THE BLOCK ESTATE THE GUESTHOUSE

Saturday, April 10th

4:26 P.M.

“Signature, please.” Massie thrust a piece of paper and a black Montblanc fountain pen in Claire's face the instant she opened the guesthouse door.

“Hey!” She folded her arms across her mint green J. Crew oxford. In her denim Gap miniskirt and pineapple-covered Keds, Claire looked like a sweet suburban schoolgirl. It was her attempt to remind the lawyers she wasn't a gorilla, even though she resembled one from the neck up.

“Where were you?” Massie pushed past her and entered the Lyonses' house like she owned it, which technically she did. “I've been calling. I thought you were supposed to be home all day planning your big Hollywood career.“ She said career like most people would say snot.

Embarrassed by the mess of coffee mugs and stacks of crumb-filled plates the lawyers had left behind on the dining room table, Claire guided Massie toward the stairs.

“They left an hour ago, so my mom took me to CVS. We just got back.” Claire swung the crinkly drugstore bag like a limited-edition Chanel.

“Whatevs.” Massie shrugged. “As soon as you sign this confidentiality agreement, I'll be out of your hair.“

“Hey! No eyebrow jokes. You promised.”

“Ooops, sorry.” She quickly covered her mouth. “I forgot.”

“Well, then, I'm not signing.” Throwing the CVS bag over her shoulder, Claire turned and stomped up the creaky wood stairs. An afternoon with cutthroat Hollywood lawyers had inspired her to hold her ground and stick up for herself.

“Okay, wait.” Massie raced toward the staircase.

Claire stopped.

“It's just that—” Massie fake-sobbed. “It's just that I'm gonna miss those jokes.” She giggled.

“We're done.” Claire hurried into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

The soles of Massie's riding boots beating against the wooden stairs as she climbed to the top, sounded like a fierce game of Ping-Pong.

“I'm sorry, okay?” she called. “Open up.”

Claire paused and examined herself in the mirrored medicine cabinet. Coarse black hair and two wiry black strips above her eyes stared back. A mosaic of honey yellow tiles filled the background. The towels that hung on the silver rod behind her were also yellow, as was the shag bath mat and the matching toilet-seat cover. She felt like a fuzzy bumblebee in a Pine-Sol–scented hive.

“Kuh-laire, come awn!” Massie shook the silver door handle.

“Only if you promise not to make fun of me anymore.”

“Done.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Pinky-swear.”

Claire turned the lock and opened the door, just enough to sick out her pinky. Massie reached for it and shook.

“Now sign.” Massie slapped the confidentiality agreement on the white marble countertop. Placing the pen on top of it, she pointed the gold nib to the exact spot Claire needed to sign.

“I'll need a minute to vet this.” Claire used her lawyer's word for examine like it was a term they tossed around on IM twenty times a day.

“Given.”

Massie sat on the toilet-seat cover. She unbuttoned her burgundy blazer and pulled a platinum chain out of her barely there cleavage, giving way to a clumpy awkward necklace. A cluster of pastel-colored enamel handbags hung alongside a red leather tag, stamped with the boxy Coach logo. It was exactly what Skye had asked for in her video, right down to the dangling gold key. “Next year is going to be so ah-mazing. This room is gonna mean automatic A-list in high school.”

Claire ignored her attempts to provoke jealousy, pretending to vet the agreement.

“Remember that tunnel you were talking about?”

Claire kept moving her eyes across the words (twelve-point Courier, bold, and all caps), with grave intensity, the way her lawyer had done with her studio contract. “Well, we're already working on plans to build it, you know, so Cam can sneak in during lunch.”

“Mmmm.” Claire flipped the page.

“It's too bad you won't be here.” Massie stood. “We have tons of plans. We were gonna get a gummy bear dispenser. But now that you're leaving, there's kinda no point.”

Claire tried to steady the corners of her mouth. It was obvious Massie was upset she was leaving. And it was making her smile.

“Looks good to me.” She scribbled her name under Layne's and snapped the black cap back on the weighty pen. “Congratulations. It sounds like the room is gonna be cool.” She reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a box of Revlon's Frost & Glow blonding kit.

“Cool?” Massie looked her in the eye for the first time since the eyebrow extensions.

“Yeah.” Claire tore open the package and snapped on the protective gloves. “It sounds like you'll have a fun year.”

“Doesn't that bum you out at all?”

“No.” She mixed the blonding powder with the blonding cream. “Why should it?”

“’Cause you're not going to be part of it.”

Claire tied a yellow towel around her shoulders like a cape. “Send pictures.” She painted a thick band of white paste over her scalp.

