Bratfest At Tiffany's

THE BLOCK ESTATE
GLU HEADQUARTERS/THE SPA

Thursday, September 10th
6:19 P.M.

Most nights, while her mother was cooking dinner and Todd was playing video games, Claire would curl up beside her dad on the tan corduroy couch and watch the six o’clock news. Even though they only spoke during commercials or those pointless stories about old people’s birthdays, she associated the evening broadcasts with feelings of security and love.
But not tonight.
Tonight she was in the Blocks’ spa, on a brown leather couch, sandwiched between Massie and Alicia, staring at a high-definition image of Winkie Porter, who was reporting on the rising tensions in the Middle East. And for the first time ever, Claire understood exactly what “rising tensions” felt like.
The only words Massie had uttered since school ended that day were, “Isaac, drop everyone at my house.”
“Why?” Alicia had asked nervously, twisting and twirling her silver rings.
“Screening party.” Massie leaned her head against the window of the silver Range Rover, as if a party were the last thing on her mind.
“For what?”
“We’re on the evening news,” Massie snapped. “Re-mem-ber? Or are you people in Main Building too important to care about what goes on in overflow?”
Kristen twirled her shark-tooth necklace. Dylan checked her damp, frizzy hair for split ends. And Claire examined her swollen, red cuticles.
“I wasn’t saying that. I was just—”
“Whatevs.” Massie rested her head against the tan leather seat and closed her eyes.
After that, no one said another word. They followed Massie across the Block Estate’s soaked lawn to the old horse shed-turned-spa, then dipped their cold, wet toes in the bubbling Jacuzzi while Inez raced to fill the room with ambience and snacks. Once the dutiful maid saw herself out, the NPC made themselves comfortable on the leather furniture and silently traded copies of Us Weekly, OK!, and Teen Vogue until 6 p.m.
But despite the soothing sound of water trickling from the limestone Zen fountain, the dimmed lights, the periodic blasts of lavender that misted from tiny holes in the ceiling, the crackling fire that cast a warm glow below the flat-screen TV, the strawberry-flavored iced tea, the humid earthy smell of passing rain that lingered after the storm, and Massie’s ah-dorable black pug, Bean, who snored between them, Claire found it impossible to relax.
All she could think about was Cam and Olivia. Were they really a couple? What did they talk about? Why were they always laughing? Did he think Olivia was prettier than she was? Did he give her gummy worms and sours? Did he wear Drakkar Noir when he was with her? Did she smell it all the time, even when they weren’t together? And did he miss Claire at all? Even a little bit? It took all of her strength not to come right out and beg Alicia for the gossip.
But the room was too silent for forbidden questions.
“How much longer till we’re on?” Dylan stuck her pinky finger in the melted wax that pooled at the top of one of the vanilla candles, then shook it while it cooled.
“You know, it may not be good idea to watch this,” Alicia offered. “Fact: A lot of celebrities don’t watch themselves ever. They think they look bad, and it depresses them. That’s why so many actors become directors. They’re too embarrassed to go on camera again after they’ve seen themselves.”
Kristen cackled. “That’s not true!”
“It is!” Alicia lifted her palm as if swearing in a court of law.
“Shhhhhhh!” Massie slapped the thick brown armrest. “Here we go.” She turned up the volume, then hugged her knees to her chest.
A shot of the darkening parking lot filled the screen. Soda cans and empty chip bags blew across the frame. The lens pulled back, revealing Winkie Porter—hair slicked, makeup matte, and BriteSmile smile gleaming. Her cream-colored slacks whipped against her toned calves, revealing the shiny points on her gray pumps. The scene looked like a storm update from the Midwest.
And then, Winkie, leaning against the dirty white trailer, began shouting above the whistling wind. …
“Winkie Porter here to bring you a heartwarming story of sacrifice, generosity, and love. It all started when Briarwood Academy crumbled to the ground last May, leaving hundreds of students stranded without a school. That is, until Octavian Country Day opened its doors and hearts and took them in. But for many, that’s when the real problems began.”
The shot cut to the main building. The halls were crowded with students racing from one class to the other. But Alicia, who was strolling at a window-shopper’s pace, seemed to have all the time in the world.
“It got so bad, the lady at the organic coffee station in the New Green Café stopped giving people foam on their lattes because the lines were so long.”
