KRISTEN’S BEDROOM
Friday, September 25th
6:57 P.M.
“Come awn, Beckham, just wear it!” Kristen finally managed to slip the black satin bow tie over her cat’s joggling head. “There.” She collapsed onto her lime green beanbag after the eighteen-minute struggle. “You look ah-dorable. If cats could see their reflections, I’d show you. You’ll just have to trust me.”
The white Persian leapt up on the bed and burrowed under the green throw pillows.
“I know you’re mad.” Kristen raced to smooth the Beckham- shaped dent in her comforter. “But when everyone says how handsome you look, you’ll thank me.”
Beckham sneezed.
“This is the first time I’ve ever hosted a Friday night sleepover,” Kristen tried. But the significance of this milestone was lost on the fluffy cat. “Don’t you get it? This is the first time anyone’s ever seen our room. The first time you’re going to meet the Pretty Committee. Becks, you could be the new Bean!”
Beckham emerged cautiously. “That’s better.” Kristen kissed the
top of his head, then ran through her
checklist—ah-gain—to make sure her twenty-dollar
catering budget (jeez, thanks, Mom 
) read more like fifty.
FRIDAY NIGHT SLEEPOVER CHECKLIST
1) Five red Crate and Barrel plates placed exactly three inches apart on my desk, just like at Massie’s house. Each piled high with a different snack and labeled accordingly.
2) Edamame (frozen kind)
3) Hummus platter (hummus, pita, and four black olives left over from Mom’s Wednesday night book club)
4) Sweet ’n’ Salty Surprise (three Hershey’s bars melted over two bags of Rold Golds from the vending machine near Mom’s desk at Mercy Me—aka Mercy Memorial Hospital)
5) “Gourmet Italian popcorn” (Pop Secret doused in Kraft grated parmesan cheese)
6) Gummy in My Tummy (a sweaty heap of worms and feet from 7-Eleven)
7) Crème brûlée–scented room spray
8) Lavender-scented sheet spray (for sleeping bags— a stocking stuffer from Massie last Christmas)
9) SOS (Sleep Over Songs)
• “A Little Bit Longer” —Jonas Brothers
• “Tell Me Something I Don’t Know” —Selena Gomez
• “Wake Up Call” —Hayden Panettiere
• “I’m Yours” —Jason Mraz
• “First Love” —Karina
• “One Love” —Jordan Pruitt
• “Footballer’s Wife” —Amy MacDonald
• “Losing Grip” —Avril Lavigne
• “You Think” —Clique Girlz
“Heyyyyyy,” a familiar voice bellowed from the hallway.
Before Kristen could check the thermostat to confirm that the apartment was Massie-warm at a balmy seventy-six degrees, her bedroom door burst open.
Massie appeared, her amber eyes scanning the room like teeth on a corncob.
“I didn’t even hear—”
“Your mom let us in,” she offered, practically reading Kristen’s mind. “Is it cold in here?” She shuddered.
“Opposite.” Alicia rested her chin on Massie’s shoulder and fanned her flushed cheeks. “I think the coziness of this place makes it feel kind of warm. Don’t you?”
“I like it.” Claire poked her head out from behind Alicia. Her smile was genuine and helped Kristen relax . . . a little.
“Cozzzzzyyyyyyy,” Dylan burped from the hallway. “Ugh, green pepper.”
“Ewwww!” Everyone giggle-rushed into Kristen’s bedroom to avoid the fumes.
So far so good. Kristen sighed happily. They were laughing. That meant they were having fun and making memories. And memories, when fermented, become inside jokes, which by the way are the highest form of flattery. Kristen could hear it all now. They’d be walking to class on Monday and Massie would say, “Remember Kristen’s sleepover when Dylan burped and we all ran away from her green pepper breath?”
Everyone would lose themselves laughing and associate Kristen and her house with ah-mazing times. And this was just the beginning. The night had yet to realize its “ah-mazing time” potential. Dozens of inside jokes were out there, floating around, just waiting to be discovered.
“Snacks?” Kristen pressed play on her bedside iPod.
“Jonas Brothers!” Dylan clapped with unexpected delight.
