WESTCHESTER, NY THE BLOCKS' RANGE ROVER

Tuesday, April 6th

3:55 P.M.

“Ah-nnoying!” Massie snapped her Motorola shut and knocked her head against the silver Range Rover's window. “Voice mail again!”

“Maybe she's on an airplane, flying to L.A.,” Alicia offered as she picked a random piece of glitter off her lavender knit sweater. “Ugh! My soccer uniform leaked in my bag,” she complained to no one in particular.

“I bet she's at the Keds factory with Mischa Barton designing a pair of signature geek-sneaks.” Dylan plunked her legs down on Alicia's lap. “By the way, you never commented on my new black Paige jeans. Is it ‘cause they make me look fat?”

“Get your meat sticks offa me!”

Kristen giggled.

“Then is serious, you guys.” Massie opened the window, hopping the cool breeze might calm her. But all it did was mess her hair. “Claire needs to tell Cam not to let any girls in his house.” She repositioned her gray satin headband.

“Yul ee er ah ome.” Dylan chewed a powdered Munchkin.

“Huh?”

She swallowed.

“I said, you'll see her at home.” She reached into the wax-lined Dunkin' Donuts bag and popped another round white-sugar-covered doughnut ball in her mouth. “Let's watch the news.”

Isaac, Massie's driver, hit a button, and a flat-screen TV lowered from the ceiling.

Kristen's narrow aqua eyes widened. “Do you think something happened to her?”

“No.” Dylan picked up the thin remote and flipped through the channels. “I saw a commercial last night about depression. It said one of the symptoms is loss of appetite. So maybe if I hear a sad story I'll stop eating these.” She stuck a glazed doughnut ball in her mouth.

“Here's a sad story for you.” Massie looked directly into Dylan's jade-colored cat eyes. “If I don't get in touch with Kuh-laire, I can't tell her to ask Cam which girls have been trying to get into his house. And if I don't know who they are, I can't stop them. If I can't stop them, they'll get the key first. And if they get the key first, we're done. And if we're done, eighth grade is going to feel like one long soccer practice.”

Dylan bit into a chocolate Munchkin. “Not sad enough.”

“It will be when Heather and her alt.com friends are the new alphas,” Massie barked. “Better get used to cheap black sweaters and fake silver jewelry that'll turn your skin green.”

She buried her face in her hands.

“Mass.” Alicia's warm hand was on her back. “That key is so ours. Do you aw-nestly think Skye would let that room fall into LBR hands? Puh-lease! She's just testing us.”

Massie lifted her head and gazed into Alicia's big brown eyes. They shimmered with quiet confidence.

“You think?”

“I know.”

“Ah-greed.” Dylan wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her L.A.M.B. bike-chain cardigan.

“I bet we're the only ones who got the CD-ROM,” Alicia blurted.

“Then how do you explain Kaya and Penelope in the chapel?”

“Puh-lease.” Alicia waved away her comment. “Those LBRs probably go there every day after school and pray for coolness.”

“Ehmagawd, you're probably right.” Massie swept the bangs away from her eyes. “I can't believe I fell for it.”

“I can,” Kristen blurted.

Her snippiness shocked Massie like a surprise hair tug. “Are you still mad we wore those soccer uniforms? Because that has nothing to do with—”

“No.” Kristen rolled down her window. “You fell for it because it's true. Look.”

The girls unclipped their seat belts and scrunched up beside her.

“Buckle up!” Isaac called from the front seat.

“Okay,” Massie called sweetly, then turned back to the window.

Layne, Heather, and Meena were gathered outside Marc Cooper's modest brick house with fistfuls of silver helium balloons that said Marc Is #1 in blue bubble letters.

“Ehmagawd, they're wearing cheap black sweaters and faux silver.” Alicia giggled.

“Stop the car!” Massie shouted.

Isaac screeched to a halt. “What is it?”

“Kristen, come with me.” Massie grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward the open door.

“Where are we—?”

“Can I go too?” Alicia whined.

“No. I need someone who can run.”

“Point.” She closed the door.

Kristen, who was at least two paces ahead of Massie, led the charge as they bolted across the street to the Coopers' house. Under any other circumstances, Massie would have made her slow down and follow, but protocol be damned. This was an emergency.

“What are you guys doing here?” panted Massie when they reached the porch. “I didn't know you were friends with Marc.”

“Oh, yeah.” Heather slid a silver serpent charm back and forth across her tarnished chain necklace. “We're tight.”

Layne pushed the doorbell again.

“Why are you here?” Meena twirled her one random chunk of dyed green hair.

Kristen glanced at their balloons. “To congratulate Marc.”

“For what?” Layne tested.

“For being number one,” Massie said with major amounts of “duh!” in her tone.

Finally, the door opened. The noxious smell of wet paint seeped out.

“Congratulations, Marc!” Shoving the balloons into his pale, smooth hand, Heather forced herself inside. She charged up the stairs without another word.

Massie shoved Kristen into the house, knowing the infamous soccer star had a decent shot at overtaking her. “Hurry!”

“Where are you going?” Marc whimpered, twisting the bottom of his spaghetti-sauce-stained gray tee around his finger.

