THE BLOCK ESTATE MASSIE’S BEDROOM

5:00 PM
December 3rd

Massie stared at the same math problem in her textbook until the numbers looked blurry. Claire usually helped Massie plot her x and y intercepts. But for the last week Claire insisted on doing her homework alone. A knock on the bedroom door brought Massie’s attention back to reality.

“Come in.” She sighed. But her mother had already stepped into the room.

“When you have a minute, would you please get your CDs and sleeping bags out of the horse barn? The workmen will be putting up the mirrors tomorrow and they need room to move around in there.”

“’Kay, I’ll do it in a bit.”

Kendra formed a tight O with her mouth and exhaled slowly. “Thank you.” Her rigid expression softened. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Massie shrugged and turned around to face her flat-screen Mac computer. Moments later she felt her mother’s thin hands on her shoulders and a tender kiss on the top of her head. The gesture reminded Massie of the way her mother treated her when she was a little girl. Massie couldn’t help wondering if her mother could sense how upset she had been lately or if her self-help book club was actually starting to relax her.

“Mom, can I ask you something?” Massie pushed her chair away from her desk and walked over to her bed. She leaned down, scooped up Bean, and crossed her legs.

“You can ask me anything you want.” Kendra sat on the edge of the bed to avoid messing up the sheets.

“Do you and Dad ever fight?”

“Of course we do.” Kendra’s posture stiffened. “Why? Did you hear our argument about the new paintings in the living room? Because if you did, you don’t have to worry. I don’t really think he’s a passive-aggressive ass—”

“No, this isn’t about paintings,” Massie said. “I was just wondering what you say to Dad when you know he’s mad at you.”

Kendra lifted her chin and smoothed her dark brown bob. “Thanks to that workshop on surrendering control, I have learned to apologize.”

“What if you didn’t do anything wrong?”

“Honey,” Kendra said, “it’s never my fault, but I still say I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because if I waited around for him to say it, I’d be a very hostile woman,” Kendra said. “Besides, it takes strength to apologize. It’s a power move.”

Massie rubbed the backs of Bean’s ears.

“Why? Is something going on at school?” Kendra asked.

“Maybe.” Massie hung her head and bit her lower lip.

Then she lifted her eyes and looked straight at her mother for the first time. “But I didn’t do anything.” She squeezed the gold crown charm on her bracelet so hard the tiny spikes dug into her palm.

“Stay here—I’ll be right back.” Kendra hopped to her feet and left Massie’s bedroom and returned with a stack of paperback books.

“Read these.” She dumped them on Massie’s bed and smiled with great satisfaction. “When’s the last time you ever saw me mess up a bed like that?”

“Never,” Massie said.

“I know, isn’t it great?” Kendra clapped. “These books have really helped me let go.”

Massie looked at the pile of schoolbooks on her desk and sighed.

“Don’t worry, I highlighted them,” Kendra said. “It won’t take you long. But if you only have time for one, I suggest How to Win Friends and Influence People, by Dale Carnegie. It’s a lifesaver.” She handed the purple-and-green book to her daughter.

“’Kay.” Massie flipped through the coffee-stained pages. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me.” Kendra turned to leave. “Thank Dale.” She winked and gently closed the door behind her.

Massie sat on her bed for the next hour reading about Dale’s twelve principles on “how to win people to your way of thinking.” Numbers 3, 4, and 8 appealed to her the most.

When she was done, she opened her e-mail and began drafting her apology letters.

DEAR K & D,

HI. THOUGHT I’D DROP YOU A “FRIENDLY” E-MAIL. I’M SORRY I WALKED AWAY WHEN KRISTEN GOT STOPPED FOR SHOPLIFTING FROM BCBG. (BTW–ARRESTED? HOPE NOT .) I WAS JUST UPSET THAT YOU THOUGHT I TOLD ALICIA YOUR SECRETS. BUT IF I HAVE TO SEE THINGS FROM YOUR POINT OF VIEW, I UNDERSTAND WHY YOU THOUGHT THAT. I WOULD HAVE TOO. ANYWAY, I KNOW WHO TOLD HER. CALL ME IF YOU WANT TO FIND OUT.

XOXO

Massie hit save, then wrote another one.

DEAR CLAIRE,

HI. THOUGHT I’D DROP YOU A “FRIENDLY” E-MAIL. IF YOU ARE STILL SICK, I HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER. IF YOU ARE UPSET ABOUT CAM OR MAD AT ME FOR SOME REASON, PLEASE CALL ME. I WOULD LIKE TO SEE THINGS FROM YOUR POINT OF VIEW SO I CAN ADMIT I’M SORRY. PLUS I’M GOING TO FAIL GEOMETRY IF YOU KEEP THIS UP .

XOXO

Massie hit save again, then wrote one last e-mail.

DEAR ALICIA,

HI. THOUGHT I’D DROP YOU A “FRIENDLY” E-MAIL. ALICIA, I ADMIT WE’RE EVEN, OKAY? LET’S END THIS WAR BEFORE SOMEONE (YOU) GETS HURT.

XOXO

When Massie was done, she dragged her e-mails into her drafts folder. She wanted to give her friends a little more time to apologize first.

Massie grabbed her cell phone and ran at top speed out to the horse barn. “I must be filled with apology power,” she said to Bean, who was trying her hardest to keep up. The dog’s tongue was hanging out of her mouth and she was starting to wheeze.

