It's Not Easy Being Mean Part 20

"Completely done?"

"Done." Layne licked her lips.

Ma.s.sie nodded her head once and the girls stepped away.

"Wait!" Claire's voice reverberated from the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p. "What about five through ten?"

"We're good." Layne dropped a handful of M&M's in her mouth. The lockbox swung into a platter of peeled bananas, sending them cras.h.i.+ng to the ground. "Looks like those those bananas split." She burst out laughing. Everyone else glared. bananas split." She burst out laughing. Everyone else glared.

"What kind of sundaes are you having?" Claire asked, ignoring the person in the background knocking on her bathroom door.

"Sweetie, you okay in there?"

"Yeah. Be right out, Mom!"

Everyone snickered.

"Hurry, Ira is about to explain the how the actors' union works."

Claire moaned. "Coming."

"Are those chocolate-covered gummy bears?" Ma.s.sie said louder than she needed to. "Mmmm."

"They make those?"

"Good luck with your meeting, Claire. See ya." Ma.s.sie switched off the intercom. "How about a recess?" She took a long sip of her Evian.

"Oops, sorry." Layne covered her mouth, the lockbox dangling from her wrist. "I just ate the last one."

"No." Ma.s.sie slammed her bottle of water on the table. "I'm saying we need a break. From you. you. We have to discuss the terms." We have to discuss the terms."

Layne straightened her wire frames and tucked the lock-box under her armpit. "Of course."

She scooped three helpings of colorful sprinkles onto her strawberry ice cream and hurried out the door.

Kristen unb.u.t.toned her denim A&F blazer and flung it over the back of her chair. "Are we seriously going to give in to all all four of those demands?" four of those demands?"

"'Course nawt." Alicia dropped a stack of dusty legal books on the table. "We're gonna counter."

Dylan licked her spoon. "Meaning?"

"Meaning we argue her list and come back with a new one of our own." Ma.s.sie nibbled her thumbnail for the first time in years.

"What if she doesn't like our list?" Kristen asked. "What if Layne insists on all or nothing? Then what?"

"Then we'll be making masks on Friday nights and protesting on Sundays." Dylan sighed.

"Point."

"Wrong!" Ma.s.sie snapped. "We can't compromise the Pretty Committee like that. I'd rather lose the room than sacrifice the things that are important to us."

"Really?" squeaked Alicia.

"Really." Ma.s.sie exhaled the tsunami of stress that had been wreaking havoc on her insides for the last six days. "What good is a shoe if it doesn't have a sole?"

"Huh?" Dylan seemed to ask for all of them.

"Um, I have a question." Alicia raised her hand. "What if the shoe has has a sole but no one wants to wear it?" a sole but no one wants to wear it?"

Ma.s.sie grinned. "I'll find a way to make people want to wear it. That's what alphas do."

Ten minutes later, Alicia stood. "Layne we've heard your terms. Now hear ours."

She sat.

"Can I get Clah back on the phone?"

Ma.s.sie nodded at the black s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p.

Completely unaware of the Oreo chunk dangling from the side of her wig, Layne dialed.

After four rings, Claire picked up. "Mom, I'm going to get some water," she announced. "Be right back."

"I'll have some," said a deep-voiced man.

"Me too," another chimed in. "Make mine with ice."

Claire sighed.

"How's it going?" Layne asked. "How much are they going to pay you?"

"Don't know yet. We're still trying to decide if I should go to summer school or night school."

"Ew to both!" Alicia winced.

"I know."

"Won't you be back here in the fall?" Layne asked.

Ma.s.sie wrote her name in bubble letters on the card-board back of her legal pad, pretending not to care.

"No, the final act is being shot in Bhutan. Then in January they want me to go to j.a.pan to do press junkets. You know, so I'll have experience when it's time to do them here."

"Sayonara." Ma.s.sie waved to the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p, placing all her hope in reverse psychology. "Now can we puh-lease move on?"

"Ugh! I hate my hair," hair," Claire whispered. Claire whispered.

"No argument here." Ma.s.sie flipped through her notes. "We hate your hair too."

Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen snickered.

"I said," Claire whisper-shouted, "I hate hate that I'm not that I'm not there. there."

