NEW GREEN CAFÉ
Wednesday, October 7th
12:35 P.M.
Dylan knocked organic turkey meatballs from one side of her plate to the other.
“It’s lunch, nawt an abacus,” Massie teased.
“Point!” Alicia giggle-lifted her finger in the air.
“I’m not hungry,” Dylan lied. She had better plans for the balls.
“Neither is Kristen.” Massie checked the time on her iPhone. “This is the third day she’s skipped lunch because of soccer captain stuff.” She made air quotes when she said “soccer captain stuff.” “But she can’t hide forever. Eventually she’s gonna have to explain why she just stood there while Layne rode off with my crush at—”
A chunk of firm tofu smacked Massie on the forehead.
Uh-oh. Wrong forehead.
“What the—?”
Everyone stopped eating and turned. But no one dared laugh. Not when the BOCD alpha had bean curd all over her T-zone.
“Sucka!” Derrington shouted . . . and then his face blanched. “Ooops. Sorry, Massie,” he apologized, although he was looking straight at Dylan.
Massie rose out of her seat, her bottom teeth bared like a bulldog’s. “Gawd, will you puh-lease stop flirting with me? It’s pathetic times ten.” She pinched the side of Dylan’s tray, casually dragging it toward her. “I’ve moved awn, okay?”
All eyes were on her, and, like a true alpha, she refused to let all that attention go to waste.
“Hey, maybe if you had a pair of these you’d be able to get over me.” Massie lifted two of Dylan’s turkey balls and hurled them at his head.
“A direct hit!” Massie high-fived herself as they bounced off his chest, leaving a saucy skid mark above the alligator on his white Lacoste.
The Pretty Committee scurried under their bamboo table for cover.
“Massie! Massie! Massie!” chanted the surrounding wannabes.
“Save your Trina Turk tunic!” Dylan urged Massie. “Hide. Let me get him.”
Dylan fired at her crush like a machine in a batting cage, nailing her target with every toss.
“Oof! Ow! Ugh!” Derrington shouted after each ball made contact. “Take that!” he bellowed, returning fistfuls of tofu cubes.
“Dylan! Dylan! Dylan!”
“Save your waffle dress,” Massie begged Dylan. “I’ll finish him off.” Before Dylan could stop her, Massie had climbed up on her chair, redirecting everyone’s attention back to her.
“No, I’ll do it!” Dylan whipped another meatball.
“No, me!” Massie whipped two.
“What is going on here?” Principal Burns appeared, shielding herself with a wood tray.
The chanting stopped suddenly.
“Ms. Block, it looks like you’re responsible.”
“No, I am!” Dylan stepped forward.
“No, I am!” Derrick announced.
“No need to fight about it.” Principal Burns grinned smugly. “There are plenty of detentions to go around. I’ll see all three of you in here after school with mops.” She clapped twice. “Everyone back in their seats. And Mr. Harrington, get back to your trailer!”
Once he was gone, Massie sat with a sigh.
“Gawd.” She wiped her face with a cloth napkin. “He really needs to get over me.”
No, you need to get over yourself! Dylan wanted to scream. Instead she tried another approach. “Maybe if you break the hold it will—”
“Not with this mystery vamp on the loose.”
“Why?” Dylan asked in a measured tone, quaking nervously below the surface of her skin.
“Because I don’t have a replacement yet. And if he goes public before I do—”
“He’s a guy, Massie, nawt a stock.”
“Then why are you so desperate for me to trade?”
“I’m nawt,” Dylan snapped, flicking a chunk of tofu off her hand and sinking into the Great Depression.