Social Order (14 page)

“I've got one,” A. A. said, a closed look on her face. “I've never kissed a boy.”

Ashley watched as A. A. picked up her can and took
one long, final swig. Lauren flushed a pretty pink and picked up her can, drinking whatever was left. What? When did
she
kiss someone? Lili was busy drinking too. Well, at least they knew she wasn't lying this time. Unlike the Taiwan story, the one about her and Max was true. They'd all seen it on TV.

Ashley's hand gripped the can of Red Bull. The last thing she wanted to do was reveal her kiss-virgin status. But it was her game, and she knew the rules. You were supposed to be honest. Maybe she could just raise the can to her lips but not really drink . . . maybe that was okay?

The bell for afternoon classes rang. Saved!

Lili was already on her feet, hauling her bag off the floor, and Lauren was muttering about some boring Honors class project she had to make a presentation for. Nobody seemed to notice that Ashley hadn't really drunk from her can.

Except for A. A., who was looking straight at her, not saying a word.

WHEN A. A. GOT HOME
from school that day, she headed straight for her bedroom and shut the door. Her mother was out somewhere—probably getting her Icelandic laser treatment or one of the Madagascan seaweed body wraps she swore by. Jeanine preferred beauty treatments, products, and therapies that came from another country, ideally somewhere super high-tech, tropical, or obscure.

She was always trying to drag A. A. to some New Age Sri Lankan spa in Russian Hill where they painted your chakra or tickled your aura or something. A. A. liked getting pedicures and massages, but her idea of relaxing wasn't getting pummeled with hot stones or
listening to weird chants. She preferred blowing up a zombie head to release tension.

Kicking off her Mary Janes, A. A., nimble as a monkey, climbed the ladder to her loft platform bed and flopped down on the soft mattress. Her phone buzzed, alerting her to an incoming text message, but she ignored it. There were other things on her mind.

Ever since they'd been over at Ashley's to watch the disastrous
Preteen Queen
episode, when she snapped Tri's head off, he hadn't dropped by their penthouse apartment once. There was no point in prodding Ned for information. She was close to her stepbrother, but guys didn't like talking about feelings and relationships. And Ned was preoccupied at the moment with SAT stuff at school, and with training for the big track meets in the spring.

How could A. A. explain that because Tri was dating her best friend, she didn't feel comfortable hanging out with him anymore? That didn't make sense at all. Ned would shake his head and say it was all too much teen drama, as if he wasn't a teen himself.

Her school uniform was too uncomfortable for lounging around, especially the black tights that Ashley insisted they all wear this semester. A. A. slid back down
the ladder and removed her uniform, leaving it on the floor, where the maid would rescue it for washing and ironing by Monday. She pulled on her favorite Nuala yoga pants and a soft cashmere sweater and thought about the game they had played at lunch.

Lili and Lauren may not have been paying attention, but A. A. was. Ashley had picked up her can but—and this was important—
didn't take a drink
. That meant only one thing—Ashley and Tri had never kissed!

They'd been going out for weeks and acting all lovey-dovey in the most barf-inducing way whenever they were seen in public. But “in public” was one thing. In private they clearly had no chemistry. Ha! A. A. didn't know why that gave her an odd sense of satisfaction, but it did.

And yet . . . what did it matter if Ashley and Tri kissed or didn't kiss? It was great to have something over Ashley for a change, but the feeling of triumph was hollow. Even if Ashley and Tri made out every day for an hour after school, it wouldn't affect A. A.—or it shouldn't affect her. It was their silly little relationship, and their business. She wanted Ashley to be happy, right? And God knows
she
didn't want to kiss Tri. Or . . . did she?

A. A. picked at a hangnail on her thumb. She had to be honest for once and admit what had been bothering her all this time. She'd been lying to herself for too long. The annoying truth was, she did like Tri. She'd liked him ever since she thought he was laxjock, but now that she thought about it, she'd liked him even before that.

