Kristen, page 8
And now she wanted her prize.
“Here.” Oprah handed her a clear orange Juicy beach tote. Inside was a can of whipped cream and two spoons. “It’s fat-free.” She winked.
Looking out at her betas, Kristen’s eyes filled with happy tears. She wanted to make a speech to show them how grateful she was for their brilliance and support, but she didn’t have a chance. In one swift movement, Einstein pulled off her Cleopatra wig and Shakespeare playfully shoved her out of the bushes. Intermission was over. And they were dying to see how this love story would end.
Kristen would have liked a moment to collect her thoughts. Or rehearse her opening line. Or gloss. But Dune noticed her the instant she flew out of the shrubs.
“What are you doing here?” He lifted his head and lowered his phone mid-text.
“Sweet tooth.” She held-swung the bag of whipped cream as she flip-flopped toward him, suddenly aware of the silky white Grecian dress against her illegally shaved legs. That, and the way he was beaming, reassured Kristen that gloss wasn’t necessary. With the Witty Committee behind her, the warm summer breeze around her, and Dune smile-waiting for her just ahead, Kristen felt perfect just the way she was.
“Did you do all this?” Dune’s light brown eyes looked like they had been sprinkled with glitter.
“I had a little help.” She casually put her hand behind her back and flashed a thumbs-up to the Witty Committee.
“How’d ya know I’d be here?” Dune asked, with the amused confusion of someone who had just walked into his own surprise party. “How did you pull it off? Why did you do it?”
Finally, a question she wanted to answer.
“I thought we were going to get revenge. And when I saw you at the pool today, I figured you were casing it, you know, so we could do this,” she lied. “I didn’t realize you were into Skye. I didn’t think she was your type.” She let her voice trail off like a seasoned soap actress. “Sorry if I ruined things between you guys,” she lied again.
“You didn’t.” Dune took the bag out of Kristen’s hand and pulled out the whipped cream. “The whole reason I came by tonight was to tell her I only wanted to be friends.” He pulled the red top off the can of Reddi-wip. “And now I’m not sure I even want that. That OCDiva can’t take a sucker punch. How lame!”
“Yeah, I guess you must have met, like, a million pretty girls on your surf trips you’d rather hang with.” Kristen widened her eyes, trying to look cheery about it.
“Yeah.” He got down on one knee and began drawing a whipped cream heart on the pool deck. “But none of them have it all.” He paused. “Like you.”
A muted mini awwww whined out from the bushes behind them.
Suddenly, Kristen’s insides felt like they had been filled with helium. And if she didn’t grab hold of something soon, she’d float up into the starry sky and never see him again.
“What do you think?” Dune stood and waved his tanned arm over his masterpiece. Inside the heart he had written KG & DB.
The whipped cream would probably melt in less than an hour, but the memory would last forever.
“I see them!” shouted a man’s voice from somewhere in the darkness. “Freeze!”
It was Dwight.
Panic instantly chased the floaty feeling from Kristen’s body. Her heart was no longer thumping to the beat of love ballads. It was more like the theme from the TV show Cops—Bad boys, bad boys whatchu gonna do /whatchu gonna do when they come for you… .
“Come on!” Dune grabbed Kristen’s arm and pulled her under a chaise. They lay side by side on the warm deck, panting and squeezing each other’s hands. If she hadn’t been at risk of being punished for an entire year, this would have been the best moment of her life.
Suddenly, a static-soaked voice bleated out over a walkie-talkie, “Three suspects just ran from the bushes but one is still there gathering up some computer gear.”
“Can you get a positive ID?” Dwight asked.
“Um, well, it kind of looks like Albert Einstein.” The other guard chuckled.
“Layne!” Kristen mouthed to Dune.
“This is no time for jokes, Karl. Apprehend! I’ll head over to the fence and nab the others before they crawl under. Maybe now Garreth will take my security memos more seriously.” He huffed as he took off toward the green.
“Come on.” Kristen began wiggling out from under the chaise. “Now’s our chance!”
