OCTAVIAN COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL LUNCHTIME

12:30 PM
November 14th

The minute the lunch bell rang, Alicia gathered her books and bolted out of history class. She couldn’t handle another nasty confrontation with Massie. She’d tried her best not to cry after Massie called her an EW and even managed to put on a happy face while Massie was spying on her with her compact mirror. But she didn’t know how much longer she could keep her cool. Thankfully it was time for her to meet Olivia and head into Manhattan for the Teen Vogue interview. She needed to get out of OCD for a while.

“How was history?” Olivia asked when Alicia arrived at their meeting spot by the alumni photos. “Did you talk to her?”

“Nope, now let’s go before we see her. She always goes by here on her way to the Café.”

“Let’s go out the back,” Olivia said.

“Done.” Alicia put her gray wool coat on while they zigzagged through the bustling lunchtime crowd, avoiding anyone who might have heard about the fight.

“What’s up, gang?” a voice bleated over the school’s intercom system. “Deena Geyser here with your afternoon news brief.”

Alicia and Olivia rolled their eyes the minute they heard Deena’s voice.

“Is she chewing gum?” Alicia said. “She always does that. It’s sooo unprofessional.”

“Is that what that slurping noise is? I always thought she had a speech peppermint.”

Alicia stopped walking and looked at Olivia with a puzzled look on her face. “You mean a speech impediment?”

“Really? You think she has both?” Olivia said, her blue eyes filled with pity.

“Probably.” Alicia didn’t bother correcting her.

“But before I get started,” Deena continued, “I have a few announcements to make. … Since I like to put humor in my daily broadcasts, I am officially changing my name from Deena to Comma Dee. Funny, right? And the best part is I can spell it with just a comma and the letter D. … I’d show you, but this isn’t television, people; use your imaginations. …”

Alicia heard gasps and giggles from every girl she passed.

“I would also like to say congratulations to Alicia Rivera and Olivia Ryan once again for winning the OCD Fashion Week Uniform Contest last week. …”

A round of applause erupted in the halls.

Olivia started jumping up and down. “That’s us!” she screamed. But all Alicia could do was look over her shoulder for signs of Massie.

“They are about to leave for their big interview with Teen Vogue, so if you would like to see them off, please head over to the parking lot ASAP. …”

Everyone they passed in the halls looked at them with envy in their eyes. Alicia unbuttoned her coat so they could get a good look her new suede pants, argyle sweater, and nubby blazer. She slowed down to her regular leisurely pace, deciding to enjoy this red carpet moment.

“Why are they looking at us funny?” Olivia whispered out of the side of her mouth. She tucked a white-blond strand of hair behind her ear and looked uncomfortably at the ground. After a second she shot her head back up and looked straight into Alicia’s big brown eyes. “They must have heard about your fight with Massie.”

“This has nothing to do with Massie,” Alicia snapped while managing to keep her head up, shoulders back, and eyes fixed on the Exit sign at the end of the hall. “They wish they were the ones getting interviewed by Teen Vogue this afternoon. They want to be us.”

“Really?” Olivia covered her mouth and widened her eyes. “You mean they’re actually jealous of me?”

“And me,” Alicia reminded her.

“Maybe they’ll come back with the inside scoop on some new trends. …”

Alicia knew her fake broadcasts were ten times better than “Dee’s” real ones, but she wasn’t going to trash her. Alicia needed the publicity.

“… and speaking of trends, it seems like Massie Block’s infamous charm bracelet has started a phenomenon. I’ve been seeing charm belts, charm necklaces, and even charm key chains hanging off some of your pocketbooks. … I guess this is turning into a real CHARM SCHOOL. …” Deena started laughing at her own joke.

“She makes it seem like Massie invented jewelry,” Alicia said as she pushed open the heavy wood doors that opened onto the school’s parking lot.

“Oh. My. Gawd,” Olivia said, her wide eyes fixed on the crowd.

Alicia froze too. She couldn’t believe how many girls had skipped lunch to see them off. “I bet there are at least fifty people here.”

“What are they doing on the other side of the parking lot?” Olivia asked.

“No one expected us to sneak out the back door,” Alicia said. “If anyone asks, we did it to avoid Principal Burns, NOT Massie, okay? Let’s go.”

Alicia moved across the cracked gray cement in the parking lot with ease and confidence. Olivia was a few paces ahead.