"Don't worry, it will grow back eventually." Ma.s.sie lifted her legal pad. "Here are the terms set forth by the Pretty Committee."

Layne pulled a feathered quill and a tiny jar of red ink out of her wool kneesock and set them on the table.

"One. Claire may be reinstated into the Pretty Committee."

Claire squeaked with joy.

"As long, long," Ma.s.sie continued, "as she apologizes for lying about Cam's uncle and-"

"I'm sorry." Claire sounded choked up. "I will never ever do anything like-"

"Forgiven," Ma.s.sie interrupted. "And as long as she remains in Westchester. If she moves, she's out." as long as she remains in Westchester. If she moves, she's out."

Layne dipped her quill, then scribbled on her parchment.

"Two. Layne can go to one sleepover per month, not two. And we will will make fun of her, only if she insists on working with clay, re-creating unforgettable scenes from Tony Awardwinning Broadway shows, or making masks." make fun of her, only if she insists on working with clay, re-creating unforgettable scenes from Tony Awardwinning Broadway shows, or making masks."

Claire giggled.

Layne opened her mouth, but Ma.s.sie cut her off. "And yes, she can put her sleeping bag beside Claire's-so long as Claire is there there. That's a given."

Layne lowered her head and wrote.

"Three. Unlimited access to the room has been denied. Permission to store poster board and other sign-making materials has been granted, so long as they are kept in a suitcase made by Louis Vuitton or Coach.

"Four. We cannot and will not promise to pretend we like you in public."

Layne slammed down her quill.

"If we like you, we will act like it. If we don't, we won't."

"Fine." Layne resumed writing.

Alicia stood. "That's our offer. Take it or leave it."

She sat.

"I have one more thing," Claire said. "No more eyebrow jokes."

Layne bit down on her locket.

"You mean we can't refer to them as the Bush twins any-more?" Ma.s.sie snickered.

"No!"

"Hmmmm." Ma.s.sie rubbed her chin like she was mulling it over. "On one condition." She glared at Layne. "Is the picture of Tricky still inside that locket?"

Layne spit it out of her mouth and nodded.

"Wipe it off and give it to me."

The way Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen looked at her, Ma.s.sie might as well have borrowed Claire's Keds.

"Why do you want this this?" Layne clutched the gold necklace.

Ma.s.sie wiggled her fingers. "Deal or no deal?"

"Will you stop making fun of my clothes?" Layne asked.

"I'll try."

"No deal." Layne popped it back in her mouth.

"Okay, fine. Deal."

"And you'll compliment me in public?" she pressed, slowly removing the heart-shaped locket from between her wet lips.

"Fine, fine, whatevs." Ma.s.sie held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. "Just give it to me before your saliva burns a hole though it."

Carefully, Layne lifted the tarnished gold chain over her wig and slid it across the table.

Ignoring her friends' puzzled glares, Ma.s.sie picked it up with a piece of legal paper, disenfected it with Evian, and then dropped it in her clutch. "Looks like we're all done here."

"One more thing." Alicia walked a stapled doc.u.ment over to Layne. "This confidentiality agreement was created by my father, Len Rivera, a lawyer lawyer." Alicia folded her arms across her chest. "You and Claire need to sign it."

"What is it?"

"It says you will never, ever, ever tell another human being, dead or alive, that you found the key before we did. This fact-which we are about to erase from the history books-should never appear in print, code, tattoos, foreign languages, or journals, or on handheld or desk-based electronic devices, billboards, or T-s.h.i.+rts, or engraved on jewelry or anything else we haven't thought of."

Layne dipped her quill and scrawled her name at the bottom of the doc.u.ment.

"Kuh-laire." Alicia blew Layne's signature dry. "Ma.s.sie will bring this over for you to sign later this afternoon."

"'Kay."

"Great. Then are we done?" Layne unclipped her cape.

"Not quite."

"Oh." Layne untied the black bow that held the low ponytail in her wig and dangled it above Ma.s.sie's palm. A tiny key hung off the end. "Will you unlock me?" She held out her wrist, which was still handcuffed to the metal safe.

"Given." Ma.s.sie unlocked Layne's handcuffs and then grabbed the box that held the key to her future.