The Pretty Committee Strikes Back Part 2

"Actually I can can believe they paid for it." Layne's green eyes widened and filled with horror as "All I Want for Christmas Is You" blasted through the four white speakers that hung from the corners of Claire's ceiling. "What I can't believe is that they finally let you toss Ma.s.sie's dead grandmother's old furniture and get new stuff. I felt like I stepped out of a time machine every time I came over. It took days to get the smell of mothb.a.l.l.s out of my hair." believe they paid for it." Layne's green eyes widened and filled with horror as "All I Want for Christmas Is You" blasted through the four white speakers that hung from the corners of Claire's ceiling. "What I can't believe is that they finally let you toss Ma.s.sie's dead grandmother's old furniture and get new stuff. I felt like I stepped out of a time machine every time I came over. It took days to get the smell of mothb.a.l.l.s out of my hair."

Claire chuckled and was suddenly overcome by a rush of warm appreciation for Layne, her special friend: the one she could let her guard down with, shop at Target with, eat sugar and fat with. Layne was not part of the Pretty Committee and probably never would be, and that was more than fine with Claire. It was nice having a friend who saw Westchester the same way she did, through the eyes of a coat-check girl at a black-tie affair.

Claire's emotions had been up and down like this for days. Whenever she thought about Cam, every bone in her body felt like it had been stuffed with lead. She'd sigh a lot and stare off into the distance, wondering if she'd ever be able to smile again. Then, minutes later, she'd share a moment of true friendship with Layne or Ma.s.sie and her teeth would start chattering with joy. But one thing had been for sure: both the highs and the lows usually ended in tears.

"Why are we listening to Christmas music in February?" Layne pulled a pair of bile yellow Converse sneakers out of her Sunshine Tours bag. She dumped a Ziploc bag of black rhinestones on Claire's bed and reached for the glue gun she'd "borrowed" from art cla.s.s.

"Cam burned this for me." Claire curled up in a ball on a stack of pillows on the floor by the window. Inez, the Blocks' live-in housekeeper, had made them from Claire's old T-shirts from Orlando. It was either that or Ma.s.sie was going to use them to pull poo-berries off her dog Bean's b.u.t.t, and Claire had given in. She had lived in Westchester for six months, which was long enough to know that the "right time" to wear an oversize Lisa Simpson tee would never, ever present itself.

"I should have known Cam was behind this cheddar-filled mix." Layne smeared glue all over the rubbery tops of her sneakers. She pinched a rhinestone and dropped it on the sticky surface. Then she slowly dragged it into position and reached for another one. "Are you going to do your new Keds?" Layne waved a Ziploc full of pink rhinestones in Claire's direction.

Claire shrugged and curled up into a tight ball. The sound of Layne slurping forced her to lift her head.

"What's with you and those Go-Gurts? They're gross." The thought of gooey liquid yogurt in a tube made Claire's insides churn almost as much as they did when she thought about Cam.

Layne spit a wad of Bubble Yum into the empty tube and tossed it into Claire's blue gla.s.s trash can. "Why so cranky?" Layne asked during a long wet burp.

"Ewww." Claire buried her face again and wondered why she hadn't told Layne what had happened between her and Cam. She imagined herself saying, "Hey Layne, guess what? Last weekend Cam dumped me." And immediately had her answer. Speaking those words out loud would make them true and Claire wasn't ready to accept that. Ma.s.sie was the only one who knew the truth. And that was because she'd had a hot tip from Derrington and possessed a knack for interrogation.

"Come sit next to me so we can finish these sneakers before Lake Placid." Layne dropped three black rhinestones onto her shoe at once. Two of them fell facedown.

"Ugh." She used her long pinky nail to flip them back over.

Claire put her Simpsons Orlan-d' oh! pillow on her lap and ran her fingers along the soft cotton. Her favorite sleeping shirt had been reduced to a decorative accent. What had once given her tremendous comfort was now just a memory. Just like Cam.

"You should put a rhinestone C C on each one of your shoes," Layne suggested. "You know, one for on each one of your shoes," Layne suggested. "You know, one for Claire Claire and one for and one for Cam." Cam."

"We're done," Claire blurted out.

Layne lifted her head. "Why?" She ran her fingers through her teased brown hair. "Is it because I'm using glue on your new bedspread?"

"Huh?" Claire crinkled her pale eyebrows. Then she shook her head and exhaled sharply though her b.u.t.ton nose. "No, I mean me and Cam. We're done. He dumped me." The sound of those words coming out of her own mouth brought a swell of tears to her eyes.

"What?" Layne jumped off the bed. She crouched beside the nest of T-shirt pillows, unb.u.t.toned her tight pink cords, then let herself drop to the floor. "What happened?"

Claire wanted to tell Layne the truth, but what if she didn't understand? Or worse, what if she sided with Cam?

