Sealed with a Diss (2 page)

“Rubber!” Kristen kicked a heap of black and snot-green toy snakes across the room with her Adidas soccer cleats. “They’re rubber.”

“
Told
you they weren’t real.” Massie put a reassuring hand on Claire’s shoulder.

Claire giggled with a mix of astonishment and relief.

Skye switched off the iPod docked on a white Bose speaker cube at the back of the room, putting an end to the tiger roars and ghost moans. She clapped twice. “Let’s clear this place out and show them what they really won.”

Massie stood fixed and firm in the center of the room, suffering from a full-body brain freeze. As the DSL Daters, armed with big green Heftys, whirled about, scooping up handfuls of fake reptiles and insects, she tried to formulate a fitting comeback or ultra-cool reaction. Something that would help her regain the pride she’d lost while banging on the dark walls, begging for mercy. Something that would show the DSL Daters they’d messed with the wrong girls. Something that might convince them the Pretty Committee had known it was a joke all along. But nothing came to mind.

All Massie could think about was how angry she was at Skye for humiliating her in front of so many alphas. And how, in a weird sort of way, she was impressed by the intricacy of the joke. Maybe even
inspired
. Sort of like in those rare moments at school when someone showed up in a better outfit than hers. After the jealousy wore off, Massie always found herself reenergized and ready to do better. Of course,
this
was a zillion times more extreme than a case of outfit envy, but the desire to become a better alpha was the same. And for that, she was grateful and ready to move on.

“I’m flattered.” Massie finger-tossed her bangs.

The Pretty Committee’s perfectly waxed brows knit together in confusion, probably wondering where she could have possibly been taking this.

“Flattered?”
Skye sounded slightly disappointed by Massie’s sudden composure.
Perfect
.

“Yeah.” Massie helped herself to one of the five pink faux-fur-covered director’s chairs that faced a Samsung flat-screen mounted on the far wall. “You ah-bviously put a lot of effort into this. Which means you wanted to impress us. So thanks.” She wiggled her butt toward the back of the fluffy seat and reclined. “I wish
we
had that much free time. But we’re always sooo busy, right, girls?”

“Right,” the Pretty Committee answered back with over-the-top enthusiasm as they filled the empty pink chairs beside Massie.

“It didn’t take us
that
long, did it?” Skye turned to the other DSL Daters for backup, but they were too occupied with their cleanup job to notice.

“Whatevs.” Massie glanced around the dank, empty space, making it clear that she was unimpressed. “So where’s the
real
room?”

“Here.” Skye beamed, splaying her arms like a flight attendant indicating a plane’s exits.

The DSL Daters put down their trash bags and rallied beside Skye, under the silver monitor, their blond heads lining up with the bottom of the screen like a row of sunflowers.

“This is
it
?” Alicia’s MAC Lipglass–covered top lip rose in disgust.

Skye and the DSL Daters nodded with delight.

“It’s a long sausage with five chairs and a TV,” Kristen snapped.

“A burnt black sausage,” Dylan insisted.

Claire giggled.

“Too funny! They think this is an
ordinary
TV,” Skye said to the DSL Daters, who snickered at the thought.

“This
tee
-
veeee
just so happens to be the best-kept secret in the country.” Skye pulled a remote covered in pink Swarovski crystals out from under her rose-colored bra strap. “Maybe even the world.” She pressed a button and the screen hummed to life.

“We had a pink shag throw rug, five electronic foot spas, a movie-theater popcorn maker, a real Starbucks latte machine, two racks of spare clothes, and a makeup vanity fully stocked with the complete line of Hard Candy cosmetics in here, but we moved them out for the prank,” offered the DSL dater with long blond braids. “Everything will be back next—”

“Move!” Skye hissed. Swiss Miss Braids hurried to the left of the screen and stood behind her. “It’s on.”

A black-and-white image appeared on the screen. It was a shot of an empty classroom. The picture was gritty but still clear enough that it could be deciphered. There were no desks, only plastic cafeteria chairs arranged in a semicircle. Behind them were posters of wide sunbeams searing through fluffy clouds; a single drop of rain in an otherwise still puddle; football players in a postgame huddle, hugging. Beside each image was a stanza of poetry written in white, swirling script that was too far away to read.

