Massie prayed to Gawd that Principal Burns would burst through the heavy oak doors and bust her friends for sneaking into the forbidden chapel after school. That was plan A and her only way out. If the girls got caught, they'd immediately get kicked out of the chapel and sent home for the rest of the day. Then the kissing lesson would be canceled and Massie would have more time to build up the courage to truly kiss Derrington and get some real experience. Because now all she had to share with her disciples were a few makeshift props and a big load of crap.
Livvy Collins, Alexandra Regan, and Carrie Randolph tiptoed across the royal blue carpet and disappeared into the choir pit below the pulpit where Dylan and Alicia were hiding. The sounds of giggling followed by loud
shhhh's
rose up to the balcony every time another girl stepped down into the pit, filling Massie with nervous desperation. She had deployed hundreds of insane tactics to maintain her queen bee status, but this one was the most ridiculous. Not only was she claiming to be an expert on something she knew nothing about, she was flat-out lying to Kristen, Alicia, and Dylan. And that took social warfare to new heights.
Massie would give Principal Burns five more minutes to shut down the party and if she didn't, Massie would have to give her public what they'd come for.
Claire and her ahn-noying activist friend Layne came in next. They weren't giddy like the other girls. They weren't whispering or giggling. Instead, Claire was chewing her thumbnail and Layne was shaking her head back and forth like she was way too mature to be there. For a split second, Massie wondered if Claire had told Layne the truth; that the kissing clinic was a ploy for Massie to get her credibility back after Nina had hijacked it. But she immediately shook the idea from her head. Claire knew better than to betray Massie's confidence. Besides, Massie knew Claire's secret about kissing Josh Hotz. All she had to do was leak that to Alicia and Claire would be reduced to LBR (loser beyond repair) status all over again. Alicia would make sure of it.
Massie inched a little closer to the edge of the balcony to see if Claire's bangs had been able to work through some of their problems since lunch, but no such luck. They were still short and crooked. Jakkob would have to be notified over the weekend. The newest member of the Pretty Committee could
not
go on the Lake Placid trip looking like the Bride of Chucky. It would reflect poorly on all of them.
Kristen shuffled in a few steps behind Claire and Layne, carrying the Sony mini DV camera that she'd checked out of the A/V department. She was ready to capture the lesson for Massie's new video blog. Massie searched the chapel, her amber eyes shifting from one stained-glass window to the next, hoping Gawd might appear and save her.
“Helll-oooo,” shouted someone from the back of the chapel. Massie couldn't see who it was because the balcony hung past the entrance and blocked her view.
“Al-eeee-SHA, are you in here?”
A loud
shhhh!
resounded from the choir pit.
“We're in here,” Alicia whisper-shouted.
“Oh,” yelled the girl. “I thought I missed the kissing—”
Another group
shhhh
cut her off.
“Sorry.” She snickered and hurried to join the others.
It wasn't Gawd after all. It was Olivia Ryan, one of His biggest mistakes.
Olivia was like Alicia's dumb puppy dog everyone happened to think was cute. But Massie couldn't stand Olivia and had a hard time understanding what Alicia saw in her. Granted, she was undeniably pretty in a different way than Alicia was.
Olivia was perky and all-American, with her wavy blond hair, her navy blue eyes, and cute ski-slope nose—courtesy of Dr. Marriott—while Alicia was more of a sultry exotic beauty. And together they were ah-nnoyingly hot. The seventh-grade Briarwood boys referred to them as the Twenty, since they were both tens. Massie hated that nickname almost as much as she hated not being included in it. Would changing their name to the Thirty be so inconceivable?
Once Olivia disappeared into the pit, Massie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She reviewed her notes and exhaled again. It was time.
Massie heard the bones behind her knees crack when she finally stood up. Her legs felt stiff and sore from crouching. She adjusted her skirt and added a fresh coat of MAC gloss to her lips, even though she could still feel the weight of the sticky layer she had applied when she'd first gotten there. She cleared her throat, touched the crown charm on her bracelet for luck, ran her hands along the cluster of gold chains and colored beads that hung around her neck, then rolled her shoulders three times.
“Showtime,” she said under her breath.
Props in hand, Massie made her way down the back stairs toward the choir pit.