As she got closer, Alicia could see that everyone was bundled up in their puffy winter jackets, hats, and scarves, but she was too excited to notice the biting wind and left her coat unbuttoned.

“Look,” Cindy Bennett shouted when she saw Alicia and Olivia coming toward her. “There they are!” The crowd of girls ran across the parking lot to greet them.

“Oh my Gawd.” Cindy tried to catch her breath. “You are so lucky.” She pushed her way through the crowd and stood right beside them. “If you see Orlando Bloom, pleeease take a picture of him for me?” Cindy handed Alicia a silver Sony camera. “He was on last month’s cover. I have it up in my locker right now.”

Alicia took the camera and dropped it in her Prada bag, “No problem.”

“You guys look incredible,” Denver Gold shouted. “Smile!” She snapped their picture. “Don’t forget us when you’re famous.”

“We’ll do our best.” Alicia kissed her hand and waved back. She had never been happier in her entire life. For once everyone was there for her. Massie who?

Ann Fox smothered them both with a hug, “Great outfits,” she said, throwing her arms around them. When she released her grip, she gave them a more thorough scan. “Alicia, those suede pants are to die for. And Olivia, I love your winter white cords. And that’s a fab poncho. Is it real rabbit fur or faux fur?”

“F—”

“It’s real,” Alicia interrupted. She pulled Olivia by the arm and led her toward the stretch limo that was waiting for them in front of the school’s entrance. Dean, her family’s driver, stood patiently beside it, his hands folded behind his back.

“Sorry about the pulling,” Alicia said once they were away from the crowd. “But you almost told Ann your poncho was fake. Never admit to a fake unless you’re dealing with a member of PETA.”

Olivia touched her index finger to her temple and said, “Got it.”

“Ready, ladies?” Dean asked when the girls got to the limo. His smile accentuated the tiny wrinkles around his eyes.

“Yeah,” Alicia said. But she didn’t move toward the open door. Instead she looked back at her adoring fans and waved goodbye. She noticed Claire’s friend Layne Abeley, standing off to the side of the crowd with her two Gwen Stefani–wannabe friends Heather and Meena. Layne wasn’t wearing a jacket, just a T-shirt that said BORED WITH BRITNEY and a pair of secondhand plaid pants.

“Did Layne say anything to you?” Olivia asked. “Like congratulations or anything?

“No, why?”

“Because she didn’t say a word to me. All she did was stand off to the side and whisper with Meena and Heather.”

“I bet she just came out to make fun of our fans,” Alicia said, blowing air kisses to everyone. “Ugh, that’s so Layne. She thinks she’s so above everyone because she has the guts to wear those used clothes.”

Olivia shrugged.

“Yeah, who cares.” Alicia stepped into the car and slid across the buttery leather seats and Olivia followed. Dean had turned on the seat heaters, so their butts were warm and toasty the minute they sat down.

As the limo pulled out of the parking lot, Alicia scanned the crowd one last time. After today’s fight Alicia didn’t expect Massie, but Kristen and Dylan had no excuse, unless of course they knew she cheated. …

Alicia felt a quick pang of guilt when she remembered what she had done to her friends but waved it away like a bad smell. It was time to have some fun.

Once they were on the road, Alicia cranked up the volume on the stereo and the girls sang along to Avril Lavigne’s latest song.

When they got to a red light, Alicia opened the sunroof, stood up on her seat, and sang the rest of the song with her head sticking out of the top of the limo. Olivia popped up beside her.

“SIT DOWN!” Dean shouted. “I am not moving this car until you SIT.”

The girls couldn’t hear him over the loud music and assumed the symphony of honking horns meant everyone was in love with their performance. They sang louder and waved their arms in the air.

Dean shut off the music and craned his head out the window. He slapped the outside of the door, then looked up at the girls. “Hey, ladies, these people don’t sound like they want to wait much longer.” His small brown eyes looked tired and puffy.

“Then drive! The light is green,” Alicia said.

“SIT!”

The girls quickly ducked back into the car, hysterically laughing. Tears ran down their faces as they rocked back and forth, holding their stomachs. Olivia started pointing at the seat across from her but was too breathless to speak.

“What?” Alicia said, wiping her eyes.

Olivia pointed again. “What is that?” she finally managed to say.

A white envelope wrapped in a red bow had been placed on the leather cushion. Alicia was about to sit on it. For my Teen Vogue—have fun today. Love, Dad had been written in black marker on the outside.

