The Pretty Committee Strikes Back (7 page)

“Thanks.” Claire sat down on her sleeping bag, wishing she had a PalmPilot. She immediately put on her red cap so no one would stare at her bangs and tried to write down everything they had just said—
dark jeans, neutral tops.

“Kristen, does this mean you're going to Lake Placid?” Dylan asked.

“No.” She sighed.

Claire wanted to ask why she'd bothered showing up, but she already knew the answer. Missing one of Massie's get-togethers meant spending a sleepless night tossing and turning, wondering if you were missing anything good and wondering if anyone was saying anything about you behind your back. And nothing was worth that kind of torture.

“Hey, did anyone sign up for your memory class?” Claire tried to sound optimistic.

Kristen shook her head and looked into the faux fire.

“Maybe no one remembered,” Massie tried to say with a straight face. But she lost it when everyone burst out laughing.

“Very funny.” Kristen adjusted one of the many rhinestone-covered bobby pins in her hair. She was clearly trying to work with the in-between stages of her unfortunate boy cut, but the shiny stones were just drawing attention to the problem. Claire discreetly slid off her pink, glittery, stone-covered Keds and placed them behind her, just in case anyone thought the same thing about her shoes.

Claire hoped Massie would approve of them now that Mischa Barton was modeling them in all of the magazines. But why take the chance?

“Just let us pay for you,” Alicia insisted.

“No, I'm fine,” Kristen said through her teeth. “I think it will be fun staying here during the break. I'll get ahead on my reading, I be able to run soccer drills two times a day, and think of all the Presidents' Day sales I'll be able to hit.” She stuffed a marshmallow in her mouth.

“Kristen, why didn't you send me a postcard from Morocco?” Massie asked.

“Huh?” Kristen sounded confused.

“It sounds like you were just in de-
Nile,”
Massie said.

“Very funny,” Kristen said. “Oh, and FYI, the Nile is in Egypt, not Morocco. I've been memorizing the globe.”

“Then where's Make-out City?” Massie asked.

“Lake Placid,” Dylan and Alicia shouted back.

Everyone cracked up and high-fived each other except Claire and Kristen. If Cam had responded to the poem she sent him on Thursday, Claire would have been as excited as the rest of the girls. But since he hadn't, she'd be better off spending the week with Kristen.

Suddenly the yapping sound of a small dog barking outside Massie's window drowned out the coyote calls on her sound effects CD.

Bean lifted her head, then stood up. The stuffed canoe wobbled from her sudden movement, but she managed to jump out and run straight to Massie's bay window before it tipped.

“Did you get another puppy?” Dylan held a marshmallow to her mouth, paused, then stuffed it back in the bag.

“No,” Massie said. “Maybe it's a stray.”

Bean was jumping as high as she could, hoping to get a look at the competition.

“Hold on, Bean, Mommy's coming.” Massie pushed herself up and hurried over to her dog. She scooped Bean up in her arms and held her in front of the window so she could size up her competition. “Kuh-laire, what is your brother
doing?”

Claire felt her cheeks turning red. Todd never failed to embarrass her.

Bean was squirming, trying to free herself from Massie's grip. Claire sighed and joined Massie by the window. But she didn't have to look to know what was going on.

“Oh.” She giggled to herself, trying to make the scene seem less mortifying than it actually was. “It's just Todd training his new robot dog, Aibo.”

“In his underwear?” Massie squealed.

Alicia, Kristen, and Dylan raced over to the window. They burst out laughing when they saw Claire's skinny ten-year-old brother running around the backyard chasing a black plastic mechanical puppy. His blue terry-cloth robe had blown open, revealing knee-high gray sweat socks and a pair of loose tighty-whities.

They watched Todd dangle a round slab of bologna in front of Aibo in an effort to make him jump.

“Show ’em how it's done, Bean.” Massie placed her on the floor and opened her bedroom door. They cheered when Bean raced outside. “This is gonna be good.”

The girls turned back to the window and waited.

Claire tried to think of an excuse that would let her get outside to warn Todd, but it was too late. Bean was already tearing across the lawn and heading straight for Aibo. She had spent days hating that fake dog: its mechanical bark, the grinding sounds its gears made when it moved its legs, and the way its eyes would light up red when it was “awake.” But now that Aibo was in danger, Claire wanted to take it all back. The dog kept Todd occupied and out of her business and that was something to celebrate, not destroy.

Within seconds, Bean swiped the bologna from Todd's fingers, devoured it, and then tore into Aibo. She grabbed him by his thin plastic tail and shook him back and forth. Todd was screaming for Bean to stop but she wouldn't.

“Massie, you should do something,” Claire urged.

But Massie ignored her. She was having too much fun watching her flannel-clad puppy defend her turf. “We're in the wild now. Remember? We have to let nature take its course.” It was obvious to Claire where the pug got her ferocious survival instincts.

It wasn't long before Aibo's lights went out and his body went flying across the yard.

Todd started chasing Bean around the yard.

Massie threw open her window and shouted, “Come, baby, hurry back to Mommy!”

The dog lifted her black face and raced into the house. A few seconds later, she was back in her canoe, curled up in a ball, happily chewing on Aibo's plastic tail.

“Show's over.” Massie closed her window and the girls returned to their sleeping bags by the campfire.

Claire had a pit in her stomach. Part of her wanted to race to her brother's side, but she didn't dare leave the room for fear of them laughing at her while she was gone. She stuffed a few squares of chocolate in her mouth. Maybe the sugar would make her feel better.

“Okay, we have to get back to our lists. We leave tomorrow morning and I still have to pack and do a full cosmetics run,” Massie said as she wheeled her mannequin into the middle of their circle. “As you can see, I dressed her for inspiration.”