Massie took off behind Kristen, successfully outrunning Layne and Meena.

Along the way, she passed dozens of framed photos. Various unflattering shots of the Afro twins—Marc and his sister, Karla—posed year after year on the same tree stump wearing matching mustard-yellow turtlenecks, in their woodsy backyard.

“Ehmagawd!” Kristen's voice echoed from one of the bedrooms.

The paint smell got stronger as Massie neared the top, but poisonous fumes couldn't keep her from the key. She hurried into the room.

Stained white drop cloths below freshly painted brown walls were the only things she found.

Meena and Layne burst through the door.

“Where's your bed?” Massie called to Marc, who ran into the room right after her.

“Hey, aren't you the girl from The Daily Grind?” he asked.

Massie smiled and nodded.

Kristen rolled her eyes.

“So?” Heather asked. “Where is it? Where's your bed and stuff?”

“In storage until the paint dries.” Marc chewed his lower lip. “I've been crashing downstairs on the couch. It's cool, though, ‘cause I can watch ESPN as late as I want.”

Minutes later, Massie and Kristen were back in the Range Rover.

“I knew Marc didn't have the key,” Alicia insisted. “That's why he's not on my list.”

“How do you know?” Massie smacked the camel-colored leather seat.

“Skye never kissed him.”

“How do you know?”

“I told you, I can't reveal my sources,” Alicia insisted.

Massie rolled her eyes, “You could have told me that before I ran into his poisonous house.”

“If I'd been with you, I would have.”

“Ehmagawd, look!” Dylan stuffed another Munchkin in her mouth. “Olivia is on the back of Kemp Hurley's bike.”

“They're pulling into his driveway!” Kristen announced.

With extreme urgency, Massie rolled down her window. “Hey, Olivia!”

The beautiful blonde turned and waved, flashing her perfect, never-needed-braces smile. “Hey!”

“How's the rash?” Massie called. “Did you get the ointment or are you still super itchy?”

Kemp stopped his bike.

“Massie!” Isaac sped up, obviously trying to avoid a runin with the neighbors.

The girls erupted in hysterics as Olivia tore off down the pine-studded street.

After a sharp turn onto Candlenut Road, Kristen shouted, “Ehmagawd! There's Kori. She's on crutches.”

Chris Plovert hopped beside her, using Strawberry's ample shoulder for support. His leg cast was wrapped in plastic because the dark clouds were threatening rain.

“There's no way the Slip-loc put her on crutches.” Dylan's expression hung somewhere between surprise and laugher.

“It didn't,” Massie insisted. “She's faking so she can go to Plovert's house. Don't you see? It's madness out there! Everyone's in the game but us.” She stuck her head out the window. “Hey, Plovert, Alicia thinks you're hot!”

Alicia smacked Massie's thigh. “What are you doing?”

“Trust me.”

Kristen cackled. Dylan laughed.

“Really?” Plovert called back.

“Swear. But she's really jealous.”

Before they knew it, Plovert had reclaimed his crutches and was waving goodbye to Kori.

The girls held out their palms, ready to give Massie a much-deserving high five. But she denied them. This was far from over.

“Isaac, we need to stop at the corner of Maple and Birch.”

He pulled into a wide circular driveway, turning the Range Rover around.

“You are nawt!” Dylan covered her mouth in shock.

“Am!” Massie unzipped her navy Prada makeup case, opened her Channel No. 5, and dabbed a little behind her ears.

“It's against the rules,” Kristen reminded her.

“Puh-lease, I doubt the rules apply to us.” Massie swiped some glitter-infused Caramel Cream Glossip Girl on her lips and blotted on the inside cover of her science textbook. “Skye probably made up the whole don't-talk-to-me thing to keep the LBRs away. Any good alpha would have done the same.”

“Point.”

They turned onto Birch, parking across from a quaint A-frame colonial. The winding street was packed with average-size homes complete with two-car garages and enough front lawn for a game of five-person tag. Nothing more.

Massie grinned.

Her neighborhood was better than Skye's.

“Ehmagawd, there she is.” Alicia sounded awestruck. “Wearing a ballet tutu over gray stovepipe jeans. I heart that.”

“I like her beat-up jean jacket,” Kristen noted. “There's a great juxtaposition thing going on there. The whole tough-meets-feminine thing.”

“Whatevs.” Dylan shoved yet another sprinkle-covered Munchkin in her mouth. “Our soccer uniforms were just as creative.”

They watched in silence as Skye stepped off Liam Barrett's black Vespa. She unclipped her silver helmet, then finger-fluffed her just-got-back-from-the-beach sand-colored ringlets.

Massie kicked open the door. “I'm going in.”

Alicia grabbed her wrist. “What are you going to say?”

“I'm gonna reason with her, alpha to alpha.” Massie slipped off her gray Vince shrug so that her ah-dorable red Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress wouldn't go unnoticed.

Kristen crossed her fingers. “Good luck.”

“Wait!” Dylan grabbed the sleeve of Massie's dress. “Take these.” She tossed her the wax-coated bag of Munchkins. “Skye likes mini things, remember?”

Massie caught the bag, saluted her girls, and then headed out.