"He said he lost interest," Claire murmured to her cuticles. "He didn't want to be tied down."

"Cam Fisher Fisher said that?" Layne asked. "About said that?" Layne asked. "About you?" you?"

Claire nodded. At that moment, it was physically impossible for her to look Layne in the eye.

"Did you check for hidden cameras?" Layne asked sincerely. "Maybe you were on some prank show. I mean, there's no way Cam would-"

"He did, okay?" Claire snapped.

A heavy, uncomfortable silence hung over their heads like one of Mr. Block's giant striped golf umbrellas.

"I've got it." Layne jumped to her feet, refastened her cords, and lifted her index finger in the air. She started pacing back and forth.

"Maybe he misses the old you." Her green eyes flickered. "You know, the girl he first fell in love with."

"Huh?" Claire wished she had the guts to tell Layne the truth.

"We have to get you back to the old Claire. The one Cam first noticed."

"What old Claire?"

"Claire B.P.C." Layne said with a proud smile, like she had just said something brilliantly clever. Claire stared at her blankly.

"Before the Pretty Committee!" Layne wheeled Claire's industrial-looking full-length mirror across the room. "See for yourself."

Claire pushed herself up and stood in front of the mirror with her hands on her narrow waist.

"You've lost your Florida charm. Your cute Disney bangs have grown out, you traded in your cherry ChapStick for lip gloss, and you wear boot-cut jeans instead of overalls," Layne said. "You're not the girl Cam first fell in love with."

Even though Claire knew the real reason Cam had dumped her, she couldn't help but wonder if Layne had a point.

"Maybe you should cut bangs again," Layne said. "I bet once Cam saw the old Claire, he'd want you back."

Claire knew this was ridiculous, but like any desperate person, she felt compelled to take a leap of faith and give it a try. Who knew, it just might be the thing that worked.

"Fine." Claire sighed. "Maybe I'll ask Ma.s.sie to call Jakkob for an appointment."

Layne stopped pacing, put her hands on her chunky hips, and shook her head. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" Claire felt a wave of p.r.i.c.kly heat under her arms. She hated being left out of an inside joke, especially when it was at her own expense.

"Ugh." Layne lifted her hands in frustration. "Claire B.P.C. would not call Ja-kkkkkkkob for a cut."

"She wouldn't?"

"No, she'd do it herself."

Layne stomped over to the bed, grabbed her Sunshine Tours bag, and dumped it upside down. Chewed pencils, three quarters, two dimes, six pennies, one Susan B. Anthony dollar, red hair elastics, two bottles of nail polish-one black, one fluorescent yellow-liquid eyeliner, two tubes of vanilla Go-Gurt, Carmex, Kleenex, a mini pink calculator, a h.e.l.lo Kitty money clip filled with Big Red gum, three loose house keys, a disposable digital camera, a rolled up Delia's catalogue, and a baby blue Miss Army pocket knife spilled onto the freshly bleached hardwood floor.

Layne reached for the Miss Army knife and unhinged a few of its hidden tools: a nail file, a mirror, and a pair of tweezers. "Where are those cute little scissors?"

"You're so not cutting my hair with that Swiss Army knife thing." Claire jumped to her feet.

"Got 'em." Layne unfolded the collapsible scissors and forced her fingers into the tiny holes. "They're a little stiff, but they'll do the trick."

"No way." Claire darted for her bedroom door, grabbed her red bike helmet off the hook, slammed it on her head, and tightened the chin strap. "Let's see if those tiny scissors can get through this." this." Claire knocked on the metallic plastic and giggled. Her mood suddenly shifted again and she felt light and giddy. She almost felt like Claire B.C.E.-Before Cam Ended. Claire knocked on the metallic plastic and giggled. Her mood suddenly shifted again and she felt light and giddy. She almost felt like Claire B.C.E.-Before Cam Ended.

"No problem." Layne sc.r.a.ped her foot along the floor three times, like a charging bull, and ran headfirst into Claire's stomach.

"Get off of me." Claire was laughing so hard it sounded like "Offa eeee."

Layne tackled Claire, throwing her onto the bed. She climbed on top of her and pinned her down by kneeling on her thin arms. Claire squirmed and bucked. But Layne held firm.

"Stop moving or I'll Go-Gurt fart on you."

"Ew, get off!" Claire laughed and bucked even harder. Her hair was starting to sweat under the helmet and her scalp was getting itchy.

"Is everything all right in there?" Judi Lyons knocked on her daughter's bedroom door, then opened it just enough to stick the tip of her b.u.t.ton nose inside the room.

"Yeah, we're fine, Mom," Claire panted.

"Hi, Mrs. Lyons." Layne's voice was sweet and innocent. "Sorry for the noise." She dug her knees deeper into Claire's arms.

"No problem," Judi replied kindly. "Have fun." She backed away from the door but left it open a crack.