Claire watched the girls study the Massie-size mannequin as if they had been commissioned to paint its portrait. They tapped away at their PalmPilots as the wolves howled in the background. Even Kristen took notes, and she wasn't going, so Claire figured she should probably jot a few things down on her scrap paper.

THE OUTFIT ON THE MANNEQUIN

• Low-waisted cargo pants, army green

• Double belt thing—looks like two brown belts, but I think it's just one wrapped around twice.

• Beige, fuzzy, tight V-neck sweater. (Looks itchy.)

• Tons of tangled necklaces

• Brown fluffy moccasin boots

Deep down inside, Claire knew she wouldn't look anything like the Massie-size mannequin. Her suitcase would be filled with long johns and thick socks, and sweatshirts in forbidden pastel colors. At least this time she'd know what she was doing wrong.

For the next twenty-five minutes, Massie sat in front of her Mac typing up a list of acceptable clothing. The girls stayed close to the fire and offered up their suggestions.

“Let's start with outerwear,” Massie said.

“Cropped bomber jackets with furry hoods,” Dylan shouted.

“Agreed,” Alicia said. “Nothing past the knees.”

“Wool and cashmere coats for nights,” Massie added as she typed.

“Given,” Alicia said.

“Okay, footwear,” Massie announced. “What are we thinking?”

“Wait,” Claire said. “What about hats and gloves?” Everyone looked at her as though she'd insisted they spend the week naked. “You know, for warmth?”

“Fine.” Massie looked over her shoulder at Claire while she typed. “But no ski hats or waterproof gloves. They have to be cute, feminine, and matching.”

Claire sighed. “What about these red hunting caps?” She pointed to her head.

“Those are just for this meeting,” Massie explained. “They're so not cute enough for the trip. I'll lend you something.”

Claire's stomach leapt at the thought. She loved borrowing Massie's clothes. It was like wearing a bulletproof vest that protected her from teasing, dirty looks, and Gap jokes.

“Now, can we move on to footwear?” Massie pleaded.

Claire nodded.

“Moccasins, knee-high Uggs, and cowboy boots,” Alicia insisted.

“Agreed,” Dylan echoed.

“Sounds good,” Claire chimed in, knowing full well she'd be wearing her tan-and-brown L. L. Bean Storm Chaser boots.

Kristen didn't say a word. She was too busy pretending to be interested in an old copy of
Teen Vogue.
She had obviously stolen it, because it said Dr. Holland on the address label.

Alicia reached behind her and held up one of Claire's sneakers. “What about rhinestone-covered Keds?”

All four girls cracked up. Claire nearly choked on a graham cracker. How long had they been holding that in? She was about to blame the tacky DIY project on Layne but decided to own it instead. The Pretty Committee girls were like wild animals: if they smelled fear, they'd pounce.

“I was wondering when one of you would notice.” Claire sat up tall. “I was almost starting to think you liked them.”

No one said a word.

“I'll be bringing them to Lake Placid, so if anyone wants to borrow them, let me know.” Claire leaned back on her elbows and casually picked a piece of graham cracker out of her teeth.

She had done well.

“Those things are even more pathetic now that Mischa Barton is modeling them.” Massie rolled her eyes. “She just misses being someone we'd like.”

“Ah-greed.” Dylan tried to force the red hunting cap over her thick curly hair. It stood straight up like Elmer Fudd's.

Claire burst out laughing.

“What?” Dylan squeaked.

“Nothing,” Claire said. Luckily she wasn't the only one who noticed how ridiculous Dylan looked.

“You look like that hunter guy from Bugs Bunny,” Alicia said.

Kristen lifted her head and giggled. “Elmer Fudd.”

It wasn't long before everyone was laughing at Dylan and the focus was off Claire. She had learned a lot in the last six months.

The girls continued working on the list until Massie was satisfied.

“Done.” She finally hit print and presented them all with a copy of the master packing list.

CONFIDENTIAL THE PRETTY COMMITTEE'S MASTER PACKING LIST LAKE PLACID

OUTERWEAR

• Cropped bomber jackets with furry hoods

• Nothing past the knees

• Wool & cashmere coats (for nights)

• Matching hat & glove sets only (strictly for warmth) Nothing you would ever wear skiing

FOOTWEAR

• Moccasins

• Uggs (knee-high only)

• Cowboy boots for night

• Rhinestone-covered Keds (if you dare)

TOPS

• Sexy V-necks

• Earth tones
only

• No Juicy Couture sweats (jeans, purses, and tops are okay)

• C&C tank tops for layering

• Cute dresses for night

• No waffle shirts or any other form of long john you might wear skiing

BOTTOMS

• Dark wash jeans

• Cords (earth tones only)

• Skirts for night (nothing below the knee)

• Tights (no black)

• No long johns

SLEEPWEAR

• Camis and boy shorts. End of story.

JEWELRY

• MASSIE ONLY: Necklaces (as many as the neck can hold)

• Diamond studs

• Gold hoops

• Rings (all kinds)

• Watches (all kinds. Even Baby G-Shock are okay, Claire
.)

• Brooches are so out. Leave them behind.

TECHNOLOGY

• Portable DVD players (and chargers)

• Cell phones (and chargers)

• Sidekicks (and chargers)

• Video cameras (and chargers)

• IPods/iPod shuffles/iPod minis/iPod nanos (and chargers)

• Portable speakers (and plugs)

• Bose noise-reduction headphones (extra AAA batteries)

• Digital cameras (and chargers)

• No Game Boys (antisocial. Besides, boys will have them. Good excuse to talk to them.)

• Flashlight optional (do they run on batteries? If so, bring batteries.)

UNDERWEAR

• Socks

• Bras (ALICIA!)

• Underwear (No granny panties, Claire
.)