The Clique_ Charmed And Dangerous_ The Clique Prequel Part 10

"Are you a new girl group?" Kristen asked, wishing she had a pen for autographs.

"Pretty much." Shauna beamed.

"We're the Ahnnabees," Lana said proudly.

"Because all of our names have Ahnnas in them," Brianna explained.

"You know..." Ahnna hooked her arm through Kristen's. "We're looking for a new member," she whispered. "We lost one tonight."

"Oh." Kristen tried to sound sympathetic while quickly scanning the crowd for Ma.s.sie Block. "Sorry for your loss."

"Hakuna matata." Ahnna made a peace sign. "She wasn't a true Ahnna. Not like you." Ahnna made a peace sign. "She wasn't a true Ahnna. Not like you."

"Huh?" Kristen tuned back in to the conversation. "But I can't sing. I'm more into soccer and stuff."

"You don't have to sing sing." Ahnna giggled. "You just have to be an Ahnna and you, Reee-ahnna, are a true Ahnna."

"Oh." Kristen looked down at her name tag. "This is not-"

"Give her the quiz!" Brianna interrupted, bouncing up and down.

"Yeah, the quiz!" Lana echoed.

"Can I ask the first question?" Shauna pushed her red gla.s.ses up the bridge of her nose.

"What quiz?" Kristen asked with growing interest.

"It's mostly about your favorite things," Ahnna explained. "You know, to see if we have anything in common other than our names." She winked. "Even though I can tell by that VIP sticker that we already do."

"The thing is..." Kristen giggled, suddenly excited to share her secret. Excited to laugh about the clever way she swindled Marshmallow. Excited that Ali was stuck waiting for her in the car. "I kind of snuck in here tonight."

Their eyes widened, encouraging her to continue.

"My real name is Kristen," she blurted. "I came to find some girl named Ma.s.sie. She lost this charm and-"

"Security!" shouted Ahnna.

"What?" Kristen gasped.

"Secur-i-teeeeeee!" she shouted again.

Instead of waiting to find out what had gone wrong, Kristen bolted for the door marked VIP. She burst inside and crashed head-on into a thick white wall.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" shouted the wall.

Kristen looked up. It was Marshmallow. And he was covered in burning hot coffee.

"What are you doing back here?" she asked, taking a step back.

"I'm on my break." He scowled and then grabbed her by the hood of her sweatshirt.

"Where are we going?" Kristen trembled.

"You're going outside." going outside."

"But I thought you were on break." She smiled, laying on the charm.

"Break's over!" Marshmallow chucked his empty coffee cup in the trash, dragging Kristen and her charm toward the nearest exit.

WESTCHESTER COUNTY AIRPORTMERRI-LEE MARVIL'S NEW YEAR'S YVES PARTYFriday, December 31st10:52 P.M. P.M.

Everyone envy-stared as Merri-Lee's bodyguard led the Marvil girls to the stage. No one knew who they were exactly exactly, but it was obvious from their matching outfits, flawless makeup, and three-hundred-pound escort that they were special.

Digital cameras flashed in their faces, each spark of light charging Dylan's mood. She waved at the guests, blew kisses to the cute ones, and smiled widely for lenses of all sizes. Could Derrick and Cam see her?

Jaime and Ryan, however, lifted their chins, rolled back their shoulders, and scowled. They were obviously trying to project "bored supermodel" but gave off "constipated cadet" instead.

The bodyguard cleared a path with his giant chest and placed the girls at the foot of the stage.

"Um, sir..." Ryan cupped her updo. "We're supposed to be awn awn the stage, not under it." the stage, not under it."

The bodyguard grunted and shook his head no.

"Whaddaya mean, no no!?" We're Merri-Lee's daughters daughters!" Jaime shouted loud enough for everyone to hear.

A cl.u.s.ter of over-hair-sprayed moms inched closer and began taking their pictures. Dylan threw her arms around her sisters and smiled brightly while Jaime and Ryan continued arguing.

"He's right," interjected a stage manager. "You girls will be down here. Your mom wanted it to seem like you were having fun at the party. The camera will find you, don't worry."

"Paaaaarty!" Dylan threw her hands in the air, snap-swaying to the Smash Mouth remix the house DJ began playing after Christina's short set. Smash was hardly her favorite, but it was better than listening to her sisters complain.

Not that she had a choice. Ryan and Jaime were all she had. Most of the girls at school were only interested in Dylan's famous mom, so she stuck close to her sisters, who were only interested in themselves.

A man dressed in black appeared with a big TV camera. He flicked on a blinding light, then began swaying back and forth; in her face... away from her face... in her face... away from her face.... How many millions of people were seeing this?

Drinking up the light like a sunflower, Dylan danced harder. Arms waving overhead, black cashmere tank sliding up her belly, leather-encased booty undulating, exfoliated feet balancing in gold wedges, hair half-straight half-curly smacking the side of her face.... The more her sisters argued with the bodyguard, the more solo airtime she was getting. It was perf- Whaah??

Dylan's gold YSL stomped down on something fleshy. Sashimi? Sashimi?

"My hand hand!" shouted a girl from the floor.

"Stop the camera!" Dylan held her palm in front of the camera.

"I wasn't rolling," the cameraman said. "Just testing light."

"Oh." Dylan pouted, wishing she hadn't busted out her A-game for his lens.

"Offa my hand hand!" shouted the girl again.

"Oops, sorry." Dylan lifted her foot, then quickly crouched to a.s.sess the damage.

Pop! Her belly tsunamied from her pants. Her belly tsunamied from her pants. What is up with this b.u.t.ton??? What is up with this b.u.t.ton???

"Are you okay?" she asked, lowering her upward-creeping cashmere tank.

"No!" The girl's amber eyes were moist.

