THE BLOCK ESTATE
THE RUNWAY
Friday, October 23rd
7:19 P.M.
“MASSIE BLOCK! YOU’RE ON IN THIRTY SECONDS!” A voice rose over the frenzied pitch in the tent.
“’Kay,” she yelled back, kicking off her Miu Mius and slipping into a pair of rhinestone-encrusted Manolos. She fliptousled her loose curls, tucked Bean tightly under her arm, and rushed out of the tent.
Bean’s tiny heart was fluttering with excitement, and Massie knew exactly how she felt. The idea of seeing Landon for the first time in his tux with the matching lavender silk Armani bow tie made her pulse vibrate faster than her iPhone. She picked up the pace.
“Okay. I’m here.” She exhaled once she reached the runway entrance. A stagehand spritzed the left side of her face with Evian facial mist. She turned, and the stagehand spritzed her right. “Where’s Landon?” she asked, but no one answered.
“Kaitlyn!” The stage manager yelled over the pulsing music. “Go!”
Kaitlyn and Prince glided onto the runway.
Cassidy, Jasmin, and Lilah took their places behind Massie with their escorts.
“Layne?” the stage manager called.
“Not coming,” Cassidy clarified. “She ate too much beef jerky. Salt bloat!”
But Layne was the least of Massie’s worries. She turned around and caught Lilah’s eye.
“Have you seen Landon?” she asked hopefully. She released Bean to the ground, half hoping Bean would suddenly turn into one of those police dogs who could sniff out missing crushes. But Bean just pranced around the girls in circles, loving herself in her lavender silk sheath.
“I’ve been working for eighteen hours straight and I still haven’t had a bathroom break,” Lilah snapped. “I’m not seeing much of anything right now.”
Massie recoiled at Lilah’s tone. The PC had never talked to her like that. Not even when they really had to pee or were busy stealing her crushes.
“Landon?” The stage manager lifted her pierced brow. “Saw him leave a few minutes ago. But you know you’re on in—”
Massie didn’t hear the rest.
Ehmagawd. She’d been left at the runway.
Landon Crane, her soul m—her crush, had ditched her. Just like Dempsey. And Derrington.
Massie’s head was screaming at her heart for being so stupid, and she fought the urge to crumple into a high-couture ball right there on the runway. How could she have believed that Landon was actually different from the others? Being in ninth, knowing a designer, not playing soccer… he’d had all the qualities she’d ever wanted in a guy. She should have known he was too good to be true.
She yanked Bean from the floor and tucked her under her bicep.
“IN THREE, TWO, ONE!” The stage manager shoved Massie and Bean into the spotlight, seconds behind Kaitlyn and Prince. “GO!”
On cue, the color-coordinated fireworks Massie had planned exploded overhead, making the acrobats look like they were swinging through showers of blue and gold fire. Massie blinked back tears, gripping Bean tight. She wanted to turn and run. But alphas didn’t turn and run. Alphas held their heads high.
She took a shaky step onto the catwalk. Bean licked her hand reassuringly. As she took her second step, the sparkling crowd that stretched in front of her leaped to their feet in applause. Camera flashes blended with the fireworks, making the night sky light up around her. But Massie didn’t care about any of it. All she wanted to do was bury her face in Bean’s soft, shiny fur and have a good, waterproof-mascara-running-down-your-cheeks, snot-all-over-your-face-but-who-cares, heaving cr—
Crrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!
Massie heard the splintering sound of the plastic runway just seconds before Kaitlyn’s angled bob dip below her sight line. The crowd let out a collective gasp.
“Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmagaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawd!” Massie screamed, side-leaping to the front row of seats as the other models fell through the cracked runway into the fish-filled pool.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” the girls shrieked, disappearing beneath the glowing blue surface.
The crowd exploded with a mixture of cheers, cries, and screams. Some of the neighborhood kids rushed the runway, cannonballing into the pool with giant splashes.
