CARPOOL WITH LAYNE ABELEY
BACKSEAT
3:35 PM
October 24th
Layne leaned across the backseat of her parents' Lexus and whispered in Claire's ear.
“I can't believe you're inviting boys to the party.”
“Why are you whispering?” Claire asked.
Layne gestured toward her mother, who was in the front seat, driving carpool.
“If she hears we're hanging out with boys, she'll start asking us who we like and it will be totally embarrassing,” Layne said. “Trust me.”
“And that's why you don't want them at the party?” Claire said.
“No. I just think the party won't be fun now, that's all.”
Claire turned to look out the window. Fall had come and the trees were almost bare—just a few yellow and red leaves were still holding on. Claire had never experienced the different seasons in Orlando and hoped this one would bring some much needed change to her social life.
After a brief moment of silence, Claire looked back at Layne.
“Everyone will be trying to act all cool to impress the boys, and no one will be themselves,” Layne said.
“I think guys will make the party better,” Claire said. “My old school was coed and everything seemed much easier than it does at OCD. For one thing, boys don't fight half as much as girls and they have other things to talk about besides clothes.”
“I think this party is an excuse for Massie and her friends to show off. How much do you wanna bet they'll dress up as cats or Playboy bunnies or French maids just so they can look hot?”
Claire turned her entire body to face Layne's. “Have you ever gone to school with boys?” she asked.
Layne leaned over the driver's seat and rested her chin on her mother's arm.
“Mom, did my nursery school have boys?”
“Yes,” her mother answered. “Now get your head off me before I get into an accident.”
Layne sighed and flopped back in her seat.
“See,” Claire said. “You have no experience. That's why you're scared.”
“What experience do you have?” Layne whispered. “Have you ever gone on a date?”
“Who needs a date?” Claire whispered back. “Recess three times a day with boys can teach a girl a lot.”
Finally Claire could say she had done something no one else at OCD had, even if it was just playing tag with boys during recess and getting her hair pulled in class. She intended on milking her so-called experience as much as she could.
Mrs. Abeley pulled the car into the circular driveway of the Block estate.
“Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Abeley.” Claire winked at Layne before she stepped out of the Lexus. “I'll call you later,” she whispered.
Claire made extra sure to close the door gently behind her. One of the many lessons she had learned from Westchester's elite was never to slam a car door. Apparently it was a heinous crime, as heartless as kicking a puppy.
Judi Lyons drove up right behind her. She rolled down her window and lowered the volume on the car stereo that had been blasting Kelly Clarkson.
“Claire, will you help me unload the groceries?”
Claire watched the Abeleys' luxury car round the circular driveway and glide away from the Block estate. She turned back to her mother.
“When are you and Dad going to get a real car?” Claire asked. “Aren't you tired of driving around in this ugly Ford Taurus rental?”
“Since when have you started paying attention to cars?” Judi looked at her daughter with a trace of suspicion in her eyes. She handed Claire two bags of groceries.
“I'm curious, that's all. I think you and Dad deserve something better.”
Claire stopped walking and lowered the heavy bags onto the driveway. She readjusted her grip and lifted them again.
“Better than a Taurus?” Judi said. “Why waste the money? This car is perfect for us. Anyway, I thought you loved it.”
“I did,” Claire said. “I just think it's time for a change.”
“Well, when you can afford something better, let me know,” Judi said.
Claire was too ashamed to answer and wished she had never brought it up.
They carried the bags into the kitchen and set them down on the white Formica breakfast table.
“Thanks for your help. I'll unpack them,” Judi said. “Don't you have a party planning meeting?”
“Yeah, it's at four o'clock,” Claire said. “I still have fifteen minutes.”
After inhaling two bowls of Cap'n Crunch, Claire headed over to the main house. According to her pink Baby G-Shock, she was five minutes early. She rang the doorbell three times, hoping to get a few minutes of costume talk with Massie before Landon arrived.
“Claire, I'm glad you finally made it,” Kendra said while she took Claire's coat. “Massie and Landon are waiting for you in the sunroom.”
The hallway was warm and toasty compared to the crisp October air, and Claire felt her cheeks tingling as they thawed. A Thanksgiving smell filled the house. This was thanks to Inez, who was in the kitchen preparing dinner—crispy chicken, twice-baked potatoes, pecan pie, and frozen yogurt for Massie. Claire slipped off her sneakers and made her way to the “greenhouse.” Three walls were made of glass and faced the backyard. But instead of plants and flowers, it was filled with a pool table and a stocked bar.
“Massie, are you familiar with the word jux-ta-po-si-tion?”
Claire heard a woman ask. The stranger pronounced every letter and every syllable she spoke, like she sharpened her words with knives before she used them. “Because that's what I'm going for here. The instant you place two opposites beside each other, or jux-ta-pose them, you get magic. This is why I think the theme of your party should be—”
Her sentence came to a screeching halt when Claire entered the room.
“Oh, you started already?” Claire asked. “It's just four o'clock now.”
“Speaking of opposites,” Landon hissed. She lifted her thick black-rimmed glasses and examined Claire's outfit.
