Fabulous (11 page)

Marisol
September 25 @ 8:13 p.m. | Mood: Hurt

Marisol’s
stomach growled as she pushed her history book away while sitting on her king-size bed. She fought the urge to ask one of the maids to bring her a snack and instead rolled over and flopped onto her back. She was contemplating whether to trudge all the way downstairs for a snack when her cell phone vibrated.

She picked it up from the two dozen silk pillows on her bed.

UR#1STARR: HAVE U PULLED THE STICK OUT UR BUTT YET?

Marisol rolled her eyes heavenward as she typed a response:

MARIMARI: HAVE U?

UR#1STARR: I FOUND UR STYLE. DO U WANT IT BACK?

MARIMARI: NO U USE IT. U NEED IT MORE.

UR#1STARR: ROTFL.

Marisol actually smiled. She and Starr had been friends since grade school. It was going to take more than one hallway squabble to wreck their friendship.

UR#1STARR: WHAT’S GOING ON WITH U? TELL ME.

I’LL FIX IT.

Marisol didn’t doubt that if Starr could fix it she would. But her parents’ marriage was way out of Starr’s reach.

MARIMARI: JUST SOME FAMILY DRAMA.

UR#1STARR: K. DON’T STRESS.

MARIMARI: THNX.

There was a knock at her door. “Marisol,” her father called.

MARIMARI: GOTTA GO.

UR#1STARR: CALL ME LATER. GOT JUICE.

MARIMARI: ON WHO?

UR#1STARR: REGGIE
DIONNE!!!

MARIMARI: O.M.G.

Marisol dropped her cell phone and climbed off her bed. She opened her door and leaned against it, blocking her dad from entering. She tried to look nonchalant, but she was mad at him.

“Si, Papi?”

He reached out to pull her ponytail. “Your mami mentioned you were in a little funk lately and I just wanted to come and make sure you’re okay,” he told her, in heavily accented Spanish.

How can you make sure I’m okay when you’re the reason I’m not okay?
“Just a lot of schoolwork,” she lied. Schoolwork had never been a problem for Marisol. She’d been a straight-A student since grades really mattered.

Alex looked past his daughter to the open book on her bed. “Do you need a tutor?”

Marisol shook her head, just wanting him to leave before she started to cry like the time she completely missed going with her parents to France because she had a test. Then she remembered she wasn’t supposed to care about stuff like that anymore.

Alex reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a gold money clip with his initials encrusted in diamonds. He peeled off several hundred-dollar bills from the wad of cash and handed them to her.

Marisol’s immediate reaction was to take the money, but then she remembered her “death to materialism” pledge. She shook her head. “I don’t need any more money,” she told him, even as she thought of the shoes she could buy and bring home to introduce to her other shoes. Gucci python sandals meet Giuseppe studded thong sandal. Louboutin sequin heels meet Moschino velvet bootie. And so on. And so on.

Her father’s expression was incredulous.

“I have a question maybe you can help me with,” Marisol said suddenly, stepping back to allow him into her sanctuary.

Alex shoved the money back into his pocket as he walked in and sat down on one of the four vintage club chairs in the center of her room.

“I had really liked this boy—”

Alex jumped to his feet. “What boy?” he snapped, his eyes flashing against his light mocha complexion.

“Daddy, please,” Marisol insisted as she sat down in the chair beside him, sliding her bare feet across the softness of the Oriental area rug.

“I found out that he had a girlfriend and he was lying to me,” she finished, her eyes locked with his even though it was so hard not to look away.

Alex shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Why do boys lie and cheat?” she asked softly, wanting so badly to understand.

For a long time, Marisol and her father just looked at each other. She wondered if he could see her disappointment and hurt in her eyes. She knew she felt it every day in her heart.

“Those are things adults should deal with, Marisol. That’s why I think you are too young,
mi hermosa,
to date.” Alex walked to the door.

Marisol pulled her feet underneath her as she sat in the chair.

Her father paused in the open doorway, his head looking down at the floor. “Sometimes boys make mistakes, Marisol, mistakes that they regret.”

With that he was gone. And Marisol felt relieved to be out of his presence. And that made her sad all over again, because before, she never thought anything could come between her and her father.

Marisol felt the tears well up in her eyes. She didn’t stop them from falling as she jumped to her feet and dived into the center of her bed.

THE SECRET IS OUT!!

Posted in Good Gossip on September 26 @ 6:00 a.m. by thedivaofdish

I’ve never been very good at keeping secrets and seems like the new email addy I set up for hot tips is filled with other PA students who can’t keep them as well.

There’s some serious love in the air…just too bad a lot of it is on the low and based on some scandalous activity that would put their parents to shame. Seems like Heather and her “giving it up like coupons in a Sunday newspaper” crew have been B-U-S-Y.

Congrats to the lovebird. (Want photographic proof? Click on the link.)

Jordan and Heather

Ashton and Kimmie

Mark and Jess

On a side note: the usually ultra-fab Marisol Rivera has been on a bit of a strike lately. How long before Starrving for Attention boots her from their clique?

Only time will tell.

Smooches,

Pace Academy’s Diva of Dish

155 comments

Starr
September 26 @ 7:45 a.m. | Mood: P-I-S-S-E-D!!

Starr
stared at the photo of Jordan and Heather hugged up—and definitely looking boo-ed up—until her eyes hurt. She tapped her thumb against the screen of her BlackBerry, wishing that it was really her fist punching Jordan and Heather’s face, over and over and over again.

She forced herself to look out the window of the Bentley at the sprawling estates of Saddle River as she was whisked to school…just like any other morning.

But on any other morning her dream had not been shattered by the click of one stupid link, on one stupid blog, written by one stupid Diva of Dumb.