When the bottoms of her burnt orange Michael Kors knee-high boots touched down on the blue carpet, Massie felt her inner diva snap into performance mode. She was ready for her grand entrance … almost.
First she speed-dialed Kristen.
“Why aren't you in position?” Massie hissed into her purple-Swarovski-crystal-covered Motorola cell phone.
“Where are you?” Kristen whispered back. “We thought you were bailing on us.”
“Well, I'm not. I've been waiting for you at the back of the chapel for like fifteen minutes.”
“Ehmagawd, I am so sorry,” Kristen said. “Stand by.”
Massie sighed, then snapped her phone shut. She loved how easy it was to rattle her friends.
Kristen climbed out of the choir pit and pointed the small video camera at Massie. She waved her hand, letting her subject know she was rolling.
“Shoulders back, stomach in, head up, confident smile,” was the phrase Massie repeated in her head as she walked the aisle of the chapel, pretending it was the Marc Jacobs runway during Fashion Week. When she passed Kristen's camera, she turned around and signaled for it to follow her into the pit. It did.
“Hello, ladies.” Massie beamed as she gracefully walked down the narrow steps to join her students. “Who's ready to learn how to make out like a maniac?”
All the girls cheered enthusiastically, except for Claire. She bit her bottom lip and tugged on her bangs. Massie shot her a warning look that said, “Stop looking so nervous or you'll give me away.” Claire released her bangs and started cheering with the others.
Massie quickly swung her head around to make sure Kristen was catching the excitement with her camera. It was a great Everyone-loves-Massie shot for her video blog.
“Before we get started, I'll need everyone's payment in exact change like we discussed earlier,” Massie announced. She felt a little strange taking money from Claire, Alicia, and Dylan but they knew it was going to a good cause. After collecting twenty-dollar bills from her eight students, Massie immediately stuffed the hundred-and-sixty-dollar wad into the back pocket of Kristen's rhinestone “J” Juicy Couture jeans.
“Add it to your Lake Placid fund,” Massie whispered to Kristen.
“Thanks.” Kristen beamed. She held her camera with new enthusiasm and pointed it at the left half of Massie's face, because
everyone
knew it was her favorite side.
The girls rearranged the dark wood stools into a semicircle and put the only director's chair in the center for Massie. Alicia sprayed her Angel perfume to try and get rid of the stuffy dusty-old-book-and-rotting-wet-wood chapel-y smell. Only now it reeked like someone had smashed a bottle of perfume on a damp tree trunk. But it was an improvement.
“Let me start by welcoming you to MUCK, or Massie's Underground Clinic for Kissing.” She plugged her mini DVD player into the wall socket and pulled a shiny disc out of a light pink plastic sleeve.
“Ehmagawd, you know what MUCK sounds like?” Olivia snickered into her delicate palm.
“Uh, yeah,” Massie snapped. It should have gone without saying.
“Lovethatname,” Carrie said to Livvy and Alexandra, who were seated on either side of her.
“Me too,” Alexandra gushed. “It's so naughty.”
Livvy's bulgy hazel eyes were fixed on Massie.
“The first thing every kissing bandit needs is a great gloss.” Massie reached into her black Prada messenger bag. Seconds later she pulled out a gray Jimmy Choo shoe bag. It was filled with the stinky flavors Massie had received from her daily delivery of Glossip Girl lip gloss (her parents had signed her up for a “subscription” as one of her many Christmas presents).
She avoided the disappointed looks from Claire, Alicia, and Dylan, who knew Massie would never part with any of the good flavors. But the new girls had no idea they were getting Massie's rejects. They were beyond psyched when they were handed BBQ Chicken, California Roll, Kosher Dill, and Spaghetti Bolognese.
Livvy immediately smeared the stinky gloss on her puffy lips. “Mmmmm, it even
tastes
like sushi.” She used her front teeth to scrape some into her mouth.
“How do they get pickles inside this tiny hole?” Olivia examined the tube.
“They use tickles,” Layne offered. Everyone crinkled their waxed eyebrows trying to figure out whether they'd heard her correctly. “Tiny pickles.”
It was such a stupid answer to an even stupider question that Massie actually laughed along with the others.
“How cute.” Olivia sniffed her Glossip Girl with maternal tenderness.
“Trythisone.” Carrie squeezed her tube so that a glob of BBQ Chicken oozed out. “ItsmellslikethefourthofJuly.”
