OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL SOCCER FIELD

Sunday, April 11

3:50 P.M.

“Let me go.” Kristen struggled to break free from Dylan's grip. “I have to shower.”

“We don't have time!” Massie helped drag her through the crowd.

“But some people wanted my autograph.” Kristen looked back at the cluster of fans on the field, surrounding her teammates. “And the coach is taking us out for—”

“We're meeting Skye,” Massie whispered in her sweaty ear.

“Ehmagawd! Skye contacted—?”

Massie slapped her hand in front of Kristen's mouth. They had come too far to blow it now.

The sound of excited chatter faded into the distance as they rapidly crossed campus, finally giving the girls a minute to talk freely.

“I can't believe she wrote the message on a hot dog,” Kristen gasped while wiping her forehead with a pink-and-orange Puma sweatband.

“I can't believe Coach Davis made you captain for next year,” Claire panted.

“I know.” Kristen folded the elastic on her navy shorts, revealing her flat, pale abs. “I'm—”

“Less talking, more walking.” Massie grabbed Kristen's clammy hand, then checked over her shoulder. “Hurry, Leesh. We can't be late.”

“I'm try-ing, o-kay?” She pumped her arms.

“I see them!” Dylan stopped to shake a pebble from her ruby red ballet flats, then pointed at the wood storage shed between the tennis courts and the school's basement entrance.

“Where?” Alicia broke into a light trot.

“On the roof.” Dylan gazed at the five girls sunning them selves in a perfect line, each with one leg bent.

Massie immediately slowed her pace to a casual mall-wander.

“How'd they get up there?” Kristen squinted.

“How'd they get heather gray leggings?” Dylan asked. “They're the hardest color to find.”

Alicia huffed. “I bet Skye got them from Body Alive.”

“Whatevs.” Massie smoothed a coat of Glossip Girl Original Bubble Gum across her lips, then pinched her cheeks for a burst of natural color. She would become a confident alpha in three…two…one—

“We're here!”

Skye lifted her head and snapped three times.

One by one, the all-blond quintet leaped off the roof, each one landing gracefully on the blue gymnastics tumbling mat that had been strategically placed below the shed. One had braids, two had long ponytails, and another had a voluminous bob. Skye was the DSL Dater with long thick waves, and the only one Massie envied.

She sauntered over to greet them, toes pointed in second position and clutching the gold locket.

The other blondes followed.

Massie grinned, projecting confidence. Without a word, she pulled the Coach key chain out of her oversize orange V-necked sweater and let it slam against her chest.

“Nice work,” Skye grinned.

“Nice work,” echoed the DSL Daters.

Relief hugged Massie like a pair of skintight Sass & Bide jeans.

“Ready to go?” Skye pushed up one sleeve of her angora pink sweater. Among the tangle of bracelets, a black satin blindfold lay wrapped around her wrist. She pulled it off, letting it dangle from her index finger. The DSL Daters did the same.

“Ready,” the Pretty Committee answered.

All of a sudden, Massie's eyes were being covered to the clang of Skye's gold bangles. “Hey, what are you doing?” Kristen squealed.

“Shhh,” hissed one of the DSL Daters. “By the way, good game today. You were awesome.”

“Thanks,” she giggle-gushed.

“Ow. Stop pulling me,” Alicia whined.

“Leesh, is that you?” Dylan asked.

“No.” Claire laughed. “It's me. Get your hand off my butt.”

“Ooops, sorry.”

“No talking!” Skye snapped. “If we get caught, it's over. Now let's move.” She gripped Massie's elbow and led her across the grass.

“Easy,” Massie pleaded. “I'm in clogs.”

Skye slowed her pace.

Panic was starting to set in, and breathing suddenly became painful; each shallow inhalation bit Massie's lungs like an overexcited puppy. What if people were watching them and laughing? What if the Pretty Committee was being set up and the whole key thing was a joke? What if she tripped? Desperate for saliva, Massie licked her bubble-gum-flavored lips. But nothing came. Even her spit was starting to panic.

