Kristen (3 page)

“She’s got a board in her closet.” Kristen tugged her arm. “Now come awn!”

“
Really
?”

“Yup. Really.” It happened to be an emery board, but why get technical?

“Then let’s go, go, go!” Ripple crawled over her tutor-sitter and jumped onto the curb. “Bye, Dad! We’ll call when we’re done.”

Just before slamming the door shut, Kristen took off her green Chanel logo bucket hat and tossed it onto the seat. Dune’s disapproving glare had burned her more than the sun’s rays. And its effects were more lasting too.

“You’re not wearing it?”

Before Kristen could answer, Ripple scooped the hat off the seat and forced it over her fried blond hair.

With renewed confidence, she led the way around a drained three-leaf clover pool, past the mini jungle gym in the kiddie section, and straight to the half-pipe, where Dune was knuckle-bashing his buddies. Along the way, they passed clusters of skinny, wool cap–wearing boys. Ripple lifted her long horse nose a little higher each time one of them waved hello.

“You
know
all these guys?” Kristen asked, feeling somewhat impressed by her otherwise unimpressive student.

“I used to skate with them,” Ripple muttered, lifting her nose once again. Kristen could see straight into her nostrils. “But that was before I . . .” She paused as they reached Dune and his friends—three boys whose bare chests peeked out over varying shades of skinny jeans.

“Whad’up, Rip?” A thin blonde with narrow green eyes, a light smattering of freckles, and a black arm cast lifted his free palm.

Ripple waved away his attempted high five as if it had been double-dipped in puke. “Ew, Tyler, there’s, like, dirt on your hand.”

He took a close look, shrugged, and then licked it clean.

“Gah-rosss!” Ripple screeched, covering her eyes with
Teen Vogue
. Kristen crinkled her sunburned nose in disgust, just like Massie would have done.

But Dune and the other boys burst out laughing. And while it was tempting to join in the hysterics because his response
was
funny, it was too late. She had already nose-crinkled. And there was no coming back from that.

“Kristen.” Dune reached out and pulled her deeper into their circle. “These are my boys, Tyler, Jax, and Scooter.”

“Hey.” Kristen beamed, having no idea who was who and not caring one bit. How could she? Dune had touched her . . . in public . . . in front of his friends. There wasn’t enough room in her brain for anything other than those three things to register.

They greeted her with lifted hands. Then, without another word, the one with the curly blond hair and bulging blue eyes—Scooter?—slammed down his board, pushed off, and teetered onto the half-pipe. His wheels rumbled each time he rose and fell in the giant plywood smile. Kristen wondered how long it would be before Dune left to join him. The thought of losing him made her stomach dip like she was the one skating down the U.

“Hey, Rip, where’dya get that lid?” asked the guy she’d decided must be Jax, a boy with limp brown hair that covered his dark eyes. It hung like the sleepy branches of the weeping willow on the other side of the tall wood fence—the country club side.

Ripple swayed from side to side like a shy little girl. “Paris,” she lied, avoiding Kristen’s eyes.

“Paris
Hilton
, maybe!” Jax blurted. “SUCKER PUNCH!” He leaned over and knocked Ripple on the side of her arm.

“Ow-
ie
.” She rubbed it like it hurt, but blushed like she enjoyed it.

“Oooof!” Scooter grunted from the half-pipe. “My coccyx!” He lay splayed on the bottom of the half-pipe, grabbing his bum, completely oblivious to the other riders zipping by.

“Get up before someone grinds you into a smoothie!” Jax called.

Tyler and Dune snickered. Their camaraderie made Kristen long for the familiarity of the Pretty Committee, but at the same time, she was thankful they were miles away. If they knew she was hanging at GAS—voluntarily—she’d be teased more than Amy Winehouse’s hair. According to them, her world was on the other side of the fence . . . or at least, it used to be. Now she had no idea what side she belonged on—the one she could afford, or the one she
wanted
to afford? Before she’d met Dune, that answer had been easy.

“So, do you guys go to Briarwood?” Kristen blurted, showing Dune she would become buds with his friends. She’d never be the kind of girl who would make him choose.

At first no one responded. They were too busy laughing at Scooter, who was now on all fours struggling to stand. Except Ripple. She was busy fussing with the Chanel cap, turning the logo to face the back.

Jax finally spoke up. “We’re at Abner Double Day. Us ADD boys aren’t good enough for those fancy private schools.” He middle-parted his long brown hair into an upside-down V—it looked like he was peeking through tent flaps.

