Bratfest At Tiffany's

WESTCHESTER, NY
WRAP STAR GOURMET

Wednesday, September 9th
3:53 P.M.

The NPC sat around a red horseshoe-shaped booth in back of the crowded 1950s-style diner, nervously tapping their manicured nails against the turquoise Formica tabletop. Claire, wishing she had nails to tap, picked at her mangled cuticles.
“So what’s this emergency meeting all about?” Dylan finally asked, removing her chocolate brown leather blazer.
Massie spoon-swirled peach fro-yo around her canoe-shaped china dish.
“Yeah, just tell us.” Kristen dumped a pile of salt onto the table, then carved a K in it with her finger.
“Let’s give Alicia another minute.” Massie checked the time on her iPhone. “If she’s not here by three fifty-six, I’ll start.”
Dylan sipped her lemon water while eyeing a plate of cheese fries that were en route to a table of chunky seventh-graders. Kristen added a dash of pepper to her salt pile. Massie slapped her fro-yo with the back of her spoon. Claire gazed out the window.
A girl standing across the tree-lined street caught her attention. Like Alicia, she was wearing a white pleated tennis skirt, green platform sandals, and a white short-sleeved button-down with a cute little tie. But this girl was wearing a bright pink New York Yankees cap, and Alicia would never—
The girl took off the cap and jammed it in the bottom of her black leather bag. She waved goodbye to someone in the distance, looked both ways, then power-walked across the busy intersection. It was Alicia. The only person who refused to run, even while dodging SUVs during rush hour.
“Heyyyyy.” She scurried over to their table and slid into the booth next to Claire. “Am I late?” She fanned her cheeks with the 1950s trivia place mat. “Wha’d I miss?”
Massie dropped her phone in the outside pocket of her shiny red metallic purse, refusing to meet her friend’s chlorine-red eyes. “What’s with the hat-hair?” she asked, somehow knowing, without lifting her head, that Alicia had a flat top.
Alicia quickly finger-combed.
“Were you wearing a cap?” Massie pushed her dish aside and finally made eye contact.
“What?” Alicia’s tan shifted from brown to red. “Ew! No!”
“Bike helmet?” Kristen asked.
“No!”
“What about a yarmulke?” Dylan giggled, petting her long straight hair.
Claire shifted uncomfortably. She’d seen the New York Yankees cap. She knew Alicia was sneaking around with Josh. And that was totally unfair to the rest of them—but at the same time kind of understandable. If Cam still liked her, wouldn’t she be doing the same thing? Or would she have had the strength to put her friends first? Not that it mattered, because Cam liked Olivia. And they had a baby. And … Claire reached for Massie’s soupy, sugary fro-yo and began power-slurping, hoping the sudden cold would numb her brain.
“So it totally sucks that we got separated.” Alicia pouted. “I was so freaked out when I looked up and saw that I was at the wrong table. I wanted to get over to you guys, but Dean Don was totally staring me down because I came in late. I’m totally gonna have my dad sue the school for keeping us apart and we’ll use the money to buy new—”
“Why didn’t you just ask if you could be with us?” Massie folded her arms firmly across her A-cups.
Three preppy eighth-grade boys strolled past their table on their way to the jukebox, jingling quarters and chugging Cokes from glass bottles. They slowed to check out the girls, who all lowered their heads to avoid breaking NPC protocol.
“Well, at first I thought maybe you’d want me to stay,” Alicia tried. “You know, to have someone on the inside, keeping you up-to-date on all of the gossip. …”
Massie rolled her eyes.
“But, uh, then I decided it was a lame idea.” Alicia absent-mindedly glanced out the window, as if she was waiting for someone. “So I’m gonna try and switch tomorrow.”
Claire slurped faster. Between Alicia’s bad acting and Massie’s doubting cross-table glare, she was seconds away from crawling under the table, rocking back and forth, and whisper-praying for everyone to please get along.
“Why were you sitting in the LBR section anyway?” Alicia asked, lifting ice cubes out of her lemon water with a fork.
“We were sitting in the LBR section because the Soccer Stalkers and our ex-crushes stole our table!”
Dylan leaned forward. “I swear, it was more embarrassing than getting checked for lice.”
“Seriously.” Kristen swept her salt pile on the floor. “At least the lice pickers have the decency to examine us in private. This was totally public. The whole New Green Café watched us walk to the LBR section.”
“It was pretty bad,” Claire added, trying to stay in the conversation.
Alicia’s fake pout turned real. The corners of her mouth twitched. And the sparkle left her eyes. Was it guilt? Fear? Pity?