It was her! Ma.s.sie Blo-. Ma.s.sie Blo-.

"What're ya doing down there?" Dylan stood. "Looking for friends?"

"You're the one who should be looking for friends." Ma.s.sie stood too; their eyes locked.

"What's that that supposed to mean?" Dylan's cheeks warmed. supposed to mean?" Dylan's cheeks warmed.

"You're still wearing those pants." She half smiled. "A real friend wouldn't let you do that."

"What is so bad about these pants?" Dylan stomped her foot.

"Look." Ma.s.sie pointed at the "last-minute mirror" propped by the side of the stage for artists to have one last look before performing.

Dylan stomped over.

"Where are you going?" called the bodyguard.

But Dylan ignored him and approached the mirror with gusto, anxious to prove what she already knew. Dylan Marvil was thin. Possibly too thin. And her pants were just poorly made.

Dylan eyed her reflection.

Ahhhhhhhh! Fat-a-touille!

This mirror made her thighs bulb, her abs pooch, and her cheeks chipmunk. Her only slim feature was the left side of her hair, the part Kali had straightened.

"See?" Ma.s.sie half smiled again.

Did she have to be so perfect looking aaaand so right?

Dylan swallowed the double cheeseburgersize lump in her throat. There had to be a logical explanation. Had to be... had to be... had to... and then she found it. And just like that, her angst melted like a bite-size b.u.t.terfinger in her back pocket.

"The only thing I see see," she managed, "is one of those TV mirrors."

"What's a TV mirror TV mirror?"

Dylan rolled her eyes, as if a lifetime of explaining "the biz" to average Janes was exhausting.

"It adds ten pounds to people so they know what they're gonna look like on TV."

Ma.s.sie pushed Dylan aside. "Funny," she said to her reflection. "I still look thin."

Confusion bubbled inside Dylan like a shaken Pepsi. What was going on? Who was this girl and why was she so intent on destroying Dylan's confidence? Was she jealous? Evil? Or... right right?

Impossible! She had to be jealous. Everyone else was.

"Let's go!" The stage manager tugged Dylan's arm and dragged her back to the stage.

Ryan and Jaime were trying to convince some dad in a leather suit to hold their lip glosses until their segment was over. "We don't want the home audience to see them in our pockets and think they're bulges of faaaat," Ryan explained.

"'Course not." The guy took the tubes and stuffed them in the inside pocket of his jacket, next to the cigars. Seconds later he was off, chasing his angry girlfriend.

"Is he trying to steal steal those?" Jaime tugged her ironed hair. those?" Jaime tugged her ironed hair.

"Focus!" The stage manager clapped once. The girls finally gave him their attention.

"Now remember, your mother is going to talk about the little Christmas trip you took downtown to feed the homeless. The camera will cut to you girls in the audience looking all happy and charitable, and then it will show the video." He chuckled as if remembering a funny joke. "Dylan, there's a great moment where you're hiding behind your mom, chowing an Entenmann's doughnut that is obviously supposed to be for one of the homeless people." He laughed again. "It's cla.s.sic!"

Dylan covered her mouth in shame. What if Ma.s.sie and the TV mirror were right? What if she was was fat? She fat? She had had eaten a lot of doughnuts that night. And the night after that... and the night after that... and-"Oh, no!" eaten a lot of doughnuts that night. And the night after that... and the night after that... and-"Oh, no!"

"Don't worry," the man a.s.sured her. "It's exactly what this emotional piece needed. A little comic relief. The audience is gonna love love it." it."

Dylan smiled uneasily, hoping he was right.

Merri-Lee took the stage and introduced her "girlies" to the world. Ryan and Jaime didn't even show teeth when their names were called. They simply glared at their mother, silently cursing her for not putting them onstage. Dylan, wanting to come off as the fun one, beamed when Merri-Lee introduced her. Then she blew kisses to fans and smooched the lens of the camera, leaving behind a perfect strawberry-scented smear. The audience cheered until she waved them off in an I don't deserve your love I don't deserve your love sort of way and lowered her eyes in mock shyness. sort of way and lowered her eyes in mock shyness.

And then, out of nowhere, she had one of those moments. The kind your memory holds on to like a snapshot.

A gold object winked at Dylan from the concrete floor, its glare so strong it usurped the camera's bright lights, making her forget she was on TV. Without hesitation, she leaned down to pick it up. And then...

... rrrrriiiippppppp. rrrrriiiippppppp.

A group of girls behind her burst out laughing. The back of her pants split. Did Cam and Derrick see? Did Cam and Derrick see? Fortunately the house lights dimmed so they could roll the Christmas video. But there was just enough light for Dylan to see the object in her palm. It was a gold pig charm. Fortunately the house lights dimmed so they could roll the Christmas video. But there was just enough light for Dylan to see the object in her palm. It was a gold pig charm.

And it seemed to be oinking at her.

ORLANDO, FLDISNEY'S GRAND FLORIDIAN RESORT AND SPATHE PARKING LOTFriday, December 31st11:03 P.M. P.M.

Zadrienne stopped his red Prius under the carport of the Victorian-style hotel. Parking attendants dressed in peach-colored capri pants and puffy-shouldered blouses directed sunburned guests to the New Year's Eve party in their ballroom. Groups of teens, swinging purses and ponytails, jammed into the revolving doors with giddy excitement. And music thumped from the various beach parties, guaranteeing a good time to anyone who could get in. If Sari and Mandy hadn't been sitting on her dress, Claire wouldn't have been able to contain her excitement.

A chipper blue-eyed attendant poked his head in the window. "Which party are you here for?"

"Batman's!" Todd called from the hatch in the back. He was lying in fetal position, jammed between Zadrienne's stinky baseball uniform and dozens of empty Gatorade bottles.