Massie side-glanced at the Pretty Committee, wondering if they had any idea what was so great about a low-def image of an empty classroom, in black and white, no less.

“Um, Skye…” Massie snickered. “Dylan doesn’t get it.”

Dylan smacked Massie’s dark-denim-encased thigh.

“Have you ever wondered what boys are thinking?” Skye waved the pink crystal-covered remote. “I mean,
really
thinking?”

Everyone nodded slowly, even the DSL Daters.

Skye clasped her hands behind her back and began pacing beneath the screen. “Sure, they say they like you, but then they never text. Or they invite you to a dance and then hang out with their stupid friends all night. And how about acting like they don’t know you in public even if you spent the entire night before IM’ing? Don’t
even
try to ask if something’s wrong. All they’ll do is shrug and grunt and punch their buddies.”

“Too true!” the DSL Daters hollered back.

Massie shifted uncomfortably, crossing one leg, then the next. Skye’s little rant was way too on-target. At boy/girl parties, her crush, Derrington, always spent more time with Cam Fisher, Kemp Hurley, Josh Hotz, and Chris Plovert than with her. And he responded to texts with one-word answers. In fact, just last week Massie IM’d him with the latest on Melly Kantor’s post-yoga B.O. And how did he respond?

With an
F
.

A lone
F
for
funny
. Not even a
TF
for
too funny
.

Just a single
F
.

All weekend long, Massie wondered if Derrington was turned off because she’d mentioned B.O., or if he was somehow related to Melly and offended by the incriminating gossip. More than anything, she wanted to run these possibilities by the Pretty Committee for analysis. But she didn’t want them to think she was insecure about boys. So she suffered in silence.

“I never have boyfriend angst.” Massie sighed, crossing her fingers.

The Pretty Committee shook their heads, signaling that they didn’t either.

“That’s because you don’t have
boyfriends
,” snickered Swiss Miss Braids.

“Opposite of true!” Alicia snapped.

Massie opened her mouth, ready to second that, but Skye didn’t give her a chance.

“You may be too young for a serious relationship, but you’re never too young to know what boys are thinking. Because once you know
that,
you’ll know how to get whatever you want and
whom
ever you want.”

The DSL Daters giggle-agreed.

“Ehmagawd, that totally explains it!” Dylan blurted.

“’Splains what?” Skye nibbled on her pillowy bottom lip and tilted her head. A mass of perfectly conditioned blond waves swung alongside her jaw.

“How you always get the A-list hawties.”

Skye stopped pacing and stared deep into Dylan’s green eyes. “Um, we’re not exactly ugly.”

Dylan’s cheeks reddened. “I didn’t mean it like
that.”

“She meant more like how you’re so confident around boys and how you always know the right things to say,” Kristen chimed in.

Skye affectionately tapped the TV screen.

The Pretty Committee leaned closer while Massie’s brain flooded with possibilities, all of which led to her becoming a world-renowned guy expert. She would own a fleet of purple Lexus convertibles with license plates that read B
OYS
R U
S
.

“Wait.” Her brain suddenly snapped back to reality. “How is a room filled with tacky posters from Spencer’s Gifts gonna teach you about boys?”

“Is this screen kinda like a crystal ball?” Claire made Massie-esque air quotes when she said “crystal ball.”

“Better.” Skye grinned.

“How can it be
better
?” Alicia squinted suspiciously.

“Because
this
classroom is where the Briarwood Boys have ESP,” Skye whisper-announced.

“Huh?” asked Alicia.

“Emotional Sensitivity Powwows,” the DSL Daters said at the same time.

“You mean all that Dr. Loni stuff?” Dylan asked, half-jokingly referring to the famous radio PhD who taught “emotionally illiterate men” (and convicts) how to “tune into their thoughts” and “translate them into feelings.”

“Yup.” Skye nodded. “He’s their teacher. He’s been doing it on the DL for five years.”

The Pretty Committee gasped.

“Ehmagawd! My mom has been trying to get him on
The Daily Grind
forever.” Dylan pulled her mint-green LG Chocolate phone out of her back pocket. “But he won’t do women’s talk shows, only men’s.” She pulled out her phone and began to speed-dial. “Merri-Lee Marvil is nawt going to believe this.”

