BRIARWOOD–OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL
OUTSIDE THE AUDITORIUM
Monday, October 12th
8:37 A.M.
Alicia Rivera speed-walked down the empty, locker-lined hallway toward the auditorium, silently cursing herself for being late on today of all days. She’d lost track of time trying to find the über-perfect, alpha-worthy outfit for her first post-BFF-breakup assembly entrance. She’d changed her mind more times than Jason from The Bachelor, but had finally settled on option number nineteen: dark, curve-hugging Blank Denim skinny jeans, a thigh-skimming turquoise silk tank to make her olive skin pop, and her new charcoal gray Theory stretch vest. Caramel-colored riding boots added an equestrian chic touch to the carefully crafted ensemble.
She slowed as she reached the assembly doors. Maybe being late wasn’t such a bad thing. In fact, casually waltzing through the auditorium after assembly had started could be the perfect way to advertise just how fine she was without Massie Block breathing down her Angel perfume–spritzed neck. The perfect way to prove to BOCD, and herself, that she could capture everyone’s attention without Massie by her side. To prove that she, Alicia Rivera, was an alpha in her own right.
Then her stomach did a triple pirouette. It wasn’t that she doubted her ability to rock a solo entrance. Just the opposite. Years of dance training had prepared her for this very moment. She was ready for the spotlight, ready to drink in the admiration she deserved. It was just that she’d never made an assembly entrance without Massie before. Suddenly thinking about it felt strange. Like she’d forgotten to floss before a lip-kiss.
“… if I should get Jessica Alba bangs or Vanessa Hudgens bangs, and he goes, ‘What’s the difference?’” huffed a honey-blond seventh-grader wearing a long black skirt, giant white sunglasses, and a floor-grazing hand-knit scarf.
“How can he nawt see the difference?” squealed her friend, whose giant black sweater coat made her look like death. “Jessica’s are curtains drawn and Vanessa’s are curtains open.”
“I knoooow,” bellowed Long Skirt.
Alicia rolled her eyes. The Mary-Kate Olsen look had just hit the seventh grade, as though it had been stuck at customs for two years and finally made it through. It was hard to believe anyone could be more behind the trends than her Spanish cousins, but hobo chic was spreading faster than strep this semester.
When Grim Reaper and Long Skirt disappeared into the auditorium, Alicia took a deep, calming breath and got ready to make a fresh start.
“And five, and six, ah-seven, eight!” she whisper-counted, bursting through the double doors.
Deafening chatter poured over her like a tsunami the second she stepped inside. Students were milling around the aisles, weaving through the rows of creaky wooden chairs as Principal Burns shuffled papers at the podium onstage. Dean Don was huddled with Mr. Myner and a few of the other teachers in the front row, whispering intently.
Alicia strategically stepped into the dusty spotlight that poured through the stained-glass windows. This was her moment.
“Heads up!” A guy’s voice rose over the noise. Alicia ducked just in time, narrowly missing getting whacked in the head by a soccer cleat.
“Ehmagawd!” Straightening up, she whip-turned toward the offender. But he was too busy high-fiving his buddies to notice.
Panicked, Alicia considered ducking back through the doors and starting over. This wasn’t working. She should have waited until she heard Principal Burns’s voice over the microphone. But it was too late; there was no turning back now.
Scanning the auditorium for a familiar face, she spotted the Heart-Nets, the cheerleading squad she’d created last week after quitting Massie’s Socc-Hers, due to irreconcilable creative differences. Namely, that Massie never accepted her suggestions, despite Alicia’s superior dance ability. She had generously offered to let Massie be the alpha in life—so long as Alicia was the alpha in dance—but Massie had refused. Hence her new motto: If your alpha won’t join you, beat her.
The Heart-Nets were clustered together in the fifth row of the wooden seats on the left, wearing their signature uniforms: pressed white Ralph button-downs, denim short shorts with red hearts on the pockets, and matching BCBG metallic belts. They looked ah-dorable, of course. All thanks to Alicia. But why had they shown up to school in uniform? She hadn’t told them to. Had they decided on their own? Without her?
