Bratfest At Tiffany's

BOCD
MAIN BUILDING

Thursday, September 10th
8:44 A.M.

The second-period bell rang, liberating Alicia and Kori from a pointless biology lesson on frog parts. It was Alicia’s only class without Josh and therefore a major waste of forty-five minutes. At least it gave her the chance to run to the first-floor bathroom to re-gloss and check the position of her pink NYY cap and—
“Ehmagawd.” She grabbed Kori’s lanky arm and dragged her down the hall, a sudden gesture that shocked the bony girl into dropping her notebooks.
“What? What’s happening?” Kori quickly scooped up her clear binders to prevent them from getting stomped on by the mad rush of ballet flats and Pumas.
“That new teacher coming out of the bathroom looks exactly like the reporter on—”
“You watch news?” Kori stood, wiping dust off the knees of her cropped straight-leg Sevens. Her red-and-white gingham blouse and short stumpy pigtails made her look like a farmhand—the cute kind you see in fashion magazines, not the real-life ones that actually feed pigs.
“Of course I watch news.” Alicia tugged her sleek black ponytail, which swung from the opening in the back of her pink cap and made her feel like a preppy RL model. “Mostly with the volume down, but still. If I’m going to be a famous reporter one day, I have to see how the anchors dress and style their hair and what makeup they use and—”
“Well, there is a cameraman with her, so maybe—”
“Ehmagawd, it’s Winkie Porter!” Alicia whisper-shouted.
Thankfully, she’d ditched her blue-and-white striped Ella Moss T-dress when she heard the weather forecast and opted for baggy black Ralph Lauren Blue Label cargos, a wide silver belt, and a gray Vince ruffle tee. The colors said, “I’m serious about current events,” while the playful cuts and luxe fabrics said, “And I’ll deliver them in style.”
Alicia decided she was at least a nine point three—it was time to make her move. She grabbed Kori’s wrist and pulled her through the crowded halls, not caring how many designer bags she bashed into along the way.
The heady floral scent of Trésor perfume swirled around Alicia as she approached the sharply dressed and neatly coiffed reporter.
“Hi, I’m Alicia Rivera, BOCD’s anchorwoman.” She extended her right hand. “I love your shoes. Are they Manolos?”
Winkie smiled at her gray pumps. “Indeeeed they are.” Then she gave Alicia’s hand a firm shake. “Nice to meet you.”
“Ech-hem.” Kori fake-cleared her throat.
“I’m—” Winkie started.
“Oh, I totally know who you are,” Alicia said, feeling her heart beat in her gums. “What are you doing here?”
Kori coughed.
“We’re doing a piece on how OCD and Briarwood have joined together.” She swiped a bloodred Shu Uemura lipstick across her mouth, then dabbed the excess on a silver Doublemint wrapper she had in the pocket of her cream-colored pantsuit.
“I’ll take that.” Kori held out her hand, obviously desperate to find her way into the conversation.
“Thank you,” Winkie muttered, while gazing at the mad rush of students flirt-rushing to their next class. “We better get started before we lose everyone.” She half-nodded at her cameraman, who immediately handed her a mic.
“Rolling.”
“Great.” Winkie conjured a wide smile. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Ehmagawd! Opposite of yes.” Alicia smiled for the long dark lens.
Kori, having just returned from dumping the lipstick-covered gum wrapper in the trash, was freshly glossed. She stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Alicia as the passing students slowed to see what was going on.
“I am standing in the dry halls of BOCD, surrounded by, the beautiful students who were lucky enough to hold on to their spots in the most prestigious learning institution on the East Coast. No trailers and rainstorms for them,” Winkie announced. “And here to tell us why these kids made the cut is BO’s very own anchorwoman, Ali—”
“Hi, I’m Alicia Rivera,” She pulled the mic from Winkie’s hand and began strolling down the hall. The cameraman followed.
“I can’t say for sure why some of us got to stay and others had to go. All I do know is that we really, really appreciate the sacrifice they made for us.” A cluster of kids gathered behind her, bobbing and weaving, vying for their big moment on camera. “You have no idea how cramped and crowded it was in here before. It got so bad, the lady at the organic coffee station in the New Green Café actually had to stop giving people foam on their lattes because the lines were so long. It was brutal.”