He was sweet and goofy and the nicest boy she'd ever met. The way he looked at her with such intensity in his blue eyes, even when they were just making s'mores out of the microwave, gave her shivers. She'd been in love with him for so long she didn't even know it until he started going out with someone else and she was pierced with such exquisite jealousy she couldn't even function. Seeing them together was pure agony.

She didn't dare to hope what this no-kiss situation meant; she didn't want to get even more hurt than she was already. Even though Tri wasn't kissing Ashley, he was still technically her boyfriend, and it wasn't as if he was seeking A. A. out either. Except to give her some unwanted dating advice—the
nerve
. Either she was in love with him or she hated his guts, or a combination of the two.

Her phone buzzed again. A. A. sighed. It was probably just Hunter again. Ever since they'd met at
the party, he'd been calling her every other day or so. After
Preteen Queen
aired, he'd even texted her.
DON'T WORRY—THAT SHOW SUX! U + I KNOW THE TRUTH. HANG OUT 2MORROW?

Tomorrow came and went, but A. A. didn't see him. Then when he called again, A. A. had tried to make it clear she wasn't interested. In fact, she was totally blowing him off and hadn't returned any of his latest calls or texts. It wasn't really fair to Hunter. He hadn't done anything wrong. He was a nice guy. He had been good company in the closet.

What was her problem? Why was she still thinking about Tri? He was off-limits. Whereas Hunter was available and more than eager to spend time with her.

She checked the last two texts. She was right, both were from Hunter. The first read:
R YOU THERE? TALK 2 ME!
The second was more to the point.
7 PARTY 2MORROW. BE THERE! BRING YE FRENZ.

Now this was interesting. Maybe it was time the Ashleys sampled the delights of a notorious “Seven Minutes in Heaven” party so they could see what it was really like.

A. A. was sure that none of the girls would be able to resist the invitation. Lili needed something to cheer
her up after that humiliation with Max. Lauren was suddenly the party girl, always bringing up dates and boys, and Ashley . . . well, Ashley couldn't bear it if a party was going on and she wasn't all over it. Especially a party they'd been invited to by a cute boy.

Besides, maybe the only way to forget about someone was to kiss someone else. A. A. picked up her phone and replied to Hunter's message.

SURE! ME + 3. WHERE & WHEN?

THE DOORS OF THE PRIVATE
elevator that led to A. A.'s penthouse apartment slid open, and Lili stepped out. The Seven party was just six hours away, and she didn't have anything to wear.

Shopping on a Saturday morning was impossible—she had a tennis lesson immediately after breakfast, and then her art appreciation class—but at tennis A. A. had told her not to bother trawling the stores this afternoon. It was pouring rain, and besides, A. A. had a closet full of things she never wore. Lili could spend an hour or two in comfort, drinking freshly squeezed melon juice and eating whatever she wanted from the Fairmont's room service menu, trying on all of A. A.'s clothes.

Because it was vital that Lili looked her best tonight. This was her first real social outing since the party after the lacrosse game, and she just knew people would be looking at her. Everyone she knew had seen her kiss Max and seen him dump her on national TV.

At school, Melody Myers had the whole hideous incident on DVD and she and her friends had replayed it, she told Lili, at least a dozen times to try and hear everything else Max was saying before he left the room. Thanks, Melody! Lili was fuming about that. She wished they'd never given Melody the SOA sticker last semester. Seal of Jealousy and Pettiness would have been more appropriate.

Lili didn't know if Max was going to be at the party tonight. She hoped not. But A. A. had convinced her that the best way to get over him was to go out and have some fun. Playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with some random boy—hopefully even cuter than Max—was just what the doctor ordered, A. A. insisted.

That way, Max wouldn't be the longest and greatest kiss of her life to date. He would be more like the boy in Taiwan, just one minuscule non-life-shattering experience on the path to grown-up romance. That sounded good to Lili. The sooner she could face Max—and his
silent treatment in French every Monday—without feeling depressed and rejected, the better.

Lili found something she liked in A. A.'s closet—a tiny pleated Alice + Olivia skirt and a ruffle-neck Geren Ford silk top. She tried them on and looked at herself in the mirror. “Can I borrow these?”

