? What if someone else gets there first?" She gestured to the pews where Kaya and Penelope had been hiding.

"He has to study tonight." Claire's entire body felt heavy.

"What about tomorrow?"

"Uh, his uncle is visiting." She lied a third time. But she couldn't bear the thought of the girls at Cam's house without her. What if he realized that Ma.s.sie was cooler than she was? Or that Alicia was prettier? Or that Dylan was funnier? Or that Kristen was a better athlete?

But then again, what if Ma.s.sie knew that Claire's insecurities were keeping them from finding the key? Could anything be worse than that? There was no easy way out of this.

All Claire could do was lift her eyes toward the stained-gla.s.s dome above her head and pray for the best.

OCTAVIAN C COUNTRY D DAY S SCHOOL OCD/B OCD/BRIARWOOD S SOCCER S STADIUM.

Tuesday, April 6th 7:03 A.M. A.M.

The morning sun reflected off the metal bleachers, creating random puddles of gold light where the Pretty Committee usually sat and flirted with the Briarwood soccer team. Sure, the soccer stadium looked nice enough at this hour, even inspiring, like those motivational sports posters in the guidance counselor's office about achieving achieving success and not just dreaming about it. success and not just dreaming about it.

But still, it was insanely early, and Ma.s.sie couldn't help feeling disappointed with herself. Yes, she'd promised promised Princ.i.p.al Burns she'd join the OCD Sirens and learn to become a team player. It was either that or a lifetime of lunching with m.u.f.fin-money-stealing juvies in public school. But it was only a Princ.i.p.al Burns she'd join the OCD Sirens and learn to become a team player. It was either that or a lifetime of lunching with m.u.f.fin-money-stealing juvies in public school. But it was only a promise promise, and Ma.s.sie Block was a master at weaseling out of those those. Yet here she was-chilly, groggy, and wearing cleats.

"Hey, you guys." Kimmy Rosen ran across the field toward the Pretty Committee. "Where did you get those uniforms?" She pushed her round Arthur the Aardvark gla.s.ses up the bridge of her narrow nose when she finally caught up. "I, like, completely want one for my birthday party next weekend."

Ma.s.sie puffed out her chest and smiled. "Thanks, I designed them myself."

"They're couture." Alicia stroked her long dark ponytail extension.

"Socc-outure." Dylan giggled.

Kristen rolled her eyes.

"Can I order one?" Kimmy pulled up her regulation knee-high white socks. "I'm so sick of the whole navy-shorts-and-baggy-yellow-shirt thing."

"I like like them." Kristen pulled her heel to her b.u.t.t, stretching a hamstring. She looked to her teammates for support but got none. The gathering Sirens were forming an envy circle around Ma.s.sie, Alicia, and Dylan to get a closer look at their creations. "Our uniforms are practical. Unlike them." Kristen pulled her heel to her b.u.t.t, stretching a hamstring. She looked to her teammates for support but got none. The gathering Sirens were forming an envy circle around Ma.s.sie, Alicia, and Dylan to get a closer look at their creations. "Our uniforms are practical. Unlike those. those."

"These are more than practical. They're pract-able." Ma.s.sie paused. "Practical and ah-dorable."

"Point."

It was one thing for Kristen not to wear one of Ma.s.sie's special-edition uniforms, but it would be quite another for her to criticize them in public. Especially since Ma.s.sie, Alicia, and Dylan were the only three girls on the field who actually looked female.

Their navy shorts had been ripped open by Ma.s.sie's housekeeper, Inez, and sewn into A-line miniskirts. Cleavage-baring cuts transformed their boyish yellow tops into s.e.xy V-necked tanks. And their boring white knee-highs had been cut into "sweat bangles" and moved to their wrists. Now the girls sported cute little tennis socks with fluffy lemon yellow pom-poms flopping around the heels of their cleats, introducing their harsh black sneakers to this spring's biggest "it" color. But the pieces de resistance were the numbers on their backs, which Inez had filled in with navy glitter. Ma.s.sie put a hand on her waist-one foot out, and toes pointed-giving Kimmy and the other Sirens a moment to study the Pretty Committee's fabulousness. Alicia and Dylan did the same.

"Can I order one?" asked Marta Williams, who was known for wearing a white do-rag over her unruly brown curls.

"Me too," added Jessi Rowan before crouching to tighten her black laces.

"Everyone give Dylan your sizes and I'll see what I can do," Ma.s.sie announced, with an I-told-you-so smirk aimed at Kristen.

"What happened to Siren pride?" Kristen asked her teammates as they formed a line in front of Dylan.

