Social Order (5 page)

Lili looked around for the only other student in the tutorial. “Is it just the two of us?”

“En francais, s'il vous plaît,”
said Madame LeBrun.

Lili posed her question in the correct language.

“Greg est allé à Tahiti,”
Madame began to say, but before she could finish, a giant sneeze overtook her bony frame. She screwed up her face, gesturing at Lili with her white handkerchief, then hurried out of the room in a flurry of minisneezes.

Lili sighed. If Greg was already surfing his brains out, it was unlikely that he would return to class. Unless his parents were plotting to ski at Val d'Isère over Christmas, his days of French conversation were probably over.

The door swung open again, and Lili heaved another long sigh: She'd hoped Madame would take longer to blow her nose, dab at her watering eyes, and recover her Gallic composure. However, she registered quickly that it wasn't Madame. It was a boy. A slim boy in faded corduroys and a worn flannel shirt, shouldering a scuffed backpack and holding on to a dented skateboard. A boy with fair hair, dark eyes, and an appealingly sleepy grin. Lili's heart started flip-flopping around.

“Hey,” he said, dropping into the chair next to Lili. “Is this the French conversation class?” His voice was low and scratchy-sounding, as if he'd just woken up.

She nodded, suddenly unable to speak. She glanced shyly up at him from behind her textbook.

“Max Costa,” he said coolly, holding out his hand.

“Ashley Li,” squeaked Lili, trying to stay calm. She cleared her throat and shook his hand, her skin tingling at the contact. “Everyone calls me Lili.”

“Gotcha.”

She beamed at him. Max was definitely of the scruffy-hottie variety and looked a bit like a bad boy. The kind her mom always warned her away from, which piqued Lili's interest even more. She was tired of listening to her mom.

“You're taking French?” she asked.

“
Oui
, unfortunately,” Max replied. “I flunked it last semester, so my parents are on my butt to raise my grade. I'd have been here weeks earlier, but I had to bow out of soccer first.” Big sigh. “It's not too bad. I still get to play lacrosse.”

Lili learned that Max was in seventh grade at Reed Prep, the coed private school across town that was known for its “alternative” policies—kids were clumped into “progress groups” instead of grades, teachers were called by their first names, and students could wear whatever they wanted because there was no dress code. Miss Gamble's girls weren't supposed to date Reed Prep boys out of loyalty to their brother school Gregory Hall, but Lili could see herself making an exception for him. He was capital-C cute.

“You go to Miss Gamble's?” he asked, noting the uniform.

“Uh-huh.”

“Didn't someone almost die at the dance the other week?”

Ugh. It was so annoying how Ashley's near demise was such big news that even kids who didn't go to their school had heard of it.

“Yeah, but she's completely fine now.” Lili wanted to get the conversation away from Ashley and back onto herself. The others were going to
freak
when they found out she was taking a private class with a totally crushable boy every Monday. What was she thinking? She
j'adored
French!

“That's good.” Max nodded. He smiled at her and looked as if he was going to say something more, but didn't. The silence made Lili feel a tad uncomfortable, and she rested her chin on her hand and began twirling her fountain pen on her fingers to calm her nerves.

When her phone began ringing suddenly, she startled and fumbled with the pen, smudging ink all over her cheek.

“Oops!” She turned red as she wiped her face with the palm of her hand and tried to answer her phone at the same time. Max was going to think she was the biggest klutz! So much for coming across as cool.

“What is it?” she snapped into her phone. It was Lauren. “Slow down! You're talking so fast, you're hyper. That's better. You just bumped into Billy Reddy? Okay, so?”

Billy Reddy was a gorgeous high school sophomore, star of the Gregory Hall lacrosse team, and a member
of the wealthiest and most talked-about family in San Francisco. Half the girls at Miss Gamble's were in love with Billy, and the Ashleys used to stalk him walking back from school every day. But though Lauren had brought him to the dance, it was pretty obvious that she wasn't his girlfriend. Lili was a Billy groupie too, although sneaking another covert glance at Max, as she vainly tried to cover up the ink on her skin, she wasn't sure how long that was going to last. Besides, Billy was in high school—way too old.

