The Pretty Committee Strikes Back Part 3

The ding of an IM lifted Claire out of her daze. She hurried toward her gray Dell computer. Was Cam finally ready to forgive her?

"Is it him?" Layne jumped to her feet and joined Claire. "I knew the bangs would work."

"It's only Ma.s.sie," Claire moped.

"Only Ma.s.sie," Layne teased. Ma.s.sie," Layne teased.

They both knew six months ago a friendly IM from Ma.s.sie Block would have made Claire's life. That fact wasn't lost on Claire; she was just too depressed to acknowledge it.

Ma.s.sIEKUR: U CAN'T EVER LET ALICIA KNOW U KISSED JOSH HOTZ. WE'RE ON THE PHONE NOW. SHE'S BEEN TALKING BOUT HIM 4 LAST HOUR. U CAN'T EVER LET ALICIA KNOW U KISSED JOSH HOTZ. WE'RE ON THE PHONE NOW. SHE'S BEEN TALKING BOUT HIM 4 LAST HOUR.

Claire immediately positioned herself between Layne and the screen. But it was too late. She could feel the heat of Layne's minty breath on the back of her neck while she typed her reply message.

CLAIREBEAR: CALL U L8TR. TALKING 2 MOM. CALL U L8TR. TALKING 2 MOM.

Claire hit send and turned off her computer. "So, what time do you have to be home?" She avoided Layne by straitening up the mussed comforter on her bed.

"You kissed Josh Hotz?" Layne dove onto the comforter and rolled around until she had undone all of Claire's tidying. "Why didn't you tell me? When did you become such a big s.l.u.tburger with everything on it?"

"That's why." Claire bit down on her thumbnail.

"I'm kidding, I don't think you're a s.l.u.tburger. I used to make out with Eli all the time in his laundry room."

"You did?" Claire finally looked at her friend. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to call me a s.l.u.tburger," Layne said.

Claire wanted to laugh, but all she could manage was a weak smile.

"Does Cam know?" Layne asked.

Claire plopped down on her bed and shrugged. She ran her fingers along the clear st.i.tching on her comforter, willing herself not to cry.

"Wait, is that that why Cam dumped you?" Layne slapped the bed. why Cam dumped you?" Layne slapped the bed.

Claire shrugged again.

"Come on, tell me. I hate that Ma.s.sie Block knows more about your life than I do."

Claire tried to smile again but couldn't.

"Pleeeease." Layne clapped her hands. "I'll tell you something totally embarra.s.sing about me."

"Only if you promise not to think I'm lame." Claire lifted her head.

"Promise." Layne held her palm in the air and crossed her heart.

"Fine." Claire leaned in toward Layne just in case her eavesdropping brother and his fake dog were listening at the door. Then, in a hushed tone, she told Layne how Nina had made it look like Cam was over Claire and how that had driven her into the arms of another boy.

"So Josh told Cam you kissed him?" Layne unwrapped a stick of Big Red gum and stuffed it in her mouth. "What a loser."

"No." Claire shook her head slowly. "Cam saw us."

"Brutal!" Layne shoved another piece of gum in her mouth. "But it served him right for ignoring you, right?"

"I dunno." Claire lowered her head. "Turns out it wasn't really his fault."

"How?"

"Later I found out Nina told Cam she'd put a Spanish soccer spell on him, that if he ignored me, their team would win the finals. She told him I knew about it, so he didn't think I'd be upset."

"Didn't they lose that game?"

Claire nodded.

"So after the game, when Cam realized the whole spell thing was bogus, he came to talk to me, and that's when he saw..." Claire's voice trailed off.

"Why don't you just explain what happened." Layne chomped on her gum.

"I tried." Claire smoothed the foil on one of Layne's discarded wrappers. "He won't take my calls or read my e-mails. Nothing works."

"Wow, he actually fell for that Spanish soccer spell thing?"

"I guess people will believe anything when they're desperate." Claire tugged on her short bangs.

"Maybe you should write him a poem," Layne suggested. "Those usually work."

"You think?"

"Totally." Layne nodded once. "I sent one to my dad when I wanted a bike and the next week there was a brand-new Bratz Beauty bike in my driveway."

"Wasn't that a surprise for your next-door neighbor?" Claire asked.

"Yeah, but when I told my dad I wanted one just like it, he promised to get me one for my birthday."

"And you think that's because of the poem you wrote him?"

"It didn't hurt. Besides, Cam is a total softy. He's always burning CDs for you and bringing you candy. He's such a poem guy."

"Hmmm." Claire was reluctant to take any more of Layne's advice, but she did have a point. Cam was a total romantic. He was probably waiting for Claire to make an effort, something more than an e-mail or a text message. "Maybe I'll try it."

