Kristen. Part 2

Dune immediately burst out laughing. At first Tyler looked at him in confusion but then something clearly clicked inside his mind and he began cracking up. The part of Kristen that belonged on the GAS side of the fence wanted to crack up too. But the side of her that had been a guest at the CC told her it was best not to. Unsure of what to do, she let out a half laugh that sounded more like a half sneeze.

"Did you hear what he just said?" Dune slapped Jax on his bare back. But Jax was focusing on a group of preppy girls ew ew-ing at what had just come flying over the fence. He shook his head, sending his hair tent-flapping back over his face. He hopped on his board and dropped into the half-pipe. "Whooooooooo!" he shouted, obviously wanting to be noticed.

"Is he still sweating those OCDivas?" Dune furrowed his tan forehead.

Tyler nodded yes, picking at his cast.

"Why?"

Tyler shook his head like he had no idea.

"How lame," Kristen insisted. "Can't they make a rule? Something that would keep the b.a.l.l.s away from GAS?"

They all burst out laughing again, except Ripple, who was now checking her gloss in a black Sephora compact-the one that came free with a purchase of Jessica Simpson's body cream.

"The country club is p.i.s.sed that we board so close to their property. They think we're loud and ugly," Tyler answered. "So they started letting the beginners tee off from the fourth green, which is right over there." He pointed over the fence to a group of knock-kneed, madras shortswearing wannabes working on their swings.

"Gawd." Kristen crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture that she hoped conveyed disgust and contempt for the rich.

"Tons of skaters have gone down." Dune looked Kristen right in the eye. His commitment to her in that moment made her sunburned cheeks overheat.

"But there's an upside." Tyler grabbed a pack of chocolate-flavored Bubblicious out of his back pocket and popped a piece in his mouth without offering any to his friends. "The trust fund skaters have been scared off, like the Briarwood Academy soccer boys. Now those cleat-feet hang out at Andy Ryan's house, cuz he has a half-pipe."

"And that hot sister, Olivia," Jax added, suddenly appearing behind them.

"Olivia's not, not, not that that pretty," Ripple pout-mumbled. pretty," Ripple pout-mumbled.

And there's nothing wrong with cleat-feet! Kristen wanted to shout. But she decided to save her outbursts for later-when she and Dune were a couple and she didn't have to worry about impressing his friends. Kristen wanted to shout. But she decided to save her outbursts for later-when she and Dune were a couple and she didn't have to worry about impressing his friends.

"Hey, got any more gum?" Jax held out his dirty palm.

Tyler dug around the inside of his pocket and pulled out the pack. Jax, Dune, and Ripple all grabbed pieces. Kristen extended her arm, but Tyler casually pulled the pack away, leaving her to chew on the bitter taste of not being accepted.

"Sorry, dude, I never give the last piece."

"Since when?" Dune flicked his buddy's black cast.

Tyler snicker-shrugged.

"You can share mine, Ms. Gregory," Ripple said as she attacked the brown cube with her slightly buck teeth.

"It's okay," Kristen managed.

Dune's eyes lingered on her, searching for clues to the contrary. But life with the rich and fabulous Pretty Committee had taught Kristen to hide her feelings of inadequacy by batting her lashes and smiling brightly. Her tears got the hint to come back when she was alone.

"Anyhow, we have to get back at the CC." Jax ran a hand through his sweaty bangs. "I say we drain their pool and skate it."

"And when we're done, let's fill it back up with Jell-O," Dune added. "Some guy on YouTube did it to his uptight neighbor. It was a total sucker punch!"

Jax spit his gum into his hand, then whipped it over the fence. "Dude, that's way too hard."

Ripple giggled. "I love how you just threw that."

Jax shot her a polite half smile, then wiped his goober-filled hand on the side of his jeans.

"What about filling it with golf b.a.l.l.s?" Tyler tried.

"Dumb." Dune flicked his cast again.

