Revenge of the Wannabes Page 14

  “Remember,” Alicia said, dabbing frosty pink gloss on her plump lips, “don’t act dorky and squirmy when you’re there. Try to be confident. Boys are like dogs—they can sense fear.”

  Claire pulled a thin tube of vanilla-flavored Softlips SPF 30 out of her front pocket and rubbed it across her mouth. “How do you know all of this?”

  “I have a lot of experience,” Alicia said.

  “Aren’t you even a little bit nervous to see Harris?” Claire asked.

  “Puh-lease. Do I look nervous?”

  “No.”

  “How do I look?” Alicia asked. “Rate me.”

  “Huh?” Claire said.

  “Out of ten,” Alicia said. “Ten being the best.”

  “Nine point three,” Claire said knowing it was an understatement. Alicia looked beautiful. Her dark eyes were lined with black pencil and her lids were dusted with a touch of sparkly gold shadow. Her cheeks were rosy and her hair was thick and smooth. Claire couldn’t see Alicia’s outfit under her gray fitted coat but knew it had to be incredible.

  “Why not higher?” Alicia asked.

  “You can only get higher if you’re really dressed up,” Claire said, making up her own last minute rule.

  “Good.” Alicia sounded satisfied. “I like that.”

  “What about me?” Claire asked shyly.

  “Eight point seven,” Alicia said. “Love the tight jeans and the lavender sweater, but you lose points on the paint-stained Keds.” Alicia shrugged. “Sorry, but you know how I feel about sneakers.” She took one last look at Claire and then held out her hand.

  “What?”

  “Give me that lip stuff,” Alicia said. “I can’t stand to see you put that back in your pocket. It puts a lumpy line in the jeans.”

  Claire slapped the tube down in Alicia’s glove like she was giving her five. “Is there anything you don’t know?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know how Massie is going to get by without me.” Alicia shook her head and sighed. “Oh, well. Let’s go.”

  Alicia dropped the tube of Softlips SPF 30 in her bag, then pushed off on the pavement with the bottoms of her red leather boots. Claire followed.

  “Alicia?” Claire shouted above the wind. “I’m really sorry about what we did to you.”

  “I know. Thanks,” Alicia said. “I’m sorry too.”

  “Do you think you and Massie will ever be friends again?” Claire reached down and quickly unbuttoned her jeans because she couldn’t bike, talk, and breathe at the same time.

  “Doubt it.” Alicia kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I like having my Friday nights free. And I can hang out with whoever I want, especially boys. Massie never hangs out with guys. It’s so boring.”

  Claire felt a wave of regret and sadness. She would never know what it had been like to hang out with the Pretty Committee in the golden days, when they were all friends. Claire was a part of the new generation and had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t be as much fun.

  “Alicia, do you really think Cam is a Harris wannabe?”

  “No,” Alicia said. “For starters, Harris doesn’t write notes like that. That’s all Cam.” Alicia stopped her bike and held out her hand. “Let me read it again.”

  Claire stopped too. She felt a sudden rush of cold prickly sweat in her armpits. “Uh, I don’t have it anymore. I lost it.”

  “What do you mean?” Alicia held out her hand again.

  “Well, Massie kind of got rid of it for me.” Claire regretted telling the truth as soon as she saw Alicia’s mouth fall open. “It was for my own good.”

  “Did you ask her to?”

  “No, but—”

  “I’m sorry, but a good friend wouldn’t do that.” Alicia started pedaling.

  Claire knew she was right but couldn’t imagine being on Massie’s bad side again. Nothing was worse than that … not even heartache.

  When they arrived at the Fishers’ house, Claire smiled to herself. It was number 277, the same number her house was in Florida … a good sign. They even had the same American flag tacked above the doorway.

  Cam’s house wasn’t like the ones in Massie’s neighborhood. The driveway wasn’t circular or a mile long. It seemed barely big enough for their black Mustang.

  “Where do they put their other cars?” Alicia whispered. “Do you think there’s a big garage in the back or something?”

  Claire shrugged. “Maybe they only have one car.”

  “Impossible.”