“Sorry,” Massie panted. “I’ll slow down.” Right as Massie stopped, Bean took off. “Hey, that’s not fair, you cheater!”

But Massie became concerned when Bean started barking.

“Chill out,” Massie called after her.

Bean ran around the side of the barn to the sliding door. From a distance Massie could see the dog jump up on her hind legs and scratch the glass. Maybe some workmen were inside?

“Quiet, Bean.” Massie picked up her pace. “No one’s in there.”

But when Massie got to the glass door, she saw that she was wrong.

All of her ex-friends were sitting on the floor, surrounded by bowls of snacks, CDs, and scattered Polaroid pictures. Even Claire was there, sucking on a lollipop and laughing. She didn’t look the least bit sick or depressed.

Massie felt her heart leap. Were they throwing her a surprise party? Was her mom sent to lure her there? No wonder everyone had been acting so weird. But the happy feeling disappeared as quickly as it came. Her birthday wasn’t until July.

Massie yanked the handle on the glass door and slid it open. Beyoncé was blasting from the stereo. No one heard her come in.

“What’s going on?” Massie asked. She turned down the music and asked again. “What’s up?” She felt like a stranger in her own home.

Claire, Kristen, Dylan, Olivia, and two girls who looked like Kristen and Dylan were sitting on her yoga mats surrounded by makeup and hair accessories. They wore Alicia’s knockoff scarves around their wrists.

“What are you doing here?” Alicia said. “No one invited you.”

“I LIVE HERE!” Massie shouted.

“So does Claire. And she invited us.”

Massie looked at Claire, expecting her to look scared and ashamed. But she didn’t fidget or bite a single fingernail. Instead Claire met Massie’s eyes and stared straight into them. It was Massie who finally had to look away. She searched her mind for some of Dale’s words of wisdom, but the only thing that came to mind was, “Kuh-laire invited you?”

“We’re practicing our poses for the Teen Vogue shoot.” Alicia peeled off a maybe sticker and stuck it on a Polaroid picture of herself.

Massie glared at Kristen and Dylan, then raised her eyebrows, wondering why they sabotaged the revenge plan. Alicia wasn’t supposed to know they were booked for the photo shoot. They were going to shock her by just showing up. It was all about stealing her spotlight, just like she had done to them. … And now all of that was ruined.

Kristen and Dylan looked away, not offering a single word of explanation.

Alicia opened her new phone and turned her back to Massie. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have a phone call to make.”

Everyone surrounded Alicia while she placed the call, using the speakerphone.

Massie stood at the back of the barn and watched. She reached into the pocket of her black Juicy hoodie and ran her fingers along her Motorola, feeling the empty spaces from the missing rhinestones.

“Hey, Lu,” Alicia said into the phone.

Massie rolled her eyes when she heard the nickname Alicia gave to Lucinda. She knew this would have been a good time to leave, but she was so curious, she couldn’t pull herself away.

“Hey, Alicia.” Lucinda’s voice came through the speaker.

“Do you have the info for us?” Alicia glared at Massie.

They could hear the sound of Lucinda shuffling papers in the background. “Ch-ch-ch-ch-chhhhh … The itinerary is here somewhere. … Got it!” she shouted. “Ohhh-kaaay, dinner at Sushi Samba Friday night, say eight-ish. Dress downtown chic; you know, West Side bohemian with money. Don’t wear anything by J. C. Penney, J. Crew, or J.Lo, and absolutely nothing that even looks like dirty Lower East Side indie-music lover. You’ll stay at the Soho Grand Hotel with moi as your chaperone. Then Saturday morning you’ll shop for holiday clothes, and we’ll shoot you with Santa in the afternoon.”

The girls cheered silently and exchanged a round of soft high fives. “Will the magazine cover the shopping expenses?” Kristen asked.

“Who just asked me that?”

“No one,” Alicia said, punching Kristen on the thigh.

“So who’s up for spending the weekend in the big city?” Lucinda asked, shaking off Kristen’s insult.

“YEAH!” The girls screamed and cheered.

Massie watched everyone hug each other. She felt like a ghost looking in on a life she had left behind.

“Great.” Lucinda laughed. “Will you need a car to pick you up on Friday?”

“No,” Alicia said. “We’ll take my limo.”

“Heart you,” Lucinda said.

“Heart you too,” Alicia said. But Lucinda had already hung up.

Massie took a deep breath and marched over to Alicia. She stood over her and put her hands on her hips, looking straight down into her big brown eyes. Principle #4 was calling to her, reminding her to “begin in a friendly way. …”

“Will you please get out of my house, you wannabe, or the only thing you’ll wanna be from now on is DEAD!”

Everyone looked at Alicia, wondering how seriously they should be taking Massie’s threat.

“NOW!”

“Let’s go to my house.” Alicia gathered up her Polaroids and dropped them in her green Prada bag. “At least my gym is decorated.” She turned on the heel of her brown velvet ballet flats and headed for the glass door. Everyone scooped up their bags and followed her.

Massie and Bean stood in the horse barn surrounded by snack crumbs, yoga mats, crushed makeup, and CDs.

Massie raced to her bedroom, deleted her apology e-mail messages, and threw her mother’s self-help books down the laundry chute.

“Dale Carnegie may know how to win friends and influence people,” Massie said to Bean as she walked back out to the barn with a big green garbage bag. “But he doesn’t know the first thing about Westchester.”