Sealed with a Diss (6 page)

The locket popped open.

“How cute!” The eighth-grade alpha flashed it in front of Massie’s face. “Look inside. There’s a picture of Tricky, Chris’s horse. That’s the
pony
he gave me for graduation. Is that clever or is that clever?”

“Cle-ver,” Massie managed as she fake-studied the photo of the all-black horse she had carefully snipped from the
Galwaugh Farms Register.

“Sooo
totally
clever, right?”

“So totally clever.”

“And cute.”

“Totally cute.”

“Then why hasn’t he texted me?” Skye whined. “He signed his name with an ‘xo.’ Doesn’t that mean he likes me?”

Massie shrug-nodded, her tongue temporarily swollen with fear. Was Skye testing her? Giving her the chance to come clean on the fake gift? Were the DSL Daters hiding behind the bushes waiting for an attack signal?

“So what’s the problem?” Massie tried to steady her voice.

“I want him to be my date for the costume party,” Skye continued. “But he hasn’t called me and I
can’t
call him. That’s way too desperate.”

Massie nodded impatiently. “So why are we
here
?”

All of a sudden, Skye gripped her arm, silently urging Massie to stop. “Look.” She pointed at Stable B.

Chris Abeley was leading Tricky onto the trail. He was wearing a dark gray bomber jacket and a navy knit snow-boarding cap. Wisps of scruffy brown hair poked out the sides and blew in the light breeze. There was no need to question the reason for Skye’s crush—he was a walking Abercrombie bag.

“How did you know he’d be—”

“Say hi,” Skye whisper-begged. “Act like it’s a coincidence.”

“But—”

“Hurry, before he gets too far.”

“Um, hey, Chris!” Massie squeaked, and then waved awkwardly, a second later than she should have.

He turned, lifted his palm, and flashed his Crest Whitestrip smile—the same one that had made Massie obsess over him eight months earlier when they’d met riding on this very trail. If it hadn’t been for Fawn, his tall, honey-blond, genetically perfect high school ex-girlfriend—
current
girlfriend at the time—Chris would have been Massie’s HART, and Derrington would have been just another seventh-grade boy who admired her from afar.

“Let’s go.” Skye hurried toward him.

Massie had no choice but to follow.

“Awwww, look at that cute horsey.” Skye hugged Tricky’s long black neck. “I just love animals. Love love love love love!”

Chris smiled politely, then turned to Massie. His use of DEC (direct eye contact) filled her with such intense tingles she wanted to sprint. Her crush was making a bigger comeback than Cadillac.

“Didn’t we first meet here?” he asked, his dark blue eyes crinkling fondly at the memory.

“Yup.” Massie nodded to her metallic flats in a desperate attempt to escape his knee-weakening gaze. “You tried to run me off the trail.”

“Yeah, but you showed me, didn’t you?”

She found the courage to meet his eyes again. “No one beats me to Hunter Lake.”

“How ’bout we try again in a few months? I signed up for camp this summer just so I could kick your—”

“No way!” Massie interrupted. “I’m going to camp here too.”

Chris bit his lower lip, cocked his head, and half-smiled. His hawtness was like an invisible force field that drew her in and held her. And to think he’d come from the same womb as LBR Layne.

“Ech-hem.” Skye pinched the back of Massie’s arm.

“Oh.” Massie stiffened. “And, um, Skye is taking dance and then going to South Beach.”

“And then New York City,” she bragged. “I got into a performing arts high school.”

He smile-nodded like someone trying hard to care. Not like someone who supposedly had a crush on Skye but was too shy to tell her. Massie speed-searched her brain for a way to keep her elaborate scheme from unraveling but found it hard to focus on anything other than the navy-blueness of Chris Abeley’s eyes.

Skye rocked on the heels of her riding boots and slid the gold locket across its chain.

“My sister has the same necklace,” he offered.

“Rea-lly?” Skye winked, as if that were code for
“Thank you, I love my gift.”

Massie’s stomach felt like it did when she jumped hurdles with Brownie. Was Skye about to openly acknowledge the locket to Chris?

Chris’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion, obviously questioning what Skye was talking about.