“I said three forty-five,” Massie said. “But it's no big deal. I already filled her in.”
Claire sighed. She reached into the back pocket of her old khakis. She never would have worn such snug pants if it wasn't for her bet with Massie. Every time she pulled down her pants to pee, she noticed the imprint of the waistband on her stomach. Of course Massie's outfit was perfect—black tights, pleated denim mini, and a fluffy cashmere cowl-neck.
Twenty-nine days to go.
“It says four o'clock on this note you left for me last night.” Claire pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it out in front of her.
Massie shrugged.
“Wipe that befuddled look off your puss,” Landon said. “And come join us. You're already late enough as it is.” She patted the empty bar stool beside her.
Claire sat down. Landon smoothed her manicured hand over the top of her head, making sure the interruption hadn't caused any hairs to pop out of her tight chignon. “As I was saying, the perfect theme for your event is When Hell Freezes Over.” She clapped and held her hands in a prayer position, waiting for the girls' reactions. She got nothing but blank stares.
“You know, like fire and ice. Together,” Landon said.
“I love it,” Massie said. “Can we build a skating rink?”
“We can do anything you want.” Landon drew her stylus like a sword and started tapping the screen of her PalmPilot while she rattled off some last-minute thoughts.
“I'll need fifteen podiums, twenty severed heads, seven waitresses dressed like Satan, mannequins … preferably foam, a DJ, and at least five pitchforks for every bonfire pit, which I will call … hmmm, what will I call them?”
Landon tapped the stylus against her chin while she thought. “I know … The Pits of Despair. Too genius!” She looked up and noticed the girls staring at her.
“Well,” she continued as she powered down her organizer. “I can probably finish up at my office.”
Claire breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oops, one more thing.” Landon pulled a box out of her bag. “I brought invitations for you. If you don't like the scaredy cats, I have ghosts in the car.”
“It's okay, the cats are good.” Massie reached for the box. “Ghosts are so sixth grade.”
“Agreed,” Landon said.
“Will there be candy?” Claire asked. She didn't care about waitresses or podiums or scaredy cats. The only things she wanted at this party were boys and treats.
“Excuse me?” Landon turned her head slowly to face Claire.
“I was just wondering if there was going to be can-dee?” Claire asked.
“Ignore her,” Massie instructed Landon. “It's her first event.”
Landon pulled a shiny gold business card out of a case and handed it to Claire.
“What does it say under the name Landon Dorsey?” she asked.
Claire looked at Massie. Massie shrugged.
Claire looked at the business card.
“It says ‘professional party planner.’”
“Right,” Landon said. Her eyes were closed. “Which means there will be enough candy to keep you puking until I'm back to plan your sweet sixteen.”
And with that Landon gathered her things and tossed her lipstick-covered Starbucks cup in the trash.
“Get started on those invites,” she called over her shoulder. “I want them in the mail tomorrow morning. The party is a week away.”
“'Kay,” they both shouted back.
“Terminator,” Claire said under her breath. “I can't believe you like her. I was waiting for her to take her face off and show us her wires and dangling eyeballs.”
“She'z ah prafeshhhanal pahtee planna,” Massie said, doing her best Arnold impersonation.
Claire was shocked. She'd expected Massie to rush to Landon's defense.
“She'll be beck when we-ya zixteen,” Claire joined in.
Both girls busted out laughing.
“She's a total freak, but she's good,” Massie said. “You just have to trust her and not ask stupid questions like if there will be candy at a Halloween party.”
Claire let out a heavy sigh. Her moment of fun with Massie was over.
“Here's a list of all of the seventh-grade OCD girls and the Briarwood boys.” Massie opened her lavender Clairefontaine notebook and placed it on the bar so Claire could see it. The she reached into her black messenger bag and pulled out a bottle of purple nail polish. “I'll write out the invites for the boys since none of them know you yet, and I'll also cover everyone I mark with a purple dot. You can do everyone else. 'Kay?”
Claire noticed her list was made up of all the girls Massie had once referred to as the LBR (Losers Beyond Repair).
“Who's this?” Claire asked, pointing to the purple question mark Massie had painted beside one of the names.
“Olivia Ryan,” Massie said. “She's a total airhead. No one's seen her since school started. Knowing her, she probably forgets where it is.” Massie tapped the bottle of nail polish against her bottom teeth. “She'll go on my list.”
Massie dabbed a drop of purple over the question mark beside Olivia's name and replaced it with a check. “Oh, and remember,” she said. “Put Claire Lyons and your phone number where it says RSVP so the people you're inviting know to call you and not me.”
Later that night, Claire did exactly what she was told. Only she decided to spell her name M-a-s-s-i-e B-l-o-c-k and include a certain someone's cell phone number with special instructions to “call anytime day or night.”
Claire knew Massie would probably force her to eat lunch in the musty janitor's closet for a month when she found out. But it was worth it. She was tired of being treated like a loser.
“If you can't join 'em, beat 'em.” Claire licked her last envelope and sealed it shut.