The Pretty Committee Strikes Back (6 page)

“Ooooh.” Livvy slowly nodded her head like she was finally starting to “get it.”

“Massie,” Carrie interrupted. “Uh, mostofusalreadyknowthisstuff. We want to knowabouttechniques like French-kissing, lipbiting, and—”

“Kissing with braces.” Alexandra turned red. She smiled shyly, showing off two rows of green wires.

“I want to know what you and Derrington have done,” Alicia said.

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed.

Massie looked to Claire, but Claire was too busy tugging on her uneven bangs to pick up on Massie's silent plea.

“We will get to all of that, but first it's important to learn the fundamentals,” Massie said.

“Like straight-up lip pecks and open-mouthers?” Alexandra offered.

“No, like oral hygiene.” Massie lifted a Louis Vuitton duffel bag off the ground and unzipped it.

“Ew,” Olivia squealed. “Wait.” she paused. “Isn't that third base?”

“Seriously.” Livvy turned red. “We haven't even talked about Frenching yet and we're already moving on to oral?”

“OralhygieneyouidiotnotoralSEX!” Carrie snapped, and then rolled her wide brown eyes.

“Oh.” Livvy and Olivia recoiled. Everyone cracked up.

“Before anyone kisses anyone, you need to know about fresh breath and healthy gums.” Massie lifted up a tube of Rembrandt toothpaste and a roll of dental floss.

Alicia and Dylan busted out laughing. Even Kristen started giggling, which meant the footage would be all shaky.

“What's so funny?” Massie insisted. Claire was squirming uncomfortably in her seat and Layne had started to yawn. “You have to learn to walk before you can run.”

“Correction,” Alexandra said. “We have to learn to kiss before we die.”

Carrie and Livvy burst out laughing.

“Hey, Alexandra?” Massie asked sweetly.

“Yeah?”

“Are you a toad?”

“No, why?”

“Then why are you acting all horny?” Massie said.

This time everyone laughed
with
Massie. “Are you getting this?” she whispered to Kristen.

Kristen nodded her head.

“Stop moving around so much,” Massie hissed. “You'll ruin the shot.”

“Can we skiptheteethstuff,” Carrie said. “Mydadisadentist so I kindaknowaboutflossing.”

“Yeah, but do you know about lip waxing and mustache bleaching?” Massie held up two different do-it-yourself facial hair remover kits. She slid off her director's chair and marched over to Carrie. Then she leaned in toward her mouth as if she were going to kiss her on the lips.

“Uh, w-what are you doing?” Carrie shifted on her stool and sat on her hands.

“Your dad may have taught you about flossing, but he failed to mention the importance of
not
having a mustache when you're a girl,” Massie said.

Carrie slowly brought her hand to her face and rubbed the sides of her mouth. She turned to Alexandra. “Do I?”

Alexandra nodded slowly and with regret.

“I do?” she asked Livvy. Her voice was high-pitched and shaky.

Livvy shrugged and looked down at her knobby kneecaps.

“Now, what boy is going to want to make out with a girl that reminds him of his older brother?” Massie asked. “Females are supposed to be soft and smooth, not prickly and rugged.”

Carrie started tearing up while the others pulled out their compacts and examined their faces.

Once the compacts snapped shut, Alexandra said, “The rest of us seem to be hairless, so can we get to the kissing?”

“Where was your first kiss?” Livvy asked.

“On the lips.” Massie knew that wasn't what Livvy meant, but she was desperate. She had assumed these LBRs would be so happy to be in her secret club they wouldn't care what she talked about. But she had been wrong.

“Was it after the Briarwood soccer finals?” Dylan asked.

Massie wanted to slap Dylan for furthering the issue but knew her friend wasn't trying to put her on the spot. She just believed what Massie had told her.

“It was, wasn't it?” Dylan smacked her newly thin thigh. “Gawd, I am so mad I was sick that day. I knew I'd miss something good.”

“Is he a good kisser, or is he all sloppy and saliva-ish?” Alicia asked playfully. “Come on, tell us something already! We want our money's worth.”

Suddenly, Massie became aware of the heat from the video camera's light. It was burning her cheeks and turning her face red—she could feel it. A wave of hunger crashed inside her stomach, making her feel weak and disoriented.

“Which Glossip Girl flavor were you wearing?” Layne asked sarcastically.