“I don’t know,” Alicia said, grabbing it out of Olivia’s hand. She gently pulled one end of the ribbon.

“Hurry,” Olivia said. She was bouncing up and down on the edge of the seat. “Gawd, you are so slow.”

Alicia purposely moved even slower. Once the bow was undone, she rested the sealed envelope on her lap and turned to face the window. She knew the anticipation was killing Olivia and thought it would be funny to milk it.

“Gimme that,” Olivia said, swiping the envelope and tearing it open. She reached inside and pulled out three concert tickets. She held them in front of her face like a hand of cards. “BEYONCÉ! TONIGHT! MADISON SQUARE GARDEN!”

“Yes!” they heard Dean say all the way from the front seat. He reached his arm into the backseat and plucked one of the tickets out of Olivia’s hand. “This one is mine.”

Alicia grabbed the other two. “Box seats! Perfect!”

“You know this means we’ll have to call off the sleep-over with Catherine and Meredith,” Olivia said.

“Given,” Alicia said, trying not to sound upset that she had ruined her friendship with Massie for basically no reason.

“How did your dad get these?” Olivia asked. “I heard Jay-Z couldn’t even get tickets.”

“His law firm has gotten like a million celebrities out of jail, so he has tons of connections,” Alicia dropped nonchalantly. “He can get me into anything, even Fashion Week.”

“The only way this day could possibly get any better is if I suddenly grow boobs,” Olivia said.

Alicia smiled and folded her arms across her chest. She would have gladly given Olivia hers if she could.

In less than two hours Alicia and Olivia were standing in midtown Manhattan staring up at 4 Times Square. The Teen Vogue building took up an entire city block and Alicia couldn’t wait to see the inside.

“Look, it’s one of those hot dog guys. They’re always in movies about New York.” Olivia pointed to the heavily mustached man standing in front of a silver cart. “I have to buy something. This is so cool.”

“What’s so cool about a hot dog?” Alicia asked quietly, trying not to offend the guy.

“It means we’re in New York City.” Olivia reached inside her Dooney & Bourke hearts bag and pulled out a matching wallet. “Look, he even has those big soft pretzels.”

Alicia rolled her eyes. “Olivia, we have to go; we’ll get something after.” But Olivia ignored her.

“One pretzel and one orange soda, please.” She looked back at Alicia and smiled excitedly.

“Want one?” Olivia waved a five-dollar bill in the air.

Alicia shook her head and turned away, wondering if Olivia would have obeyed Massie. “I’m not hungry.”

“It’s almost three,” Dean said, checking his gold Rolex. The watch was last year’s Christmas gift from the Riveras, and Alicia saw him check it at least fifty times a day. “We should head on up.”

Alicia shellacked her mouth with a fresh coat of clear M·A·C Lipglass and checked her side part in the reflection of Dean’s sunglasses.

“That’s okay, Dean, you don’t have to come with us.” Alicia reached up and put her hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you get a coffee at Au Bon Pain? We’ll meet you there when we’re done.”

“I promised your mothers I would go with you,” he said. “If I don’t go, you don’t go.”

“Puh-lease, we don’t need a babysitter, do we, Olivia?”

Olivia licked a blob of mustard off her thumb and shook her head.

Alicia put her hands on her hips and looked up at Dean with her big brown eyes. She had I told you written all over her face. While Alicia stared at Dean, she couldn’t help noticing his bushy unibrow. It was just one more reason why she didn’t want to be seen with him at Teen Vogue. But the piercing sirens of a rush of passing police cars startled Alicia and she heard herself scream.

“Lead the way,” she said to Dean, forgetting all about his embarrassing facial hair.

Alicia walked in between Olivia and Dean as they fought their way through the sea of fast walkers that scurried by.

“Look at this revolving door. It’s huge!” Olivia gasped. “All three of us can fit in at the same time.”

“It’s just a door,” Alicia said, but she was secretly relieved they wouldn’t have to separate even for a second.

The door spit them out into the massive lobby of the building. The walls and floors were made of the same shiny white marble and the ceiling seemed a mile high.

“I feel like we’re in heaven,” Alicia said, looking up at the gigantic Christmas tree that towered above her head.

“You will be if you don’t watch where you’re going.” Dean put his arm in front of Alicia to keep a husky man in a business suit from banging into her.

Alicia pinched the sleeve of Dean’s itchy blue wool coat so she could continue looking around and stay safe.