Suddenly, Winkie appeared by Alicia’s side, gripping a second mic. “Do you think the overflowers feel discriminated against?”
“No,” scoffed Alicia. “I heard from one of my sources that they think it’s super-cool.” She made air quotes around “super-cool” so everyone would know she was citing her source.
“Why do they like it so much?” Winkie asked. “Do you think they enjoy the feeling of helping others?”
“Whatevs. It’s nawt like they did it to help anyone. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Alicia blurted, and then worried that she might have unintentionally blown some sort of press spin Massie had cooked up to make herself look like a hero.
“Some of those students seemed really happy,” Winkie argued. “Three of them were literally wearing trash bags and singing in the rain.”
This time, Alicia knew she couldn’t possibly be referring to the NPC.
“I think they feel safe out there. No one can pick on them. It’s better for everyone.”
“So those people were sent away because they’re less popular?” Winkie’s expression was a mix of shock and elation—like someone who grabbed the wrong handbag by accident and found it full of cash. “Is that what you’re saying?”
Just then, someone snuck up behind Alicia and tugged her ponytail.
She whipped around, ready to bark at whoever dared interrupt her during her interview, then saw her ah-dorable crush and giggled instead.
Cam and Olivia were beside him, trying desperately to quell Kate’s latest tantrum.
“And who is this?” Winkie gushed over the baby.
“This is Kate.” Olivia gripped the screaming baby behind the neck and waved her in front of the camera. “Isn’t she cute? I named her after Kate Spade because she loves sleeping in my purse.” The doll cried harder.
Winkie crinkled her penciled-on eyebrows in confusion.
“Where’s that pacifier?” Cam searched the pockets of his Hurleys.
“How about this?” Olivia forced a pink lip gloss-stained straw into Kate’s mouth and tried to coax her into sipping some Diet Coke.
The final bell rang.
Two couples hurried by, whisking their screaming babies off to health class.
“What’s going on here?” Winkie gripped her abdomen.
“Oh,” Alicia snickered, finally catching on. “The babies are fake. It’s for health class. You know, to teach us responsibility.”
“I see it’s really working.” Winkie rolled her eyes for the camera as Olivia yanked the straw from Kate’s mouth and then tossed her at Cam, who managed to catch her just before she slammed into a Hello Kitty sticker-covered locker.
“Aren’t they ah-dorable together?” Alicia asked, anxious to know whether Winkie approved of her new friends. Whether she thought they passed for alphas. Whether she thought Alicia was talented enough to be mistaken for their leader. “I totally approve. They are the best parents. I swear. And the cutest couple, don’t you think?”
“They are attractive,” Winkie gushed for the camera.
Alicia grinned with delight.
“But not as attractive as us.” Josh threw his arm around Alicia’s shoulders, then flicked the brim of her hat. He raced off to class before Alicia could swat him back.
“Well, you better get going,” Winkie said as the hall emptied out.
“Yeah,” Alicia sighed.
“I can stay,” Kori offered.
“That’s okay.” Winkie half nodded to her cameraman, who then lowered the camera and wiped his beading forehead with the bottom of his black denim shirt. “We got what we need.” She smirked.
Alicia scribbled her e-mail address on a sheet of vanilla-scented notebook paper and handed it to the anchorwoman. “If you need a follow-up interview or even want a co-anchor or field correspondent, let me know.”
“Will do.” Winkie sounded impressed as she carefully folded the paper and slipped it in the side pocket of her pants. “And don’t forget to watch tonight. Six o’clock.” She slipped on her mirrored Dior wraparound glasses.
“I won’t.” Alicia offered her hand for one last shake, then caught her reflection in the lenses.
OMG!
Suddenly, instead of fantasizing about the countless agents and network executives who would beg her to drop out of school to become the youngest, prettiest anchor in television history, she broke out in a cold sweat.
She had been wearing Josh’s NYY cap. On TV!
Her armpits, the backs of her knees, and her forehead were suddenly drenched in beads of liquid panic. It was a dead giveaway to anyone who’d known her for more than an hour that she was in severe crush mode. Why else would she wear something so athletic and pink on her head?
All Alicia could do was thank Gawd Winkie didn’t work for 60 Minutes or CNN. At least she was on the local news. And who watched that?