"Stop doing that!" Tyler snicker-shoved Dune into Scooter, who had just returned from his skate to rejoin the circle, still perched by the lip of the half-pipe.

"Shhh! Country Club Chick is coming over!" Jax shoved all three of them.

"Her?" Ripple scoffed as if they were talking about Ugly Betty. "You like Ripple scoffed as if they were talking about Ugly Betty. "You like her her? She's, like, obsessed obsessed with dancing. It's totally weird." with dancing. It's totally weird."

Kristen turned to see who it was and gasped. "Ehma-gawd!"

Super-blond, super-tanned, super-flexible Skye Hamilton, the infamous eighth-grade alpha, was scurrying over the fence wearing nothing but a yellow string bikini and a glittery orange scarf. She jumped down onto the asphalt like the bottoms of her bare feet were coated in Nike rubber. "Heyyy, yooouuuuuuu!" She tossed her curly hair and waved her flawlessly manicured Nars Pleasantly Pink nails as she approached.

Her blond besties (known as the DSL Daters because they made super-fast connections with boys) gripped the metal links from the country club side like inmates hungry for a glimpse of the outside world.

Scooter swallowed nervously, then turned and dropped back into the half-pipe.

"Hey." Tyler awkwardly lifted his cast to wave.

"Hey." Jax shook his head until his bangs grazed the top of his nose.

Ripple rolled her eyes.

Skye smiled sweetly at everyone but came to a complete stop in front of Dune.

"Hey, hey, whaddaya say?" She plied twice, then stood. "I thought you were gonna be gone all summer?"

"Just got back." Dune smiled.

Kristen's eyes searched his face for clarification. Was it the I'm-just-being-polite smile? Or the let's-lip-kiss smile? It was hard to tell.

"What are you hotties doing tomorrow?" Skye twirled a deep-conditioned golden lock around her finger, sending a heap of gold bangles jangling down her arm.

"Nuthin'." Jax's voice cracked a little.

Ripple rolled her eyes again.

"Perf!" She turned and flashed a thumbs-up to her friends, who bounced up and down on their toes and air-clapped. "Then I'll put your names on the list at the club. We'll hang by the pool. See ya around elevenish?"

"We're in!" Jax blurted, this time in a faux-deep voice.

"Killer bees!" Skye hop-turned into a glissee tour jete and darted back to the fence. Heads turned like searchlights as she pa.s.sed.

"You guys are not, not, not not really going, are you?" Ripple's light brown eyes darted from one boy's face to the next. But they all had the same dumbstruck expression-like they had each discovered hundred-dollar bills in their pockets. really going, are you?" Ripple's light brown eyes darted from one boy's face to the next. But they all had the same dumbstruck expression-like they had each discovered hundred-dollar bills in their pockets.

"Yeah, we are." Jax grinned.

"Sellout!" Tyler lifted his cast, reminding them that she was the enemy.

"She's lame anyway," Kristen finally chimed in. "She totally knows me and didn't even say hi! I wouldn't go if I were you. She's not a good friend." Aware that Dune was a stick-up-for-your-buddy kind of guy, Kristen hoped this news would turn him off the dancer for life.

"We have to." Dune gathered his blond hair into a ponytail. "How else are we going to get close to their pool?"

"Or their . . ." Jax gripped invisible melons.

The boys burst out laughing. Ripple sighed like a frustrated parent and stormed off.

"Is that what this is really about?" Tyler pressed. "A pool prank?"

"Yeah. What else would it be?" Dune insisted, the sides of his mouth straining to hold back a betraying smile.

"You tell me." Tyler folded his arms across his bare chest.

Kristen waited along with everyone else for him to answer. Her heart thumped louder and louder with every pa.s.sing millisecond that he stood and contemplated. Suddenly, he leaped forward, grabbed Tyler's board out of his good hand, and rode it onto the half-pipe. "SUCKER PUNCH!" he shouted as he rolled away.

It was far from the reaction Kristen had been hoping for, but it wasn't the one she'd feared either. Once again she was unsure of where she stood. And once again she would have to straddle both sides until she could figure it out.