A crisp pre-spring breeze rustled the leaves on the massive tree above their heads, and Massie looked up with feigned interest—anything to avoid his suspicious gaze.

“So, what brings you guys here?” he asked.

Massie lowered her head and side-glanced at Skye, silent-begging her to interject, which, of course, she did.

“
J’adore
horses.” She lifted the locket to her lips and kissed it. “Simple as that.”

Massie admired her confidence, which made her want access to the secret room and ESP even more. She imagined herself a year from now, standing with Chris and making
him
sweat and stammer. Not the other way around. Like a super-hero with special powers, Massie Block would become… the Heartless HART-breaker.

“I know what you mean.” Chris kicked the dirt with his black Timberland hiking boots. “I don’t know what I would do without my girl.” He affectionately smacked his horse’s rump. “She’s my one and only.”

“That can’t be true.” Skye smiled, a combination of hope and disappointment clouding her eyes. “Can it?”

“These days it is.” Chris finger-combed Tricky’s mane. “Ever since Fawn and I broke…” His voice trailed off. He shook a memory from his head and then found his way back to a lighthearted smile. “Point is, I’m never gonna let myself get hurt again. I’m over girls.” He slipped his foot into a stirrup and hopped on his horse. “Except for one.” He looked at Massie, but love-tapped Tricky. “I better go.” And with a snap of the reins, they were off. “See ya!” he shouted without looking back.

The girls watched in silence as he disappeared down the trail, leaving them in a cloud of dust and desire.

Skye clutched the locket and shook her head in confusion. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Don’t you want to meet Brownie? She’s white and—”

“Nah.” Skye angled her feet in third position and sulked up the stone path. “If he’s so over girls, why did he give me this locket?”

Massie, having no idea how to answer that question without getting into trouble, placed a reassuring hand on Skye’s sharp shoulder blade and sighed. “Maybe you don’t understand boys as well as you thought you did.”

Skye stopped to consider this. “Impossible.” She lifted her chin. “I bet he was acting that way because
you
were there. And he didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“Probably,” Massie managed. But she would have said anything, no matter how false, to keep Skye from discovering the truth.

“Well, you seem to know him pretty well,” Skye snipped.

“Not really, I just—”

“Will you make him call me so I can invite him to my party?”

“How am I supposed to do
that
?” Massie asked as they approached the parking lot. “He’s sworn off girls, remember?”

“Well, get him to swear back on them.”

The level of desperation in Skye’s watery turquoise eyes shocked Massie. She had never seen an alpha act like such a beta before.

And then Massie grinned.

“You’ll do it?” Skye beamed.

“Of course.” She shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Skye threw her arms around her, flooding the air with the heady floral smell of Aveda’s Shampure. It was weird seeing an alpha express her need for help so openly. It was something Massie had never realized alphas were allowed to do.

Skye pulled away but kept a firm grip on Massie’s shoulders.

“You’re the best. I’m so—”

“On one condition.”

Skye’s smile faded, just as a cloud covered the sun. A chill stung the air, and Massie suddenly wished she’d brought her Marc Jacobs cropped denim jacket.

“What’s your condition?” Skye asked suspiciously.

“Give me access to the room
this
year.” Massie fought to keep her voice measured and calm. “I want ESP ASAP.”

“Impressive.” Skye sized Massie up as if seeing her for the first time. “Nice negotiating skills. You
are
an alpha.”

Massie couldn’t help herself and grinned with pride.

“Will you make Chris contact me?”

“Will you give me the room?”

“Contact?”

“Room?”

“Contact?”

“Room?”

They stood, inches away from the pine-green Prius, locked in a stare-down.

Skye’s eyes scanned Massie’s Ella Moss dress, landed on her metallic shoes, and then floated back up to her glossy side-part. More than anything, Massie wanted to hand-check her bangs, but she knew the gesture would make her look insecure, so she left them to fate.

Finally, Skye raised her pinky. “Deal.”

Massie’s heart leapt.

“You can have it for forty-five minutes twice a week, when the seventh-graders have their class.”

“Deal!” Massie couldn’t
wait
to tell the Pretty Committee how she’d manipulated Skye and gotten them access to the room
months
ahead of schedule. She reached for Skye’s baby finger.

