Kristen (12 page)

Kristen giggled at his question. It sounded like a stolen line from one of those corny Lifetime movies her mother watched. But his expression remained fixed and she knew he meant it.

And that was one of the many things she ah-dored about him.

“I’m a lot of things, I guess.” She tied the green satin tie on her robe in mini knots while she contemplated.

With the Pretty Committee she was:

A) Popular times ten.

B) Stylish.

C) Snobby.

D) Smarter then the rest of them, but not as smart as she really was.

E) A soccer star.

F) Waxed.

G) Fake-rich.

H) A beta.

I) Insecure.

F) Loyal.

H) All of the above.

With the Witty Committee she was:

A) An alpha.

B) Intellectually gifted.

C) An LBR lover.

D) CC (Closet Cleopatra).

E) Loyal.

F) Proud.

G) Confident.

H) All of the above.

With her mother she was:

A) Studious.

B) Obedient.

C) Modest.

D) Frumpy.

E) Middle class.

F) Proud.

G) Independent.

H) A future president.

I) Hairy-legged.

J) All of the above.

The truth was, Kristen Gregory was so many things, she had no idea how to answer his question.

“I dunno,” was all she could manage.

Dune lifted his arms and reached behind his head. “Why don’t you think about it while I’m gone.” He unhooked his leather-tied shark tooth necklace, leaned forward, and fastened it around her neck.

“What are you doing?” she asked, praying her question wouldn’t change his mind. “Isn’t this important to you?”

“It is.” He grinned. “That’s why you better be here when I get back in October.”

“October?”
Kristen gasped.

“Everything okay in here?” Marsha poked her head inside the open doorway. Kristen quickly shimmied away from Dune.

“Yeah, why?” Her cheeks burned.

“I thought I heard you calling for me,” Marsha said convincingly, even though they all knew she was lying.

“Nope, wasn’t me.” Kristen glared at her.

“Ooops, sorry.” Marsha turned, “accidentally” elbow-knocking the door open a little bit more.

Kristen eye-rolled an apology on her mother’s behalf. Dune smirked that he understood.

Then she lifted her hand and clutched the necklace just to make sure this was really happening. The worn leather . . . the smooth surface of the tooth . . . the sharp tip. The different textures felt so rugged against the smooth contours of her Coach locket and its delicate gold chain. It was clear just from holding them that the two pendants were never intended to be worn together—something Massie would inevitably point out. One was so elegant and pristine, while the other was gritty and real. Yet she understood them both. But she knew that once school started, when style mattered more than substance, one of them would have to go.

Dune stood. “I better jet. Dad’s waiting for me outside.”

Kristen stood too, waves of sadness, relief, and excitement crashing inside her like the perfect storm.

“I can’t wait to see you when I get back.” Dune looked toward the open door, thought for a second, then pulled her in for a hug.

“Me too.” She hugged him back, wondering which Kristen Gregory would be there to greet him when he returned.

Now that you know Kristen’s summer secret, you’re another step closer to being IN. In the know, that is. . . .

SUMMER STATE OF THE UNION

IN	OUT
Purple hair streaks	Summer secrets
Confidentiality contracts
Euro pop stars
Shark-tooth necklaces
Massie & Claire in Orlando

Five girls. Five stories. One ah-mazing summer.

THE CLIQUE

SUMMER COLLECTION

BY LISI HARRISON

Turn the page for a sneak peek of Claire’s story. . . .

18 GATOR ROAD

KISSIMMEE, FL

Sunday, August 2

2:03 P.M.

“Hey, sweetheaaaa’t, can ya move a little faster? Mrs. Wilkes wants her plants watered by three and she’s seven blocks away.” Todd Lyons stretched out on the yellow terry cloth–covered chaise and folded his hands behind his head. his DON’TCHA WISH YOUR BOYFRIEND WAS HOT LIKE ME? T-shirt lay in a heap on the deck, and a swim coach’s whistle necklace dangled above his gray, shark-covered swim trunks.

“I can’t go to Mrs. Wilkes’s.” Claire skimmed the surface of the drowned bug–infested pool with a net. “I told you that last week.” She wiped her beading forehead with the back of her hand, then dried it on her turquoise Gap drawstring shorts, her gray tank already too sweaty and no longer an option.

“I’ll have to dock your pay.” Todd unscrewed the top off a tube of zinc oxide and smeared the thick white cream all over his freckly cheeks. Combined with his shock of overgrown red hair and the yellow chaise, the sunblock made him look like a ten-year-old Ronald McDonald. But as a boss he was more like Jerk-in-the-Box.

“Whatevs.” Claire skimmed the pool one last time, then dropped the long pole. It fell to the cement deck with a resounding clang. If she was going to be docked, why not leave now? That way she could shower before her long-awaited reunion with her FBFF (Florida BFF) and style her hair with the cute flips on the bottom, the way Massie had taught her.

Puuuuurp!

Todd blew his whistle. “Watch the attitude,” he warned, his eyes closed and lifted to the sun. “And don’t forget, Piper is booked for a walk and shampoo tomorrow morning at eight.”

“I know.” Claire pulled the bobby pin out of her hair and shook her long bangs loose. It was times like these she wondered if working for her brother was worth it. But her goal was to earn enough money for a Massie-approved back-to-school wardrobe—or at least a cool pair of jeans—and so far, Todd was the only person in town willing to hire a twelve-year-old.

Maybe now that Sarah, Sari, and Mandy were finally back from sleepover camp, working for T-Odd Jobs, Inc., would stop sucking so much. Not that car washing, gardening, pool cleaning, dog walking, and bird sitting would suddenly become fun. Or that depending on her brother for a paycheck would become less pathetic. Or that doing all the work while he barked orders from the sidelines would become less humiliating. But with the girls around, life off the clock would be filled with side-splitting laughter, DIY crafts, and sugary snacks. And it was about time. Claire had waited all summer for summer to start. And with only four weeks left before her parents sold the house and moved everyone back to Westchester, she didn’t want to waste another second.

Pedaling down Cherry Street on her old black and pink turbo Powerpuff Girls bike, Claire breathed in the citrus-scented air. She had missed the palm trees and orange trees over the last year. She had craved the thick, hot air that warmed her like one of Massie’s old pashminas. And she loved making a wish every time a speedy little lizard zipped past her bare feet. As much as she’d grown to appreciate life in Westchester, Kissimmee was still home. And with the return of Sarah, Sari, and Mandy, it would finally start feeling like it.

Claire turned up the driveway of her soon to be ex–sky blue split-level ranch house, where three Razor scooters were lying on the grassy lawn beside the SOLD sign.