“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”
In the fourth row, Dylan Marvil was pounding a can of Red Bull, her head tilted back like an open Pez dispenser. Cam, Derrington, Chris Plovert, and Josh Hotz leaned over the back of their seats in the third row, egging her on. Derrington was timing her on his iPhone and keeping one eye on the huddle of teachers in the front row, who were too busy whispering to each other to scold the students around them. With a final gulp, Dylan raised the empty can over her head in victory like it was the Olympic torch.
“Doooooooooone,” she burped.
From her seat next to Dempsey Solomon, at the far end of the row in the middle section of the auditorium, Massie was busy texting, not paying the slightest bit of attention to Dylan’s bodily functions. Alicia resisted the urge to catch Massie’s eye before she rolled hers at Dylan.
“Seven seconds!” Derrington high-fived Dylan. “Record time!”
The guys cheered, then swiveled forward in their seats without so much as a glance at Alicia. Gleefully, Dylan tilted her can upside down and shook it as Alicia edged by her. A few drops of Red Bull landed on the toe of her caramel-colored riding boot, leaving a dark, teardrop stain.
“Dylaaaan,” Alicia huffed.
“Ehmagawd,” Dylan burp-breathed, her cheeks flushed with victory. “Did you see that?” She patted the seat next to her, motioning for Alicia to sit. “Seven seconds!”
Alicia bumped the back of Josh’s chair with her gunmetal Botkier Bianca satchel as she slid into her seat. Her crush turned around.
“Oh. Hey.” Josh gave her a quick grin, showcasing his headshot-worthy smile. He looked beyond adorable in his red RL polo and navy Yankees cap. “Thought you weren’t coming or something.”
“I was just late,” she explained, taking the seat next to Dylan.
“Oh. Cool.” Josh pulled his cap over his eyes and slouched low in his seat.
Alicia scanned her row. Claire was sitting exactly halfway between Alicia and Massie, three empty seats on either side of her. She was gnawing at her nail beds like she hadn’t eaten anything but cuticle all week.
“Kuh-laire,” she called.
When Claire glanced up, Alicia slapped the empty wooden seat on her free side. “Come sit,” she ordered, trying to speak just loudly enough for Claire to hear, but not loudly enough to attract Massie’s attention.
Claire waved, pretending not to hear the invite.
Alicia’s throat tightened. Since when did she have to recruit her friends to sit next to her? She turned to Dylan. “Where’s Kristen?” she asked, nodding at the empty seat on her other side.
“Home sick from bad sushi.” Dylan shrugged, extending an open bag of caramel kettle corn in Alicia’s direction. “Spicy tuuuuuuuuna roooooooolllll.”
Alicia rapid-fanned away Dylan’s burp fumes, shifting in her seat. The urge to look over at Massie again was getting stronger and stronger. Was she devastated from their fight? Wishing she’d taken Alicia up on her offer to co-alpha the Heart-Nets? Finally, Alicia stole a quick glance.
Massie was staring straight ahead, her expression stoic and glassy. She wore black thigh-hugging cigarette pants tucked into Prada ankle boots. An appropriately wrinkled collared shirt peeked out from under a shrunken tuxedo blazer. Last week, Alicia would have given the outfit a solid 9.9. But this was Monday. Things were different now.
For a split second, she wondered if the fight had been a mistake. If she should have kept her glossy lips shut and let Massie run the Socc-Hers. It would have been easier. But she remembered the way she felt every time Massie tried to control her: like she was wearing a bra that was two sizes too small. Alicia shuddered at the memory. She could never go back to that constricting feeling again.
Just then, Massie looked up, locking eyes with her.
Alicia forced a laugh and whirled around in her seat, pretending one of the Heart-Nets had just said something hilarious. But a long, shrill squeal interrupted her as Principal Burns neared the mic.
“Ugggghhhh.” A unanimous groan sounded over the feedback as students shifted in the creaky wooden auditorium chairs.