  They dropped their bikes on the front lawn in front of the modest white house. The gray porch that led to the door was cluttered with rakes, skateboards, and Timberland boots. Claire felt instantly comforted by the mess.

  A flash of light appeared near the Mustang. Claire and Alicia jumped.

  “Hello?” Alicia said, reaching for her bike.

  “Yo,” said a deep voice. “Over here.”

  As the girls got closer to the hood of the car, Claire thought she smelled a fire. Then she saw another flash of light. It was Harris. He was sitting on top of his car, lighting matches and tossing them on the asphalt.

  “Another fun Friday night in suburbia,” he said when he saw them. “Hi, I’m Harris. You must be Claire.”

  The instant she looked into his emerald green eyes, Claire felt the backs of her knees tingle. He had a model’s features and a movie star’s charm.

  “Uh, yeah.” She shook his hand. It felt strong and a little calloused, like he had been lifting weights. “How did you know?”

  “Cam described you perfectly.”

  Claire was desperate to ask what he meant. Did Cam say she was pretty and Harris agreed and that’s how he knew who she was? Or did he say she had blond stringy bangs that sometimes split down the middle and looked like an upside-down V?

  Claire remembered Alicia’s advice and tried to act “confident.”

  “Thanks.”

  The squeak of the screen door distracted them from the awkward moment. Cam appeared wearing a red Volcom T-shirt, torn jeans, and white socks. He ran out onto the front porch, rubbing his bare arms and hopping up and down.

  “Come inside—it’s freezing out,” he said, waving them in.

  Claire walked toward him, secretly buttoning her jeans under her coat. It wasn’t until she stepped up onto the wooden porch that she realized Alicia and Harris weren’t behind her. They were still on the hood of his car.

  “Forget about them,” Cam said. “They obviously enjoy freezing to death.”

  But Claire couldn’t just “forget about them.” They were supposed to be her buffers. Now Claire was alone with Cam.

  “So,” Cam said, waving his arm through the air. “This is my house.”

  Claire stood in the dimly lit hallway and smiled gently at the pea green carpet that lined the short flight of stairs to the second floor. It felt nice to be in a home that didn’t look like a museum.

  “I love it.”

  “Can I take your coat?” Cam asked Claire. His smile was soft and his voice was kind.

  She slipped out of her blue puffy jacket and handed it to him. Claire felt her fingers brush up against his wrist by accident. Her stomach dropped like it did when she rode the Scream! at Six Flags.

  “Smells like kiwi,” he said when he took the jacket. He placed it over the banister, then pressed his hand on it, just to make sure it wouldn’t fall.

  Claire giggled and shrugged. She looked at her Keds. This was the longest she and Cam had ever been alone together. Where was Alicia?

  “Come meet my parents.” His green and blue eyes flickered. “They’re in the kitchen.”

  Claire followed the lasagna smell into a quaint country-style kitchen. Oatmeal-colored lace curtains had been draped over the window above the sink and all of the cabinets were painted red and white. The round wood table was full of sauce-stained dishes, but Mr. and Mrs. Fisher didn’t seem to mind. They looked happy, sitting together drinking coffee.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Claire,” Cam said.
<
br />   “Nice to meet you, Claire; we’ve heard a lot about you,” Mrs. Fisher said, pushing up the sleeves of her pink Old Navy sweatshirt. She was the first mother Claire had seen in Westchester who actually looked like she had kids.

  “Nice to meet you too.” Claire could feel her face turning red.

  “I understand you’re from Florida.” Mr. Fisher wiped his mustache with a white paper napkin. “We used to take the kids to Disney World all the time, but I got sick of standing on line for eleven hours with sweat dripping down my back, you know?” He laughed, then started coughing.

  Claire smiled and tugged her bangs.

  “Wanna go downstairs?” Cam asked. “I was just playing Underground 2. I have two control panels.”

  “Cool.” Claire wondered if she should have told him she thought video games were boring. “Nice meeting you both.” She waved, and Cam’s parents smiled.

  Claire followed Cam down the stairs to the basement. The walls were covered in the same brown carpet that lined the stairs and Claire let her fingers brush across it as she followed him. It was the first time she had ever seen carpet used as wallpaper.