“Not so fast.”

“Why?” Massie’s pinky hung in the air.

“If Chris isn’t my date for the party—”

“Wait, you said contact, nawt
date
.”

But Skye didn’t seem too concerned with semantics. “If Chris isn’t my actual d-a-t-e for the party, I’m taking the room back. Deal?”

She wiggled her pinky.

Massie stared at it.

Slipping Skye a necklace “from Chris” was one thing, but actually making him go to Sky’s own costume party as her
date
was quite another. Could she make him forget his ex and like a new girl in less than two weeks? And was she willing to lose the room if she couldn’t?

Skye wiggled her pinky again. Massie continued to stare at it, as she silently asked herself a series of hard-hitting and very important questions.

Q: Could she pull this off?

She thought back to the time she’d stopped Claire’s dad from moving the family to Chicago. And when she’d persuaded
Teen Vogue
to do a holiday photo shoot with the Pretty Committee. And when she’d opened a kissing clinic, even though she was a total lip-virgin.

A: Massie Block always found a way to get her way.
Always
.

Q: And if she didn’t?

A: Skye would lock them out of the room and the girls would have to find dates the old-fashioned way.

Q: Then what?

A: They’d be in eighth grade and the room would be theirs anyway.

Q: And that was all that really mattered, right?

A: Right. A private meeting spot, 24/7 ESP access, and membership into the secret alpha club would make the eighth grade the best year ever.

Q: So what was she waiting for?

A: Nuh-
thing
!

Massie thrust her finger toward Skye’s and shook.

Skye reached into her ballerina-pink training bra and pulled out a single gold key. She slapped it in Massie’s palm, then insisted, “Repeat the deal back to me.”

Massie rolled her eyes, letting Skye know she didn’t appreciate being treated like a fifth-grader.

“If Chris is not your date, you’re taking the room back until next year.”

“WRONG!”

“What?”

“For
good
.” Skye tightened her grip. “I’m taking the room back for
good
.”

“Forget it.” Massie yanked her finger away. “No deal.”

“Too late. You shook.”

Massie was tempted to argue but knew Skye was right. A pinky swear was binding. Every alpha knew
that
.

Leaf backed the Prius out of its parking spot and pulled up beside the girls. With a single click, the doors unlocked, and Skye lowered herself onto the front bucket seat. She smiled brightly and Massie tried to do the same. But it was impossible. Even though there hadn’t been any mobsters, and no one had gotten shot, she couldn’t help feeling that life, as she knew it, was over.

O
CTAVIAN
C
OUNTRY
D
AY
S
CHOOL
T
HE
B
OMB
S
HELTER

Monday, April 19th

2:22
P.M.

The Pretty Committee giggle-panted as they scurried barefoot down the cold, dimly lit flight of stairs that led to OCD’s boiler room. Clutching their flats so they wouldn’t make too much noise, their bare feet slapping against the floor, they ran past the huge clanging cylinders that pumped steam or air or water or something into the school, and yanked open the door marked
CAUTION: DO NOT ENTER
.

“More? Gawd, where
are
we?” Alicia huffed when she saw the narrow gray steps with the wobbly thin black railing. “Are we below sea level yet?”

“Shhhhh!” everyone giggle-hissed.

Massie pointed to the moist dark ceiling, reminding them that Principal Burns’s office was only two floors above. Silently, they followed her down to the basement below the basement, toward the bomb shelter.

Claire scanned the dank halls for faculty, while Massie fumbled with the key. It was nothing short of a miracle that Mr. Myner, their tree-hugging geography teacher, had given his class twenty minutes of unsupervised time to collect mud samples from the garden. To him, the assignment was a clever way of demonstrating to his class how varying degrees of sun exposure can affect the quality of soil, but for the Pretty

Committee it was the perfect opportunity to sneak into The Room.

“Got it!” Massie finally announced, her ivory-yarn-covered hoop earrings swinging as she turned the silver handle. “Let’s move!”

The girls slid their flats back on, hurried inside, and then quickly but quietly shut the black door behind them.

The bitter-rich aroma of fresh coffee mixed with a trace amount of floral perfume welcomed them when they entered.