"You should." Layne stood up and put on her white pleather trench coat. "I better go. Dinner is early tonight because my parents are on some new diet where they can't eat past six-thirty p.m."

"Wait." Claire stood up and ran toward her door. She leaned against it until it closed, then stayed there, blocking Layne. "What's your embarra.s.sing secret?"

Layne tightened the belt on her coat and threw her Sunshine Tours bag over her shoulder. "Oh, that. It's no big deal. I'll tell you tomorrow."

"No way." Claire pushed Layne away from the door. "You promised."

"Fine." Layne rolled her green eyes. "If you must know, I got my period last month."

"No way!" Claire didn't know anyone who'd had her period yet.

"Yeah way!" Layne said. "And I'm terrified I'll get it again when we're in Lake Placid."

"What's it like?"

"It's like what your nose is going to look like if you tell anyone." Layne stepped toward the door.

"I won't," Claire promised.

"Look, I have to go." Layne's face was bright red. "I'll call you later."

Claire stepped aside and let her friend leave. She was ready to spend some alone time in front of the mirror anyway, just her and her short, crooked bangs.

A rush of panic shot through Claire's body when she saw the damage up close. It had taken her four months to grow out her bangs, and now they were even worse than they had been before. How would she face the Pretty Committee?

She had been right about one thing: the ridiculous haircut was taking her mind off of Cam.

Claire took a deep breath, reached into the back of her closet, and pulled out her old wood box of hair clips. It had been months since she'd needed them. She took out the silver seash.e.l.l barrette, the one she'd first worn when she arrived in Westchester, and fastened her lopsided bangs to the side of her head. Then she took a deep breath and powered up her computer. At the top of the page she typed, Miss Understood. Miss Understood. After that the words flowed out of her like tears. After that the words flowed out of her like tears.

MISS UNDERSTOODby Claire LyonsYou used to send me e-mailsAnd gummy worms galore.I stopped biting my nailsBecause I wasn't lonely anymore.I'd stare into your eyes,One green and one blue;We'd share a plate of friesAnd I'd dream of kissing you.But Cam, you broke my heart like gla.s.s,And all because of Nina Call-as.You acted like we were through,And so J.H. I had to choose.I never liked him as more than a friend;I was hurt because I got dissed.Please don't say that this is the end:I won't be happy till we've kissed.

And without reading it over, Claire hit send. Because that's what desperate people do.

OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL THE SERENITY CHAPEL.

Friday, February 20th 3:50 P.M. P.M.

If Ma.s.sie had known she'd be crouching in the balcony of the Serenity Chapel, spying on Dylan and Alicia after school, she never would have worn her denim Chip & Pepper miniskirt.

If they'd happened to look up, they would have caught their newly appointed kissing guru squatting like a frog, making little effort to conceal her turquoise Cosabella thong underwear.

Ma.s.sie prayed to Gawd that Princ.i.p.al Burns would burst through the heavy oak doors and bust her friends for sneaking into the forbidden chapel after school. That was plan A and her only way out. If the girls got caught, they'd immediately get kicked out of the chapel and sent home for the rest of the day. Then the kissing lesson would be canceled and Ma.s.sie would have more time to build up the courage to truly kiss Derrington and get some real experience. Because now all she had to share with her disciples were a few makeshift props and a big load of c.r.a.p.

Livvy Collins, Alexandra Regan, and Carrie Randolph tiptoed across the royal blue carpet and disappeared into the choir pit below the pulpit where Dylan and Alicia were hiding. The sounds of giggling followed by loud shhhh's shhhh's rose up to the balcony every time another girl stepped down into the pit, filling Ma.s.sie with nervous desperation. She had deployed hundreds of insane tactics to maintain her queen bee status, but this one was the most ridiculous. Not only was she claiming to be an expert on something she knew nothing about, she was flat-out lying to Kristen, Alicia, and Dylan. And that took social warfare to new heights. rose up to the balcony every time another girl stepped down into the pit, filling Ma.s.sie with nervous desperation. She had deployed hundreds of insane tactics to maintain her queen bee status, but this one was the most ridiculous. Not only was she claiming to be an expert on something she knew nothing about, she was flat-out lying to Kristen, Alicia, and Dylan. And that took social warfare to new heights.

Ma.s.sie would give Princ.i.p.al Burns five more minutes to shut down the party and if she didn't, Ma.s.sie would have to give her public what they'd come for.

Claire and her ahn-noying activist friend Layne came in next. They weren't giddy like the other girls. They weren't whispering or giggling. Instead, Claire was chewing her thumbnail and Layne was shaking her head back and forth like she was way too mature to be there. For a split second, Ma.s.sie wondered if Claire had told Layne the truth; that the kissing clinic was a ploy for Ma.s.sie to get her credibility back after Nina had hijacked it. But she immediately shook the idea from her head. Claire knew better than to betray Ma.s.sie's confidence. Besides, Ma.s.sie knew Claire's secret about kissing Josh Hotz. All she had to do was leak that to Alicia and Claire would be reduced to LBR (loser beyond repair) status all over again. Alicia would make sure of it.