The jukebox boys strolled by on their way back to their stools at the counter as an old song about hound dogs blasted through the diner. This time they ignored the NPC, choosing instead to share their come-hither stares with a table of chocolate milkshake-sharing seventh-grade LBRs.
“So what’s the overflow like?” Alicia twisted and turned her silver pinky ring. “Is it cool? I bet it must be fun being off on your own.”
“Put it this way,” Dylan chimed in. “Layne think it’s super-cool.”
“Yeah, and I passed out because it was sooo cool,” Massie snapped.
“You did? What happened? Was it a low blood sugar thing?” Alicia studied her friends, searching their faces for an explanation.
“More like a low point in my life thing,” Massie offered.
“At least I don’t have to be baby Kate’s stepmom anymore.” Claire tried to sound upbeat. She hoped Alicia would volunteer the latest on Cam and Olivia. But she didn’t. So Claire tried again.
“So, how is the happy couple?”
Massie shook her charm bracelet in front of Claire’s face.
“I meant, how are they doing as parents?”
“Who knows?” Alicia’s eyes wandered toward the window again. “I’ve been keeping to myself the whole time. You know, cuz of the b-fast.”
Massie’s doubting glare lingered on Alicia for a few more uncomfortable seconds until she finally shook her head and refocused. “So, I called this emergency meeting today …”
Everyone leaned forward.
“… to figure out how we can get rid of the boys and get our school back.” She pulled out her new Palm T/X handheld and opened a fresh Word document. “Any suggestions?”
“Maybe my mom could do a telethon on her talk show to raise money for a new school,” Dylan suggested. “We can have A-listers work the phones and beg America to call in with donations.”
“Not bad.” Massie nodded, tapping the suggestion into her PDA. “Anyone else?”
“Oh, I know!” Kristen raised her hand. “We could have a girls-versus-boys soccer match, and the losers would have to leave and—”
Massie lowered her Palm. “Do you awnestly think the Sirens could beat the Tomahawks?”
“Well, what if we make it so the losers get to stay and the winners have to leave?”
Everyone cracked up, even Kristen herself. But Alicia’s smile quickly faded when the restaurant door opened.
Massie noticed Alicia’s sudden shift. She turned around and came face-to-face with Derrington, Plovert, Kemp, Josh, Strawberry, and Kori. They all had damp hair and big cocky smiles.
“Ehmagawd, jeans again!” Massie whisper-blurted, and then blushed.
“Diesel,” Dylan muttered from the corner of her glossed mouth. “They look cute.”
“Whatevs.” Massie slapped Dylan’s wrist. “Don’t look.”
The NPC lifted their lemon waters and sipped.
Claire quickly checked to see if Cam and Olivia were trailing behind the group, but there was no sign of them. Were they in his basement playing PGR4 on his Xbox? Doubling around the neighborhood on his black BMX bike? Sharing gummy worms on the swings at the elementary school? Claire gripped her NPC bracelet so hard, the point on the bottom of the heart charm dug into her palm and made it throb.
“What are you doing here?” Derrington asked, faking surprise. Kemp and Plovert stood by his side, snickering, while Josh and the Soccer Stalkers quickly filled the empty booth behind them. Alicia lowered her head even further, as if that would somehow prove to the NPC how uninterested she was in her new classmates. “I heard the diner just got an overflow section in the parking lot …”
Kemp and Plovert started laughing. Massie eye-urged the girls to ignore them and keep sipping.
“… and I thought you’d feel more at home over there.” He cracked up so hard, a gob of spit flew from his mouth and landed on the turquoise tabletop.
Massie lowered her glass with a slight slam and reached for a butter knife. She carefully transferred the spit bubble onto the shiny silver blade and held it out for Derrington and the boys to see. “Should we have this wrapped, or would you like it sent to your table?”
The NPC burst out laughing. So did Kemp and Plovert.
“No, I’ll take it.” Derrington swiped the knife from Massie and dashed to his table, his sagging jeans hinting at a pair of navy blue Jockeys.
“The boys have gawt to go,” Massie whisper-insisted. She held out her arm and jiggled her bracelet over the center of the table, inviting the others to join her.
“Ah-greed!” They jiggled back.
But there was less force behind Alicia’s jiggle. Claire had a feeling Massie noticed too. What she didn’t notice was Kristen tugging on her mysterious shark-tooth necklace. And Claire peering out the window in search of Cam. Only Massie and Dylan were jiggling for real. That was when it all became alarmingly clear.
This boyfast, which was supposed to bring the NPC closer together, was starting to tear them apart.