A Tale of Two Pretties Read online

  The PC crowded around Dylan, dropping their rolls and champagne glasses.

  “Yep,” Dylan said sheepishly, her head hanging down so that her curls brushed against the top of the table.

  “This is ah-mazing!” Claire said sincerely.

  “You mean…” Dylan looked up into the grinning faces of the PC. “You’re nawt mad at me for keeping it a secret?

  “Are you kidding?” Alicia said. “My dad handles the legal contracts for practically awl of that network’s shows. So I know what kind of confidentiality clause you probably had to sign!”

  “We’re not mad, we’re pumped!” Kristen added. “This is so, so cool.”

  “Thanks…” Dylan said doubtfully. “I just feel really bad that I was keeping this huh-yuge secret from you all this time.”

  “Speaking of secrets…” Massie said softly. She looked at the rest of the PC, one by one. And one by one, their faces grew somber.

  “Okay, okay,” Alicia huffed after a moment of silence. “Fine. I’ve been keeping a secret from you all, too.”

  Dylan gasped. “Are you getting a reduction?”

  “What?” Alicia looked down at her C-cups. “Of course nawt!”

  “Oh,” Dylan burped. “Then what is it?”

  “I’ve been…” She paused and looked around the circle. When she met Massie’s eyes, Massie widened her amber eyes at her, trying to send her strength. “I haven’t been reading as much as I said I was. Claire, you can have all the books you lent me back.”

  “Um, okay?” Claire said.

  “I only said I was reading-with-an-r because I didn’t want to lead-with-an-l. And when I got an e-reading from Hermia, she told me I’d be the new alpha of the Pretty Committee. But I swear, I don’t want to be the leader!”

  Dylan burst out laughing. “It’s okay, Leesh. Massie’s staying with Claire, so you can get back to heeding instead of leading!”

  Kristen giggled, then grew serious. “But, um, I have a secret, too. I told Massie already, but I need to tell everyone, because it affects us all.”

  “Oh, no. Did you lose your scholarship to OCD?” Dylan asked.

  “Actually, I got picked to be on a traveling competitive soccer team!” Kristen’s eyes shimmered with tears. “It’s a lawt of hard work. I’ve already gone to a couple of practices. And while it could open doors for me, it also means that most of my weekends will be booked up with soccer stuff now.” She sighed. “And it’s safe to say I’ll be spending a lot less time with the PC.” Her voice wavered.

  “We all hate that we have to see less of you,” Massie said quickly, not wanting to see anyone else cry. “But what an ah-mazing opportunity for you!”

  “Congrats, Kristen!” Dylan said, while Alicia and Claire hugged her. She blew her nose into the monogrammed Happy New Year’s Yves! napkin.

  “Well, now that that’s all settled—” Massie started, but Claire held up her hand.

  “Wait! I actually have one more thing to tell you all.”

  Massie froze, startled. She felt like the “Cold Couture” part of the evening. Everyone already knew Claire had moved into a new house. What other secrets was she keeping?

  “RememberhowCamandIexchangedgiftswellhegotmemore-thanthecandy,” she released, all in one breath. The rest of the PC glanced back and forth at each other, silent.

  “What else did you get?” Alicia asked after a few moments, tucking her hair behind her ear so her chandelier earrings could be seen.

  Claire glanced at Massie, who closed her mouth.

  “We’re taking a photography class together,” she whisper-confessed. “Every Friday night.”

  Massie lifted her wrist to her nose and inhaled deeply. The familiar whiff of her Chanel No. 19 cleared her mind and she smiled. It was New Year’s Eve, and they were at the best party of the year. Their problems, while not ideal, were not insurmountable. They were like all the homework she had piling up in her locker at OCD—they could wait.

  But when Massie glimpsed her parents in the crowd, she realized she still had one very big problem hanging over her head. She hadn’t confessed her secret to them yet. And it was time to do it now, before the clock struck midnight and the YSL bag dropped.

  “I’ll be right back,” she called to the PC. “But don’t worry—we’ll all be fine!”

  Massie skipped over the still-crowded dance floor, balancing precariously on her Pradas, until she came face-to-face with her parents. “Mom! Dad! Can we talk for a sec?”

