Sealed with a Diss (22 page)

Finally, Skye made her way down the steps, one hand clutching the stem on her glass champagne flute and the other holding an armload of multiculti babies.

As if racing to catch a flight, Massie yanked Chris through the crowd toward the staircase, with no regard for who or what stood in their way. “Hey, Skye, look who’s here,” she panted.

“Oh, hey, welcome.” She
filed,
then pushed past them.

“Wait!” Massie raced after Skye, leaving Chris by the stairs. This was hardly the reaction she expected from someone who had been obsessing over—

And then it hit her. The realization made her scalp tingle-burn with fear and self-loathing.

Had Skye seen her hugging Chris? Had Derrington spread the word that Chris and Massie were Romeo and Juliet? Was she seconds away from over?

“Skye, wait! It’s nawt like that.” Massie followed her onto the dance floor like a desperate LBR. But she didn’t care about appearances. Not at this precise moment, anyway. All she cared about was making things right with Skye, who clearly thought Massie was a boy-snatcher.

The first few beats of Justin Timblerlake’s old song “Sexy-Back” throbbed through the speakers, and a loud, collective Six Flags roller-coaster scream followed. The DSL Daters rushed the dance floor, arms waving in the air and heads rocking from side to side. Within seconds Skye was enveloped in a circle of gyrating blondes. More than anything, Massie wanted to be surrounded by her BFFs, dancing freely, singing along, and giving the LBRs on the sidelines a fabulous show. But that would have to wait.

She forced her way into their circle and placed her hand on Skye’s bobbing shoulder. “It’s nawt what you think!”

“S’cuse me?” Skye opened her eyes but kept dancing. Pieces of her dark Angelina wig were stuck to her gloss, which she obviously didn’t mind, because she made zero effort to remove them.

“I’m not into Chris. We’re just friends. He likes
you
.”

“Who?”

“CHRIS!”

“Um, okay.” Skye twirled her body left and swung her head right. It was an advanced jazz move that Massie had only seen on Broadway.

“So you can have him.” Massie gestured toward the lone guy leaning against the banister thumbing through his iPod.

“No thanks.”

“Why?” It was Massie’s turn to look confused. “I got him here before the alarm went off. He’s in costume and he hasn’t mentioned his ex-girlfriend all night. I think he’s in a really good place.”

“Seriously?” Skye finally pulled the black wig-hair off her lips. “That guy is such a downer. I like Dune now. Do you know him? Can you find out if he has a girlfriend in Hawaii or California or wherever he’s from?” She spun again. “Not that I care. He’s so delish I may have to go for him anyway.”

A dancing Christina Aguilera accidentally elbowed Massie in the kidney. She elbowed back. Twice.

“Just like that? You’re over him? After everything you made me—”

“What’s the big deal?” Skye threw her arms in the air and clapped to the beat of the song.

Everyone joined in.

“Haven’t you ever changed your mind about a guy before?” Skye squatted until she was practically sitting, then speed-thrusted her pelvis. “Oh, sorry, I forgot.” Skye stood and spun. “I forgot. You’re not ready for a serious relationship.”

Massie stood over her, fighting the urge to introduce her next thrust to the heel of her Christian Louboutin platforms. “Do I still get the key to the room?”

“Of course.” Skye spun. “A deal’s a deal. Every alpha knows that.”

“Great!” Massie beamed, and secretly tapped her thigh, congratulating herself on a job well done. The Pretty Committee had been granted full ESP access for the eighth grade. They could now add “boy experts” to their résumés, right after fashion consultants, socialites, tastemakers, and fabulous friends.

But the good news wasn’t enough to keep Massie from wanting to punch Skye’s in her big fat Angelina lips. She resisted the urge, however, and stormed off the dance floor instead.

How could she have let the alpha use and abuse her like an LBR? Was it payback for all the times she had used and abused others? Impossible. Everyone she manipulated deserved it.

And there was nothing Massie had done to
deserve
what she had endured over the last two weeks. Nuh-thing. Skye needed to be medicated. It was as simple as that.

