Kristen (13 page)

“Ehmagosh!” She jumped off her bike. It slammed to the ground, wheels still spinning.

“Ahhhhhh,” shouted three girls from Claire’s open bedroom window.

“Ahhhhh,” Claire shouted back as she threw open the front door, bolted by her father, and took the peach carpeted stairs two at a time. “You’re early!” she called, silently telling herself not to worry about her toxic pits and limp hair. It wasn’t the Pretty Committee on the other side of her Hello Kitty sticker–covered door. These were her down-to-earth, wear-the-same-pair-of-socks-three-days-in-a-row
sisters
. She’d never cared about her looks before. . . .

After a quick extra-spitty lip lick (poor-girl’s gloss) and a speedy cheek pinch (PG’s blush), Claire barged into her lemon yellow bedroom, her bare feet sinking into the green shag carpet.

“CLAIRE-BEAR!” The girls rushed toward her for a group hug, but Claire kept her arms pinned to her sides. It was either that or get nicknamed Bad Pitt by Massie, should word somehow get back to New York.

“Where’s the love?” Mandy pulled away, her thick black eyebrows more noticeable than they had been a year ago. “You’re so s-t-i-f-f.”

“Is that a Westchester thang?” Sari smiled, her thin upper lip disappearing against her slightly buck teeth.

“Or a New York tr-eeeend?” Sarah shimmied a like a limbo dancer preparing to slip under the pole.

Claire smiled warmly. Mandy still spelled! Sari still said “thang”! And Sarah was still in-sane! Like an old song that brings back memories of a long-forgotten crush, these quirky traits brought Claire back to that place she was just before she moved. A place where gloss was saved for class photos, blush was for Halloween, and body odor was perfectly natural.

“None of the above. I just have a little BO.” Claire giggled.

“More like MO.” Mandy lifted her long, thin arm and pointed at Claire’s daisy fabric–covered twin headboard. The cheery white and green floral print had been poked with pushpins that held dozens of Pretty Committee photos. Shots of the girls lying on sleeping bags, piling in the back of the Range Rover, cheering at soccer games, carving the Chanel logo out of snow, dangling tuna sashimi from their mouths, latte-toasting at Sixbucks, flying the Gelding Studios private jet to Hollywood, and several silly fashion poses with the Massie-quin were all on display.

“What’s MO?” Claire asked, half smiling, half fearing the answer.

“Moved On.” Mandy pouted.

Claire’s white-blond eyelashes fluttered in confusion.

“Or Massie Obsession,” Sari twirled her long blond hair, something she always did when goading someone.

“Or Meeee-Owwww,” Claire purred like Catwoman, desperate to put an end to their teasing. Not because she couldn’t take it, but because it forced her to consider the truth behind it. Which she was not ready to do. Wasn’t it possible to like both sets of friends equally?

“Or Making Out!” Sarah lifted the one photo that was facing backward, kissed it, and then buried it in her mess of short, dirty blond curls. But Claire still managed to catch a forbidden glimpse of her ex-crush Cam Fisher winking his green eye.

At the beginning of the summer, when she’d hung the picture, Claire had made a pact with herself not to look at it until Cam responded to one of the many I’m-sorry-for-spying-on-you-through-the-secret-camera-that-was-planted-in-your-sensitivity-training-class-and-I-will-never-do-anything-like-that-again-if-you-give-me-a-second-chance letters she sent him at summer camp. Which he hadn’t yet done. And seeing him now, even for a second, conjured the rich, woodsy smell of his Drakkar Noir cologne and the heaviness that came with missing him. The sudden sensation was dizzying. Claire lowered herself onto the edge of her bed and sighed, leaking joy like a punctured balloon.

Sari gently sat down beside her, covering her bony knees with her pink TJ Maxx sundress. “We’re only kidding, Claire-Bear,” she said in her usual plugged-up nasally voice, the voice that usually made Claire giggle. She held out a Ziploc bag of candy corn.

Claire shook her head no.

“T-r-u-e.” Mandy sat too, her sea foam green gauze pants scratching the side of Claire’s thigh. “We just missed you. And these pictures prove you forgot about us.”

“I didn’t!” Claire insisted. “You should see my computer. You’re my screen saver
and
my wallpaper.”

Sarah pulled the picture of Cam out of her hair and pinned it back to the headboard, facing forward this time. “Thank gosh
Dial L for Loser
was a flop, or we would have lost you forever!”

“Opposite of true!” Claire blurted, stealing one of Alicia’s lines.

“Whaddaya mean?” Sari play-smacked Claire’s arm. “It tanked.”

Claire burst out laughing. “I mean the part about losing me was opposite of true. I
know
the movie tanked.”

They all cracked up a little more than necessary. And Claire couldn’t help wondering if, like her, it was a way to release the stress that had been building up inside each one of them over the last year. Stress that came from constantly wondering if your best friend had found someone better.

But as they slapped the daisy-covered bed and wiped the giggle-tears from their eyes, the answer was obvious. They were back in a groove. And things would stay that way as long as Claire could show them that Massie and the Pretty Committee hadn’t changed her a bit. Which wouldn’t be
too
hard . . . right?

THE CLIQUE

SUMMER COLLECTION

BY LISI HARRISON

CLAIRE 8/5/2008

BATTLE OF THE BFFS!

Back in Orlando for the summer, Claire is reunited with her Florida best friends after a long year apart. Her FBFFs haven’t changed at all. Too bad they think Claire has . . . and not for the better. And when a very special visitor shows up, Claire finds herself torn between Keds and couture. Will Claire finally kiss-immee her past goodbye—once and for all?