Starr fingered her diamond star-shaped pendant as disappointment flooded her in waves. Jordan—
her
Jordan—and Heather. The same Jordan who made her smile and laugh. The Jordan who gave her butterflies like crazy.
The Jordan who sang for her. The Jordan who she planned to ask to be her date for her party—and her very first kiss. The Jordan who she really thought liked her as much as she liked him.

Now that was all ruined because Jordan was a stupid, horny toad who couldn’t turn down Heather, who was giving it away like free cheese.

Starr closed her eyes and made a fist as she forced herself to breathe deeply. “Boys are so stupid,” she said in a low voice before tears welled up in her eyes.

She blinked them away as the Bentley pulled through the wrought-iron gates of Pace Academy. Starr slid on her Fendi square sunglasses, snuggled her black cashmere scarf around her neck, and smoothed her trembling hands over her short haircut and then down over her blazer-and-plaid-skirt uniform.

As soon as the Bentley pulled to a stop, Dionne and Marisol flew to the passenger door and flung it open before Marcus could even get out of the driver’s seat.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” Marisol kept repeating as she grabbed Starr’s arm and nearly yanked her out of the car.

Starr wanted to slap her and almost did.

“Hush, Marisol. You sound like a parrot on crack,” Dionne snapped, as she closed the door to the car.

Dionne had just saved Marisol’s cheek—big-time.

Her friends got on either side of her and wrapped their arms around hers as they walked up the tree-lined stone path together.

“We’ve always heard rumors of Heather
doing the nasty,
but who knew it was true?” Dionne said, breaking their silence first. “And with Jordan.”

Starr felt a deep pang of hurt. “Who knew his standards were so low,” Starr drawled, glad that she sounded like this was just more of the Pacesetters’ gossip and not such a devastating heartbreak for her.

“Heather probably pushed herself on him,” Marisol added, before she uttered something under her breath in Spanish.

Starr arched a brow, but remained silent.

“Here comes Mr. Lover-Lover now,” Dionne said.

The Pacesetters came to a stop. They all watched as nearly every student gathered on the massive front lawn eyed Jordan as he walked up to them. Time stood still for Pace Academy. Jordan was the center of attention.

“Starr, can I talk to you for a sec?” he asked, his eyes searching her as they were filled with…Regret? Shame? Guilt?

“I wouldn’t want you to have to explain to your future baby mama why we’re conversatin’…so I’ll pass.” Starr gave him a childish smirk before she continued walking, dragging Dionne and Marisol behind her.

Jordan reached out to grab her waist. “Starr, wait.”

She pulled away from his hand, nearly smacking Dionne in the process. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me, Jordan, with those hands that have been all up on
Hea-ther!
”

Jordan stepped back.

Dionne’s eyes widened.

Marisol arched a slightly untrimmed brow.

Starr flushed with embarrassment before she composed herself, notched her head a bit higher and walked away.

“Thanks, Mimi,” the three friends said as the uniform-clad maid handed each one a root beer float from the tray she carried.

The Pacesetters were lounging on the plush carpet of Starr’s personal screening room as they went over every detail of Starr’s upcoming birthday-weekend festivities. Starr was glad both her friends could stay over because thinking about Jordan and Heather was bumming her out big-time—not even the thought of the party was lifting her spirits.

“I hate that I have to leave so early in the morning but I am so excited to fly to Miami with my dad,” Dionne said with the goofiest grin that made her face look like a huge toothy smile.

Marisol shook her head. “Tell your dad to beware of groupies, hoochies and goats,” she said.

“Goats?” Dionne and Marisol exclaimed.

“Money is made of paper. Goats like paper. Beware of goats,” she explained from behind her magazine.

Starr giggled because with Marisol’s accent it sounded more like: Beeeware of goots.

“So…is anyone gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” Dionne said before taking a sip of her float.

Starr felt their eyes on her. “What?” she asked, trying to appear surprised.

“I’ve been holding on to this all day long,” Dionne said, reaching up to twist her fine black hair into a loose topknot. “Why did you flip out like that on Jordan? Why was Jordan acting like he wanted to explain something to you? What is going on?”

Starr felt backed into a corner…but she wanted to talk about it. “I was going to ask Jordan to escort me to the party,” she admitted, tucking the longest side of her hair behind her ear.

“You have a crush on Jordan?” Marisol gasped in surprise as she let her magazine drop to her lap.

Starr shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter now, does it? Obviously what he’s looking for I’m not giving up,” she said.

Dionne and Marisol exchanged a look.

“So now the plan is to get an even bigger, even better escort,” Starr told them, grabbing a pom-pom pen and her notepad.
To make Jordan sooooo mad.
“Suggestions, ladies?”

“Oooh. Souljah Boy,” Dionne said right off the bat.

The girls paused, looked at each other with goofy smiles and then sang:
“‘Hopped up out of the bed, turn my swag on…’”

They burst into a fit of laughter, doubling over.

“Okay, ya’ll, let’s be serious about this.”

“Okay, what about Bow-Wow?” Marisol said.

“Trey Songz.”

“Cute but too old, Dionne,” Starr responded as her pen flew across the paper.

“What about Yung Steff or Fabolous? You gotta have Fabolous for your Fab Fifteen!” said Marisol.

“Drake, please,” Dionne said.

“Why not ask someone at the school?” Marisol offered.

“Or Quincy Brown?” Dionne said, falling back to fan herself with her hand.

The girls all took a moment to visualize the total cuteness that was Quincy—Diddy’s stepson.

Starr scribbled
his
name twice and underlined it!

As the girls continued their playful banter, Starr’s heart really wasn’t in it. Truthfully, if the whole Heather thing had never gone down, Starr would’ve picked Jordan over
anyone
on the entire list in a heartbeat.