BOCD
THE NEW GREEN CAFé
Friday, October 16th
12:40 P.M.
“’Scuuuuze me.” Alicia speed-walked into the New Café, balancing a teetering pyramid of gold tissue–stuffed gift bags with the skill of an Olympic gymnast. The inaugural gifts she’d had overnighted for the Soul-M8s had arrived that morning, and it had taken every ounce of self-control not to spoil the surprise before lunch.
She walked slowly to her table, using the opportunity to show off the new ensemble she’d bought for the boys’ last day: black pencil-leg jeans paired with a black silk Elizabeth and James racer-back tank. Classic black Louboutin flats and a stack of bangles finished the outfit. The all-black was meant to subtly indicate that while Alicia Rivera might be suffering, her sense of style wasn’t.
Even though she knew the outfit was at least a 9.8, she almost wished Massie could have confirmed her suspicions. But since that wasn’t an option anymore, Alicia had had to settle for having her dad rate her before she left the house. He gave her an 11 out of 10. As always.
“Prezzies!” Dylan squeal-clapped when Alicia reached the table, temporarily forgetting that she was supposed to be in mourning. The black half-veil spilling from the comb lodged in her side-part fluttered as she jumped up and shoved the trays of soy cheese veggie burgers and tofu stir-fry out of the way to make room for the gifts.
Alicia tilted forward and dumped the overstuffed bags at the head of table thirty-six, like she was barfing generosity. “It wouldn’t be a going-away party without presents.”
“’S no big deal.” Derrington shrugged, elbow-nudging Dylan. “We’re just going back to Briarwood.”
“Yeah,” Josh added from his place at the boys’ end of the table. “It’s like five minutes away.”
The girls were suddenly silent. Alicia’s smile morphed into a tight line. Why couldn’t Josh at least pretend he didn’t want to leave?
“I guess,” Dylan sniffed, producing a tube of DiorShow waterproof mascara and shellacking her lashes with it.
Kristen shrugged, yanking the zipper of her black Puma hoodie up to her chin.
Claire just stared down at her untouched soy cheeseburger, looking sadder than her faded black Old Navy henley.
“Okay!” Alicia said brightly. Just because the boys were leaving didn’t mean her party had to be a funeral. “Let’s get this party started!” She eyed Cam and Dempsey, who were hunched over their end of the table, working on their paper football goal kicks.
After a few seconds of silence, the boys finally took the hint and settled down. Alicia distributed the bags according to the gold glitter–scripted initials on each tag. “The boys can go first,” she announced, taking her seat at the head of the table.
Derrington held up his bag and shook it. “Ugh,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the tissue paper. “What’s that smell?”
“Wellareyougonnaopenitornawt?” Alicia said quickly. Maybe she’d been a little heavy-handed with the perfume. But the extra spritzes of Angel ensured that they’d remember her long after they left OCD.
“Harrington!” Ben Wright, a seventh grader and the Tomahawks’ second-string goalie, came up behind Derrington’s seat. “Careful not to mess up those naaaaiilllllls.” He wiggled all ten fingers in front of his face.
The boys flushed.
“Heard you guys got mani-pedis,” Ben’s friend Topher Bank added, using a squeaky girl voice. “Was it just to diiiie for?”
“Shut up, Bank,” Josh mumbled, whipping a roll at the boy’s head.
“Who cares?” Dylan said through a mouthful of fries. “I saw you guys last weekend getting spray tans at Sun of a Beach.”
Ben and Topher’s bronzed cheeks turned purple. Derrington stared at the table, looking like he couldn’t tell whether Dylan had just saved him or doomed him.
“Whatever, mani-prettys,” Ben spat, storming off.
“Okay, seriously,” Alicia groaned, annoyed that the focus had shifted from her. “Open the presents.”
“Hey, is this made from recycled paper?” Dempsey asked, pointing to the gold tissue.
Kristen kick-nudged Alicia with a black Puma.
Alicia bounced impatiently in her seat. “Just open it.”
