These Boots Are Made for Stalking (11 page)

But what if she didn’t want it to be?

“Maybe you guys are growing apart.” Layne lifted the snack bowl to her lips and shook the dusty pretzel remains into her mouth
before sending it sailing across the room like a giant Frisbee. Leftover pretzel salt clung to her lips like fairy dust. “No
big deal. Happens all the time.” She fell back onto a pile of puff-painted pillows, leaving Claire with a view of only her
neck, chin, and nose.

“Really?” Claire said dejectedly, trying not to stare up Layne’s cavernous nostrils.

“Yeah.” Layne’s neck jostled as she talked, reminding Claire of the way Judi Lyons’s arm fat jiggled when she waved. “That’s
what happened with me and Heather and Meena. Why d’you think I’ve been hanging out with you guys so much lately?”

“CLAAAAAAAAIIIIIRRRE!” Judi called again. “You want the thimble or the top hat?”

“TOP HAT!” Claire screeched.

“No way! That’s mine!” Todd yelled from the living room.

“FINE!” Claire rolled her eyes. “THIMBLE!” When she glanced back at her screen, Layne was holding two pillows on either side
of her head like fluffy white Princess Leia buns. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Claire.” Layne released her downy earmuffs. “Seriously.”

“I think…” Claire chewed at the inside of her cheek, staring down at her desk. “I think I’m ready to find some new friends.”
The second the words left her mouth, her eyes fell on a bright purple glitter scribble Massie had added to Claire’s desk graffiti
at the end of the summer. Underneath a rough sketch of a charm bracelet, Massie had written PC4L. And next to it, a purple
paw print, for Bean.

Suddenly, Claire whip-turned toward her window, as if Massie could be eavesdropping all the way from the spa. Her pulse quickened.
Would looking for new friends make her just as bad, just as finicky as the rest of the PC? She shook the thought from her
head. This wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like she wanted to ditch her old friends. She just wanted to find a few new ones to
hang out with too. Friends who liked Halloween candy and eighth-grade boys.

“Are you for real?” Suddenly, Layne sounded exhausted. “’Cause I don’t think I can take another PC breakup. You guys’ve worn
me down.”

“It won’t be like a breakup,” Claire dug her thumb into her desktop, chipping away at the purple charm bracelet. “I’m not
totally leaving the PC. Swear.”

“I don’t knooooow.” Layne wrinkled her nose. “Massie’s not gonna liiiiiiike it.”

“She’s so into Landon and these new guys, she won’t even notice when I’m not there.” Claire crossed her fingers and sat on
them until they went numb. Maybe she hadn’t completely thought this through.

“Where are you supposed to get new friends anyway?” Layne plugged in a crimping iron next to her bed and started transforming
her parched waves into frizzy kinks.

“Uhhhh, I… dunno.” Okay, she definitely hadn’t thought this through. Did Skype have a
REWIND
button? Wait. No. Claire screwed her eyes shut, squeezing the doubt from her brain. So what if Massie didn’t like Claire
having other friends. Wasn’t it a free country? Didn’t she deserve to be happy? “Where do you even meet new friends?”

“Um…” Layne tilted her head to one side.

“CLAAAAAIIIRRRE!” Judi, Jay, and Todd synchro-screamed from the living room. “Your turn!”

Claire shoved back her chair and stalked over to her door, throwing it open.

“Count me out!” she yelled. “I’m busy!” Then she slammed the door again and resumed her position.

Layne was upright again and scribbling furiously on a Hello Kitty notepad. “Got some ideas,” she murmured, dropping the left,
crimped side of her head toward her shoulder. “Hold on…”

Claire swallowed the faint taste of pennies that had deposited itself in the back of her throat. Her eyes traveled over the
photo board again, over the memories that she had created with the Pretty Committee. Only this time, the pictures seemed faded.
Stiff. Maybe it was time for some new memories. Maybe Claire was ready to see the world through a whole new lens.

“Okay.” She leaned toward her laptop screen, looking Layne dead in the eye. “I’m ready.” It was time for an upgrade of her
own.