The girls stepped onto the blue shag area rug and dropped their sleeping bags. Something about the way they looked in her room—cloaked in fine silk sleepwear (except Claire, who was in cotton thermals), their long layers held back with color-coordinated sleep masks—reminded Kristen of the time she’d visited her old kindergarten teacher. She had felt gigantic next to the mini-chairs and knee-high snack tables. Was that how the PC felt right now?
“This is Beckham.” She scooped up her cat and swung him back and forth like he was on an invisible ship in a raging storm.
“I didn’t know you had one of those.” Massie hooked her black quilted Marc Jacobs tote over her shoulder, even though it was already hooked.
“What about all those pictures on my phone and in my wallet and in my binders and—”
“I thought they came with the frames.” Massie adjusted her lilac In Your Dreams sleep mask.
“I always thought Beckham was your imaginary boyfriend.” Alicia flopped down on Kristen’s bed.
“Just like Josh is yours?” Dylan joked.
“Just like no one is yours?” Alicia raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows.
“Awwwwww, he’s cute.” Claire petted him. “Come feel how soft he is.”
“He smells like coconuts.” Kristen buried her nose in his white fur.
A low grumble came from Massie’s black quilted Marc Jacobs tote. At first Kristen thought it was the alpha’s stomach . . . until the grumble barked.
“Lady behavior, Bean!” Massie commanded. But the black pug, who was dressed in a moss green silk cami and boy shorts, ignored her. Instead she jumped out of the bag and leapt toward Beckham.
“Ahhhhhh!” Kristen shouted, startled by the sudden attack.
Beckham jumped out of Kristen’s arms and landed feetfirst on the bed. Bean hopped up three times, trying to get up on the bed, while Beckham hiss-paced frantically.
Claire, Alicia, and Dylan clung to each other for safety.
“Awww, baby, want some help?” Massie cooed, then lifted Bean onto the bed.
The dog went straight for the cat’s bow tie, clawing and growling at it as if it were a direct threat.
“Re-owwww!” Beckham sprang onto his hind legs and batted Bean’s face like it was made of yarn.
Kristen scooped up her cat with urgency. “Why did you put her up there?” she screeched.
“Oops.” Massie covered her mouth daintily, like a society girl with hiccups. “I’m so used to giving her what she wants, I wasn’t thinking.”
Beckham wiggled free and scurried under the bed.
“Sorry, we weren’t expecting this.” Massie shrugged with an annoying amount of nonchalance. “She’s used to being the only animal.”
“So is Dylan,” Alicia snickered, waving away some freshly fouled air.
“So is your face,” Dylan countered.
They all cracked up except Kristen. She dropped to her belly and pouted her apologies to the trembling kitty as her canine tormentor lay peacefully on a pile of pillows above.
“You may want to put Black-Tie Beckham in your mom’s room.” Massie plugged her flatiron into the wall and took down her ponytail. “You know, until he learns to deal.” She shook out her shiny brown hair.
A flood of tears filled Kristen’s eyes as she stood. “This is his room.” Her voice trembled. “If anyone goes, it’s—”
“When does Dune get back?” Claire pulled an orange gummy worm out of the bowl and slurped it like spaghetti, her blue eyes wide with innocence.
Monday! Kristen wanted to snap. Hadn’t she been talking about it all week? But Claire’s soft grin said she’d only asked to prevent a fight.
“Extra, extra!” Alicia jumped up on the green and white comforter and bounced, jostling Bean like a penny on a trampoline. Her C-cups Jell-Oed inside her navy babydolls. “I’ve got gossip!”
Kristen lowered the volume on “Wake Up Call” and plopped down beside Alicia’s bare feet.
Massie, Dylan, and Claire quickly joined her.
“How many points?” Dylan poked her tongue through a chocolate-covered pretzel and waved it around.
“Five hundy.” Alicia landed on her butt and crossed her toned dancer’s legs.
“Granted.” Massie made a note in her 3G. “Now open like a zip drive.”
Kristen felt herself grinning. Finally, something big was about to go down. This sleepover had major Hall of Fame potential. The Pretty Committee would remember this night forever.
Alicia scanned the room for the spies she knew weren’t there, then whispered, “Tuesday night, some girl in dirty sweats was pedaling Derrington around town on his bike.” She rocked back and forth playfully, giving the news a moment to sink in.
“Ah!” Massie winced like she had a sudden gas cramp.