THE PINEWOOD.

KRISTEN'S ROOM Sat.u.r.day, July 18 9:13 A.M.

Kristen woke up in her white Pottery Barn twin bed spooning David Beckham. Her top arm rose and fell with his breath, a gentle rhythm like the lazy sway of a hammock. It had offered her solace many times in the past. Like the time she'd gotten a super-short boy cut. Or when she'd gotten kicked out of OCD. And even a few weeks ago, after her parents had announced she'd be spending another boring summer at home. But this morning, no matter how hard she side-hugged her fluffy white Persian kitty, Kristen could not get rid of the churn in her stomach. In fact, every time she thought about her visit to GAS Park it got bigger. But why? Was it: A) Her inability to be instantly adored by Dune's friends?B) Dune's failure to hint at follow-up plans when they'd parted ways?C) Skye Hamilton's Dune-or-die att.i.tude?D) Skye Hamilton and her good-luck-competing-with-my-hotness confidence?E) Knowing that Dune would be at the country club in less than two hours flirting with Skye Hamilton and the DSL Daters?F) Not having any plans on her day off?G) All of the above.[image]

The answer was clear. It was G, all of the above. And choosing G meant texting M, aysap.

Kristen lifted her arm off David Beckham and palm-patted her night table. She knuckle-b.u.mped her hard copy of The Daring Book for Girls The Daring Book for Girls, an empty bottle of Vitamin Water, the base of her lime-green lamp, which matched the painted walls perfectly, and finally, her black Razr. Sitting up, she pulled David Beckham onto her lap, pushed back the sleeves of her A&F periwinkle blue sleep shirt, and flipped open her phone. Her thumbs took care of the rest.

K: crush x 10 on Dune Baxter. Skye 2. How do I win? crush x 10 on Dune Baxter. Skye 2. How do I win?

Kristen dragged her gold locket from one side of the chain to the other while she waited for a response. Did she sound too desperate? Too insecure? Too- Ping.

M: Dune the SURFER? Dune the SURFER?K: Y! Y!

Ping.

M: Is he endorsed? Is he endorsed?K: N. N.

Ping.

M: Rich parents? Rich parents?K: N. N.

Ping.

M: Then Dune's done. Then Dune's done.

Ping.

M: Dune = D-EW-N Dune = D-EW-N Ping.

M: Wave goodbye. Wave goodbye.

Ping.

M: Get it? Get it?[image]

"Ugh!" Kristen snapped her phone shut and self-pity-whipped it across the room. It landed in the middle of her sea blue beanbag with a thud-hiss. Kristen snapped her phone shut and self-pity-whipped it across the room. It landed in the middle of her sea blue beanbag with a thud-hiss.

Gawd! How many expensive lattes had she sipped listening to Ma.s.sie talk about Derrington and Chris Abeley? And how insulting was it to dismiss Dune as a crush candidate just because he was ATM-challenged. Especially knowing Kristen was on scholarship. It was more un How many expensive lattes had she sipped listening to Ma.s.sie talk about Derrington and Chris Abeley? And how insulting was it to dismiss Dune as a crush candidate just because he was ATM-challenged. Especially knowing Kristen was on scholarship. It was more unfair than Dune's deeply tanned skin. than Dune's deeply tanned skin.

Even if Kristen wanted wanted to turn to her mother for advice-which she didn't, because she would be told to avoid boys and stay focused on work and school so she could learn to thrive in this world without a man-she couldn't. Marsha Gregory was at Costco. And her father, Ray, was on a golf trip in Miami working on some potential new business venture. A trip that Marsha swore would be his last as a walking man if he didn't return with a signed contract big enough to get them out of debt after his last "potential new business venture." to turn to her mother for advice-which she didn't, because she would be told to avoid boys and stay focused on work and school so she could learn to thrive in this world without a man-she couldn't. Marsha Gregory was at Costco. And her father, Ray, was on a golf trip in Miami working on some potential new business venture. A trip that Marsha swore would be his last as a walking man if he didn't return with a signed contract big enough to get them out of debt after his last "potential new business venture."