Dempsey’s forearm disappeared into the bag. When it reappeared, a key chain attached to a small, square LED screen was dangling from the crook of his finger.
“It’s a digital photo key chain,” Alicia chattered nervously, searching the boys’ faces for their reactions. “So you’ll remember OCD. It has pictures of us from the last few days. Like from the spa and stuff.”
“Ehmagawd, that’s too sweet.” Dylan dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. Her “waterproof” mascara left a dark football player smudge under her left eye.
“You’ve got proof?” Derrington screeched, slumping back in his chair.
“If those things ever get out…” Dempsey shook his head, his green eyes wide.
Alicia froze. Was her idea totally lame? Should she have gone with the monogrammed iPod shuffles instead? “Plus it has ‘Soul-M8s’ engraved on the back,” she said quickly, trying to reel them back in. “Annnnd it’s an MP3 player.”
“Cool!” Cam smiled reassuringly. “Did you load music onto them already?”
Alicia’s cheeks burned. Should she have? Would Massie have thought of that? She shook her head no, but Cam grinned anyway.
“Thanks.” He scooted his chair closer to Claire and started scrolling through pictures of them eating gummies together. Claire smiled sadly down at the screen, as if the photos were the last memories of Cam she’d ever have.
Derrington jumped up and wiggled his butt.
“Yeah, thanks.” Josh leaned across the table and lifted his palm for a high five. His dark brown eyes flickered like he meant it.
Relieved, Alicia met his hand midair. A jolt of electricity shot through her palm and zipped down to her stomach the instant their fingers touched. She realized it had been ten days since their last lip kiss. Who knew how long it would be before their next one, now that they wouldn’t see each other every day.
“Yeah, really cool,” Dempsey echoed, immediately gathering the crumpled tissue paper. He smoothed it out over the table before folding it up, probably to save and reuse it later.
“Girls’ turn!” Alicia nod-signaled the girls.
“Thought the girls just had their turn,” cracked a trio of passing lacrosse guys.
Embarrassed, the boys stuffed their key chains in their pockets. They might as well have stabbed Alicia in the heart with their cleats.
Claire, Dylan, and Kristen tabled their grief long enough to fish soft velvet boxes from their gift bags. Their excitement fueled Alicia like a triple-shot macchiato. The boys might not have appreciated all the trouble she’d gone to, but the girls did. And come Monday, when BOCD went back to OCD, they’d be the only ones who mattered. Alicia stole a glance at table eighteen. It was empty. Where could Massie possibly be?
“Ehmagawd!” Dylan tilted her Bulgari jewelry box toward Derrington, showcasing the delicate platinum chain nestled inside. Two tiny charms hung from the necklace: a soccer cleat and a spa slipper.
“To remember this week,” Alicia explained. “We’ll add a new charm for everything we do together.”
“Awwwwwww,” the girls synchro-gushed.
“Love it!” Kristen fumbled with the clasp on her chain. “Sort of like the bracelets we got for the boy fa—” She stopped herself just in time. “I mean, the last presents we got together.”
“But better,” Dylan insisted, stabbing her tofu stir-fry with a plastic fork.
“They’re really great, Leesh,” Claire added.
Satisfied, Alicia slipped her chain around her neck. She was growing into her role as the Soul-M8s’ alpha. And the fit was practically custom-made. She sipped her Borba water while scanning the café over the top of the bottle, surveying her kingdom. Suddenly she spat the light pink liquid back into the bottle and gasped. “LBR U serious?”
“What?” Dylan whipped around in her chair, following Alicia’s gaze. Massie was gliding through the frosted glass doors with none other than Layne Abeley in tow.
“Ehmagawd.”
Kristen and Claire turned to look. So did the boys.
“What are they doing together?” Alicia slammed down her bottle, sending a few skin-replenishing drops toward the greenhouse ceiling.