Massie smacked the armrest on the leather couch. “Ehmagawd, you’re in this?”
“I guess.” Alicia peeled a layer of Matador Red polish off her thumbnail.
“What’s up with that hat?” asked Kristen. “You hate sports.”
“And pink,” Dylan added suspiciously.
“And sports!” Kristen giggled.
“Where’d you get it?” Massie huffed. “And don’t say Spain. Even they know better.”
Alicia bit her bottom lip and shrugged.
Everyone turned back to the flat-screen.
“So what was the school’s solution?” Winkie addressed the camera. “Trailers. Used trailers. In the parking lot.” She paused to let that sink in with the home audience.
Kristen and Dylan cheered. But Claire was all too aware of the mounting tension between Alicia and Massie to join them. An angry invisible force was spiraling around them, building and strengthening, like a tornado. And Claire was trapped in the middle.
Winkie continued. “One can’t help but wonder how the faculty decided who stays and who goes. What criteria did they use to make their decision? And was that decision fair? Or was it a convenient way to rid the school of its special-needs students? Alicia Rivera, BOCD’s anchorwoman, had some insights.”
“Now no one will pick on them. It’s better for everyone.”
Dylan swiveled around in her leather club chair and faced the couch, practically spitting out her strawberry tea.
“What?” Massie jumped to her feet.
“No one will pick on us?” Dylan’s cheeks turned red.
“You make us sound like LBRs!” Kristen clenched her fists.
“They twisted my words!” Alicia shouted at the screen, clearly too ashamed to make eye contact with anyone.
“Do you think the boys are watching this?” Claire couldn’t help herself.
“Uh-oh.” Alicia gripped her stomach and raced for the bathroom in the back of the spa. “Bad sushi!”
Winkie’s expression on TV became serious. “Let’s see if these trailers are, indeed, better for everyone.”
The shot cut to the parking lot. A bolt of lightning struck behind one of the trailers and everyone screamed.
“Those things are death traps!” shouted Monkey Paws, her hands clenched in tight fists as she ran in circles. “That thing’s gonna blow!”
The sky turned black. A crash of thunder sounded, then sheets of blinding rain fell.
“My hair!” Dylan shouted.
“Ehmagawd, my shirt is see-through!” Kristen rushed behind Claire for cover.
“Ew, get offa me!” Claire wiggled away.
“I have mascara in my eyes!” screamed Big Mac. “It burns.”
Candy Corn, Twizzler, Putty, Blond Lincoln, Braille Bait, Great White, and Bag Hag were dragging their heavy suitcases in a mad panic that seemed to have been sped up by the editor to look even more frantic than it was.
Then it cut to Massie. “These are my best friends.” She smiled proudly. A shot of Layne, Meena, and Heather, dressed in their matching green trash bags and bellowing “Singing in the Rain,” filled the screen.
“WHAT?” Massie screamed so loud Bean jumped off the couch and hid under a StairMaster. “I so did nawt mean they were my best friends. Ehmag …” She fell back onto the leather couch and buried her face in her shaking hands. “… aaaaaawwwd!
But Winkie wouldn’t stop.
“Not exactly the best environment for kids with special needs. Not that the students in the main building seemed to care—”
“Special needs!” everyone shouted at once.
“For them, it was business as usual.”
A shot of Cam and Olivia tending to baby Kate filled the screen.
“Aren’t they ah-dorable?” Alicia gushed. “The cutest couple, don’t you think?”
Claire slid to the edge of the couch. “Why would she say that?”
“They are attractive,” Winkie had to agree.
The room spun. Claire’s throat locked. Her stomach lurched.
“But not as attractive as us.” Josh threw his arm around Alicia’s shoulders, then flicked the brim of her pink cap, which just so happened to match his blue one.
The bell rang and everyone raced off to class. Winkie began strolling the empty halls.
“What started as an uplifting story of brotherly love ended up a tragic exposé of what can happen when a society strives for physical and mental perfection. We tend to dismiss those who are different, afraid that they may shine a light on our own special needs and force us to face the ugliness that lives inside each and every one of us. But carting them off to trailers is not the solution. In fact, it’s the problem—a problem we cannot ignore. I’m Winkie Porter. Back to you in the studio, Greg.”
“Different?” Massie clicked off the TV, then whipped the remote into the Jacuzzi. “Special needs?”