“Yeaaaaaah!” The male models paddled through the shards of splintered plastic to high-five each other.
“My hair!” cried Lilah, fingering the neon pink faux-seaweed wig that hung over her eyes.
“My makeup!” Cassidy sobbed, burying her streaked face in her hands.
“My Praaaaaaaaaaaaaadaaaaaaaaaa!” Kaitlyn screamed, treading water.
The paparazzi pounced. Stampeding around Massie and Bean, reporters loomed over the pool, snapping photos and capturing live footage.
Winkie Porter crouched next to the water while her cameraman counted her down. “Winkie Porter here, with a Channel Five special report: What happens when fashion tanks?”
“There’s a sea horse in my braaaaaaaa!” Jasmin yelped when she surfaced, thrashing wildly in the water.
“The big story at eleven.” Winkie beamed.
“Aaaand, we’re out,” the cameraman called.
“Perfect,” Winkie said, straightening up. “Call Joe and tell him we’ve got a lead story. We’ll call it ‘Capsized Couture.’” She giggled to herself. “Let’s get some more B-roll of the backyard.” They walked off to interview the soaked guests.
Massie jumped to her feet. She tried to hold on to Bean, but the puppy squirmed from her grip and made a break for the house. Massie didn’t blame her. This was a disaster. All around them, stage managers were fishing models out of the pool, and guests were rushing around in a panic. Worst of all, the press was documenting every humiliating second.
Lilah, Jasmin, Kaitlyn, and Cassidy squish-stomped over to her the second they were pulled from the pool. Their ruined couture was painted to their sopping wet bodies. Bits of glow-in-the-dark coral stuck to their hair.
“Massie?” Jasmin snapped. “We have something to tell you.”
“Yeah!” Cassidy yelled. “You ruined my makeup!”
Jasmin looked confused. “No. The other thing,” she side-whispered.
Massie opened her mouth. Before she could respond, the girls took a collective breath.
“WE QUIT!” they yelled in union.
Massie balked. “You can’t quit!” she hissed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. If the MAC girls quit, she’d be friendless. The thought made her feel like she’d been dunked in a giant vat of ice water. Even though she hadn’t. “You haven’t finished the job!”
“Oh, yeah, we have,” Lilah snapped. “And if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to the bathroom. Because we can!” She and Kaitlyn high-fived, then turned around and linked arms with the ninth-grade boys.
Massie took a shaky breath as they disappeared into the crowd. “Fine!” she yelled. Goose bumps covered her arms and legs. But nobody was there to notice. Not even Bean. “YOU’RE FIRED!” she screamed at their retreating backs.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” The music from the DJ booth screeched to a halt, and Kendra’s embarrassed voice came over the mic. “We’re so sorry for the inconvenience, but due to… technical… difficulties, Ho Ho Homeless will be winding up early. Please feel free to take a gift bag with you on your way out. There are some fabulous goodies in there that we just know you’ll love!” She laughed a little too loudly.
Even though she and Kendra were on opposite sides of the yard, with hundreds of people, a broken runway, and a pool between them, Massie could feel her mom’s embarrassment.
“Massie Block?” Winkie tapped Massie on the shoulder. “As hostess of this charity event, the tragic end to the night must come as quite a shock.” She flashed a megawatt smile.
Massie squinted into the bright light Winkie’s cameraman was shining into her eyes, wanting nothing more than to strangle Winkie with her own mic cord.
“Tell us how this will affect Westchester’s homeless,” Winkie cooed victoriously, shoving the mic in Massie’s face.
Massie stared tight-lipped into the camera. It wasn’t the homeless she was worried about.
After a social disaster like this, it would be almost impossible to make a comeback. Which meant that Massie Block was just like her botched event.
Over.
CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION
IN OUT
Bean Landon, Dempsey, Derrington,
Kristen, Alicia, Dylan, Cassidy,
Jasmin, Lilah, Kaitlyn
Catfights Catwalks
Firing friends Hiring friends