Massie and Layne made a beeline for the do-it-yourself tofu bar while the Soul-M8s watched. They whisper-giggled as they spooned steaming spoonfuls of brown rice, tofu, and veggies into biodegradable to-go boxes. Alicia was dying to dispatch Claire and have her follow them. But what if they were doing something more fun? Claire might defect. And the M7s sounded like a mass transit bus line.
Kristen squinted. “But those two hate each other!”
“Maybe they’re friends now?” Claire hoped.
“Doubt it.” Dylan’s mouth lolled open slightly.
The boys lost interest and went back to paper football.
Alicia eyed the tiny smile playing across Massie’s lips. Alicia knew that smile. It was the kind of smile Massie had when she was about to pull something off. Something big. The same smile she’d had in the days before she’d announced her boy-girl Halloween party last year.
“Well, I opposite of care,” Alicia lied, rapid-glossing her parched lips.
But the girls kept staring. Without even trying, Massie was stealing the focus. When she and Layne finished at the bar, they hurried back toward the smoky glass doors, not even bothering to sit. Or look in Alicia’s direction.
Then again, none of the Soul-M8s were bothering to look in her direction, either. The girls were too busy staring at Massie, and the boys were too busy flicking paper triangles at one another’s heads. It was time for The Announcement. Alicia had practiced it seventeen times in front of the vanity mirror in her bathroom. She was ready.
“Breaking news.” Alicia slammed her elbows against the table, her clinking bangles announcing that table thirty-six was back in session. “I’m having a party next Friday night, and I want everybody there.”
“What kind of party?” Josh was refolding the football.
“A dinner party.” Alicia’s nose lifted slightly.
“Oh.” Josh raised his dark eyebrows, as if trying to look psyched.
Dempsey, Cam, and Derrington scrunched their noses, looking like they’d just stepped in a giant heap of dog poo.
“Text me any food preferences–slash–allergies no later than Monday at midnight,” Alicia instructed, trying to ignore the boys’ poo faces. “Joyce likes ample time to shop.”
“No sushi,” Kristen groaned.
“Sounds fun!” Claire smiled for the first time that lunch period. “What can we bring?”
“I’ll explain it all tonight,” Alicia replied. “My house. Eight p.m. Sleepover.”
Dylan froze mid-chew.
Claire nibbled her cuticles. “Tonight?”
“What?” Alicia snapped.
Her table was silent. Alicia jerked her head toward the glass doors. “It’s nawt like she invented the sleepover. We’re allowed to do whatever we want now. Our Friday nights are open.”
“True,” Claire said nervously. “But—”
“Butts are for shaking, Kuh-laire.”
The boys burst out laughing. But Alicia didn’t even notice.
Claire flushed. “I sort of told her I’d go to her sleepover tonight.”
Alicia took three long sips of Borba water to calm herself down. Was this it? Was Claire siding with Massie?
Claire picked at her soy burger, leaving crater-size holes in the seven-grain bun. “Maybe I could stop by her place for a couple hours and then come over?”
Alicia shook her head slowly, whipping her sleek, deep-conditioned locks from side to side. How was Massie still having her sleepover without the PC? Who could possibly show up? She was dying to ask Claire if she knew, but she stopped herself.
“Nawt possible,” she said, leveling her gaze at Claire. “It’s either hers or mine.” She smiled knowingly at Dylan and Kristen, like she knew exactly what Claire would decide. Choosing the Soul-M8s over Massie was a serious no-brainer. It was like choosing LC over Heidi. LC over Audrina. LC over anyone. “You have to pick.”
Dylan and Kristen chewed anxiously, exchanging glances. But Alicia couldn’t take her eyes off Claire, who was staring down at her lap. Every second she didn’t choose the Soul-M8s left Alicia feeling less and less in control, like she was trying to run across a just-mopped parquet floor in slick-soled stilettos. And, if she’d learned anything from Massie, it was that any alpha worth her weigh in diamonds never lost control, or her reign as alpha was over.
Alicia clutched her water bottle, waiting for Claire to definitively pick the Soul-M8s, to pick Alicia as her leader. But Claire just clutched her stomach, yelled, “Bad sushi!” and ran out of the café.