“Attention!” Principal Burns hunched over the podium microphone, glaring from underneath a curtain of I-just-stuck-my-finger-in-an-outlet gray hair. Her ill-fitting black polyester suit, the one she only wore on special occasions, signaled that something big was about to go down. Dean Don hovered behind her, rubbing his dark stubble with one hand. “Both Dean Don and I are pleased to welcome you to a special assembly here at Briarwood–Octavian Country Day School.” She looked as pleased as someone getting an exclusive sneak peek at Ralph Lauren’s spring line.
“Pssst.” Dylan leaned in. “Have you talked to Massie?”
Alicia stole another quick glance to her right, then slid her gaze back to Dylan. “Who?” She blinked coolly.
Principal Burns cleared her throat, staring down at Alicia and Dylan with tiny, beady eyes that reminded Alicia of the capers in her mom’s world-famous paella. “As I was saying, we have an exciting announcement to make.”
“Cawwwww cawwwww,” cawed a boy in the back. A swell of muffled chuckles followed.
Pretending she had no clue the birdcall was directed at her and her hawklike facial features, Principal Burns waited patiently for the laughter to subside before continuing. Dean Don coughed uncomfortably.
“Whassgoingon?” Dylan whisper-hissed as a giant white screen descended from the ceiling.
Out of the corner of her eye, Alicia noticed that Massie’s glossy lips were curled as if around a secret. Did she know what the announcement was? If they were still friends, would Alicia know too? Did the fact that she didn’t know make her a bad leader? Alicia leaned forward slightly, smile-nodding like she knew exactly what was about to happen.
The auditorium lights dimmed.
“As you all are aware, an unfortunate incident at Briar-wood Academy last year forced us all to… adapt rather quickly while the school was being repaired.”
Alicia gulped.
Claire gnawed at what was left of her nail beds.
Dylan cracked open another Red Bull. Last spring, the wave pool on the roof of Briarwood had leaked, flooding the entire school. Everyone had assumed it was faulty construction, but it was actually Layne Abeley and the Pretty Committee’s fault. They had sneaked into the boys’ school at night to fix the secret spy cam that recorded their crushes’ sensitivity training class, and ended up drilling a hole through the water pipes.
“After many, many months, we are proud to announce the completion of the new and improved…” Prin cipal Burns paused dramatically. “BRIARWOOD ACAAAAADEMYYYYYY!” she yelled into the mic, like she was Oprah and Briarwood was one of her Favorite Things. Only her excitement-yell sounded more like she was pinching her nose in a stinky bathroom stall, shouting for someone to bring her more toilet paper—a mix of urgency and discomfort.
An image of Briarwood lit up the projector screen, while a recording of the boys’ band playing an instrumental version of Christina Aguilera’s “Keeps Gettin’ Better” blared from the speakers. The school and the grounds looked brand-new and better than ever. The modern glass facade gleamed in the sunlight, wide stone steps led to a state-of-the-art atrium, and freshly sodded sports fields stretched into the distance.
Alicia’s tongue felt like sandpaper. She willed Josh to turn around in his seat so they could panic-gaze at each other. The only reason she and her crush got to see each other every day was because Briarwood had been undergoing renovations. But if the renovations were finished…
But Josh didn’t turn around. Instead, he high-fived Plovert and Cam.
“Yesssssss!” Throughout the auditorium, the Briarwood boys clapped one another on the back, grinning at the glowing image of their school on the screen. After a few seconds, the picture of the front facade melted into a shot of a sleek new Briarwood auditorium. Rows of cushy movie theater–style chairs led up to a giant, rotating stage lit by colorful spotlights.
Dean Don slid up to the mic as a gym complex popped on-screen. “The new gym floor doubles as a hockey rink and has NBA rims and an Olympic-size pool.”
The boys erupted in whoops and applause. The girls looked lost and confused. Like they had been abandoned on the side of the highway with nothing but a soggy map and a Ziploc full of pennies. Dylan seemed too stricken to speak.
Out of the corner of her eye, Alicia saw Claire attempt to grin like someone who was happy for her crush. But it came off looking like she had cramps. Luckily Cam was too amped up to notice.