After a quick survey of the dance floor, to make sure no one was laughing at her, Massie straightened her bent angel wings, took three cleansing breaths, and made her way back to Chris, who was sitting on one of the bottom steps, squished to the side to let people pass. There was something about Skye not being into him anymore that made him seem slightly passé, like shrugs or peasant skirts.

“Did you ask her?” Chris looked up and ran his hand through his highlighted tips, which suddenly seemed awkward and inappropriate for Romeo—or any boy, for that matter.

“Ask her
what
?” Massie could hear the agitation in her voice, not that she cared. She needed more time to think, to process what had just happened. To heal.

“Did you ask her if she wanted to try my playlist?”

“Oh.” Massie caught another glimpse of Derrington; he was surrounded by even more eighth-grade girls, wiggling his butt and making them giggle. She remembered how she used to laugh at his signature butt-shake and suddenly started to miss him. After all, he
was
a male alpha, a star goalie, ah-dorably adorable, and a www.awesomelip-kisser.com. If she
really
thought about it, how bad could his “issue” possibly be? Everyone
knew
Massie Block was as close to perfect as God would allow a human being to be. Sure, Chris had a driver’s license and navy-blue eyes, but so what? Those qualities never even made
CosmoGIRLS!
’s Top Ten.

“Well, what did she say?”

“About what?”

“My
playlist
?”

“Oh, uh, she said maybe later.”

“Great.” Chris flashed a satisfied grin.

“Great.” Massie rolled her eyes, knowing exactly why Juliet had killed herself.

CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION

W
ESTCHESTER
, N
Y
T
HE
H
AMILTON
H
OME

Saturday, May 1st

7:42
P.M.

It was the perfect place for a make-out.

A vanilla Archipelago Botanicals candle flickered in its votive below the mirrored medicine cabinet, casting a warm fireplace-like glow throughout the cozy bathroom. Two hunter-green bath mats covered the tiled floor and felt like squishy moss beds under Claire’s bare feet. And Cam agreed. It did feel like moss.

If it hadn’t been for the toilet and the row of electric toothbrushes to the right of the sink, it would have been easy for Claire to imagine them standing in the Garden of Eden, the only two people on earth.

But in her current mind-set, Claire wanted to wrap Eve’s rubber snake around Adam’s Drakkar Noir–soaked neck and yank. Not even his ridiculous-in-a-cute-way costume could distract her from the pain she had been living with for the past week. But she would do her best to try. At least until she could get back in the bomb shelter and get the rest of the story. Until then, she vowed to act cool and carefree and—

“I know why you’ve been acting so weird lately.” Cam stuck his index finger under the dripping faucet. He watched the drops gather, then spill into the porcelain sink.

Claire tried her hardest to breathe at a steady I’m-so-not-panicking pace. But her exposed stomach, which inflated and deflated faster than a blowfish with hiccups, betrayed her.

“You do?” Claire felt dizzy. She lowered herself to sit on the toilet seat but stopped halfway and stood back up. With all that was going on, the last thing she needed was for Cam to see how she looked going to the bathroom.

“I do.”

Cam turned to her. His steady gaze, the gaze that usually made her insides warm, stopped her cold.

And then there was a knock on the door.

“Just a minute,” Claire called politely, and then faced him again, trying to ignore her thumping heart. “Continue.”

“Well, the summer’s coming and…”
He paused.

OMG! He was going to tell her about Nikki. How does one act shocked? Gasp? Widen eyes? Cover mouth? Clutch heart? Faint? What????

Claire tugged on an empty towel ring, as if it might open a trap door in the wall and give her a place to hide.

“The summer’s coming and…” He paused again in the same place, like a scratched CD. Only this time he reached for her hand. “And you’re pushing me away to protect yourself from the pain of being separated.”

“Is that what your stupid, sensitive ESP class taught you? Because it’s wrong! Not only is it wrong, but it’s egotistical and conceited and… double wrong!” Claire wanted to scream. But she didn’t. Instead, she stared into his green eye (she favored it slightly over his blue one) and willed her tears to go back to wherever they hung when they were off duty.

“So I got you something special.” He leaned into the bathtub and pulled out a tan Pottery Barn bag.

“How did that get in here?”