Wrapped in a fluffy white spa robe, Massie was trying hard to concentrate on the open algebra text propped against her knees.
But not even the steaming mug of ginkgo biloba–infused pomegranate tea on her nightstand could help her focus on slope-intercept
equations. Not when the sweet smell of Landon Crane’s cologne still lingered on her robe. Burying her nose in her shoulder,
she took a long, deep breath. The soft cotton fibers smelled like true love. The rare kind that existed between Ellen and
Portia. Penn and Blake. Kanye and himself.

And now, Landon and Massie.

Bean, who was napping on an overstuffed sham at the foot of the bed, let out a satisfied sigh, her tiny pink tongue hanging
happily from the corner of her mouth. Massie wondered if Bean was dreaming about her crush too.

Focus. She turned her attention back to her workbook and read the first problem:
Find the equation of the straight line that has slope m = 4 and passes through the point (-1, -6).

Out of the corner of her eye, Massie’s sleeping MacBook was blinking. Inviting her to check the SnoopDawg Web site for a quick
Landon fix. A white, glowing beacon, the slowly pulsing battery light seemed to call out to her:

Lan-don. Lan-don. Lan-don.

At her feet, Bean’s rhythmic sighs seemed to whisper:

Cuh-rane. Cuh-rane. Cuh-rane.

And on the bedside table next to her, the second hand on her white, round-faced alarm clock ticked:

Snoop. Dawg. Snoop. Dawg. Snoop. Dawg.

It was official: The universe was dying for her to catch a glimpse of her crush. Probably because the universe understood
the agony that came with a Landon-free weekend. It seemed like years since the spa party, since she’d watched his dimple deepen
every time he laughed at her jokes. And even though he’d sent an adorable thank-you text quote-unquote “from Bark” on Saturday
morning, going forty-eight hours without actually seeing him just didn’t feel right. It was like eating sushi without wasabi.
Watching television without TiVo. Wearing Dolce without Gabbana.

Ugh!
It was time for a distraction. She flipped her math notebook to a blank page and grabbed her favorite glittery purple gel
pen.

TOP 10 REASONS I
LANDON CRANE

10. The way his one dimple deepens when he laughs at all my comebacks. Bonus points for sense of humor.

9. He’s in ninth, which means he’s nine times more mature than ex-crushes Derrington and Dempsey.

8. His ah-mazing blue-green eyes, which change colors depending on what I’m wearing, so we’ll never clash.

7. He never wears shorts in the winter like Derrington. Or wiggles his butt when he’s happy. Or ditches me just because he
has to quote-unquote “go to soccer practice” or he’ll quote-unquote “get kicked off the team.” Puh-lease.

6. He’s not into theater like Dempsey. Or Africa. Or volunteering.

5. Bark Jacobs, his mom’s posh pet spa–slash–boutique. Automatic wardrobe upgrade for Bean!!!

4. Bark Obama, his ah-dorable pug. Automatic crush for Bean!!!

3. His wardrobe is almost as good as mine. Plus, he looked amazing on the runway at my Ho Ho Homeless benefit, without stealing
the focus. He’s ahbviously confident enough to let his crush shine.

2. The way his name sounds when I say it out loud: Landon Crane. Landon Crane. Landon Crane.

1. HE’S IN NINTH! Having an older crush = ALPHA & BEYOND.

Massie put down the pen and sighed. All those facts were true, but they didn’t tell her what Landon was doing
right now.
And the sleep light on her Mac was blinking almost hypnotically now.

Lan-don. Lan-don. Lan-don.

Finally, she couldn’t take the torture anymore. She reached for her laptop, flipped it open, and typed the SnoopDawg URL into
the Web browser. Immediately, a puppy in a Sherlock Holmes outfit with a magnifying glass in its paw sniffed its way across
the screen, signaling that the site was loading. The anticipation made her stomach churn like Jacuzzi jets on full blast,
and she felt giddier than Claire did before a study date with Cam.

Thoughts of her crush were suddenly replaced with thoughts of Claire, who had ditched the sleepover to do Gawd knew what else.
She’d claimed bad gummies, but that was obviously code for
I’ve got something better to do
. Only, what plans could Claire possibly have that didn’t involve the Pretty Committee? Not knowing exactly what Claire was
up to made Massie feel more uneasy than the time at the mall she’d gotten distracted on her cell and accidentally wandered
into the Dress Barn instead of BCBG. It was strange and unfamiliar territory, and no self-respecting alpha belonged there.