She took off toward the main entrance of the club. With the guards running in the opposite direction, it was the perfect place to slip out.
“Where are you going?” Dune whisper-shouted.
Kristen stopped and looked back. He was heading toward the bushes, straight for Karl.
“That’s the wrong way,” she insisted. Then mouthed, “Karl.”
“Don’t you want to save your friend?” he asked, his body still turned toward the bushes.
“I can’t! I’ll be grounded for a year if I get caught.” As she said the words, her eyes filled with tears. Getting caught meant no Dune, no sleepovers at Massie’s, and no soccer until the ninth grade! The stakes were too high. Even for a member of the Witty Committee.
“You can’t leave a buddy behind!”
“I won’t be able to see you until next summer.” She squeezed the billowing material of her dress with suddenly sweat-slicked palms.
Dune studied her face as if he had just woken from a coma. “You’re not going to see me anyway.” He quickly turned and raced toward Layne.
But it was too late.
“Ahhhhhhh!” she shouted as Karl crept up behind her and blinded her with his industrial-size flashlight.
Tears began rolling down Kristen’s cheeks as she struggled to decide between:
A) Saving her friend.
B) Saving her relationship.
C) Saving herself.
Her head chose A. Her heart chose B. But her legs chose C.
THE PINEWOOD
THE ROOF
Thursday, July 23
10:58 A.M.
Kristen pulled her phone from the pocket of her white cotton dress and stared at its screen.
The envelope icon on her black Razr wasn’t there, just like it hadn’t been there the last eight times she’d checked.
Each time Kristen thought about last night she kicked her soccer ball as hard as she could. And each time, it slammed against the cement wall that surrounded the roof of her building with a thwack.
How could she have left Layne behind?
Thwack!
How could Dune have left her behind?
Thwack!
Would she rather be punished for a year and have Dune’s respect?
Thwack!
Or have freedom and no one to share it with?
Thwack!
The sun was bearing down on her unprotected scalp like a judgmental eye. And the deserted black tar roof offered no relief. In fact, it felt like she was burning in a concrete hell, and, certain she deserved it, Kristen chose to stick it out.
Technically, with no job, no friends, and no crush, hell was everywhere she went, but up here, no one could see her cry … or sweat—two things she had been doing all morning.
Finally, Kristen allowed herself a long sip of tap water from her Evian bottle. She wiped her mouth on her salty arm, then pulled her black Razr from the pocket on her white H&M cargo dress (which would accidentally get caught on a nail and be ripped to shreds one week before the Pretty Committee got back).
No messages.
Thwack!
She shuffled across the scorching tar to retrieve her ball but stopped midway when her cell vibrated. It was a text.
From … Dune!
Dune: Need to talk ASAP. Where are you?
Kristen: Roof. Pinewood bldg. Take elevator to ninth floor.
Dune: See u in three minutes.
Three minutes?
Thwack!
Kristen tried to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the bottom of an abandoned Budweiser can, but hot beer trickled out all over her arm and made her chive-scented BO smell even worse. She ran around the perimeter of the roof, looking for a faucet, but found nothing. Maybe she could text Dune back and tell him to come over in an hour. After she had some time to shower and rehearse her this-is-why-I-left-a-buddy-behind speech.
But it was too late.
A car door slammed below, and, sure enough, Brice’s blue Chevy Avalanche pulled away.
There would be no shower.
Thwack!
No gloss.
Thwack!
No rehearsal.
Thwack!
No—
The metal door to the roof opened suddenly with a pump-hiss.
Kristen dried her eyes, then turned slowly, as if weighed down by shame.
A stocky blond with frizzy hair and brown terry cloth jumper stood before her fanning her face. “I bet you could get a killer tan up here,” the girl said. “It’s much closer to the sun than my roof. You can feel it.”
“Ripple?” Kristen’s heart sank like the elevator she wished she was taking her back down to her condo.
“Yeah, sorry.” She shrugged. “I pulled Dune’s phone out of his pocket just before Dad dropped him off at GAS.”
“Why?”
“If you got a text from me, would you have responded?” She lifted her face to the sun-soaked sky.