  “Happy New Year!” they shouted, embracing her. Kendra’s Jil Sander dress felt warm against Massie’s skin, and she breathed in the sharp mix of her mother’s perfume and her father’s cologne.

  “How was your day at Claire’s new house, sweetie?” William asked.

  “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Massie said, struggling to make herself heard over the noise of the crowd. “It’s nawt just Kuh-laire’s new house.”

  Kendra raised her eyebrows. Massie pinched her upper thigh through her dress. She glanced back and forth between her parents.

  “I’m moving in with Kuh-laire,” she blurted. “I’m not going to England. I’m going to spend the rest of the year with the Lyonses so I can finish eighth grade at OCD, with my friends.”

  Kendra and William glanced at each other and then back at Massie. At the sight of their jaws clenched into a tight, sharp line, Massie’s throat started closing up.

  “Absolutely not,” William said forcefully.

  “We know this move is hard for you, Massie,” Kendra added.

  “And we’re sorry about that,” William agreed. “But under no circumstances—”

  “Absolutely none!” Kendra interrupted.

  “—will we allow you to stay in Westchester without us. Sorry, but that’s the way things have to be,” William concluded, thrusting his hands out as if to say, What can I do?

  Massie felt like the dance floor had become a tidal wave—the ground suddenly seemed to move under her feet, and the bass from the DJ booth drowned out her thoughts. Her stomach swooped like she’d just taken an express ride from the top floor of Barneys down to the perfume-and-makeup basement, and her skin blazed like she was facing down a bonfire that was about to consume her entire life. If she didn’t stay in Westchester, she would lose everything:

  The Pretty Committee.

  Her alpha status.

  The New Green Café.

  The Westchester.

  Weekend shopping trips to New York.

  Landon…

  The Pretty Committee!

  The Pretty Committee!

  The Pretty Committee!

  “But… it’s the Lyonses! Your best friend, Dad!” And mine, she wanted to shout. She struggled to keep her voice from shaking. “You’ve left me to stay with Kuh-laire before. What’s the difference between a week and a… year? Or four?”

  “We’re a family,” Kendra said, linking her arm with William’s and grasping Massie’s hand.

  “And families stick together,” William added.

  Massie blinked. This could nawt be happening. Of all the problems she’d dealt with this year, it had never even occurred to her that her parents would object to her plans to move into the Lyonses’ den.

  She glanced behind her at the PC, who were back on the dance floor, waiting for Merri-Lee to get back on the microphone for further announcements. When she turned back to her parents, she started shaking like she was Bean during a thunderstorm.

  And then her anger bloomed up inside of her like one of the firecrackers in the backyard. When she spoke, even she was surprised to hear how dark her voice sounded. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?” she said slowly. Kendra’s MAC Viva Glam lips formed a small O as Massie continued. “You’re ruining my life.”

  Massie’s voice cracked. Then she felt a splash of water on her face, and she looked up, wondering if the Marvil mansion had suddenly sprouted a leak.

  She felt another one and blinked, wiping
it away with her hand. Then she noticed a smudge of color on her fingertip. It was the unmistakable shade of Urban Decay Midnight Cowgirl, which happened to be the exact shade of eye shadow Massie was wearing.

  And that’s when Massie realized the Marvils’ ceiling wasn’t dripping. No one was tossing champagne over the railing. The chocolate fountain hadn’t sprung a leak.

  Massie was crying.

  WESTCHESTER, NY

  MERRI-LEE MARVIL’S NEW YEAR’S YVES PARTY

  Friday, December 31st

  9:34 P.M.

  “Massie?” Dylan tried to make out the glitter-embossed girl heading her way. It looked like Massie and it smelled like Massie, but this girl was crying. Sobbing, really. And Massie Block did nawt sob. Especially in public.

  “Ehma-what-do-we-do?” Alicia hissed into Dylan’s ear as the girl stumbled into Dylan’s arms. Dylan sniffed her hair and coughed up some Chanel. Definitely Massie.

  “What is it? What happened?” Dylan asked, more gently this time. The PC huddled around Massie on the edge of the dance floor. She hiccupped.