  A big mushy mustard-colored L-shaped couch was in the center of the room and the glass coffee table had been pushed aside. A can of Coke and a bag of pretzels were on the floor along with a jumble of black wires and two Xbox control panels. Cam sat on the floor beside the soda and leaned back against the couch. Claire quickly unbuttoned her tight jeans, then did the same, thankful for her bulky lavender sweater.

  “Your parents seem nice,” Claire said, wondering what Alicia and Harris were talking about.

  “Yeah, they’re pretty cool.” Cam handed Claire a control panel.

  There was an awkward silence while Cam rebooted the game. Did he think she was dull? Did he regret inviting her over? Could he hear her breathing?

  “It’s cool that we’re finally hanging out,” he said to the TV screen. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna show up.”

  Claire wanted to tell Cam that she liked him way more than as a friend. That she was so excited to be hanging out with him … that she didn’t mean to avoid him, but Massie made her … that she only listened to Massie because she was finally IN and couldn’t stand being OUT again … But she didn’t. He wouldn’t understand.

  “Of course I showed up.” Claire bit her thumbnail. She pretended to cross her legs so she could lean into his armpit to take a whiff. She wanted to know if Massie was right about his BO problem. Claire inhaled deeply. All she could smell was his Drakkar Noir. He smelled great.

  Cam bobbed his head. “How killer is the sound track on this game?”

  “Awesome,” Claire said about some grating hip-hop song she had never heard before.

  “I’ll burn a CD for you.” Cam shook his floppy bangs out of his eyes. But the sudden jerky movement sent his red car into a metal garbage can. “Nooo,” he shouted when it burst into flames.

  “Bummer,” Claire lied. “I guess the game’s over.”

  “Huh?” Cam’s gaze was still fixated on his burning car.

  “So what’s going on with your brother and Alicia?” Claire asked. “Are they, you know, together?”

  Cam finally shut off the TV and looked at Claire. “What? No, they’re not together. He’s like four years older than she is.”

  “So why are they hanging out?”

  “They’re not. She’s just dropping off Strokes tickets,” Cam said, reaching for a pretzel. “How gross would that be if he started dating Alicia? Can’t he go to jail for that?”

  Claire shrugged and helped herself to a pretzel even though she didn’t have an appetite. She hoped the chewing would keep her mind off the one question that had been racing through her mind like the red car in the video game. … What if Massie found out she was with Cam?

  Cam stuck the control panel under Claire’s nose and waved it around like a hot pastry. “Wanna play?” he asked. “I bet you’ll beat my score.”

  “Uh, normally I would, but I should get going.” She snapped a pretzel in half but didn’t eat it.

  “You just got here,” he said, lifting his soda can and taking a small sip. “Do I smell or something?”

  Claire immediately thought of Massie.

  “No, it’s not that.” Claire giggled. “I actually like the way you smell. It’s just that, well, I—I have a boyfriend back at home, in Florida, and it’s his birthday and I forgot to call him.” She had no idea where that excuse came from, but it was a lot better than saying, “I think you’re the coolest guy I’ve ever met, but Massie won’t like me if I hang out with you because she thinks you’re a Harris wannabe.”

  Cam’s face turn red. The burst of color made his blue eye look greener than usual. “A boyfriend?” His expression hardened. “What?”

  Claire wrapped the laces on her Keds around her index finger until it turned purple and throbbed.

  “If you don’t like me, just say so,” Cam said softly. Then his voice cracked. “You don’t have to lie.”

  “I like you,” Claire said too quickly. “I mean, I’m not lying.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t your brother ever mention it?” Cam crushed the Coke can in his fist and the popping sounds of the aluminum sounded like gun shots.

  “I—I didn’t think you liked me that way.” Claire knew Cam would never buy that excuse, but the words came out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them.

  “How could you not know?” he asked. “I wrote you letters, burned CDs for you, and always asked you to hang out.”

  “I thought you were being friendly,” Claire said. “You know, ’cause I’m new here.” She felt her throat lock.