Apparently Lauren had promised Billy earlier that she would bring a huge cheering section from Miss Gamble's to the lax semifinals, which somehow had become a promise to provide cheerleaders for the game as well, since Gregory Hall was all-boys.

“Help!” Lauren said. “I think he thinks I'm going to have some kind of halftime show or something!”

“A halftime show at the lacrosse game?” Lili asked, hoping she didn't have some kind of ink Hitler mustache on her face.

“You're talking about the big lacrosse matchups next weekend?” Max asked. “Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear. We're playing Greg Hall then, in the junior high division. Are you going?” He gave her a breathtaking smile.

Lili thought fast. “Don't worry about a thing,” she told Lauren. “We'll do something special. The Ashleys made nationals in dance team last year, you know.” Before Lauren could reply, Lili had hung up the phone. She turned to Max. “I wouldn't dream of missing it.”

“Excellent!” said Max, his face lighting up.

So what if she had no time at all in her schedule to practice a dance routine? She would make time. Especially if it meant that Max would get a chance to see her in a cute little outfit and see how truly coordinated she was.

By the time Madame came back to the room, an idea was forming in her mind. She had to meet with the producers to see if they'd buy it, but she was sure she could talk them into it. She smiled. If the plan worked, it would shove Ashley out of the limelight—once and for all.

THE LOBBY OF THE CLIFT
hotel in downtown San Francisco was a stunning room that featured soaring double-height ceilings, etched Venetian mirrors, billowing white velvet curtains, and cheeky interpretations of classic furniture—a Louis Quinze chair in plastic, say, or a chandelier made out of twigs instead of crystal.

Ashley had been here many times before, usually to eat with her parents or grandparents in the clubby, elegant Redwood Room. Once her family had stayed here for three days when work was being done to the exterior of their house and her parents decided they had to get away from the noise and chaos.

They would have taken Ashley out of school and gone down to a chic B and B on the coast near Big Sur, or to the Auberge du Soleil in Napa Valley, but she had exams that week and needed to be somewhere close to Miss Gamble's. Living in a hotel was fine—A. A. certainly liked it, but then she'd never known anything else. But Ashley had been glad to get home to their airy, spacious mansion overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. Hotels were so . . .
public
. Anyone could wander in and out, or just sit in the lobby wearing white sweat socks and reading
USA Today
, and nobody could do anything about it. Not even the fashionable staff at the Clift.

The producers of
Preteen Queen
were waiting for them in the hotel's living room, and Ashley made sure to stick close by Trudy Page, Lauren's mother, so that she'd get introduced first. Well, after Lauren, but that was only fair: This show was Lauren's thing. For now. Ashley had every intention of making sure the cameras were pointed
her
way as often as possible.

To Ashley's surprise, the producers weren't old and boring at all. In fact, they dressed more like college students than television executives. They were even younger than her parents, Ashley guessed. The female producer was Tiffany, a friendly-looking Asian girl in
trim black pants and a fitted shirt, clutching a bulging leather Filofax.

The two guys were Matt and Jasper, both in T-shirts and jeans and somewhat interchangeable, with their shaggy hair and five o' clock shadows. Matt laid his laptop open on the marble-top coffee table, clambering to his feet to shake their hands. Jasper had a British accent, which seemed to make the whole meeting even more exciting. Mrs. Page was acting like he was Orlando Bloom, gushing over him like a besotted fan.

Ashley's parents were embarrassing sometimes, like when they kissed each other in public, or when her father played his Phish records when her friends were over. But they had nothing on Lauren's mother, their self-appointed driver and chaperone. She was dressed like an extra in
Pirates of the Caribbean
, her hair tied with a gaudy bandanna, her white shiny stretch pants too tight, and her gold leather sandals laced tightly around her plump ankles.

The Pages had only been rich for about the last five minutes, and Mrs. Page hadn't learned yet that you shouldn't buy everything you see in a
Vogue
Versace ad and wear it all at once.