Kristen didn’t have to say a word. They both knew the answer.
“What do you want?” she asked, kicking the black-and-white ball. It rebounded off the wall and landed right back at her cleats. A move she wished Dune had been there to see.
Ripple pulled a black elastic off her wrist and tied back her perma-parched hair. “Turns out Skye got accepted to Alphas after all.”
For an instant, Kristen felt lighter than Kate Bosworth. Then she realized Skye’s absence wouldn’t bring her any closer to Dune. That was so yesterday. So before-he-saw-her-turn-her-back-on-Layne. “And?”
“And she’s being all un toward the DSL Daters.” Ripple kicked a cigarette butt with her clear jellies. “She’s dismantling the group. Says she only wants to hang with dancers now.”
“And?”
“Annnnnnnddddd I want you to be my tutor again so I can get Massie-fied. I’m offering you your old job back. You’ll get to see Duuuu-uuuuune.”
The heat on the roof suddenly seemed unbearable.
“Forget the job.” Kristen lifted her hair and fanned he back of her neck. “I’ll tell you what you need to know for free.”
Ripple speed-nodded and air-clapped. “I’m ready.” Her mouth hung open, ready to gobble up whatever Kristen had to offer.
“Massie thinks wannabes are LBRs minus ten.”
Ripple crinkled her brows in confusion.
“If she thinks you’re trying to be like her, she won’t like you. She only likes people who like themselves. And she only respects people who like themselves more than they like her. You have to accept who you are and own it. So if you’re living your life to impress other people, which is what you’re doing—”
“And what you’re doing,” Ripple snapped.
Ouch!
Her accusation hit Kristen like a much-needed bucket of ice water. For a dumb nine-year-old, Ripple was kind of smart.
“Correction—it’s what I was doing.” Kristen jammed her toe under her soccer ball, flipped it up, and caught it. “Those days are over. Class dismissed.”
THE PINEWOOD
KRISTEN’S ROOM
Thursday, July 23
11:33 A.M.
“THE COMMITTEE IS ASSEMBLED,” announced the computer-generated voice.
Kristen sat at her white IKEA desk and lowered her eyes, unable to face what she had done, or the people she had done it to.
EINSTEIN (Layne Abeley) BILL GATES (Danh Bondok)
Disguise: tweed coat, bushy mustache, wiry gray wig Disguise: glasses, light blue button-down, dark blue blazer
Expertise: physics Expertise: technology
OPRAH (Rachel Walker) SHAKESPEARE (Aimee Snyder)
Disguise: wavy black wig, gold hoop earrings, pumpkin orange blouse Disguise: gray bald-in-the-front, curly-in-the-back wig, mustache, white collar sticking out of a black cloak
Expertise: anthropology (the study of humankind, not the cute and affordable shabby-chic store) Expertise: affairs of the heart and the Romance languages
“What do we stand for?” she asked under the cover of her Cleopatra wig.
“BOB,” they answered.
“And what does BOB stand for?”
“Brains over beauty!”
Kristen sighed and then decided to just say it. “I am officially resigning as the leader of the Witty Committee,” she told the grass-stained hem of her white silk goddess dress.
“What? Why?” Bill Gates screeched. His unconstrained passion forced Kristen to lift her eyes. “We thought you called the meeting to thank us.”
“Well, that too.” Kristen felt like she had one of David Beckham’s fur balls in the back of her throat. “What you did for me last night was—”
“Not last night, girl.” Oprah shook her head. “Today.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Skye got her acceptance letter to Alphas this morning, didn’t you hear?” Shakespeare smirked. “And I am pleased to say I wrote her entire essay with a quill.”
Einstein, Oprah, and Bill applauded.
Kristen grinned but wasn’t exactly sure why. “What did you do?”
“I got rid of her for good.” Shakespeare smiled. “Heaven knows I was no help when it came to last night’s tech circus. So I contributed in my own way and wrote a brilliant essay in iambic pentameter.”
“Seriously?” Kristen grabbed the sides of the screen and kissed it like it was Aimee’s face. “I thought you guys were mad at me.”