As soon as her mother left, Claire started bucking again.

"If you lie perfectly still, I'll get up." Layne's body was being flung from side to side.

"Fine," Claire panted.

"Stayyy." Layne held her index finger in between Claire's eyes like she was training a dog. "Stayyyy," she said again. Before Claire could stop her, Layne whipped the scissors out from behind her back and in one smooth motion snipped the chin strap on Claire's helmet. Claire lifted her head in shock and the helmet slipped right off. Layne rolled off Claire and onto the floor. She kicked her legs in the air and pumped her arms over her head. "Victory!" she shouted.

"You ruined my bike helmet," Claire shouted, trying as hard as she could to suppress the smile that was forcing itself across her flushed cheeks.

"You're welcome," Layne said. "If Cam ever saw you in that thing, it would be over for good."

Claire felt the lead returning to her bones. Her smile started to fade.

"Now, let's work on those bangs." Layne grabbed Claire's arm and pulled her over to the full-length mirror by the window.

Claire allowed herself to be led. "I dunno. It took me four months to grow these out."

"Your call." Layne cut the air with the tiny scissors. They were so stiff they squeaked.

Claire sighed. "Okay, why not?" She had a feeling she'd regret it, but at least she'd have something else to worry about besides Cam.

"Cool." Layne rested her hands on Claire's shoulders and turned her around to face the mirror.

"Don't you want me to face you?" Claire asked.

"No. This is how they do it at the hairdresser's."

"Fine, do it."

Layne reached into the back pocket of her dusty pink cords and pulled out a peppermint Altoid. She popped it in her mouth and stood right in Claire's face. Layne's b.u.t.t was reflected in the mirror and Claire checked to see if there was a metal Altoids tin imprint on her back pocket. There wasn't. The mint had been in there naked, probably all hot and soft from Layne sitting on it all day. Claire shook her head.

Layne quickly moved the scissors away from Claire's forehead. "Don't move."

"Sorry." Claire rolled her eyes. But she was glad Layne was taking this seriously.

The tiny scissors came toward Claire's face and for some reason the Jaws Jaws music started playing in her head: music started playing in her head: Da-na da-na da-na... Da-na da-na da-na...

Layne pinched a clump of hair between her two fingers and Claire squeezed her eyes shut. The scissors squeaked once and a flurry of yellow hair fell to the floor.

"Let me see." Claire moved her head to the side so she could look in the mirror, but Layne grabbed her chin and held it in place.

"Don't move or you'll mess up my line." A cool mint smell rushed out of Layne's mouth. "You can look when I'm done."

Claire took a deep breath, shut her eyes again, and waited for the next squeak. "I'm so good," Layne said to Claire's bangs. "This looks perfect."

Claire felt her shoulders relax. Having her old bangs back might be fun.

"One more snip and you're done," Layne said with a satisfied sigh.

She pinched the last bit of hair and slid the scissors into position.

"AIBO! COME 'ERE, AIBO!" Todd, Claire's ten-year-old brother, shouted in the hallway.

The sudden noise startled Layne and she released Claire's hair.

Both girls let out a sigh of relief.

"That was close." Layne sighed. "Good thing I wasn't midcut."

"Sorry. Aibo is Todd's new robot dog. He's in love with it."

"A robot dog?"

"Yeah. He wants a real one but my parents don't think he's responsible enough, so they're making him prove himself with this stupid barking robot."

Layne bit down on her Altoid and reached for Claire's hair again. First the pinch, then the squeak, and then Todd kicked open Claire's bedroom door with the heel of his L. L. Bean boots.

Layne screamed and jumped, just as the scissors bit down on Claire's hair.

"Have you seen Aibo?" Todd shouted.

"NO!" Claire wailed.

"Nice hair," said the freckly redhead. He chuckled into his hand and slammed the door behind him.

Claire pushed Layne aside and looked in the mirror. Most of her bangs were perfect ... except for the part above her nose, which was two inches shorter and crooked. Claire immediately flashed back to the third grade when her front teeth were missing and she spoke with a lisp. She'd wanted to cry every time someone asked her what her last name was, because it came out sounding like Lyonth. Lyonth. Eventually she'd dropped the Eventually she'd dropped the s s and referred to herself simply as Claire Lyon until her big teeth grew in. and referred to herself simply as Claire Lyon until her big teeth grew in.

"I can't believe this." Claire's ears started ringing and her vision became narrow and a little blurry around the edges. "It looks like I got a haircut in the Leaning Tower of Pisa." She thought of the hair clips, the gels, the endless tugging and training that had gone into getting her blond bangs to finally reach behind her ears. Now, one mistake and they were gone. Just like that.

Just like Cam.

Layne knelt down on the floor and quietly started putting her things back in the Sunshine Tours bag.

All Claire could do was stare at her crooked bangs and wonder who she wanted to kill more, Todd, Layne, or herself.