She passed a newsstand that had a huge display of glossy fashion magazines all around it.

“I haven’t heard of half of these,” Alicia said to Olivia when they walked by.

“Me either,” Olivia said. “What’s up with that one?” She was pointing to Vogue Italia. “They totally ripped off Vogue’s name. That’s so cheesy.”

Alicia wanted to laugh but bit her lip instead. There was so much to look at, she didn’t have time to explain the facts of life.

“This way,” Dean said, leading the girls through a maze of people. He stopped in front of the security desk.

“Names and ID, please,” said the guard. He was seated behind a console of TV monitors and telephones.

Alicia and Olivia took out their OCD cards and Dean took out his New York State driver’s license.

“Who are you seeing?” the guard asked, grabbing their cards with his chalky old fingers.

“Lucinda Hill at Teen Vogue,” Alicia said, applying a fresh coat of pink gloss.

The security guard typed their names into a computer, and three badges slid out of his printer. Their ID pictures were on them.

“We’re being interviewed,” Olivia said, hooking a long strand of blond hair behind her ear. “And photographed.”

“Yeah, for Teen Vogue,” Alicia said with a proud smile.

“Thirty-fifth floor,” the guard said, handing them their badges.

“They’re doing a whole story on us,” Olivia said, leaning over his desk and peeking at his high-tech setup.

The guard used his coffee-stained clipboard to push her elbows off his desk. “Elevators are to your left,” he said, replacing the clipboard with a roast beef on rye. He lifted the sandwich to his mouth and took a bite. “Next,” he called with his mouth full, and the bike messenger who was in line behind them stepped forward.

Once they were on the crowded elevator, Alicia let out a huge sigh. Everything finally felt still. She squeezed past the woman in a navy sweater set and caught her own reflection in the thin band of brass that separated the black leather panels on the walls. She fished around the inside of her purse for a brush. Her hair looked healthy and shiny despite the dry winter air and her side part had held up nicely despite the strong winds. Alicia winked at her image. She didn’t need the brush after all.

“I am totally saving this,” Olivia said, admiring the badge that was clipped to the bottom of her poncho. “I bet I could get a fortune for it on eBay.”

A few of the adults in the elevator snickered when Olivia said that and Alicia was embarrassed.

“She’s just kidding,” Alicia said to the panel of numbers that lit up above their heads … 25 … 26 … 27. …

“No, I wasn’t,” Olivia insisted.

Alicia widened her eyes and looked right at Olivia, hoping her friend would start acting less like an amateur.

The elevators opened up on the thirty-fifth floor, and a girl in her twenties was there to greet them. She had short brown hair that had been combed to the side and still looked a little wet. The boys in Alicia’s grade styled their hair the same way for dances. The girl had huge blue eyes and her skin was porcelain white. Her bright red lipstick provided the only dash of color she needed, because she was one of those girls who looked good pale. She reminded Alicia of an airbrushed photograph of a New York model.

“You’re the OCD girls, right?” she asked when she saw them. “I’m Lucinda Hill, fashion editor at Teen Vogue.” She smiled with her mouth closed and extended her right hand. The stack of thin gold bangles on her arm swayed and clanged together. Alicia studied them, trying to think of a store in Westchester that might sell them. She could tell Olivia was thinking the same thing, because she was staring too. Dean was the only one who realized Lucinda was waiting for them to shake her hand.

“I’m Dean, the Riveras’ family driver,” he said, flashing his new professionally bleached teeth. “This is Alicia Rivera and Olivia Ryan.”

Both girls followed Dean’s lead and shook the woman’s hand.

“Super, well, let’s go,” Lucinda said in a pinched tone. “Follow me.” She led them toward a maze of cubicles and offices.

Alicia and Olivia started giggling when they realized they had to trot if they were going to keep up with her manic pace.

“Everything okay back there?” Lucinda asked when she heard them laughing. But she didn’t turn around, because she was typing an e-mail into her BlackBerry. “Ugh, my inbox is flooded. Not a good day for my assistant’s grandmother to die, you know?”

A gaggle of trendy girls dressed in a variety of different-colored ballet flats, tank tops, and miniskirts raced by carrying brown paper bags overflowing with clothes.

“Aren’t they chilly?” Olivia whispered to Alicia. “It’s freezing outside.”

“It’s more important to look hot than to feel hot,” Lucinda said to her BlackBerry.