“Do we really need these blindfolds?”

Skye smacked Massie's wandering hand, delivering a fresh waft of Clinique's Happy perfume straight to her nostrils. “You can't see where the room is until I know you have the real key.”

“Puh-lease!” Massie turned to Skye, even though her eyes were covered. “I don't do fake!”

“None of us do!” Alicia insisted.

Skye tightened her grip, silently forbidding Massie to say another word.

The familiar pump of the horizontal handle—found only on the door to the gym, the side entrance, and the pool—assured Massie that they were still on OCD grounds.

“Ow! Watch the toes,” Dylan snapped.

“Shhhhh,” hissed one of the DSL Daters.

Suddenly, everything felt dark. The air around them was no longer fresh. It smelled like a mix of orange-scented floor wax and the inside of a tuna lover's lunch box.

“Are we by the loser lockers?” Alicia asked.

Dylan sniffed. “More like the janitor's room.”

“Mass, what do you think?” Kristen asked.

“E-nough,” Skye hissed.

Massie didn't care where they were. As long as they were getting closer—closer to their secret campus club-house, closer to their fabulous future, closer to eighth-grade domination.

After one hundred and thirty-nine paces across a slick floor, a walk down a short ramp, and two flights of stairs, they reached their destination—a damp room that reeked of wet cardboard.

“We're here.” Skye shimmied Massie between the smell of Angel perfume (Alicia?) and Finesse shampoo (Claire?).

“Ready?”

“Yes,“ the Pretty Committee said together.

Massie was overcome by pre-present tingles, a flutter she'd get in her stomach just before tearing the wrapping paper off her birthday presents. To her, nothing was better than that sliver of time that hung between expectation and reality. Because in that sliver, anything was possible.

“Okay,” Skye trumpeted. “Blindfolds off!”

It took a moment for Massie's mascara-covered lashes to unstick and her eyes to focus. When they finally did, the DSL Daters were huddled around the girls, keeping them from seeing anything in the dim corridor.

Skye held out her hand. “Key.”

Massie slapped the necklace in her smooth white palm and grinned.

Alicia squeaked.

Dylan twirled a curl.

Kristen twisted her sweatband.

And Claire bit her thumbnail.

After a back bend, a neck roll and some quick calf stretches, Skye stepped up to the silver handle. The DSL Daters parted just enough for the Pretty Committee to see the blue door in front of them.

“Before I open the room, I need you to understand that you are about to become members of an exclusive club.”

Massie curled her toes to keep from leaping.

“If you get caught in here, you will have ruined a sacred, time-honored tradition, and all the past key holders will unite and make your lives miserable.”

“Don't worry, we never get caught.” Massie hooked her hair behind one ear.

“Aren't you the girls that got expelled?” asked Braids.

The others giggled.

“We got back in, didn't we?” Massie countered.

“I guess,” murmured Braids.

“Don't worry.” Alicia looked straight into Skye's intensely turquoise eyes. “The room will be safe with us.”

“Good.” Skye stuck the key in the lock. She jiggled it to the right. Then the left.

A prickly sweat rushed Massie's armpits.

“It's not opening.” Skye tugged the handle.

Massie immediately cut Claire with her eyes, silently threatening to destroy her life—and her afterlife—if she and Layne had given her the wrong key. “Let me try.” She stepped forward.

Skye burst out laughing. “Just kidding!”

The DSL Daters high-fived.

Massie tried her best to giggle.

Skye poked the key in the hole again: This time, it entered without a problem. Then, with a single click, the door unlocked. “Welcome to private-school paradise.”

Massie reached her hand inside the dark room and flicked on the lights. Alicia, Claire, Dylan, and Kristen stepped forward.

Everyone gasped.

“Did I lie?” Skye gushed.

Massie tried to answer but couldn't find the words.

No one could.