It's Not Easy Being Mean (8 page)

“Send in the delinquents,” squawked a familiar old lady's voice from behind the beveled glass door. “One. At. A. Time.”

At that moment, if someone had asked Claire which she would prefer: (a) to be a nonfamous nobody again or (b) to get mobbed by tons of fans and then have to ask Principal Burns for a late slip, she would have picked (a) in a second.

The revelation shocked her. She used to lie awake at night making arrangements with God, like that if he made the girls at OCD like her, she'd fold her clothes the way her mother asked instead of stuffing them behind her armoire. But now that Claire was front-page news, she surprised herself by wanting out of this divine deal and made a mental note to delete “I have fans in Westchester” from her 2 Move or Not 2 Move list. It was creepy watching people buy her clothes and boring spending her Sunday choosing crowd-pleasing outfits. She didn't want to strut to the beat of a slutty song. She didn't want to worry how her sweaty bangs might look in cell-phones pictures. And she
really
didn't want to be late for class.

“Ms. Block!” Principal Burns shouted. “Enter!”

Flashing her friends a she-so-doesn't-scare-me eye-roll, Massie rose. “Did you see how many people wanted our autographs?” she leaned in and whispered, like that somehow made it all worth it. “I think I saw a few eighth graders there too. Hopefully they'll tell Skye we—”

“Now!”

Snickering, Massie raced toward the principal's office, gently closing the door behind her.

Claire sat on her shaking hands, wondering how Massie handled it all—the attention, the pressure, the jacketless winters.…Or maybe the better questions was, why did she
want
to?

O
CTAVIAN
C
OUNTRY
D
AY
S
CHOOL
T
HE
C
AFÉ
, T
ABLE I
8

8 Monday, April 5th

12:38
P.M.

The lunch crowd rubbernecked as they passed the Pretty Committee's prestigious windowside table—which thankfully had been roped off with purple ribbon, thanks to Allie-Rose's connection in the art department—hoping for a glimpse at OCD's first real-life celebrities.

“Hey, Claire,” Kaya Horner gushed as she strolled by, swinging an empty red tray. The petite, tights-obsessed brunette was dressed in a black cashmere turtleneck and a faded pair of tattered cut-off Sevens, which she wore over white-and-gray-striped Hues. Her legs looked like two gangly Slinkys. “I cannot
wait
to see your moo-vie.”

Lowering her spaghetti-covered fork for the third time that minute, Claire smiled and kindly said, “Awww, thanks.”

Massie rolled her eyes. “Gawd, can we puh-lease talk about you-know-what”—she mimed turning a key in a door—”without getting interrupted by LBR FOCs?”

“Welcome back, Massie,” waved Mindy Baum, head of the student council. As usual, she was wearing an extra-small
ocd student body
baby tee, this one in hot pink. “We missed you guys.”

“Thanks.” Massie cupped her chignon. “We ah-dore the colorful confetti on our table. That had to be you guys, right?”

“Totally.” Mindy blushed.

Dylan nestled her head in the C-shaped pillow that had been tied to the back of her orange plastic cafeteria chair. “Did you make these too?”

“I can't take all the credit.” Mindy motioned for five DIY-loving girls at table 14 to stand. “We had a little help from the Crafts Club.”

They climbed up on their chairs and bowed, each girl wearing the club's signature paisley smock over ultra-flared jeans and a vintage-inspired blouse.

“Thread-heads,” Massie murmured as she applauded their efforts with what looked, to the untrained eye, like absolute sincerity. Then she waved goodbye to Mindy, letting her know in no uncertain terms that it was time for her to leave.

“I heart the flowers the Shakespeare Club stuck in our poetry books.” Alicia caressed the white rose behind her ear. “They're so ah-dork-able.”

“I know.” Massie giggled. “Sweet in a sad way.”

“Clairenoticeanythingfamiliar?” interrupted Carrie Randolph while tugging at the pink-and-red polka-dot scarf around her neck.

“Oh, wow!” Claire feigned excitement. “You bought that from Todd, right?”

“Itcostmethreeweeksallowencebutitwastotallyworthit.”

“Fast talker!” Dylan sneezed.

Everyone laughed, but Carrie didn't seem to notice.

“Umwhendoes
DialLforLoser
comeoutcauseIamtotallywearingthistothetheater.”

“Memorial Day weeke—”

“Great, Cathy, thanks so much for the visit.” Massie clapped twice.