There was only one place left to turn.

Kristen closed her bedroom door. Lowered her bamboo shades. Yanked her mother's old yellow dishwashing gloves out from under her mattress and slid them on. Then she crouched beside David Beckham's kitty litter box, dug in, and pulled out Dylan's white hand-me-down MacBook. Tiny powder-scented rocks fell away to the sides and split like Demi Moore's middle part. But the thick Saran Wrap coating kept the secret computer preserved and protected from feline waste. Not that it was necessary. David Beckham was fully potty trained and hadn't used the box for years. Not even when he had had that bladder infection over Easter.

Under the dark cover of her blue and green polka-dot duvet, Kristen powered up the old laptop. It inhaled deeply, then whirred to life like an asthmatic. She unfastened a black code key from the tiny Velcro straps she'd secretly attached on the wall side of her bed. Then she flipped the face of her silver Guess Carousel watch over to its LCD screen side. As soon as the red flashes came, she inserted the code key into the computer's USB port, then held up her wrist.

Beep, beep, beep.

Kristen pulled out the key and breathed a sigh of relief as the watch screen flashed. SIGNAL SENT SIGNAL SENT.

Help was on the way.

THE PINEWOOD.

KRISTEN'S BEDROOM Sat.u.r.day, July 18 10:07 A.M.

Transformation took thirty-four seconds. That was three seconds faster than last time. And it gave Kristen a chance to check her costume in the mirror before they they arrived. arrived.

"Good morning, Cleopatra," she greeted her reflection with a proud smile. It was too bad she couldn't wear the black bob-with-bangs wig in public, because it really brought out the green in her eyes. And the white G.o.ddess dress dripping with gold chains showed off her toned shoulders. The creamy blue eye shadow would have looked better had Kristen's cheeks not been bright red from yesterday's sunburn. But the gold headband with the snake emblem pulled attention away from her face and drew it up, toward her royal brain. And that that was her most important a.s.set. Because Kristen Gregory was the alpha of the ultra-exclusive Witty Committee. was her most important a.s.set. Because Kristen Gregory was the alpha of the ultra-exclusive Witty Committee.

She had founded the secret underground organization last June after her first week of gifted extra-credit summer cla.s.ses. The Pretty Committee was gone. Soccer was done until September. The New York Times New York Times crossword puzzle just wasn't challenging anymore. And she was so emotional that repeat episodes of crossword puzzle just wasn't challenging anymore. And she was so emotional that repeat episodes of The Hills The Hills were moving her to tears. She was hovering over that place-right before rock bottom-where she could either rise up and turn her life around or fall flat on her face. were moving her to tears. She was hovering over that place-right before rock bottom-where she could either rise up and turn her life around or fall flat on her face.

Around the same time, her teacher, Ms. Lobe, asked all five students in the cla.s.s to write a paper on a gifted person-living or dead-whom they admired most. Kristen had picked the queen of Egypt.

Cleopatra had learned how to speak Egyptian (hard times ten) and was the leader of an empire, the mother of four, and hawt! Not even Angelina Jolie could claim all of that. Her other cla.s.smates had picked their favorites, and for the rest of the week they'd had to come to cla.s.s in costume in order to be be their alphas. It was the most fun Kristen had ever had. Even more fun than Ma.s.sie's Friday night sleepover where they'd photographed Bean in eight different bikinis and e-mailed the shots to their alphas. It was the most fun Kristen had ever had. Even more fun than Ma.s.sie's Friday night sleepover where they'd photographed Bean in eight different bikinis and e-mailed the shots to Teen Vogue Teen Vogue.

When the exercise had ended and life had returned to normal, a heavy listlessness had weighed on the students like a humid afternoon. Without exchanging a single word or glance with her cla.s.smates, Kristen could sense that for them, as for her, a part of them had died.