Ma.s.sie inched a little closer to the edge of the balcony to see if Claire's bangs had been able to work through some of their problems since lunch, but no such luck. They were still short and crooked. Jakkob would have to be notified over the weekend. The newest member of the Pretty Committee could not not go on the Lake Placid trip looking like the Bride of Chucky. It would reflect poorly on all of them. go on the Lake Placid trip looking like the Bride of Chucky. It would reflect poorly on all of them.

Kristen shuffled in a few steps behind Claire and Layne, carrying the Sony mini DV camera that she'd checked out of the A/V department. She was ready to capture the lesson for Ma.s.sie's new video blog. Ma.s.sie searched the chapel, her amber eyes shifting from one stained-gla.s.s window to the next, hoping Gawd might appear and save her.

"h.e.l.ll-oooo," shouted someone from the back of the chapel. Ma.s.sie couldn't see who it was because the balcony hung past the entrance and blocked her view.

"Al-eeee-SHA, are you in here?"

A loud shhhh! shhhh! resounded from the choir pit. resounded from the choir pit.

"We're in here," Alicia whisper-shouted.

"Oh," yelled the girl. "I thought I missed the kissing-"

Another group shhhh shhhh cut her off. cut her off.

"Sorry." She snickered and hurried to join the others.

It wasn't Gawd after all. It was Olivia Ryan, one of His biggest mistakes.

Olivia was like Alicia's dumb puppy dog everyone happened to think was cute. But Ma.s.sie couldn't stand Olivia and had a hard time understanding what Alicia saw in her. Granted, she was undeniably pretty in a different way than Alicia was.

Olivia was perky and all-American, with her wavy blond hair, her navy blue eyes, and cute ski-slope nose-courtesy of Dr. Marriott-while Alicia was more of a sultry exotic beauty. And together they were ah-nnoyingly hot. The seventh-grade Briarwood boys referred to them as the Twenty, since they were both tens. Ma.s.sie hated that nickname almost as much as she hated not being included in it. Would changing their name to the Thirty be so inconceivable?

Once Olivia disappeared into the pit, Ma.s.sie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She reviewed her notes and exhaled again. It was time.

Ma.s.sie heard the bones behind her knees crack when she finally stood up. Her legs felt stiff and sore from crouching. She adjusted her skirt and added a fresh coat of MAC gloss to her lips, even though she could still feel the weight of the sticky layer she had applied when she'd first gotten there. She cleared her throat, touched the crown charm on her bracelet for luck, ran her hands along the cl.u.s.ter of gold chains and colored beads that hung around her neck, then rolled her shoulders three times.

"Showtime," she said under her breath.

Props in hand, Ma.s.sie made her way down the back stairs toward the choir pit.

When the bottoms of her burnt orange Michael Kors knee-high boots touched down on the blue carpet, Ma.s.sie felt her inner diva snap into performance mode. She was ready for her grand entrance ... almost.

First she speed-dialed Kristen.

"Why aren't you in position?" Ma.s.sie hissed into her purple-Swarovski-crystal-covered Motorola cell phone.

"Where are you?" Kristen whispered back. "We thought you were bailing on us."

"Well, I'm not. I've been waiting for you at the back of the chapel for like fifteen minutes."

"Ehmagawd, I am so sorry," Kristen said. "Stand by."

Ma.s.sie sighed, then snapped her phone shut. She loved how easy it was to rattle her friends.

Kristen climbed out of the choir pit and pointed the small video camera at Ma.s.sie. She waved her hand, letting her subject know she was rolling.

"Shoulders back, stomach in, head up, confident smile," was the phrase Ma.s.sie repeated in her head as she walked the aisle of the chapel, pretending it was the Marc Jacobs runway during Fashion Week. When she pa.s.sed Kristen's camera, she turned around and signaled for it to follow her into the pit. It did.

"h.e.l.lo, ladies." Ma.s.sie beamed as she gracefully walked down the narrow steps to join her students. "Who's ready to learn how to make out like a maniac?"

All the girls cheered enthusiastically, except for Claire. She bit her bottom lip and tugged on her bangs. Ma.s.sie shot her a warning look that said, "Stop looking so nervous or you'll give me away." Claire released her bangs and started cheering with the others.

Ma.s.sie quickly swung her head around to make sure Kristen was catching the excitement with her camera. It was a great Everyone-loves-Ma.s.sie shot for her video blog.