“It's Ca-rrie,” she huffed.

Massie double-clapped again.

Carrie turned and stormed off.

Massie crumpled her white paper napkin and tossed it on her uneaten California rolls. “We
totally
need a private room.”

You didn't have to be so mean
, Claire felt like saying. But secretly she was relieved Carrie was gone. Accepting all of this attention and praise over a movie no one had seen felt dishonest, like getting an A on a test she hadn't taken.

Massie leaned forward. One second later, the Pretty Committee was nose-to-nose in the center of the table. “So. In the poem? When Skye was talking about
Glamour
-don't style? Who do you think she meant?”

“Derrington,” Kristen offered, with a trace of leftover nobody-wanted-my-autograph jealousy.

“He
does
wear shorts in the winter.” Dylan bit into her turkey-bacon burger with low-fat cheddar.

“Point.”

“According to the poem, that means she
kissed
him.” Massie bit her lower lip.

Claire wanted to ask how Skye and Derrington knew each other and if anyone thought they had been “knowing each other” behind Massie's back. But she didn't, for obvious reasons.

“Do you think he cheated on me?”

Claire tugged an errant cuticle, Dylan picked a sesame seed off her bun, Alicia checked for split ends, and Kristen folded her napkin into a tiny, tiny rectangle.

“Ehmagawd!” Massie managed, despite the thumping heart in her throat. “You think he
cheated
on me?”

Kristen opened her mouth.

“Ehmagawd, you do!”

“No, I—”

“Stand up, you!” bellowed Kori Gedman as she approached their table. A tight tan sweater accentuated her notoriously bad posture. She looked like a croissant. “I have to see what you're wearing. Everyone in third period was raving.”

Her best friend, Strawberry, was beside her, dressed in a dark pink off-the-shoulder sweatshirt that matched her berry-colored hair. “Yeah, let's see.”

Massie, Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen pushed back their chairs. A symphony of screeching metal sliced through the buzzing lunchtime chatter, causing a roomful of heads to turn their way.

One at a time, each girl gave her best supermodel spin.

“No, I want to see
Claire.
“ Kori's arched neck shot forward.

Claire's cheeks felt hotter than the Blocks' Jacuzzi.

“Yeah,” nodded Strawberry. “We want to see what a real movie star wears.”

“Ha!” Massie blurted, then quickly covered her mouth, like it had just slipped out.

“Come on.” Kori shook her tray of Tater Tots. “Show us.”

Lifting her light blond eyebrows apologetically, Claire tried to remind Massie that she hadn't asked for any of this.

Massie fired back a yeah-right glare.

Ignoring the jealous whispers of her supposed BFFs, Claire stood.

“Cute top.” Kori bit her thumbnail while she scanned Claire's pink-and-purple-flowered thermal. “Is it a Marc Jacobs?”

“No,” Alicia answered for her. “It's a Marc
Down.”

Giggles erupted from the Pretty Committee.

Claire sat.

“How much do you love her?” Kori cooed to no one in particular. “She's still so down-to-earth.”

“Look.” Strawberry wiggled her foot. “I'm wearing Keds. You totally got me into them.”

“Same.” Kori revealed the light blue slip-ons from the Rave line, the same ones Claire had worn on the movie set. They must have seen them in the interviews. “Which ones do you have on?”

Claire poked her leg out from under the table. “Denim Champion Destroyed.”

“Love those!”

“Know what KEDS stands for?” Massie interrupted.

Kori and Strawberry shook their heads.

“It means Kuh-laire, E-nuf Discussing Shoes!”

Claire tried to laugh with everyone else.

“Can I just ask one thing about your jeans? Is that a light wash or are they naturally faded?” Kori tucked a chunk of butterscotch-colored hair behind one elfin ear.

“Enough!” Massie slammed her hands on the table. A geyser of pastel confetti shot into the air. “We're in the middle of something, okay?”

Kori and Strawberry inched back.

“She's right.” Claire smiled sympathetically. “Let's catch up after school.”

Strawberry's cheeks reddened with rage. She grabbed her friend's arm, pulling her away, but Kori turned and called, “Kristen, see you at soccer practice!”

“Can't wait.” She lifted her palm.

Kori broke away from Strawberry and scurried back to high-five Kristen. “We're going all the way this season.”

