Bratfest At Tiffany's

OLIVIA RYAN’S HOUSE
FRONT YARD

Friday, September 11th
5:17 P.M.

Olivia’s modest ivy-covered four-bedroom Tudor provided a quaint backdrop for the boys as they whizzed and rumbled up and down the U-shaped ramp on their skateboards. Her white-blond brother Andy’s rickety plywood monstrosity took up most of the front yard, reminding Alicia of those huge sunglasses Nicole Richie and Mary-Kate Olsen wore on their doll-size faces. It was a whole lot of accessory for such a small space.
If the boys caught too much air and fell to the right, they’d crash into Mrs. Ryan’s black Lexus hybrid SUV. If they fell to the left, they’d land in the prickly rosebushes. But no one seemed the least bit concerned. Not the soccer boys in their baggy shorts, fat sneakers, and scuffed helmets, or the girls who were snapping their pictures like proud parents.
“Suh-noooozer,” Alicia sighed, hoping Strawberry or Kori or Olivia would admit that they were just as bored as she was.
But they didn’t.
The sun was starting to set, drenching the yard in magical orange light, the kind that made Alicia’s brown eyes twinkle and her skin glow. Instead of admiring her beauty, Josh climbed to the top of the ramp, clutching a green skateboard under his arm.
Alicia forced a smile, trying not to regret having chosen him over the NPC. Besides, what was Massie doing now that was so much better? Getting a mani-pedi? Laughing with the girls over fro-yo? Gossiping in the Blocks’ Jacuzzi? Fine, maybe those things were better. But that didn’t mean she’d never have them again. She would. With a little effort and a ton of patience.
“Cute butterfly hoodie.” Alicia pinched Kori’s pink terry sweatshirt, trying desperately to take the focus away from skateboarding and put it on something that actually mattered. “It’s Juicy, right?”
“Yessssss!” Kori jumped up and down. “S, did you hear that?”
Strawberry lowered her digital camera. “What?”
“Alicia asked if my sweatshirt was Juicy.” She beamed.
“No way!” She raced over and high-fived Kori. “Hey, O, you gotta hear this.”
Olivia was sitting on the Lexus, rocking little Kate. “What?” she called, immediately waking the baby. “I can’t hear you!” she shouted over the rumbling skateboard wheels.
Kori and Strawberry gestured for her to come closer.
Without another thought, Olivia left her screaming plastic baby on the black hood and hurried closer. Her white linen dress and bare feet were backlit by yellow beams of sun, making her look like a corn-fed model in a commercial for fabric softener.
“What did you guys say?” she asked, joining their circle at the foot of the ramp.
“I saaaaid …” Kori stomped her flip-flopped foot in mock frustration. “… Alicia asked if my sweatshirt was Juicy!”
“No way!” Olivia high-fived her friends, oblivious as Kate slid off the car and landed face-first on the gravel driveway.
“Olivia!” Cam jumped off the ramp and raced over to his fake daughter, paying little mind to his sagging black shorts and lopsided helmet.
“What? I don’t get it. Why is it high-fiveable that I thought your sweatshirt was Juicy?” Alicia asked, all too aware of feeling like the new girl. The one who had to pretend taking pictures of skateboarding boys was fun. The one who didn’t understand their inside jokes. The one who had to shout, “I don’t get it!”
“Be-cause …” Kori grinned. “… I DIY’ed this sweatshirt. I copied a Juicy, and these guys said no one would ever fall for it. But you did!”
“Great,” Alicia grumbled.
“Hey, Strawberry, get this,” Derrington called from the top of the ramp.
“Hold on.” She propped her camera and raced closer. “Okay. Ready!”
With that, Derrington pulled down his olive green cargo shorts and dropped in with them wrapped around his ankles. He was wearing goofy X-Men boxers and shook his butt as he rode.
Everyone doubled over laughing while Kori and Olivia raced to get the shot. Alicia thought Derrington’s butt-flash was funny … for a second. But mostly because she pictured Massie standing there looking embarrassed. She imagined catching Massie’s eye while she was trying to look all mature and serious, and making her crack up. Soon Dylan and Kristen and Claire would be laughing too. And then, after like ten minutes of ab-splitting hysterics, they’d grip their stomachs and ask each other what had been so funny in the first place. None of them would know. And that would make them crack up all over again. Before long, the boys would be staring at them, half chuckling, half wondering what was wrong with them. And their interest would make them feel beautiful.
But then Alicia remembered that Derrington was now Massie’s ex-crush. And Massie was now Alicia’s ex-friend. So were Dylan, Kristen, and Claire. So there was really no point in thinking about any of it. Right?
“Hey, why don’t we go do something different for a change?” Alicia offered with over-the-top enthusiasm.
“Like what?” Strawberry asked, while snapping shots of Andy as he attempted a series of one-eighties.
“I dunno. Maybe we can go get some fro-yo or something.”
“Hey, I have an idea!” Josh called from the top of the ramp.
Alicia air-clapped, certain he was about to suggest they head to the mall, get lattes, then stroll past the mannequins in the windows playing “what would you rather wear?”
How could she have ever doubted him?
“So what’s your big idea?” She smiled in anticipation.
“Try using the sepia setting on my camera,” he called. “It makes the picture come out all brown, like it was taken in the Wild West.”
“Great,” Alicia groaned. “Just what I was thinking.”