Alicia studied the back of Lucinda’s head and wondered how she could have possibly heard Olivia. It must be the short hair—there was nothing covering her ears.

Lucinda was a different kind of beautiful than Alicia was used to. Her nose was bold and her eyes were slightly bugged out. Yet it was these imperfections that Alicia found so interesting and attractive. She even admired Lucinda’s outfit—gray wide-legged suit pants, a tight lime green T-shirt with cap sleeves, and a brown leather cowboy belt with a big round buckle that said EARL on it. Not one bit of it was designer. Alicia tried to get a look at her boots, but she didn’t want Lucinda to notice her giving the obvious once-over, so she decided to sneak a peek later.

“How ‘bout a super-speedy tour before the interview?” Lucinda spoke even faster than she walked.

“Yay!” Olivia clapped and jumped up and down.

“Well, aren’t you excitable,” Lucinda said. “If my assistant were here, I’d send her out to get you some Ritalin ASAP.”

“That’s okay.” Olivia rubbed her tummy. “I had a gi-normous pretzel before I got here.”

“Ritalin isn’t a food; it’s the drug my parents used to force-feed me when I was seven.” Lucinda contorted her face as if she had just been forced to swallow another pill. “It’s for hyper kids.”

“That’s so coool,” Olivia said, as if Lucinda had just invented the flatiron.

“I guess, if you like spending your eighth birthday in a psychiatrist’s office,” Lucinda said.

“What’s that?” Alicia asked, pointing straight ahead. She had no idea how to break the tension and found herself missing Massie. She always knew how to fix an awkward situation.

“Uh, it’s our hall,” Lucinda said. She led them down a long corridor with hot pink carpeting and red glitter splattered on the walls. Every Teen Vogue had been blown up, framed, and hung.

“This was our first issue ever.” Lucida pointed to a picture of Jennifer Love Hewitt.

“Cute,” Alicia said flatly. She wanted Lucinda to think she visited magazines every day. But there was so much to look at, Alicia had no idea where to turn next. Glossy framed pictures of Josh Hartnett, Usher, Mary-Kate and Ashley, and Hilary Duff fought for her attention.

“Here’s our autograph box.” With the antenna of her cell phone Lucinda tapped a Lucite box that had been mounted on the wall. “We have signatures from every celebrity we’ve ever worked with in here.”

“My brother keeps his World Series tickets in a case exactly like that,” Olivia said.

“Really?” Lucinda said to her BlackBerry.

“I bet you could sell that for quite a pretty penny,” Dean said, pressing his bulbous nose against the box. The plastic fogged up from his breath.

“Ew, stand back, Dean.” Alicia was looking at Lucinda when she spoke. “You’ll melt it.”

“Seriously,” Lucinda said.

Alicia rolled her eyes and mouthed the word sorry. Gawd forbid the editor thought Alicia approved of her driver’s gauche behavior.

“Okay, who’s ready to see The Closet?” Lucinda led them down another sparkle-filled corridor.

Alicia and Olivia’s hands shot straight up into the air.

Everyone at school had heard of the mythical fashion paradise called The Closet, but no one could prove its existence. Some said it was magazine folklore. Others claimed to have cousins or friends of cousins who had seen it. But either way, Alicia was about to discover the truth.

They stopped in front of a big door that looked more like a full-length mirror. The Closet was written across the top in red lipstick.

Alicia dug into her purse and quickly applied a fresh coat of gloss. She adjusted her side part and pinched her cheeks for some extra color. She could feel her palms sweat with anticipation.

“Excuse me.” Lucinda reached into her shirt and pulled a long gold chain out of her cleavage. An old-fashioned key dangled off the end. She lowered her neck and stuck the key in the lock of The Closet’s door. Her hand disappeared inside. “Voila,” she said, flicking on the light switch.

“Ehmagawd,” Alicia and Olivia declared at the same time. It was twenty times bigger than Alicia’s walk-in and it smelled as sweet as the perfume counter at Bergdorf’s.

The Closet was set up to look like a runway show. A long catwalk with flashing lights divided the room, and mannequins were positioned to look like they were walking it during a show.

“Look at those models.” Olivia was pointing to the seven mannequins dressed in the latest trends: colorful ponchos, blazers dotted with sparkly brooches, Juicy sweats in brand-new colors, ballet flats with fuzzy pom-poms, and knee-high Uggs with miniskirts. It was like looking into a fashion crystal ball.