“How ‘bout you go all the way back to the LBR table?” Massie shooed her away as though she were one of Dylan's salami burps. “Ugh! I can't take the constant drive-bys.” She flicked a yellow piece of confetti off her gray kimono dress. “It's so ah-nnoy—”

“Welcome back!” Layne Abeley waved. Her index finger was stained bright orange.

Claire willed her friend not to stop at table eighteen, but Layne was not one to take a hint, telepathic or otherwise. She dragged a chair from a nearby table, squeezed in between Claire and Kristen, then pulled a bag of Crystal Light On the Go out of her hay-colored World Famous backpack.

“What are you
wearing?
“ Claire asked, unable to hide her shock and embarrassment.

Layne's suspenders, hiking boots, and red fedora—complete with a built-in water dispenser that reached from the brim to her mouth—were farther from the pages of
Teen Vogue
than a size-eight model.

“Is
The Sound of Music
cool again?” Dylan asked.

Layne poked her finger into the bag of peach-flavored tea mix. “Excuse me for not wanting to spend my morning walking 2.3 miles in stiletto boots and a prom dress.”

“Ew, who would wear stiletto boots with a prom dress?” Alicia shook at the thought.

“You
walked
to school?” asked Claire.

“Yeah, Chris wouldn't give me a ride because he wanted to visit Tricky. It's her birthday.” She popped open a gold heart-shaped locket around her neck and showed Claire a picture of her brother's black horse.

“Awwww.”

“I
totally
understood, but his girlfriend, Fawn, was pissed!” She removed her finger from the bag, skillfully transferring the anthill of sugar on her finger to her mouth. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. “So tart.”

“L,” Massie coughed.

“B,” Alicia sneezed.

“R,” Dylan yawned.

Kristen cackled.

“Listen, Layne, can I call you—”

“So are you moving to Hollywood or what?”

“Um, I'm not sure. I'm meeting with my agent tomorrow.” Claire chewed her thumbnail. “You know, about the whole moving thing.”

“Your parents gonna let you go?”

“If I'm really serious and it's a good opportunity, they'll move with me,” Claire said, ignoring the Pretty Committee's four-way eye-roll.

“What about Cam?”

The mention of his name made Claire's stomach dip. “Dunno. We're gonna wait and see what happens.”

“Hey, Layne?” Massie called.

“Yeah?”

Massie slapped a napkin down on the table and slid it toward Layne. It said, in dark green eyeliner,
Pretty Committee meeting in session. No Laynes allowed.

Layne soaked her finger with spit, stuck it inside the bag of Crystal Light, and wrote
OK,
with a chalky mixture of peach-flavored crystals and saliva.

Ignoring the chorus of
ew!s
that followed her message, Layne stood and smiled. “Claire, call me tonight after
CSI Miami.”

“‘Kay.” Claire blushed.

“Finally.” Massie tossed her plate of California rolls in the trash. “Let's get started.” She flipped open her Motorola Razr. “Let's text. For privacy.”

Claire powered on her rhinestone-encrusted, special-edition
Dial L for Loser
phone—a gift from Rupert Mann, the film's director.

Seconds later, their meeting was in session.

MASSIE:
K, what r Skye's hobbies?

KRISTEN:
Read her Myspace profile. Luvs mini things. mini-muffins, mini-sharpies, mini-perfume samples, mini-Chicklets…also luvs animals, Hershey's Kisses, glitter pens & dance.

Massie's thumbs scuttled across her keypad.

MASSIE:
D, who else got the CD-ROM?

DYLAN:
Duh-livia Ryan. She's already wearing a key chain around her neck. Also Layne's alt.com BFF, Heather. Saw her making a list of boys in math. Researching others.

MASSIE:
A, who has she kissed?

Alicia slid four sheets of legal-size paper facedown onto the center of the table. She looked over each shoulder, then nodded, letting them know it was safe to take a look. Claire flipped hers over, and like the others, held it close to her chest while she read.

Skye's Kiss List
5th Grade (Beyond ew!)		Todd Lyons
7th Grade		Derrington ( !)
	Josh ( !)
	Chris Plovert
	Kemp Hurley
	Doug Landsman
	Jake Shapiro
8th Grade		Grier Biggs
	Lowell Katz
	Andy Walden
	Oliver Smalls
	Ezra Rosenberg
	Cody Hill
	Geoff Michaels
	Luis Ruiz
	P.J. Jeffries
	Billy Williams
	Lee Chan
High School		Harris Fisher
	Liam Barrett
	Yuri Butterman (aka Yuri Butt-man)