  “I just can’t believe this,” she whispered. “But they’re not letting me move in with Kuh-laire. I’m going to England.”

  “What?” everyone cried. Massie nodded, looking stunned.

  “They told me—” Massie looked around wildly as the lights went out. A hush traveled through the crowd. The PC looked toward the stage where Merri-Lee was holding the mic. She winked in Dylan’s direction.

  “And… action!” Merri-Lee shouted.

  And then the pilot episode of Marvilous Marvils began to play on the big screen.

  Dylan wanted to be there for Massie, but she was riveted to the screen. Either someone in production had editing skills or the camera loved Dylan—but either way, she looked ahmazing, if she did say so herself.

  As the cameras followed Dylan’s family around on screen, she gaped at her hair. It made Alicia’s hair look like a bad, dull dye job! And her legs? She sneaked a glance at Kristen’s muscular gams and grinned. Her legs looked at least as lithe and long. She shook her head in delight as the crowd laughed along with the show. Maybe Merri-Lee had been wrong about the camera adding ten pounds. Maybe it added ten points on the hawtness scale. Dylan looked downright spectacular on screen!

  When the opening sequence ended, the party guests applauded and cheered. Even Massie had managed to sniff away the rest of her tears and clap her hands. Dylan tossed back another piece of sashimi in excitement. Maybe being the star of a reality show wouldn’t be so bad, after all!

  She nearly choked, though, when the sound of her burping—the loudest, longest noise she’d ever made—echoed from the screen and landed among the five hundred guests currently captivated by the show’s promotional reel. Real-Dylan froze while Reality-Dylan burped again. So did everyone else in the mansion.

  From the dance floor, the entire party watched on the big screen as Reality-Dylan burped, tripped, and cried her way through the various scenes she’d shot with her sisters. She got caught sneaking ice cream at midnight. Sleeping with zit cream slathered over her chin. Falling out of her window in her flannel pajamas and spraining her ankle, her lone clog dangling from the branch of a bush.

  Real-Dylan tried to hide behind Kristen’s high ponytail, but it was no use. Reality-Dylan was out there for the world to see. And Real-Dylan would never be able to hide her flaws behind her hair or her black AmEx ever again.

  Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, the promo reel zoomed in on a close-up of Reality-Merri-Lee having a heart-to-heart with Reality-Dylan. Real-Dylan felt her hands grow clammy and the sweat begin to pool under her arms. She crossed her fingers in hope that her Dove Clinical Protection would deliver its promise. She wanted to run over to Massie and cover her ears like Merri-Lee used to do whenever she had Kathie Lee Gifford over for dinner when Dylan was a kid. She remembered this scene—she just hadn’t realized at the time that it was being filmed.

  “Mom, can we talk?” Reality-Dylan asked, the camera closing in on Dylan’s fire-red hair and glowing skin.

  “I just found out some awful news about Massie,” Reality-Dylan said. The crowd in the Marvil mansion watched in silence, transfixed by Dylan’s wide, innocent, impeccably accented eyes. “Her family’s lost all their money,” Reality-Dylan confessed.

  On screen, Merri-Lee sighed and began to assure her daughter that the Marvils would never have to worry about that, because she’d set up trusts for each of her girls, which they would all have access to when they turned twenty-five or when they won their first Oscar, whichever came first.

  Real-Dylan hung her head, the blood rushing to her face. She was so ah-shamed. How stupid could she be? She should have known not to spill any secrets to Merri-Lee once she’d learned they’d be filming a show. And now Massie had to live with the knowledge that the world was going to find out she was once middle-class! She would kick herself, except that her Jimmy Choos were limited-edition, and the last thing anyone needed was another catastrophe.

  “Dylan,” Massie’s voice broke through the roar of the crowd as they responded to the end of the promo reel, applauding and laughing at the wild and crazy antics of the Marvil girls. The lights came back up. People began moving to the outside fire pit to watch the firecrackers or the front yard to watch Merri-Lee film Nancy Kerrigan in a special “Return to the Ice” feature that would air the following week.

  “I’m so sorry, Massie,” Dylan cried.