Dylan quickly stood and grabbed a fistful of pretzels. Claire smile-read a text from Cam. And Kristen peeked up at her ceiling, stealing a quick glance at her C.L.A.M. crush. Two more sleeps until he was back. And then they’d be the hot topic.
“Source?” Massie and Dylan asked at the same time.
“Apple C!” they then called immediately, both girls trying to look less affected by the news than they really were.
“Josh.” Alicia beamed.
“So? Does he know who she is?” Dylan casually asked her pretzel.
“Typical.” Massie sprang off the bed and returned to her flatiron.
“What?” Dylan followed her to the mirror. “What’s typical?”
“Derrington ah-bviously made that up and told Josh, knowing he’d tell Leesh and Leesh would tell me.” She ironed a flirty flip at the bottom of her hair. “I mean, what real girl would be desperate enough to pedal him? He’s ah-bviously trying to get me jealous by self-starting a rumor.”
“Ehmagawd, you’re sooo right!” Dylan smacked Massie’s shoulder.
“Makes sense.” Claire finally looked up from her phone.
“No. It. Does. Nawt.” Alicia smacked the comforter.
“Don’t worry.” Massie grinned. “You can still have your gossip points.”
“Oh.” Alicia smile-shrugged. “Okay.”
“Maybe it’s a sign.” Dylan hurried for more snacks and grabbed a pita. “You know, that it’s time to throw water on him and let him go.”
“Not until I get Dempsey.” Massie flipped off her flatiron and tousled her hair.
“But what if you don’t?” Kristen blurted, and then regret-blushed.
“Don’t what?” Massie accidentally swatted her flatiron to the floor.
“Don’t get Dempsey,” Claire butted in. “I mean, what if someone else likes him and, you know, gets him first?”
“Like who?”
“What difference does it make?” Dylan returned to the bed. “It’s not like you’d go back to Derrington if you couldn’t get Dempsey, right?”
“Given.” Massie dipped her pinky in a pot of gold glitter, then wiped it on her cheekbones. “But boys are in right now. And when something’s hot, I always get two.”
“But what if it’s true?” Dylan sat.
Massie slammed down her gold glitter, then ripped the pita from Dylan’s hand. “Then that sweatpant-wearing pedal-chauffeur is done.” She offered the bread to Bean, who snapped it up like a croc (the reptile, not the shoe). “Wait a minute.” Her amber eyes narrowed. “I know what’s going on here.”
Dylan tucked a strand of already tucked hair behind her ear. Her cheeks reddened and her forehead began to leak. “What?” She stood.
“You’re jealous because I’m C-plus and you’re C-minus.” Massie forced a pout, obviously trying to empathize. “What about that ah-dorable tennis pro you met in Hawaii?”
“Brady?” Dylan’s coloring returned to normal. “Puh-lease. He’s on tour for the next three years. The wait for a Prada Fairy bag isn’t that long.”
“When can we talk about the cheerleading squad?” Alicia placed her pumiced heel on the back of Kristen’s desk chair and leaned forward to stretch. “I was thinking the moves could be mostly modern dance. It’s a totally fresh take on—”
“Rate me.” Massie put a hand on her hip, lifted her chin, and cocked her head. Her dark brown hair was straight and glossy. The flowing hemline of her African-print maxi-dress kissed her gold pedicure. And her cheekbones shimmered like Mount Kilimanjaro at dusk.
“Nine,” Alicia blurted.
The others nodded in agreement.
Satisfied, Massie struck a pose. She rotated the left side of her face toward the door and half smiled as if it were about to snap her photo.
“Why do you care about your rating?” Kristen asked, wondering if the alpha would admit she was hoping to see Dempsey. “It’s just a sleepover.”
“Why do you care about the number of goals you score?” Massie pinched her cheeks for some last minute color. “It’s just a game.”
“That’s different.”
“How?” Massie checked the time on her 3G. “You play to win and so do I.”
“Point!” Alicia lifted her finger in the air.
“What are you trying to win?” Claire tied a red gummy worm around her ring finger.
“Hell-ooooh?” a boy’s voice called from the hall outside Kristen’s bedroom. “Anybody home?” He knuckle-knocked.
“That.” Massie rolled back her shoulders and smiled like a prom queen.