OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL
TEACHERS' BATHROOM

10:01 AM

November 3rd

For the moment Massie was safe. The last stall in the teachers' private bathroom was the only thing that stood between her and a furious mob of seventh graders. She wasn't completely sure how much blame her classmates were going to place on her. She wasn't stupid enough to linger after the assembly to find out. As soon as Principal Burns clapped and dismissed everyone, Massie squeezed her way through the crowd and ducked out of the emergency exit undetected. She was so desperate to escape she left her cell in the basket, figuring she'd buy a new one after school. At least she had her PalmPilot. There was a lot that needed to be said.

CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION

Massie imagined being forced out of her table in the Café by a bunch of angry girls in uniforms and having to eat with the teachers for protection. She was fighting back the tears when the bathroom door opened and someone walked in. She stepped up on the toilet seat while gripping her bracelet so the charms wouldn't clang together and give her away.

She did her best to stay quiet and managed to avoid breathing for twenty-two seconds straight. The intruder wasn't using the toilet or the sink. She seemed to be hovering for no apparent reason.

Leave, she thought. LEAVE!

The standoff made Massie anxious. She hated being stalked and would have preferred getting caught to this nerve-racking, not to mention bo-rrring, exercise in endurance. She lowered herself off the toilet as slowly and silently as she could. Once both feet were on the ground, she held her hair back and bent down so she could take a peek under the stall.

She could feel the blood rush to her head as she hung her face upside down, but discomfort was the furthest thing from her mind. Especially once she saw what was on the other side.

“Ahhh!” Massie screamed when she saw the huge blue eye looking back at her.

“Ahhh!” the eye screamed back.

It didn't look like teacher eye because it didn't have any black mascara boogers floating in the corners.

“Open the door,” the eye said.

Massie recognized that chipmunky voice. It was Claire.

“Is it safe?” Massie asked.

“Yes,” Claire whispered. “All the teachers are outside, trying to break up the protest.”

“Protest?”

“Yeah, Layne is leading a March for Uniform Reform. Come look. You can see it from the window.”

Massie opened the door. She didn't bother looking outside.

“Does everyone want to kill me?” Massie asked.

“Gabby and Bella said something about finding you and hanging you from the flagpole by your three scarves, but I think you can take them. Kristen and Dylan are worried—”

“What about Alicia?” Massie asked. “Is she looking for me?” She immediately regretted the question.

“No,” Claire said. “She's with Olivia at the Starbucks kiosk. I passed them on my way over here. By the way, I have your phone.”

Claire carefully passed her the Motorola. Massie thought that was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for her, but she said nothing.

“I came alone. You have nothing to worry about.” Claire spoke as if she had just read Massie's mind. “I saw you sneak out of the emergency exit.” Her smile was big and genuine. “Isn't it funny that you and I will be dressed the exact same every single day?”

Massie had to fight the urge to hurl her phone at Claire's head. If she hadn't spent three hours over the weekend gluing purple rhinestones to the front of it, she would have.

“I would rather keep our bet going for another year than wear the same stiff white shirt and itchy kilt as everyone else.” Massie scratched her leg at the thought.

“You should design the uniforms,” Claire said. “You have the best style in the school and you get straight A's in fashion class.”

Massie could feel the blood rush back to her face. What a perfect idea, she thought. Then everyone in the grade will be wearing something I created. I'll be a legend.

Massie wondered what kind of logo she'd put on her label. Would it be a crown or a photo of Bean? Would her line be exclusive to OCD students or would she offer her creations to the masses? Would Cam be impressed?

“I'll talk to Pia about it,” she said, trying to downplay her excitement. “I bet she'll let me. My parents donate so much money to OCD as it is. And if they want more, I can just ask my dad to build a design studio or something. By the way, why did you follow me here?” Massie asked.

“I dunno,” Claire said. “I thought you could use a friend.”

“Puh-lease, what's in it for you?”

“A friend.”

Claire's answer was so pure and simple it caught Massie off guard. She folded her arms and squinted, searching for signs of insincerity on Claire's face. She couldn't find any.

“If you want, you can come over after school and help me think of some ideas.” Massie was surprised to hear those words come out of her own mouth.

Claire looked as shocked. They both stood perfectly still, each wondering if she had imagined what Massie had said.

“You know, for our mothers, of course,” Massie said. She swung her Prada messenger bag over her shoulder. “Maybe you'll finally get a cell phone out of it.”

“It's worth another try,” Claire said.

Massie led the way out of the bathroom and onto the battlefield to fight for something she believed in very deeply: her personal style.