“Oh, I only go to one because I’m on scholarship.” Kristen rolled her eyes, like attending OCD was more embarrassing than period-stained jeans. She quickly turned to Tyler. “So, what’s with the cast?”

Tyler lifted his elbow and checked his arm like he had just noticed it was covered in black plaster.

“Incoming!”
Out of nowhere, Jax shoved Tyler, Kristen, Dune, and Ripple three feet to the left as a white golf ball careened through the blue sky. It landed with a thud on the beige wood beside them, then rolled down into the half-pipe.

“Fire in the hole!” shouted a green-haired skater, who managed to turn his deck seconds before the speeding orb would have lodged under his wheels and sent him flying.

The rest of the riders jumped off their boards and knee-slid to the flat part of the pipe.

“Learn how to hit a ball, Nantucket Red!” yelled someone wearing a red helmet covered in cartoon rats.

When the ball finally settled on the plywood, Scooter grabbed it, covered his left nostril, and blew hard through his right. Once the ball was fully covered in snot, he whipped it back over the fence with a grunt.

Everyone at the park applauded, except for Kristen, whose hands were being used to block her mouth from projectiling. And Ripple. She’d laced her fingers behind her back when she realized Massie’s BFF found the whole display nauseating times ten.

“
That’s
what happened,” Tyler spat. “Freaking CC, man. I rode over one of their balls and ate it.”

Dune immediately burst out laughing. At first Tyler looked at him in confusion but then something clearly clicked inside his mind and he began cracking up. The part of Kristen that belonged on the GAS side of the fence wanted to crack up too. But the side of her that had been a guest at the CC told her it was best not to. Unsure of what to do, she let out a half laugh that sounded more like a half sneeze.

“Did you hear what he just said?” Dune slapped Jax on his bare back. But Jax was focusing on a group of preppy girls
ew
-ing at what had just come flying over the fence. He shook his head, sending his hair tent-flapping back over his face. He hopped on his board and dropped into the half-pipe. “Whooooooooo!” he shouted, obviously wanting to be noticed.

“Is he still sweating those OCDivas?” Dune furrowed his tan forehead.

Tyler nodded yes, picking at his cast.

“Why?”

Tyler shook his head like he had no idea.

“How lame,” Kristen insisted. “Can’t they make a rule? Something that would keep the balls away from GAS?”

They all burst out laughing again, except Ripple, who was now checking her gloss in a black Sephora compact—the one that came free with a purchase of Jessica Simpson’s body cream.

“The country club is pissed that we board so close to their property. They think we’re loud and ugly,” Tyler answered. “So they started letting the beginners tee off from the fourth green, which is right over there.” He pointed over the fence to a group of knock-kneed, madras shorts–wearing wannabes working on their swings.

“Gawd.” Kristen crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture that she hoped conveyed disgust and contempt for the rich.

“Tons of skaters have gone down.” Dune looked Kristen right in the eye. His commitment to her in that moment made her sunburned cheeks overheat.

“But there’s an upside.” Tyler grabbed a pack of chocolate-flavored Bubblicious out of his back pocket and popped a piece in his mouth without offering any to his friends. “The trust fund skaters have been scared off, like the Briarwood Academy soccer boys. Now those cleat-feet hang out at Andy Ryan’s house, cuz he has a half-pipe.”

“And that hot sister, Olivia,” Jax added, suddenly appearing behind them.

“Olivia’s not, not, not
that
pretty,” Ripple pout-mumbled.

And there’s nothing wrong with cleat-feet!
Kristen wanted to shout. But she decided to save her outbursts for later—when she and Dune were a couple and she didn’t have to worry about impressing his friends.

“Hey, got any more gum?” Jax held out his dirty palm.

Tyler dug around the inside of his pocket and pulled out the pack. Jax, Dune, and Ripple all grabbed pieces. Kristen extended her arm, but Tyler casually pulled the pack away, leaving her to chew on the bitter taste of not being accepted.

“Sorry, dude, I never give the last piece.”

“Since when?” Dune flicked his buddy’s black cast.

Tyler snicker-shrugged.

“You can share mine, Ms. Gregory,” Ripple said as she attacked the brown cube with her slightly buck teeth.

“It’s okay,” Kristen managed.

Dune’s eyes lingered on her, searching for clues to the contrary. But life with the rich and fabulous Pretty Committee had taught Kristen to hide her feelings of inadequacy by batting her lashes and smiling brightly. Her tears got the hint to come back when she was alone.