The loud ringing in Massie's ears made it almost impossible for her to answer everyone's questions … not that she wanted to. If she didn't get out of there immediately, Massie was afraid she'd have a heart attack, or worse, start crying.

“Hold on a minute.” Massie held up her finger and frantically fished through her Prada messenger bag.

The girls watched her with silent curiosity.

Massie pulled out her purple sparkly Motorola, flipped it open, and lifted it to her ear. “Yup … uh-huh … How far away is she? … Can you stall her while we make our escape? … Great.” She snapped the cell phone shut and quickly dropped it in the pocket of her tweed gray-and-orange Nanette Lepore coat.

“We have to get out of here
now.”
Massie ripped the plug of her DVD player out of the socket and threw her bag over her shoulder. “My lookout team says Principal Burns is on her way here to set up for a meeting she has tonight.”

Layne was about to take a sip of Go-Gurt but immediately lowered the tube. “On a Friday?”

“Guess so,” Massie said.

“Funny, I didn't hear your ring tone,” Olivia said.

“Funny, it's called
vibrate,”
Massie snapped. “I suggest we split up. A few of you should take the service exits so this looks less ahb-vious. I'll go out the main doors and if I see her, I'll just say I left my headache medicine in here after the Hillary Clinton lecture.”

“That was last year,” Dylan said, sounding concerned.

“Well, I'll say I have a migraine and I really need to find it,” Massie said. She covered the camera lens with her hand and climbed out of the pit. Kristen, Dylan, Alicia, and Claire followed her. “Everyone else, use the other doors. Go, hurry!”

“What about the rest of the lesson?” Alexandra asked from inside the pit. “We leave for Lake Placid on Monday.”

“We'll do it there,” Massie shouted over her shoulder as she led her friends to safety. “I promise.”

And as usual, they believed her.

Massie let out a deep sigh of relief. The fake phone call trick had served its purpose and bought her the time she'd need to retool her lesson plan. She was failing miserably as a kissing teacher, and she knew that the only way to redeem herself was to make out with Derrington before everyone figured out that she was a completely inexperienced wannabe.

It was ahb-vious to Massie that the girls had been less than pleased with their first lesson. And that certainly did not need to be advertised on a video blog. So she went back to her old system of recording State of the Unions on her PalmPilot and keeping them private.

MASSIE BLOCK'S CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION

THE BLOCK ESTATE MASSIE'S BEDROOM

Sunday, February 22nd 1:16
P.M.

Claire lingered in the potpourri-scented hallway outside Massie's bedroom, trying to work up the nerve to open the door and walk in. Her hands were clammy and the insides of her stomach felt like a scene from that boat-disaster movie
The Perfect Storm
.

Earlier, when she'd walked across the grassy acre that separated the guesthouse (hers) from the main house (Massie's), Claire had asked herself why she was so nervous about attending the packing meeting and decided it was probably because she had no idea what a packing meeting was.

Claire took a deep breath and gently placed her hand on the glass knob of Massie's door, then quickly removed it, leaving a streak of sweat behind. She was six minutes late and that meant the girls could be bad-mouthing her. Not that she'd done anything wrong, but she was still paranoid. After all, bad memories take longer to heal than bloody wounds.

“One … two … three …” she counted inside her head. When she got to five, Claire would open the door. “Four…”

But a sudden burst of laughter erupted on the other side of the wall and Claire jumped back. She
knew
they were making fun of her.

Claire pressed her ear against the door.

“Did you get Krazy-Glued to the walls again?” someone behind her said.

Claire quickly lifted her head and turned around. She felt her face turning red.

“Hey, Dyl.” She tried to sound casual. “What's with all the stuff?”

Dylan had bags from every boutique in Westchester hanging off her arms. Her wrists were purple from the rope handles that were digging into her flesh. But she still managed to lift the green straw in her venti Frappuccino to her lips and take a long sip.

“Ow, cold headache,” Dylan squealed, and hunched over. The weight of the bags almost pulled her to the ground. Claire rushed to her side and pushed her back up.

“Thanks.” Dylan's green eyes looked relaxed and playful. The red curls piled on top of her head were messy and slightly unkempt. She looked like a casual, weekend version of herself. Her jeans were loose and belt-free and the hood of her lime green sweatshirt hung down the back of her faded black Marc Jacobs blazer.