“Are any of those ladies single?” Dean asked with a playful smile.

No one bothered to answer.

Alicia was speechless. All she could do was slap Olivia on the shoulder and point to the different racks of clothes that lined both sides of the runway.

Olivia ran straight to the trendy cartoon T-shirts. “Look,” she said, sliding the hangers across the bar. “They have Elmo, Barbie, and Strawberry Shortcake. These are ah-dora-ball!”

“Those are super-big for spring,” Lucinda said. “So are these super-skinny straight-legged jeans.” She pointed to a tower of denim in a rainbow of different washes. “Esti, our photo editor, tried a pair of these on without taking her shoes off and we almost had to amputate.”

Stacks of leather belts, piles of bright bead necklaces, and boxes of handbags were everywhere. Wedge-heeled boots, strappy sandals, and metallic clogs in pink, silver, and gold hung in wire baskets suspended from the ceiling. It looked like it was raining shoes.

“What’s that?” Alicia asked, pointing to an outfit that had been tacked to a giant Teen Vogue magazine cover made entirely of cork.

“Oh, Avril’s wearing that tomorrow for her cover shoot,” Lucinda said. She popped a piece of Nicorette gum into her mouth and started chomping. “This reminds me, I still have to find a new makeup artist.” She flipped open her cell phone and started dialing. “It’s like everyone decided to have a death in the family the day before my shoot.”

While Lucinda barked orders into her phone, Alicia and Olivia walked closer to the board.

“I can so see Avril in this,” Alicia whispered, running her fingers across a boat-neck cashmere black-and-white-striped sweater. They had it paired with a pair of deep red, ultra-straight-legged cords that were covered in zippers. Vintage combat boots and a black velvet riding blazer were there to complete the look.

Olivia pulled what appeared to be a black mesh tube top off the corkboard. “Alicia, what do you think this is for?”

“That is theee latest accessory,” Lucinda said quietly, covering the mouthpiece of her cell phone before deciding to just hang up on the person she was talking to. “And Avril’s going to break it on our cover. It’s going to be bigger than her tie obsession in 2002.” She signaled for the girls to join her behind the pyramid of straw hats to avoid being overheard. “There are fifty-eight different ways to work it,” she whispered. “But Avril’s manager told me she wants to wear it over the cords, like a big wide butt belt. How f-in’ brilliant is that? It’s called a Dixon.”

“I love it!” Alicia said, unable to contain her excitement.

“Want one?” Lucinda asked, handing them each a circle of black mesh fabric. “Be the first ones in Winnchester to wear them.”

Alicia was so grateful she didn’t bother correcting Lucinda.

“What’s Winnchester?” Olivia giggled. “We live in West—”

Alicia elbowed her friend in the ribs. “Thanks so much, we love these,” she said.

“Hey, where’s my Dixon?” Dean asked, pretending to look offended. “Can’t forty-year-old men use them too? I could use it to drain my pasta.”

“Have this instead.” Lucinda handed Dean a black wallet. It had a thick silver chain hanging off it with a clasp on the end so it could be attached to his belt loop. “I’ve never seen a girl look cute wearing one of these yet, and it’s been here since the late nineties.”

“Awesome! Thanks!” Dean said, mocking Alicia and Olivia’s enthusiasm.

All three girls responded with eye rolls.

“Let’s move on.” Lucinda turned off the lights in The Closet. She led them back down the hall. “I have a five o’clock with Ashlee Simpson’s camp and her agent hates it when I’m late.”

“Is Ashlee going to be here?” Olivia asked.

“Unfortunately.” Lucinda groaned. “Hey, Olivia, is that poncho real rabbit?” She reached over and rubbed a tuft of white fur between her thumb and index finger. “J’adore rabbit.”

“N—Yeah, it’s real.” Olivia winked at Alicia. “Don’t tell Peter.”

Alicia wanted to scream, “It’s PETA! People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals!!! Not PETER.” But she didn’t. Instead she pretended she hadn’t heard Olivia, a trick she learned from Massie.

“And your boots are so retro,” Lucinda said to Alicia. “I haven’t seen square toed since my babysitter rented Young Frankenstein for me, like, ten years ago.”

Alicia felt the blood rush to her face. She wanted to sue Saks for selling her a pair of old-fashioned Frankenstein boots.