“Anyhow, we have to get back at the CC.” Jax ran a hand through his sweaty bangs. “I say we drain their pool and skate it.”

“And when we’re done, let’s fill it back up with Jell-O,” Dune added. “Some guy on YouTube did it to his uptight neighbor. It was a total sucker punch!”

Jax spit his gum into his hand, then whipped it over the fence. “Dude, that’s way too hard.”

Ripple giggled. “I love how you just threw that.”

Jax shot her a polite half smile, then wiped his goober-filled hand on the side of his jeans.

“What about filling it with golf balls?” Tyler tried.

“Dumb.” Dune flicked his cast again.

“Stop doing that!” Tyler snicker-shoved Dune into Scooter, who had just returned from his skate to rejoin the circle, still perched by the lip of the half-pipe.

“Shhh! Country Club Chick is coming over!” Jax shoved all three of them.

“Her?”
Ripple scoffed as if they were talking about Ugly Betty. “You like
her
? She’s, like,
obsessed
with dancing. It’s totally weird.”

Kristen turned to see who it was and gasped. “Ehma-gawd!”

Super-blond, super-tanned, super-flexible Skye Hamilton, the infamous eighth-grade alpha, was scurrying over the fence wearing nothing but a yellow string bikini and a glittery orange scarf. She jumped down onto the asphalt like the bottoms of her bare feet were coated in Nike rubber. “Heyyy, yooouuuuuuu!” She tossed her curly hair and waved her flawlessly manicured Nars Pleasantly Pink nails as she approached.

Her blond besties (known as the DSL Daters because they made super-fast connections with boys) gripped the metal links from the country club side like inmates hungry for a glimpse of the outside world.

Scooter swallowed nervously, then turned and dropped back into the half-pipe.

“Hey.” Tyler awkwardly lifted his cast to wave.

“Hey.” Jax shook his head until his bangs grazed the top of his nose.

Ripple rolled her eyes.

Skye smiled sweetly at everyone but came to a complete stop in front of Dune.

“Hey, hey, whaddaya say?” She pliéd twice, then stood. “I thought you were gonna be gone all summer?”

“Just got back.” Dune smiled.

Kristen’s eyes searched his face for clarification. Was it the I’m-just-being-polite smile? Or the let’s-lip-kiss smile? It was hard to tell.

“What are you hotties doing tomorrow?” Skye twirled a deep-conditioned golden lock around her finger, sending a heap of gold bangles jangling down her arm.

“Nuthin’.” Jax’s voice cracked a little.

Ripple rolled her eyes again.

“Perf!” She turned and flashed a thumbs-up to her friends, who bounced up and down on their toes and air-clapped. “Then I’ll put your names on the list at the club. We’ll hang by the pool. See ya around elevenish?”

“We’re in!” Jax blurted, this time in a faux-deep voice.

“Killer bees!” Skye hop-turned into a glissée tour jeté and darted back to the fence. Heads turned like searchlights as she passed.

“You guys are not, not,
not
really going, are you?” Ripple’s light brown eyes darted from one boy’s face to the next. But they all had the same dumbstruck expression—like they had each discovered hundred-dollar bills in their pockets.

“Yeah, we are.” Jax grinned.

“Sellout!” Tyler lifted his cast, reminding them that she was the enemy.

“She’s lame anyway,” Kristen finally chimed in. “She totally knows me and didn’t even say hi! I wouldn’t go if I were you. She’s not a good friend.” Aware that Dune was a stick-up-for-your-buddy kind of guy, Kristen hoped this news would turn him off the dancer for life.

“We have to.” Dune gathered his blond hair into a ponytail. “How else are we going to get close to their pool?”

“Or their . . .” Jax gripped invisible melons.

The boys burst out laughing. Ripple sighed like a frustrated parent and stormed off.

“Is that what this is really about?” Tyler pressed. “A pool prank?”

“Yeah. What else would it be?” Dune insisted, the sides of his mouth straining to hold back a betraying smile.

“You tell me.” Tyler folded his arms across his bare chest.

Kristen waited along with everyone else for him to answer. Her heart thumped louder and louder with every passing millisecond that he stood and contemplated. Suddenly, he leaped forward, grabbed Tyler’s board out of his good hand, and rode it onto the half-pipe. “SUCKER PUNCH!” he shouted as he rolled away.