“Since the bracelet I got you is at the bottom of the wave pool”—Cam grinned, letting her know he wasn’t holding any grudges—“here’s something to remind you of me while I’m gone.”

He handed her the gift.

She reached for it slowly, never taking her questioning eyes off his beaming face.
Another one from Nikki?

Claire grabbed it and the rubber snake slid off her neck and plopped to the floor.

“Ahhhh!” The sudden thud made her scream. Then she giggled. Then Cam laughed.

His laugh reminded her of when they were happy. Then she remembered why she was sad. And she stopped giggling.

“Are you going to open the present or what?”

“What is it?” She pulled out a heavy rectangular object wrapped in red tissue paper.

“Is everything all right in there?” Skye’s mother called from the other side of the door, her tone a mix of concern and suspicion.

“Yup,” Claire called back cheerfully.

“It’s that picture of us sharing that gummy worm like Lady and the Tramp, remember?” Cam beamed. “I blew it up and got it framed. I got one for myself, too. I’m going to take it to camp and put it right next to my—”

Claire stuffed the photo back in the bag without even looking at it. The mere mention of the word
camp
made her—

There was a loud bang on the door. “Come on, I gotta
go
!”

“Well,
go
upstairs!” Claire kicked back.

“Buy some Pepto, loser.” The guy made a fart sound, smacked the door, then stomped off.

“You’re gonna have a picture of us at camp?” asked Claire, her insides quaking. An unstoppable emotional force, more powerful than her will to stay calm, was building deep within her.

Cam nodded slowly, suspecting he might have done something wrong—he just had no idea what.

“Won’t Ni-
kki
mind?” Her face contorted like she’d just eaten a bag full of his re-gifted sours.

“Nikki?”
Cam’s eyes darkened. “How do you know about Nikki?”

Hearing him say her name out loud made Claire feel nauseated. Not a fleeting queasiness, more like a make-room-I’m-about-to-barf-the-California-roll-I-ate-before-the-party nauseated. She knew she was supposed to regret her outburst, but at the same time, it was a huge relief to come clean. And maybe now she could finally find out who the heck Nikki the camp tramp actually was.

Cam moved to the door and checked that it was locked, making it clear she wasn’t going anywhere until he had answers.

“Did Derrington say something?”

Claire shook her head no.

“Then how?”

She still couldn’t speak.

“You read my journal, didn’t you?”

His voice was scarily calm.

“What?”

“You did. Admit it. At Slice of Heaven. When you took it into the bathroom. I was right. You read it.”

Claire hated that he thought he was right to have suspected her. Because she hadn’t really read his journal, at least not the way Cam thought she had. But she didn’t bother correcting him. The more she thought about it, it was better to be a journal-reader than what she really was—a surveillance junkie, addicted to a spy camera in a blacked-out bomb shelter.

“Okay, fine, I read it in your journal.” Claire looked down at her leaf green–painted toenails for effect. “Now can we please talk about it? Who is she? Do you love—”

“How could you do that to me? I trusted you.” Cam tossed the beige Pottery Barn bag in the bathtub. The glass frame shattered.

The sudden noise and harsh gesture made Claire jump.

“Well, I trusted you, and you’ve been two-timing me.”

Cam glared at her, searing her wide blue eyes with his anger. Claire felt a pinch in her throat. This whole thing seemed so unfair. She was the one who’d stood up to the girls in the bomb shelter and told them not to spy. And here she was, the only one paying for it. And the price was high. Higher than she ever could have imagined. This slight moral lapse was costing her true love.

“Is that what you think?”

She nodded, hot tears pouring down her cheeks.

“That’s the trouble with snooping. You never get the whole story. And you know what? Now you never will.” Cam pushed past her and unlocked the bathroom door.

“Wait!” Claire sob-begged as she reached for his arm.

But he was too fast. Ignoring her and the angry comments from the people waiting in line outside the door, Cam stormed off without another word.

Claire chased after him, wondering how they’d gone from being the perfect couple to
this
?

“Hey,” someone shouted. “You forgot your snake!”

But Claire didn’t care. All she wanted to do was find Cam and make everything okay again.