“This one is better.” Alexandra puckered her shiny lips so they touched the tip of her hawk nose. She inhaled deeply. “Yummm, meat sauce. Guys are going to
hunger
to kiss me, get it?”
Dylan rolled her eyes. “So will stray dogs.”
Alicia cracked up and high-fived her friend.
Massie choked down her laughter. Normally, she would have been the first to bust on Alexandra's attempt at humor but she needed these girls to love her a trillion times more than they'd ever loved Nina. Once they did, there would be plenty of time to make fun of them.
“Mine smells like an outhouse.” Layne dry-heaved. “What is this stuff?”
Claire elbowed Layne in the ribs and mouthed, “Be nice.”
“What?” Layne whispered to Claire. “Why?” But Claire didn't answer. Instead she turned her attention back to Massie, probably hoping Layne would do the same.
It still made Massie uncomfortable to know that someone besides her black pug, Bean, knew she was lying about her kissing experience, but if it had to be anyone, Massie was glad it was Claire. “So let's get started.”
Massie turned the small screen on her portable DVD player so it faced the girls, slid in the CD, then pressed play. A slow montage of sexy photos that Massie had cut out of magazines and coffee-table books around her house and scanned into her computer flashed onto the screen, one after the other. They appeared and faded in perfect time to the dreamy beat of “Caribbean Blue” by Enya, one of Kendra's favorite New Age artists. Massie knew the girls would have no idea what they were listening to and hoped that the haunting Irish music would cast an air of romance and mystery over her presentation.
“Wow.” Alexandra sighed. “This is like porno.”
“Are we going to get into trouble?” Livvy asked as she chewed her lip.
“Shhhh.” Carrie rolled her eyes to let Massie know she was embarrassed for her friends.
Massie took a deep breath and continued. “As you can see, everyone in these images is
kissing.”
She spoke over the music. “There is kissing in advertising,” she said about the Calvin Klein ad where the young couple's lips barely touched. “Kissing in art.” She tapped the screen when the famous Gustav Klimt painting called
The Kiss
appeared. “And kissing in movies.” And sure enough, up came a photo from the movie
The Notebook
showing Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams locked in a heated embrace. There were sweaty models in skimpy bathing suits passionately making out on the beach, delicate romantic kisses in ads for engagement rings, and countless perfume campaigns where the women looked into the camera instead of the eyes of the genetically perfect men they were seducing.
“Are we going to learn to kiss like
that?”
Alexandra's green, cat-shaped eyes flickered with hope. Massie noticed they were the same color as her braces and wondered if that was done on purpose.
“Which one?” Massie asked.
“All of them.” Alexandra gathered her long, straight brown hair with one hand and fanned the back of her neck with the other. “I think it's important we learn all of the different styles.”
“Keep it in your pants, sister,” Massie said. “First you have to learn the basics.”
“I agree. I always forget what third base is,” Olivia said with total sincerity.
“I said the
basics
, not the
bases
,” Massie said.
“Still.” Olivia shrugged and slid off her tan suede blazer. She was wearing a ballet pink Petit Bateaux tank top underneath that revealed her thin, muscular arms and pointy little A-cups. They reminded Massie of Hershey's Kisses, and she suddenly realized she hadn't eaten since breakfast.
“Now, what do all of these images have in common?” Massie asked, trying to forget about her hunger.
“Is she serious?” Layne popped open a peach-flavored Go-Gurt and took a swig.
“They were all taken from your mother's magazines?” Alicia joked.
Dylan giggled. Claire bit her pinky nail.
“No.” Massie sighed. “All of their lips are touching. And that's what kissing is.”
Layne burst out laughing. “I want my money back.”
Claire elbowed her in the ribs. “Shhhh,” she hissed.
“Are you seri—” Layne started to say to Claire but was cut off by Livvy.
“But their lips aren't touching in the painting of
The Kiss.
He's kissing her neck.”
Everyone looked at Massie to see how she would handle Livvy's keen observation.
Massie could feel a familiar prickly heat under her arms. “Great call, Livvy. I was hoping someone would notice that.”
Livvy sat up a little taller on her stool and playfully kicked her dangling legs back and forth. “Thanks.”
“The man is kissing the woman's neck, which can be considered a kiss.” Massie paused for effect. “But not a make-out.”