“Drop it!” grunted Swiss Miss Braids right before she slapped Dylan’s phone away from her ear.

Dylan fumbled to catch it.

“You can’t tell a soul.”

“Shhhh.” Skye lifted a pink-manicured finger to her lips, causing another bracelet avalanche. “The boys agreed to take the class if, and only if, it was kept under wraps. If they ever knew we had a camera in there we’d be…”

She slid her index finger across the center of her long neck, then dangled her tongue from the corner of her mouth, like a thirsty cat.

Massie could hardly sit still. She was being handed a gift that, until now, she’d assumed only gawd had. The ability to know what boys were thinking would guarantee that she’d always say the right thing—no more awkward silent periods when flirting! The fear of getting dumped would be gone, because the Pretty Committee would know all pre-dump signs, so they could do it first. They would never be heartbroken or embarrassed or insecure again. But most of all, Massie Block would finally become the all-knowing boy expert she had always wanted to be, running clinics and seminars on topics like “Understanding Boys,” “Outfits Guys Will Love,” and “Why Asking ‘What’s Wrong?’
Is
What’s Wrong.” Everyone would turn to her for the answers, and for the first time ever, she would have them.

“Where’s the camera hidden?” asked Kristen.

“In the Share Bear.” Skye rolled her blue eyes, as if it should have been obvious.

Claire giggled. “My screen name is ClaireBear.”

“ClaireBear,” Dylan burped.

Kristen and Alicia burst out laughing.

“Enough,” Massie snapped, mostly to show Skye she had a tight rein on the Pretty Committee.

They stopped laughing and Skye shot Massie a thank-you nod before continuing. Massie nodded back, relishing the invisible alpha respect waves that flowed between them.

“The Share Bear is a blue-and-white stuffed animal. The guys can only speak if Dr. Loni gives it to them. It’s his
thing
.”

The girls leaned forward in their fuzzy pink chairs, anxious to hear more.

“Who put the camera in it?” Claire asking, sounding mesmerized.

Skye shrugged. “All I know is that it’s there, and that you’ll never have to wonder who likes who, why, and for how long again. It’s the best when you’re trying to pick a suitable date for a dance or something. Not that you’re ready for those things yet.”

The DSL Daters snickered.

Massie’s heart quickened. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It’s just that the only time we see you with boys is at the soccer games. And even then, you’re more into talking to each other than to them.”

Massie’s cheeks burned with rage and humiliation. Was Skye right? Did everyone at OCD think they were guy-shy? Her mother’s
Cosmopolitan
magazines always told women to act aloof and play hard-to-get. So that’s how she advised the Pretty Committee. But what if their advice was
wrong
? Was aloof
out
? Had she been reading old issues by accident? Or was the whole
Cosmo
thing just an excuse to avoid embarrassing herself in public? The questions came faster than the answers. All Massie knew for sure was that the Pretty Committee would have to put on a show worthy of the Pussycat Dolls at the next dance.

Skye placed her palm on the black-glitter-infused walls, turned to the side, and pliéd. “Maybe when you get to the eighth grade that will change and you’ll start to
really
discover guys and—”

“Wait!” Claire interrupted.

“I
have
a boyfriend.”

“Same!” Massie insisted.

“I’m close,” Alicia lied.

“Anyone else?” Skye scanned the row of fuzzy pink director’s chairs.

Kristen lowered her head, focusing on an imaginary piece of dirt under her perfectly filed pinky nail, and Dylan tugged at her eyelashes as if trying to remove an annoying mascara clump.

“I thought so,” Skye boasted, pointing her left leg front, side, then back. “Anyway, I’m hosting an end-of-year costume party, and the theme is famous couples. Since you’re next in line for the room, you get an automatic invite.”

The Pretty Committee silent-clapped, knowing what an honor this was, while Massie tried to think of the fastest way to spread the news around school. An informative e-mail “accidentally” sent to the wrong person? A casual mention in a crowded bathroom? A detailed note dropped in the middle of an assembly?

“But you all need dates,” Skye warned. “
Suitable
ones. No B-listers,” she said, pronouncing the term “blisters.”

“Or they can go as the Cheetah Girls,” Ponytail scoffed, and then exchanged a high five with Swiss Miss Braids.

“We
have
boyfriends,” Dylan shouted above their laughter.