"What happened to female female pride?" Ma.s.sie answered for them. "The boys are practicing a few yards away." She pointed to the Briarwood Tomahawks, who were racing up and down the field, caught up in their morning drills. Uneasiness pinched her heart when she saw Derrington snaking around a row of orange pylons. Had he really lip-kissed Skye Hamilton? Quickly, Ma.s.sie turned away, before full-blown sadness crept in and ruined her day. pride?" Ma.s.sie answered for them. "The boys are practicing a few yards away." She pointed to the Briarwood Tomahawks, who were racing up and down the field, caught up in their morning drills. Uneasiness pinched her heart when she saw Derrington snaking around a row of orange pylons. Had he really lip-kissed Skye Hamilton? Quickly, Ma.s.sie turned away, before full-blown sadness crept in and ruined her day.

Kristen opened her mouth to speak, but Coach Davis beat her to it.

"Line up," announced the pet.i.te blonde in an old 2003 black Juicy Couture sweat suit, white clouds of air puffing from her wide mouth.

Instead of moving, the girls stayed where they were and continued shouting their sizes at Dylan.

"Line!" Her perfectly even teeth practically morphed into fangs. "Now!"

The Sirens scurried into formation, a single row facing her. Ma.s.sie edged out Kori Gedman, who was jockeying for a place beside Kristen, then grabbed Alicia and Dylan and pulled them beside her.

"How 'bout a strong Sirens welcome to Ma.s.sie Block, Alicia Rivera, and Dylan Marvil?" The coach clapped her hands in a rhythmic staccato beat. Ma.s.sie wondered if she had some sort of weird nerve disorder that prevented her from clapping like a normal, healthy person, until fifteen other girls joined in. Ma.s.sie found their warm welcome more energizing than her morning Red Bull.

"Thank you," Ma.s.sie mouthed.

She glanced over at the Tomahawks, hoping Derrington would notice the team applauding her. But he was busy inside the net, blocking the hailstorm of b.a.l.l.s being kicked at his face.

Alicia nudged her "When should tell the coach I don't run?"

"I have a feeling she'll figure it out." Dylan fake-coughed while she opened a Ziploc baggie stuffed with bagel chips. Coughing again, she popped one in her mouth and held the bag out to her friends. "Carb-loading is the key to endurance."

"Shhhhh," Kristen hissed, never taking her eyes off the coach.

"We have high hopes for you girls," smiled the coach. Her wide green eyes glistened like sparkling sea gla.s.s against her bronzed skin. If she'd traded in her vintage sweat suit for a modern Azzedine Alaia gown, she'd have looked like a red-carpet regular or an E.T. E.T. correspondent. correspondent.

a.s.suming the adoration ran both ways, Ma.s.sie imagined herself being crowned captain by the end of the week in a torchlight ceremony where they'd present her with a platinum soccer ball for her charm bracelet, or a tiny cleat. Something deep inside her shifted. Maybe she could could learn to love a sport. All she'd have to do was score a few goals and then those silver seats would be filled with hundreds of people, shouting her name and cheering her on. And what wasn't to love about that? learn to love a sport. All she'd have to do was score a few goals and then those silver seats would be filled with hundreds of people, shouting her name and cheering her on. And what wasn't to love about that?

"And I am doubly pleased to announce that our star star, Kristen Gregory, is back at OCD after a devastating three-week expulsion. And that means we finally have a shot at the finals!"

The Sirens lifted Kristen into the air like she had already won the big game. Their cheers were American Idol American Idol loud. Much louder than they had been for Ma.s.sie, Alicia, and Dylan. Of course, this time Derrington and the boys stopped practicing and looked. loud. Much louder than they had been for Ma.s.sie, Alicia, and Dylan. Of course, this time Derrington and the boys stopped practicing and looked.

Despite her frustration, Ma.s.sie smiled and laughed so Derrington would think she preferred not not to be the one getting carried around like royalty. to be the one getting carried around like royalty.

When the boys turned away, Ma.s.sie smoothed out her mini and whispered to Dylan, "Who knew Kristen was so 'in'; with the SLBRs?"

"Soccer losers beyond repair?"

Ma.s.sie nodded, unable to turn away from her Kristen-obsessed teammates.

Each time they lifted their "star," Ma.s.sie felt more and more like a foreign-exchange student or a subst.i.tute teacher. Forget the platinum ball and the tiny cleat! Soccer, she suddenly decided, was for people who couldn't afford to shop.

Puuuuuuuuuuur-uuurp!

Coach Davis's silver whistle put a much-needed end to the ah-nnoying fandemonium.

"Today we're going to practice dribbling and kicking." She paced the line, her eyes hardening with every step. "We're up against the Woodson Meerkats on Sunday. Beat them and we're off to the finals." She lifted her palm, blocking their cheers. "Their offense is strong. So this week we are going to focus on-"

Alicia raised her hand.

"Yes?"