“Sure,” A. A. called. “Have you checked AshleyRank today?” No other site mattered anymore—not even Snapchat or Perez Hilton.

“I haven't had time,” Lili said, admiring the way the tiny skirt fit her slim figure. “This will look great with my new suede boots.”

“News flash—Ashley got another bad anonymous ranking.” A. A. rolled to the edge of her bed and gazed down at Lili with a wide grin.

“No!”

“Yes! Someone gave her a three for Smarts.” A. A. snickered.

“Oh.” Lili was a little disappointed. A three for Style or even Social Presence would have been much worse. Ashley didn't really care about smarts, as long as everyone thought she was beautiful and popular. “Who do you think runs that blog, anyway? Do you think it's really Lauren?”

“Ashley thinks so. She's like ninety-nine percent sure that Lauren is the brains behind it.”

“I guess.” Lili sighed, and did another twirl.

“But you know what this means,” A. A. pointed out, dangling her long, slender arms over the side of the bed. She'd had a manicure, Lili noticed—maybe she liked this guy Hunter after all. A. A. had never paid any attention to stuff like that too much before. “This three for Smarts score.”

“What? That someone thinks Ashley is at second-grade reading level? So what?”

“Think about it. Ashley can't stay number one for much longer. You don't have to be a math genius to work that one out. One more bad score could bring her average
way
down. And you know what that means. . . .”

Lili gasped.

A. A. waggled her eyebrows. “She'll lose her crown,” she said, saying exactly what Lili was thinking. “And then . . .”

“Someone else will take the number one spot!” Lili spun around, stamping her foot and clutching her skirt as though she were a flamenco dancer. “I can't wait!”

LAUREN WAS NERVOUS. DASHING BETWEEN
downpours in and out of the boutiques along Maiden Lane, she felt her stomach twisting into knots of tension. A. A. had invited her to a party tonight, her second real party. And not just any party—her first Seven party. As in “Seven Minutes in Heaven.” Not that she had to play. A. A. said participation was entirely optional.

But that wasn't why she was so nervous.

This morning, both Christian and Alex had sent her text messages. That party Christian mentioned at the end of watching the killer robot movie? It was the party she was going to with the Ashleys. And that party Alex
had talked about during their date? Oh yeah . . . it was the very same event.

She had two sort-of potential future boyfriends, and they both saw tonight's get-together as their sort-of-third date with her. What was she going to do? She didn't want to play it safe and stay home. That's what the old Lauren would have done. The old Lauren wouldn't have a single boy interested in her, let alone two really cute lacrosse players.

She wanted to go to the party, and she wanted to see Christian and Alex again. But Lauren didn't want to expose herself as a double-dater or make them feel like she was playing them off against each other. And she really didn't want them to get annoyed with her for being a liar—a little white liar, but still—and dump her. She'd had a good time with both of them.

It was so confusing: Did she like Christian best or Alex? Christian was so cute and funny, and really easy to talk to. Lauren didn't feel like she had to put up a front when she was with him. Alex was more serious, even though he was just as hot. She'd loved looking around the museum with him. Maybe tonight would help her decide which boy she should spend more time with. Being on the brink of having an actual boyfriend
was scary and exciting. That's why she was out shopping now, despite the torrential rain and gusty wind, to buy something irresistibly gorgeous.

In the Ted Baker store, it took Lauren only ten minutes to go through the new fall line and decide that there was nothing for her to wear to the party. Once the rain stopped, she was going to make her way to the next store. Or maybe she should just call Dex and ask him to come pick her up. Sometimes shopping wasn't that much fun, no matter how much money you had to spend, especially if you didn't have any friends with you.

She was just about to give up when the heavy velvet curtain of one of the bedroom-size changing rooms opened, and Ashley, wearing a simple sweater and a pair of skinny jeans, stepped out. The changing room looked like a bomb had hit it—clothes lay all over the armchair and floor where Ashley had discarded them. Her pale, pretty face broke into a smile when she spotted Lauren standing by the rack of black pants.