“We were,” Layne said, using her best German Einstein accent. “But after the Witty Committee rescued me from the country club cops, we thought about all the stupid things we did when we were in crush mode. And we decided to forgive you.”
“Like what?” Kristen giggled in anticipation.
“You know the hole I drilled in the pipes at Briarwood?” Layne smiled sheepishly. “The one that caused the wave pool to leak and destroy the whole facility?”
Kristen speed-nodded. She had no idea where this was going, but she certainly remembered getting the news before summer break that the boys’ school had collapsed and was submerged underwater.
“Well, I did it because I wanted my crush, Dempsey, to go to OCD.” Her cheeks turned bright red. Surrounded by the silver wig, she looked like a Christmas tree ornament draped in tinsel.
“No way!” Kristen covered her mouth in shock. “How did you know it would work?”
“The OCD manifest states that in the case of emergency, one school will take in the other.” Layne shrugged. “It was a no-brainer. He gets back from Bali mid-September. I can’t wait to tell him the news. I’ve already reserved a locker for him next to mine.”
Kristen’s hand was still on her mouth as she shook her head in utter disbelief.
“And I intercepted Skye’s first essay so she’d stay in Westchester.” Bill Gates dabbed his forehead with a screen-cleaning cloth.
“Since when do you like Skye?” Kristen squealed, feeling one percent jealous. Even though she didn’t like Danh in that way, she liked that he liked her. And she loved that he liked her more than Skye.
“I don’t.” Bill’s neck was starting to break out in red blotches.
“Tell her,” Oprah gently nudged.
“I like you,” he blurted. “I was hoping she’d stay here, Dune would stay with her, and you’d be free.”
“Awwww, Bill.” Kristen touched her heart. “I’m so, so—”
“It’s okay.” Bill smiled like he meant it. “I’m moving on.”
“You see,” Shakespeare spoke up, “I agreed to wear this stupid costume and write with a feather because I like Bill.” She looked up, so it appeared she was making love-eyes at Bill on Kristen’s screen. Bill glanced down at her quadrant and smiled.
The two giggled as if they had already made it official with a lip kiss or two.
“Don’t you just love all this honesty?” Oprah gushed.
“So you forgive me?” Kristen asked everyone, but mostly Layne.
“If you promise one thing.” Layne tucked a wiry gray wig strand behind her ear. “Help me get Dempsey next year before someone else snatches him up.”
“I swear.” Kristen lifted her pinky, knowing Dempsey was a total LBR. The blond, green-eyed chubby gamer who worked the lighting board for the Young Actors’ Program at the community playhouse would be lucky times ten to land a girl like Layne.
“Then you’re forgiven.” She lifted her pinky and touched it to the camera on her computer. For a second, her quadrant was filled with an oversize pink finger.
“What are you going to do?” Shakespeare asked.
Kristen’s happy bubble popped as her thoughts were forced back to Dune. She had no idea what she was going to do. No idea how to live with this sadness for the rest of the summer. No idea how to convince him to give her a second chance.
“Knock, knock,” a boy’s voice said from her bedroom doorway. “Can I come in?”
She was about to find out.
THE PINEWOOD
KRISTEN’S ROOM
Thursday, July 23
11:55 A.M.
“What are you doing here?” Kristen quickly closed her MacBook, pulled the Cleopatra wig off her head, and jammed it under her green and blue duvet. Her sweat-drenched hair had dried into what probably looked like Donald Trump in a windstorm. And she was wearing the same Greek goddess dress he’d seen her in last night. But she would never compromise the Witty Committee for love again, not even when her looks were at stake. So she grabbed her mint green satin VS robe off the floor and casually slipped it on to avoid questions.
“I came to say goodbye.” Dune hooked his thumbs under the straps of his red Gravis backpack.
Kristen’s stomach pitched. Hope was gone.
“I thought you already said goodbye at the country club,” she said coolly. Inside her mind, a soccer stadium–size crowd jumped out of their seats and cheered for her quick retort and iron resolve.