Alicia opened her mouth, then closed it. Why wasn’t Josh upset about this? Was an in-house movie theater more important to him than she was? She was suddenly aware of the combination mothball/dusty-textbook smell that hovered over the creaky wooden non-stadium seats.
“Briarwood students will return to their school a week from today.” Principal Burns nudged Dean Don out of the way and retook her place at the podium. “As a welcome-back gift, each student will be receiving a brand-new Endu(red) laptop, courtesy of Bono, who has generously donated them to Briar-wood and our brother school in Kenya.”
“Woooo-hoooo!” The guys were on their feet now, clapping and aisle-dancing to the beat of the music. The girls were frozen in their seats, mouths half open, stares vacant.
A back-in-business Briarwood meant only one thing.
No. More. Boys.
Which meant no more weekday flirting.
No more Briarwood Tomahawks soccer games.
And no more Briarwood Tomahawks soccer games meant…
A sweaty palm gripped Alicia’s bony shoulder.
“Ew!” She whipped her head around to face the row of Heart-Nets, blinking in unison, as if begging her to do something.
“Does this mean no more squad?” one of the girls whisper-gasped.
“But we spent all that time rehearsing!” another whined.
Alicia’s mouth parted slightly, but she had no idea what to tell her girls. Her head was spinning with too many thoughts. How could Josh be so excited to leave? What would happen to her if she lost her squad? She turned involuntarily toward Massie, who was serenely examining her fingernails as Dempsey grinned at the projector screen. She looked calm and composed. Even in tragic times like this, Massie always knew what to do.
But Alicia had never felt more powerless. Alpha was leaking out of her pores, leaving her more hollow than one of Dylan’s empty Red Bull cans. To be an alpha, you had to be confident. In control. And more in charge than Visa. Alicia was none of those things. Not anymore. Not without a cheerleading squad. Not without the Briarwood boys. Not without stadium seating. She was over before she started. She was a social Zune.
“This cannawt happen,” Dylan cried desperately. “The boys can’t leave! What’re we gonna do?”
Every muscle in Alicia’s body tightened. Dylan needed an alpha. Someone to guide her in her time of need. And Dylan was choosing Alicia. Not because Alicia could do six pirouettes in a row without getting even a little dizzy (even though she could). Not because her hair was the shiniest in eighth, or because she was the only girl at BOCD who had a perfect chemical-free tan year-round. But because, at that moment, Dylan didn’t know what to do, and she believed that Alicia did.
“Okay,” she began loudly, her voice suddenly strong and clear. “Listen up.”
Dylan leaned in close. From the corner of her eye, Alicia saw Claire’s gaze linger on her. They were waiting for her instruction. Depending on her to know exactly what to do, the way they used to depend on Massie.
“The boys are just excited because they think Briarwood’s gonna be more fun than OCD.” She rolled her eyes toward the row of seats in front of them. Cam and Josh leaped out of their seats for a chest bump as a shot of an indoor soccer field lit up the projector screen. “Right?”
“Right.” Dylan crossed her legs, intentionally slamming the round toe of her Sam Edelman wedge heel into the back of Derrington’s seat. He didn’t notice.
Claire was tilted so far to the left to hear Alicia’s words without leaving her seat that she looked like a capsized sailboat.
“So ah-bviously, all we have to do is make it ten times more fun to hang out with us,” Alicia reasoned. “We can totally beat indoor soccer and stadium seating.”
“Right,” Dylan repeated, sounding less than convinced. “So… what’s the plan?”
“We have to get everybody together after school today,” Alicia continued without missing a beat, faking like she actually had a plan. “You, me, Kristen and Kuh-laire…” She side-glanced at Claire to see if she was in. Claire blinked that she was. “… plus the boys,” Alicia finished confidently. “I’ll text the time and location by lunch.”
“’Kay.” Dylan looked slightly relieved.
The Briarwood boys’ shouts, plus the thump of the music and the flash of the slide show, all faded to the back of Alicia’s mind. She felt a jolt of nervous energy, the way she did when she was waiting in the wings, about to glide onstage for a dance solo. It wasn’t lost on her that being an alpha was the biggest performance she’d ever give in her life.
And choking onstage was so not an option.