“Oh, these are from Spain,” Alicia lied. “They are very IN there. My mom just brought them back for me. They aren’t even out in America yet.”

“Kewel,” Lucinda said. She actually sounded excited. “You girls are pretty cool. I swear, you’re never going to believe this, but when I was in the seventh grade, I was a total beast. And I had no boobs.”

Alicia folded her arms across her chest when she noticed Lucinda checking her out.

“How much did you pay for those?” Lucinda asked. “I bet they were at least five grand a pop.”

“I didn’t pay for these; I would never—”

“Hey, Barnaby, come look at this girl’s boob job; it’s perfect,” Lucinda said to a guy who was walking toward them in the hall. He was wearing tight white pants, moccasins, and an off-the-shoulder cable-knit sweater.

“This is Barnaby, our staff photographer. Paolo, our other photog, is on assignment in Bora Bora.”

“Hay-ayyy.” Barnaby waved. “Those are fierce,” he said to Alicia’s boobs.

She smiled politely and put her Prada bag in front of her chest.

“I paid for my nose,” Olivia offered.

Normally Alicia would have been mortified, but she was grateful for the distraction.

“O-M-G, so did I.” Lucinda lifted her palm in the air and high-fived Olivia.

After their laughter died down, Lucinda’s expression suddenly became serious.

“Have you two ever modeled before?”

“Sure,” Alicia lied.

“Genius!” Lucinda clapped. “Not that it matters, because you’re both gor-jusss.” Without warning she stopped walking and leaned against the wall. Her head rested on a picture of Britney Spears’s navel. Her eyes shifted back and forth and she tapped her fingernail against her bottom teeth.

“Here’s the deal. We’re looking for pretty-in-a-real-sort-of-way girls to model in our Christmas holiday issue. I envision a scene of girls dressed in this year’s hottest holiday fashions, holding tons of bags and waiting on line to get their photos taken with a mall Santa. How fun is that?”

“So fun,” Alicia said.

Dean smiled politely.

“Would you girls be interested?”

“Ehmagawd. Given.” This time Alicia couldn’t mask her excitement.

Barnaby put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Luce, Nina will so have you fired if you put them in the same issue twice.”

“Ugh! I hate you, Barn,” Lucinda pouted. “Not only is your waist smaller than mine, but you’re always right.”

“We don’t have to do the interview thing,” Alicia said, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “We totally heart modeling.” She drew an air heart with her two index fingers and Lucinda smiled.

“Oh, good.” Lucinda threw her hands up, “And I heart you guys.” She drew an air heart of her own.

“I’ll have to check with their mothers, but I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” Dean said.

The girls rolled their eyes once again.

Lucinda walked at high speed as she led them back to the elevators. “I need six models total, so e-mail pictures of your pretty-in-a-real-sort-of-way friends, ’kay?”

“Sure,” Alicia said. But she’d sooner donate her new Prada raffia handbag to the annual OCD holiday gift drive than include Massie, Kristen, and Dylan in her modeling debut. This was going to be all about her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The elevator door opened and Alicia and Olivia were suddenly face-to-face with Ashlee Simpson and her people.

“Ash,” Lucinda said, double-kissing her. “Grrreat to see you.”

“Heyyyyy, honey,” Ashlee said, double-kissing back. “This is my mom-slash-manager, Linda; my agent, Seth; my makeup artist, Kristy; my stylist, Naomi; my trainer, Marcus; and my label rep, Vince.”

“Given,” Lucinda said with a huge smile.

“No way, I say given too,” Alicia said.

“Cute,” Lucinda said, holding the elevator door open for Alicia, Olivia, and Dean. “Thanks for coming. I’ll have my assistant, Franka, call you if she ever gets back from her stupid funeral.”

“Thanks for the tour, babe,” Alicia said, trying to sound cool in front of Ashlee. The girls hugged Lucinda goodbye and promised to have their parents call ASAP so they could get started on the arrangements.

Alicia took one last look at Ashlee and her outfit before she stepped onto the elevator. “Hate the black hair, love the black leather mini, double-love the denim blazer, detest the flower Doc Martens, adore the green eye shadow,” she said once the doors closed.

“Agreed,” Olivia said.

It was dark outside when they stepped out of the revolving door. The city streets were even busier than they had been earlier. Hordes of people rushed by carrying briefcases and heavy shopping bags from Bergdorf’s, Bloomingdale’s, and Saks. Everyone they passed had lowered their necks into their coat collars to shield themselves from the howling wind. But Alicia and Olivia were oblivious to the cold.

