FRANKIE'S BISTRO
UPSTAIRS DINING ROOM

9:30 PM

November 8th

Todd stood up and raised his virgin colada high in the air.

“I'd like to make a toast,” he said as he tapped a fork against the side of his glass. “To the greatest designers on the planet …”

“To the greatest designers on the planet,” the Blocks and the Lyonses repeated, looking at the two girls at the end of the table.

“Abercrombie and Fitch,” Todd said.

Todd was pelted with a few half-eaten dinner rolls and dirty napkins. The parents never would have allowed that if they hadn't been in the restaurant's private upstairs dinning room.

“No, really,” he said. “Even though I voted for Alicia, I think you guys did an amazing job tonight.”

A butter packet hit the side of his head, courtesy of Massie.

“I love it when you get angry, my pet,” he said.

Jay and Judi Lyons rolled their eyes at their son's behavior as they tried to keep themselves from laughing.

“'Kay, I'm being serious now.” Todd reached under the table and pulled out three lilacs for Massie. “They're purple, your favorite color.”

A round of gasps and “ahhh's” were heard from the parents.

“That's very sweet, Todd, but I will never, ever, ever, ever be your girlfriend,” Massie said as she sniffed the flowers.

“Never say never, ever, ever, ever,” Todd said with a suave wink. He puckered his lips.

Massie winced and wiped her mouth with her wrist.

“And Claire, my darling sister, I wrote you this note just to let you know how proud I am of you.”

Claire eyed the folded envelope in his clammy hand. She took it slowly and cautiously as if she were expecting it to explode in her face. She ran her pinky finger along the flap and tore it open, never once taking her suspicious eyes off her brother.

“Should I read it out loud?” Claire asked.

“It's a little emotional. Maybe you should take it to the bathroom,” Todd suggested.

Claire knew something was up. She had only seen her brother get emotional once, when Nathan beat him at his brand new Formula 1 video game.

“Okay,” Claire said as she pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. “Mom, will you order me a fudge sundae?”

Once Claire was in the bathroom, she took the letter out of the envelope and started reading. After the first sentence she lifted her head and looked around for hidden cameras.

“This has to be a joke,” she said to the bathroom attendant.

“'Scuse me, honey?”

“Nothing,” Claire said. She locked herself in a stall so she could have a little privacy.

DEAR CLAIRE,

YOU MUST HAVE REALLY HATED THE CD I MADE YOU CUZ YOU NEVER GOT BACK TO ME ABOUT THE MOVIE. ANYWAY, I THOUGHT YOUR UNIFORM WAS AWESOME AND I THINK YOU SHOULD HAVE WON.

-CAM

P. S. THE KEDS WERE A COOL TOUCH.

Claire read the note four more times before she left the stall. She had so many questions, but the first one was for Todd.

She hugged her brother to thank him for his “sweet note,” and when she was close to his ear, she whispered, “How did you get this?”

“He gave it to me to give to you,” Todd said quietly.

“Why did you say you wrote it?” Claire asked, still holding him close.

“Cuz I got Massie flowers and I didn't have anything for you. I felt guilty.”

Claire hugged her brother again.

“Do you know anything about a CD?” Claire asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Todd said. “I've been meaning to give it to you. It's killer.”

Claire would have punched him, but she was much too happy.

The waiter came with a cart filled with desserts: pies, cakes, cookies, flans, and tarts. Mr. Block asked for one of everything because they were celebrating.

“What could we possibly be celebrating, Dad?” Massie asked. She stuffed a spoonful of butterscotch ice cream in her mouth.

“That you don't have to wear that horrible sweater set Ann Marie Blanc came up with,” he said.

Everyone laughed and praised the fashion gods for small miracles.

“Yeah, but now we have to wear strappy sandals,” Claire said.

“Not if my smart, brilliant, powerful, handsome father donates a building or something to the fashion department so we can wear what we want again.” Massie batted her eyelashes and tossed in a few “pretty please's” for effect.

Claire saw Mr. Block's face soften and decided to join in.

“Oh, please, William. Pleeease.”

“Look who has suddenly taken an interest in fashion,” Judi Lyons said to her daughter.

“Would you be begging William to fix things if you girls won tonight?” Claire's father asked.

“We did win and I'm still—”

Claire felt the pointy toe of Massie's boot jab her shin.

“Ouch,” Claire said.

“Weeds,” Massie mouthed.

Claire looked at her with a sincere apology in her eyes and Massie smiled.

“What do you mean, you won?” Jay asked.

“Well, not literally, Dad,” Claire said. “I mean I won because I had a good time.”

Claire got another kick under the table, but this one was softer. Massie made a face like she was trying to suppress her giggles. Claire knew she had done well.

“When did you change out of your Keds?” Claire whispered. She was rubbing her leg under the table.

“Immediately after the show,” Massie said.

They laughed.

For that one moment Claire stopped being afraid of Massie. The girl with the amber eyes was no longer a mysterious she-devil. She stressed over outfits, got stabbed in the back by her friends, liked sugary desserts, and didn't always win, even when she deserved to. Massie was a regular person. She just knew how to hide it.

Claire watched Massie wipe the sides of her mouth with a cloth napkin and reapply a fresh coat of lip gloss. And she began to understand why Massie waited so long to accept her.

Like the right to wear a Dirty Devil costume, Massie's friendship wasn't something Claire was entitled to: it was something she had earn. And she had finally done it.

Claire slid her hand into the back pocket of her Gap jeans and touched the folded note from Cam to make sure it was still there.

I'll show it to Massie after dinner, she thought. Claire couldn't wait to see her reaction. She imagined they would hug, jump up and down, and read it over and over again until they knew every word by heart. Claire had a feeling life with Massie was about to get really exciting.