Suddenly, Claire felt some of her anxiety melt away. She liked it when the girls in the Pretty Committee looked their age—or, more precisely,
her
age.

“You saved me from getting crushed by my new wardrobe.”

“Well, if you want to repay me, don't ask why I had my ear pressed against the door,” Claire said without a hint of playfulness. “And don't tell.”

“Done.” Dylan pointed at the door with her BCBG bag and Claire opened it without hesitation. It was always easier walking in with someone else.

Claire gasped when she stepped inside. She knew Massie never did anything unless it was headlineworthy, but this time she had outdone herself. The neat and orderly iPad had been completely transformed into an outdoor campsite. Kristen, Alicia, and Massie were sitting cross-legged on sleeping bags, staring at a stack of plastic logs that reflected flickering orange light off their faces. Marshmallows, chocolate squares, and graham crackers were being passed back and forth. The lights had been dimmed and hundreds of glow-in-the-dark stars had been stuck to Massie's ceiling. A sound effects CD supplied the greatest hits of the forest in surround sound, complete with howling wolf and babbling brook noises. An incense cone burned by Massie's bay window, filling the room with the sweet scent of pine.

Bean, Massie's small black pug, wore a pink, gray, and yellow flannel shirt and was curled up in a small stuffed canoe by the faux fire. The rest of the girls wore jeans, neutral-colored turtleneck sweaters, and red hunting caps. There was a cap laid out for Claire and one for Dylan on the two empty sleeping bags beside Kristen.

“This is awesome!” Claire knew
awesome
didn't begin to explain how cool she thought Massie's room looked, but she was too overwhelmed to think of a better description.

“Heyyyy.” Dylan yanked her clump of bags through the door frame. “Sorry I'm late—I had to buy a whole new wardrobe.” She said it the way most people would say, “I had to get my warts removed.”

“Why?” Massie asked. It was obvious from her devilish half-smile that she already knew the answer.

“I lost ten pounds from the flu.” Dylan sounded surprised that Massie didn't already know this.

“Oh, cool,” Massie responded casually.

Kristen and Alicia looked down at their glowing PalmPilots and tried not to laugh.

“It's not funny.” Dylan stomped her foot. “I can't believe you can't tell.” She unbuttoned her blazer and opened it like a pervy trench-coat-wearing flasher.

“We
can
tell.” Alicia rolled her eyes. “It's just that you were never fat to begin with, so it's hard for us to get all psyched.”

“Especially when you talk about it all the time,” Massie added.

Claire sat down on her sleeping bag, picked up her hunting hat, and pretended to be very interested in the washing instructions printed on the inside—anything to stay out of the potential fight that was brewing.

“Sorry, okay?” Dylan whined. “It's just that losing weight had been my obsession for so long, and now that I did it, I have nothing to think about. I have no goals. I feel like I have lost my thing. I'm thingless.”

“Come sit down” Massie waved her PalmPilot in the air. “We just started working on our packing lists. You can help us envision woodsy-chic outfits that boys will like.”

“Okay.” Dylan dropped her bags and raced over to the empty spot beside Kristen. “Wha'd I miss?”

Alicia tapped the screen of her Palm with the stylus pen and read her notes. “So far we've agreed on a muted color palette for tops.” She tapped again. “Khakis, chocolate browns, and greens—but no limes or pastels, ahb-viously.”

“I say no Juicy Couture sweats.” Massie pushed up the sleeves of her chocolate brown Juicy sweatshirt. “They're so not sexy.”

“But Juicy Couture jeans are okay, right?” Dylan asked.

“Dark wash only.” Alicia pointed to the new dark pair of True Religions she was wearing.

Dylan crawled over her Saks Fifth Avenue bag and frantically pulled out clumps of white tissue paper. “Phew,” she sighed. “I just got the new low-rise rhinestone Juicy jeans and I forgot what color the denim was.”

“Well?” Alicia asked.

“I'm good.” Dylan fanned her flushed face. “Thank Gawd. My new butt looks ah-dorable in them.”

Claire lifted a purple pen off of Massie's desk and tore a sheet of paper from her “A Moment in the Life of Massie Block” pad.

“Do you mind?” She gestured to Massie.

Massie shook her head and slapped the air with her palm, letting Claire know she could help herself to more if she needed it.