“This is the best day ever,” Olivia said. “Who should we tell first?”

“Where to begin, dahhh-ling?” Alicia did her best diva impersonation. “Where to begin?” She brought two fingers to her lips like she was taking a drag off a cigarette and exhaled. Her warm breath mixed with the freezing air looked like a puff cloud of smoke. They burst out laughing and walked the rest of the way to the limo with their arms linked through Dean’s, pretending to smoke.

“Who wants Chinese?” Dean asked as he turned out of the underground parking lot onto 50th Street.

“Meee,” shouted the girls. Now that they were no longer in the presence of magazine greatness, Alicia felt free to act as excited as she felt.

“I know a great place in Times Square called Ruby Foo’s.”

And off they went.

Their black lacquer table was covered in plates of glistening food: sweet-and-sour chicken, shrimp dumplings, moo shu pork, short ribs, wontons, and seven different dipping sauces. But the girls barely ate a thing. They were too busy trying to guess the fifty-eight different ways to wear their Dixons. They had come up with thirty-two by the time the check had arrived.

“How about we do a little exploring?” Dean reached across the hostess stand and grabbed a handful of tooth-picks on their way out the door.

“What about the concert?” Alicia asked. She broke into an impression of Beyoncé’s famous booty shake, right in the middle of Broadway. Olivia laughed so hard she burped.

“Why don’t we walk?” Dean stuck a toothpick between his two front teeth and Alicia looked away in disgust. “It’s only twenty short blocks. We can explore.”

Alicia and Olivia were already walking toward a guy wrapped in a wool blanket selling bootleg DVDs.

“I guess that means you’re up for it?” Dean said, following the girls to the wooden card table.

“Given,” Alicia said as they made their way downtown.

“Oh. My. God.” Olivia pointed to a man on the corner of 44th Street. He was standing behind a fold-out table just like the DVD guy’s, only his was covered in scarves. “Look at all of those Louis Vuittons!”

Stacks of white silk scarves dotted with green, red, purple, orange, blue, and black LVs were on display. A sign tacked to the edge of the table said LOUIS VUITON SCARVES $15.00.

“Fifteen dollars?” Olivia screeched. “Those are like three hundred bucks at home.”

“Are you serious?” Alicia said. She raised the corner of her upper lip to show her utter repulsion. “Oliv-i-ahhh, those are fake.”

Alicia reached into her purse and pulled out a sheet of Lucky stickers. She peeled off a no and stuck it on one of the scarves.

Olivia immediately tore off the sticker. “Why would you say that?”

“Look.” Alicia flicked the cardboard sign. “For starters, this Louis Vuitton spells his last name with one t, not two.” Alicia paused so Olivia could absorb the information. “And they’re only fifteen dollars.”

“So, they look real,” Olivia said.

“But they’re NOT!”

Alicia glanced at Dean for backup, but he shrugged and shook his head. He’d learned the hard way to stay out of Alicia’s shopping disputes.

“No one will ever know,” Olivia whispered. “I could give them away as holiday gifts. My shopping would be done before Thanksgiving.”

“I’ll give you a special deal,” said the guy behind the table. “Just for you, pretty lady.” He rubbed his black beard and squinted. He looked like he was giving this “special deal” some serious thought. “Ten for one hundred dollars.”

“Don’t do it,” Alicia said from the side of her mouth. “It’s a sin to give knockoffs at such a holy time of year.”

“Puh-lease,” Olivia said. “You’re just jealous ’cause you didn’t think of it first.” She handed five twenties to the guy in exchange for a handful of fake scarves.

“Whatevs,” Alicia said, tightening her grip around her Prada handbag. “Maybe we’ll go plastic Christmas tree shopping next.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m going to start calling you Faux-livia from now on because everything you have is fake.”

“Oh, really, Alicia RIVERS,” Olivia fired back.

Alicia felt her stomach drop. “Thanks a lot. I was finally starting to forget about Massie.”

“Sorry,” Olivia said, looking down at the sidewalk. “I was just kidding.”

“It’s okay. I can’t wait to tell her we’re going to be models. She’ll regret every mean thing she’s ever said to me.”

“How are you going to tell her? I thought you weren’t talking.”

“Oh, I’ll find a way,” Alicia said, the corners of her lips curling up into a devious smile. “I always do.”