Massie's glossy mouth hung open. “That's it? Send pictures? That's all you have to say?” She shut her eyes for a split second and gently shook her head no in a this-can't-be-happening sort of way. “What about Cam?”

“What about him?” Twisting and contorting, Claire struggled to reach the back of her head. A glob of dye landed between her collarbones, missing her hair entirely.

“Doesn't he want you to stay?” Massie grabbed the dye brush from Claire's hands and dipped it in the mix.

“Yeah.” Claire turned, surrendering to Massie. “But he's the only one.” She pulled off the gloves and handed them over.

“You mean if other people wanted you to stay, you would?” Massie gathered a handful of black hair and covered it with dye. Then, she massaged it into the hair, making sure the color was evenly distributed.

“I dunno.” Claire bit her lower lip. “Maybe.”

“I bet your family'll miss you.”

“Why? They'd go with me.”

“Oh.” Massie massaged harder. “Well, what about Layne?”

“She'll visit.” Claire pulled a pair of little silver scissors from her bag and ripped off the cardboard wrapper.

“What about Kristen and Alicia and Dylan? I heard them say they want you to stay.” Massie snapped a shower cap on Claire's head.

“Yeah, right.” Claire leaned in toward the mirror. “When you kicked me out of the Pretty Committee, they didn't care one bit.” Raising the silver scissors, she snipped the thin black thread that had been woven into her brows. A flurry of coarse black hair fell past her blond lashes. Then—snip, snip, snip—more hair dusted the rim of the white porcelain sink.

Fussing with the tangle of handbag charms around her neck, Massie murmured, “Well, I'd prob'ly miss you.”

“What'd you say?” Claire asked, desperate to hear Massie's confession a second time, to make sure it was real.

“I said”—she rolled her eyes—”I'd pro-ba-bly miss you.”

Even though Claire's paste-covered hair was stuffed in a shower cap and her left eyebrow was blond while the other was black and bushy, she felt more confident than she had in her entire life.

“That's what I thought you said.”

“So does this mean you'll stay?”

There was a loud pounding on the door.

“Open up. It's an emergency!”

“Use the one downstairs, Todd!”

The girls covered their mouths and giggled.

“No!” He jiggled the handle. “I need to talk to you. It's about the lawyers.”

“What?”

“Open!”

Claire rolled her eyes and cracked open the door. “Speak.”

Todd burst in.

“What are you wearing?” Massie pinched the lapel of his white linen sport coat and rubbed it between her fingers. “You know it's only April, right?”

“So?” Todd smoothed a hand over the side part in his orange hair.

“So? That's a summer suit.” Massie snickered. “And what's with the three-quarter sleeves?”

“It's vintage.”

“What do you want?” Claire barked, resenting her younger brother for interrupting their most heartfelt moment ever.

“I want to talk to the lawyers.”

“’Bout what?”

“Emancipating me from Mom and Dad.”

“Why?” the girls asked at the exact same time.

“Because I've been grounded for thirty-three days and it's totally unfair.”

“No, it's not.” Claire pushed her brother toward the open door. “You skipped school, hid in the back of the Range Rover, and stowed away on our trip to The Daily Grind. It's totally fair.”

“I have a case. I want to divorce Mom and Dad and live on my own.”

“Well, you'll have to find another lawyer.”

“And another suit,” Massie added.

“Why?” Todd stomped his forest green Converse high-tops.

“Because I told the lawyers to leave.” Claire looked at Massie. “For good.”

“Huh?” Massie asked Claire's blond eyebrows, as if noticing them for the first time.

“I quit the movie.”

“What?” Todd and Massie yelled in unison.

“I told them I wanted to stay.” Claire's heart pounded, just like it had in Lake Placid right before she kissed Cam for the first time. “In Westchester. At OCD. With you guys. And Cam. I'm tired of missing out on everything. And I'm over looking like a Brillo pad.”

“Yes!“ Massie air-clapped and bounced on her toes.

“You turned down a major motion picture?” Todd slapped his hand against his forehead. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe.” Claire smiled peacefully.

“I definitely want out of this family!” Todd stormed into the hallway, slamming the door behind him.

Massie checked her silver Coach Whitney watch and then, without a word, removed the cap from Claire's head. “Why didn't you tell me you were going to stay?”

“Why didn't you tell me you were going to miss me?”

“Point.” Massie lifted her finger in the air, Alicia style.

Claire giggled and pulled Massie in for a hug.

The instant Massie hugged back, Claire knew she'd made the right decision. The Pretty Committee was going to dominate the eighth grade. And what could possibly be more fun than that?