“Do I look that fat in real life?” screeched Dylan.
“Do surfers watch the news?” Kristen tugged her necklace.
“Do you think Cam and Olivia really are the cutest couple?” Claire couldn’t help herself. It was bad enough that her ex-soul mate had moved on—and had a baby with a girl who was ten times prettier than she was. But did the entire county need to know about it? She had become the middle school version of Jennifer Aniston, without the good Pilates body.
“Oh, is it over?” Alicia asked innocently as she reentered the room. Too jittery to sit, she rested her hands on the back of the couch and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
No one said a word.
“So?” She tried smiling. “Wha’d I miss?”
“You made us look like LBRs!” Massie hissed through gritted white teeth.
“No, I didn’t!” Alicia pleaded. “They edited it to look that way. I swear! I would never—”
“Did they also edit it to look like you said Cam and Olivia were the cutest couple?” Claire shouted, shocking not only herself with her unusual show of anger, but the others as well.
Dylan, Kristen, and Massie held their bracelet-covered arms in the air, reminding Claire to be strong. The show of support was comforting, but not comforting enough. She felt humiliated and betrayed. By Cam, by Alicia, and even by Winkie Porter.
Massie stuffed her hands in the side pockets of her skinny Hudson jeans and ambled pointedly around to the back of the couch like a cowgirl. “And what was with that hat?”
“Um, it was a dare.” Alicia took a few steps back. “Kori found it in the lost and found and—”
“Stop lying!” Massie shouted. Her voice cracked like she might actually cry.
Claire focused on the white sheepskin area rugs on the dark-stained floors. If Massie was going to tear up, she really didn’t want to see it. Witnessing that degree of emotional vulnerability in her alpha was like catching her parents doing it. Deep down inside she knew it happened (ew!), but it was easier to pretend it didn’t.
“I had a feeling you Alicia-ed your way into the main building to be with Josh. But I didn’t want to believe it.” Massie’s voice was calm again, almost soothing.
“Wait! You don’t understand!” Alicia ran her silver-ringed hand through her hair, the charms on her NPC bracelet bashing together.
“Actually, I do understand.” Massie stepped closer until they were practically nose-to-nose behind the couch. She held out her palm.
“You don’t!” Alicia’s voice shook. “All my life, boys always liked me. They thought I was super-pretty or that my body was hawt or that I had good style. But for the first time ever, Josh likes me for me. And I like him. I’ve never liked a guy back, and now that I finally do, you make up this boyfast thing and—”
Massie opened her palm and wiggled her fingers.
Alicia looked at her open palm with tear-soaked eyes.
Massie wiggled her fingers again.
“Come awn!” Alicia stomped her foot. “It’s so nawt fair! You all had a shot at love. It’s not my fault you messed—” She stopped herself just in time. “All I’m saying is that I finally had a chance to be happy, and I didn’t want to choose between—”
“But you did,” Massie said flatly. “You did choose. And you chose him. Now hand it over.”
Alicia cried as she unhooked the bracelet from her wrist and slapped it into Massie’s open hand.
The rest of the NPC lowered their gazes.
“Everyone please remove your A charms,” Massie said flatly, “and throw them into the fire.”
“You guys…” Alicia held out her arms and sobbed as she tried to appeal to Claire, Dylan, and Kristen for help.
But the girls did what they were told. One by one they pulled off their A’s and threw them into the angry orange flames.
Even Claire, who had once sympathized with Alicia, no longer did. Her comments about Cam and Olivia made it impossible.
“Now get out!”
“Come awn, you guys,” she pleaded.
No one looked at her.
“Fine!” Alicia wiped her tears on the back of her hand and scooped up her black Balenciaga. “Dylan, you can forget about my dad finding a loophole in that confidentiality agreement.” She jammed the pink baseball cap on her head and bolted toward the barn doors.
“I already did!” Dylan yelled after her.
Alicia paused, her hand on the doorknob, hoping for one last chance. “I can’t believe you guys are doing this.”
“You can’t?” Massie sounded genuinely shocked. “Puhlease! First you switch tables, then you make us look like LBRs on the news, and now you’re wearing Josh’s stupid baseball cap!” Massie shouted. “One, two, three strikes, YOU’RE OUT!”
Alicia threw open the doors and took off into the foggy, humid night.