“Shall I order tea?” Trudy asked Jasper in what
sounded like a quasi-British accent of her own, and Ashley raised her eyebrows at A. A., sitting on the other side of the table next to Tiffany. Lauren must have noticed: She flushed bright pink. Ashley would have felt sorry for her, but why bother? Lauren should be grateful the Ashleys were there at all, willing to be pretend-friends with her. Without them, her show would be canceled after one episode.

“I've already asked for iced teas for everyone—is that okay?” Tiffany said with a smile, cracking open her giant organizer. “I know we all have a time crunch, so we should get down to business right away.”

“Of course,” said Ashley, giving Tiffany her friendliest smile.

Tiffany told them the concept of the show: five groups of friends in five big cities, competing to be the “Preteen Queen” of their hometown.

“What do you mean compete?” Lauren asked. “My dad didn't say anything about the show being a competition.”

“Yeah, is it like
America's Got Talent
or something?” said A. A., who didn't look too excited about that aspect either. “I thought it was supposed to be like
The Hills
.”

“It is like
The Hills
,” Jasper said soothingly. “That's
why we wanted a group of friends—we wanted to show what life as a tween is really like, all the highs, the lows, the laughter, and the drama.”

“The catfights, you mean,” said Lili wisely.

“We like to think of it as creating tension,” Matt put in, grinning.

“And who decides the winner?” Ashley asked, her mind already racing to figure out how to slay her rivals—er, her friends.

“The audience, of course,” Tiffany told them. “The first five episodes will showcase a group of girls in five different cities. After each show, the audience votes. Only one girl from each city will be selected to go on to the next round.

“The five winners will be flown out to live in a penthouse in New York for two weeks to battle it out for the national title. Whoever wins gets a contract with a top talent agent, a publicist, a once-in-a-lifetime shopping spree, and the cover of
Teen Vogue
.”

New York City! It was Ashley's dream to live in New York, especially with a team ready to take her to the social and celebrity stratosphere.

“Only one of us can get through?” Ashley's mind was whirring.

“Unfortunately.” Jasper laughed. “I hope it doesn't come between your friendships. It's only a game, yes?”

“Right,” A. A. mumbled, while Lili looked as intense as Ashley had ever seen her and Lauren bit her nails.

Lauren hadn't been exaggerating. The producers wanted to start taping right away, and they had already approached Miss Gamble's for permission to film an Honor Board meeting the following week.

“But the only one of us on the Honor Board is Lili,” Ashley pointed out, and Lili gave her a cat-who-swallowed-the-cream smile. Lil was acting very smug all of a sudden, and Ashley realized that Lili had probably one-upped her and called the producers even before the meeting. Ashley wouldn't put it past her. She had to make sure Lili wouldn't get filmed on her own turf, hello.

“I've got a better idea,” Ashley said, fixing her wide-eyed gaze on Jasper, the look she used on her father whenever she wanted to buy something too expensive or possibly age-inappropriate. “I've been planning something special for our class, and the four of us are having our first meeting about it on Thursday. You could film that.”

“The four of you?” Matt sounded eager. “That would be great. What is it?”

Ashley ignored the puzzled looks A. A. and Lili were shooting her.

“It's a . . . um, it's a Friendship Ceremony,” she faltered.
Quick, Ashley—think.
“I've been talking to Miss Charm about it, and she loves the idea,” she lied.

“That's our Manners and Morals teacher,” Lili explained, and when the producers all looked blank she went on, “She teaches etiquette. It's our first class on Mondays and Thursdays.”

“Sorry to be slow, but what does this Friendship Ceremony entail exactly?” asked Jasper.

“It's a celebration of friendship.” Ashley fluttered her long lashes in his direction. She felt like patting herself on the back. The producers wanted friendship drama, didn't they? Well, she would give it to them. In spades.

“Miss Charm wanted us to find a way of creating some new traditions at Miss Gamble's, and I came up with this.” Ashley began outlining her idea.