  “Oh, don’t worry about me,” Massie said, shrugging. Her tears had cleared up and she looked calm and serene, like Sandra Bullock in her first public appearance after her divorce. “I’ll be fine. Everyone knows reality shows are toe-dally fake!”

  Dylan sniffled. “They do?”

  “They are?” Claire asked in surprise.

  “Given,” Alicia croaked.

  “I just can’t believe how stupid they made me look,” Dylan said, covering her eyes as a running reel of her flaws flashed before her eyes.

  “Stupid? Dylan, did you see that opening scene? You looked ah-mazing times a million!” Massie said.

  “You looked like Isla Fisher!” Kristen chirped.

  “Scarlett Johansson when she had red hair!” Alicia added.

  “Little Orphan Annie!” Claire shouted. Massie gave her a withering look. “I meant, happy and little and red,” Claire explained.

  Dylan sniffled again. “I mean, I did look pretty great, physically speaking,” she concurred. “But the burping, and the falling, and the secret-telling…”

  “Are you kidding me? You’ll be the hit of the show!” Massie said, looping her arm through Dylan’s. “Did you see how your sisters came across? Opposite of enthralling!”

  “Boring times ten,” Alicia agreed.

  “Seventeen magazine isn’t going to want to interview a couple of suh-noozers who fight about boys, are they? No, they are nawt,” Massie answered her own question. “They’re going to want to talk to the girl who can burp all the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s new song. The girl who can tumble out of a window and still walk away with her bed head held high!”

  Dylan felt her lips curl up. Massie and the rest of the PC had a point. Seventeen was all about quirky girls like her. Maybe she could even pen her own column! She could get extra credit for English class!

  But then she sighed and felt her good mood recede again. Massie was the only person who could manage to talk her out of her bad moods.

  Who was going to do it when Massie was gone?

  WESTCHESTER, NY

  MERRI-LEE MARVIL’S NEW YEAR’S YVES PARTY

  Friday, December 31st

  10:17 P.M.

  The bass from the band was making Alicia’s butt vibrate as she sat on the edge of the balcony, her legs dangling off. She kicked her Manolos back and forth. Next to her, Dylan was performing damage control on Claire’s Fiberwig mascara, pulling flecks of black makeup off her cheeks from where her tears were still falling. Massie and Kristen were leaning again
st the railing, their arms interlocked around each other’s necks and their faces more morose than the audience at a Fall Out Boy concert.

  When the sky lit up with another round of firecrackers, Alicia straightened up and tried to blot her face with the back of her hand. She realized this was getting a bit ridiculous. The entire Pretty Committee was in shambles. She had never seen Kristen cry so hard—not even during the first, second, and third times they’d all watched Titanic together—and she’d never seen Massie cry, ever. Since Massie broke the news about her inevitable move to England, Claire hadn’t mentioned Cam once, and Dylan hadn’t burped in over an hour. It was like some New Year’s Yves version of Freaky Friday.

  “Okay, everyone,” Alicia pulled up her legs and turn-swung herself around until she was facing her friends. The moon shone down on her like a spotlight during the final scene of a Broadway show. “Tonight has nawt gone the way we planned. But the night’s nawt over yet!”

  Everyone nodded in agreement and looked at Alicia with a glimmer of hope in their eyes. Even Massie looked like she was counting on her to come up with some sort of solution to make them all feel better. She scanned through her brain, searching for ideas. She felt like a giant blinking DANGER sign was flashing at her, warning her that she was veering too close into alpha territory, but it didn’t matter now. Massie needed her. The PC needed her. She was going to have to face her beta-fears for the sake of her friends.

  She pulled her phone out of her Alexander Wang clutch and double-checked the last message she’d received from Hermia. If she had deciphered it correctly, it meant that Hermia was downstairs in the Marvils’ library, giving psychic readings again, just like she had on the first New Year’s Yves party that had brought the Pretty Committee together. She stood up.

  “This is opposite of acceptable!” she cried. “Everyone, get up and follow me.” She snapped her fingers twice for good measure, and because she wanted to see how sparkly her OPI Midnight Mambo nail polish could be in the moonlight.