When the site loaded, a herd of cartoon puppies flounced into view,
yap
-prompting Massie to enter Bark’s ID number in the doghouse graphic in the middle of the screen. Bean’s eyelids fluttered
open, and she scampered across the duvet, collapsing in an excited heap in the crook of Massie’s arm.

“It’s not that Claire doesn’t want to hang out with us anymore, Bean.” With her right hand, Massie typed in the ID number
and password that had come with the charm, while she scratched behind Bean’s ears with her left. If she’d had an extra set
of fingers, she would have crossed them that Landon hadn’t changed Bark’s password yet. “It’s just that she’s obviously not
ready to upgrade. She’s kind of young for thirteen.”

Bean wrinkled her pug nose, obviously sympathetic.

“I know. It’s beyond frustrating,” Massie nodded, feeling slightly better that she wasn’t the only one to notice Claire’s
immaturity. “But if we’re really her friends, we can’t control what she does. We just have to give her time to mature and
realize that…”

She clicked
ENTER
and screwed her eyes shut. Slowly, she opened her left eye a crack.

The cartoon puppies trotted into the doghouse, and the screen went black. Then a grainy, dim image of a puppy paw invaded
the screen.

She was in.

“Yesssss!” Massie leaned forward, squinting at the screen like Kendra squinted at
Vogue
when she misplaced her reading glasses. Fuzzy claws scraped and scratched at the camera lens, completely obstructing Massie’s
view of anything Landon-related.

“Baaaaark,” Massie moaned. “Quit messing with your collar!”

Bean lapped at the screen, leaving behind a trail of drool.

“Ewwwww,” Massie giggle-chided her puppy as she swiped the drool away with the sleeve of her robe.

Seconds later, the camera dropped to the floor, leaving Massie with the same view of Landon’s room she’d have if she were
in downward-facing dog position in yoga class. She leaned closer, the tip of her nose almost smudging the screen. Unexpectedly,
she was drenched with a fresh wave of adoration for her crush. Landon’s room confirmed what she already knew: that he was
meant for her. The John Mayer Trio poster over his bed proved he was poetic. The olive-green duvet and 600 thread-count (give
or take) sheets said he was stylish enough to care about home decor, but the chocolate brown throw pillows strewn haphazardly
across the bed said he didn’t care too much. And the Prada sneakers peeking out from under his bed screamed
style, style, style
.

Then the screen went black.

“Ehmagawd!” Massie gripped the sides of her laptop screen and shook it like an Etch A Sketch. A drool-slicked pink tongue
and a mouthful of tartar-stained teeth appeared as the camera twisted and turned, making Massie feel queasy.

“Bark!” she screeched at the screen. Bean shot to the foot of the bed, chasing her tiny tail in frantic circles. “Do NAWT
eat the SnoopDawg! Bad puppy! Bad!”

As if he could hear her desperation, Bark spat out the camera, and the drool-soaked lens bounced and rolled into the middle
of Landon’s room. Massie fell back onto her pillows, exhausted. A chilly breeze from her cracked bedroom window wafted past
her lavender curtains and over her bed. She burrowed deeper beneath her duvet, keeping her eyes on the screen.

A pair of Puma Black Labels and dark-wash denim–covered ankles crossed in front of the camera. Massie shot upright again.

“Landon!” she squealed, her heart revving beneath her ribs as the camera teased her with a tiny taste of her crush. From the
expertly faded wash around the hem of his jeans, Massie could tell Landon was wearing Paper Denim & Cloth. It was the perfect
choice for a crisp fall Sunday.

Then a second pair of ankles filled the screen next to Landon’s. Only these ankles weren’t boy ankles. They were bronzed,
freshly shaved, and slender.

Massie swallowed hard. These were girl ankles. Maybe even alpha-girl ankles.

She reached for the oversize mug on her bedside table and took a gulp. The steaming tea scorched her tongue. But she barely
even noticed the pain over the tidal wave of jealousy surging inside her.