  Cam couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He was too busy digging his thumb into the carpet.

  “If I didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d definitely like you.” Claire knew that sounded stupid and was desperate to tell him the truth. But it was too late.

  Cam jumped to his feet and ran his hands through his dark wavy hair.

  “You should probably leave.” Cam pointed to the stairs. “I’m sure your boyfriend is wondering where you are.”

  Claire wanted to hug him and smell his Drakkar Noir one last time. She wanted to tell him that she’d memorized his note because she had read it more than one hundred times. She wanted him to know that she’d learned every word to every Strokes song on the CD he made for her and that she thought his leather jacket looked cool all beat up, even though Massie insisted he’d look cuter in a new one.

  “Sorry,” Claire said as she stood up. It was the only thing she’d said all night that she actually meant.

  “Whatever,” Cam said to the brown carpet.

  Claire ran up the stairs two at a time. She raced past the kitchen and bolted out the front door. Her coat was still on the banister, but she was too upset to go back in and grab it. All Claire wanted to do was go home, take off Alicia’s tight jeans, and cry in peace.

  The Fishers’ porch light was off and the driveway was empty. There was no sign of the black Mustang or Alicia’s Schwinn. Were they actually out on a date? Whatever they were doing, Claire knew Alicia was having a much better time than she was. The backs of Claire’s eyes suddenly felt hot. The tears came.

  Claire was about to get on her bike when the rustling leaves of the neighbor’s shrub caught her attention.

  “Alicia? Harris?” she whispered. “You back there?”

  There was no answer, just more rustling. Claire was about to call again when she thought maybe they didn’t want to be disturbed.

  “Pssst,” Claire heard from behind the bushes. “Over ’ere.”

  “Alicia, what are you doing?” Claire searched the darkness and wiped her eyes. She could feel the cold air penetrating her sweater but didn’t care. All she could think about was the sadness behind Cam’s eyes and how she was responsible for it.

  “Pssst,” she heard again. Someone poked a red, white, and blue Firecracker Popsicle out of the bushes an
d waved it around in the air. Claire started crying again. This time they were happy tears.

  “Layne!” Claire said, running toward the Popsicle. “You’re the best!” Layne’s orthodontist had recently banned her from popcorn and mustard, which she’d been munching for the last month, because he thought the kernels might crack one of the brackets on her teeth. So she switched and made Popsicles her latest food obsession.

  Layne tossed her Popsicle on the neighbor’s lawn. She crawled out of the bushes on her hands and knees. Once she was on her feet, the girls hugged and rocked back and forth.

  “What are you doing here?” Claire asked when they broke apart.

  “I got your message,” Layne said. Her lips were stained blue and her teeth were chattering.

  “Huh?”

  “You told me you were breaking up with Cam and you wanted to know if I would go with you,” Layne shouted. “Am I too late?”

  “Shhh.” Claire put her hand over Layne’s mouth. She had forgotten all about the message but was happy she’d left it.

  A voice from behind the bush said, “Hey, Lyons.”

  Claire jumped and grabbed Layne’s arm. “Who’s that?”

  “It’s Eli,” Layne said. “I had to bring him. My mom wouldn’t let me bike alone in the dark.”

  Normally Claire didn’t like hanging out with Layne’s know-it-all, eyeliner-wearing, punk rock boyfriend Eli. But tonight she welcomed the friendly face.

  “Can we get out of here?” Claire said.

  “Gladly,” Layne said, picking her bike up off the ground. It was covered in bumper stickers and had silver tassels hanging from the handlebars. Eli’s plain black bike looked naked in comparison.

  The three walked their bikes down Holly Road, shivering and talking in hushed tones.

  “I would ask how the breakup went, but I can pretty much tell by looking at your bloodshot eyes,” Layne said.

  Claire wiped her face with the back of her ice-cold hand.

  “Why did you dump him if you like him so much?” Eli asked, twisting his silver skull bracelet.

  Layne adjusted the orange floppy pom-pom on top of her striped hat. “I’m sure it had something to do with Massie Block.”

  “What does Massie have to do with it?” Eli asked.