The Clique_ Charmed And Dangerous_ The Clique Prequel Part 8

Dylan burst out laughing. "How d'you do do that?" that?"

"You actually wanna know know?" Cam asked, shocked.

"Toe-dally." Dylan nodded, imagining herself burping words with the COCs. Maybe a little boy-humor was just what OCD needed to loosen up. Somehow, she doubted it.

"Stay here." Derrick pushed through the dense crowd like a running back, leaving Dylan and Cam on the packed dance floor. An exchange of friendly smiles and awkward glances around the party made it even more obvious that neither one of them had much experience with the opposite s.e.x.

"I kinda wish we had boys at OCD," Dylan shouted over Q-Tip. "School would be more fun."

"Yeah." Cam stuffed his hands in his pockets, pulled out a handful of gummy sours, and opened his palm. "Want?"

"No thanks," Dylan politely declined. "I'm trying to lose weight." She waited a few seconds, hoping he'd take the bait.

"Why?" he mumbled.

Yes! Ma.s.sie Blo-was wrong! Wrong and jealous! Ma.s.sie Blo-was wrong! Wrong and jealous!

"Yeah, you're right." Dylan shrugged. "Why?" She pinched a red sugarcoated bear and dropped it in her mouth. Cam ate a green one. They looked at each other and giggle-winced from the sour rush.

"Here!" Derrick appeared with two gla.s.ses of icy c.o.ke. "Drink these super-fast."

Without question, Dylan did what she was told.

"As soon as that burp pa.s.ses your throat, speak!" he explained. "Timing is everything. If you do it too soon, you'll puke."

Cam giggled, then popped another gummy in his mouth. He chew-winced and watched Dylan. Derrick was staring too. His b.u.t.t wiggled slowly, like a tail starting to wag. He reminded her of a happy yellow Lab, and Dylan felt completely at ease... until her torso tightened with pressure.

"Something's happening!" She tapped her chest, encouraging the gas. Up it crept. Up... up... up... Slowly but steadily, the burp inched toward her throat. Stinging her ears and pus.h.i.+ng past her tonsils, the invisible bubble reached its mark. Then, with grace and focus, Dylan bellowed...

"Co-ca Co-laaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

The boys cracked up and high-fived her as if she had just scored the winning goal in some sport that had goals. Dylan's eyes watered, a little from the burp but mostly from the pride.

"I did it!"

"Wait until your friends hear you." Derrick beamed.

Dylan thought of the COCs and immediately knew that burping words would appeal to them about as much as a hidden camera in the girls' bathroom. Unless she could figure out a way to burp the who's who articles in the Hollywood Reporter Hollywood Reporter, they probably wouldn't be interested. "I don't think they'd be that into it."

"Then you need new friends," Derrick insisted.

Dylan pressed her glossy lips together and nodded. He was right.

"'Scuse me," slurred a blond-bouffanted mom dressed in a tight black c.o.c.ktail dress. A gold crown was on her head and an empty martini gla.s.s was dangling in her hand. "Would-ju mind taking our pik-chure?" She gestured to the other moms standing behind her, who were also wearing black dresses.

Dylan reached for the disposable camera. "Su-"

"I'll do it." Derrick grabbed it away with a devilish grin.

While the women linked arms and finger-fluffed their hair, Derrick aimed the camera down the back of his jeans and fired off three shots.

Dylan and Cam turned away, hiding their laughter.

"Harri, you are, like, the coolest girl we've ever met," Derrick told Dylan after he handed back the camera. "You're like a dude, but not."

Dylan's cheeks warmed from the compliment. "Thanks."

Cam nodded in agreement. "Do you play sports?"

"Nah." Dylan shook her head regretfully. "I'm too skinny."

Derrick nodded like he saw her point. "What's your real na-"

"Dylan!" Shouted a thin, Elmer's gluecolored man. "I've been looking everywhere for you." He pressed a finger against his headset and pushed a b.u.t.ton on his walkie-talkie. "Got 'er. Have Merri-Lee's bodyguard meet us... dance floor... near the soda bar.... Over."

"Your real name is Dylan?" Derrick asked shyly. "I'm-"

"You're Derrick and he's Cam."

"How'd you know that that?"

Dylan pointed at their Canine Chorus name tags and smiled smugly.

"Oh." He shrugged, a little embarra.s.sed.

"Time to go," the stage manager said once Merri-Lee's hefty bodyguard arrived.

"Thanks for the lesson," Dylan whisper-giggled. "And the sours."

The boys both told her she was welcome, and smile-waved goodbye. It was obvious from the awestruck s.h.i.+mmer in their eyes that they thought she was special. A skinny, fun dude-chick with trendsetting hair, who'd burped a four-syllable name on her very first try.

Dylan sauntered away with the confidence of a Grammy-toting pop star. If they thought she was fun now, wait till they saw her on TV.

WESTCHESTER, NYTHE COLEMAN RESIDENCE3748 BREAKWATER CIRCLE BREAKWATER CIRCLEFriday, December 31st9:08 P.M. P.M.

Kristen tossed her math book onto the coffee table. It landed with a thud, summing up her state of mind perfectly. Studying positive integers was the only "positive" in her entire night. And she couldn't even concentrate, because Ali had been yapping ever since she got baby Max back to sleep.

"What do you mean he was flirting flirting with her?" Ali twirled her dirty-blond blowout. "Flirting like with her?" Ali twirled her dirty-blond blowout. "Flirting like talking talking, or flirting like touching touching?"

Kristen rolled her eyes and turned on the TV. Merri-Lee Marvil's party was raging. The DJ was playing Lil' Bow Wow's "Bounce With Me" and judging by all the sweaty foreheads, it looked like the party guests had been bouncing with him for a while.

"You have have to keep him away from her," Ali whispered into her cell phone, pacing in front of the TV. "I dunno, spill salsa on her lap, just do to keep him away from her," Ali whispered into her cell phone, pacing in front of the TV. "I dunno, spill salsa on her lap, just do something something!"

Mic in hand, Merri-Lee stepped into the foreground and began shouting over the music. "Make sure you stick around, because a very lucky girl is about to have her New Year's dreams come true when she gets kissed by ThRob over at our Orlando party."

They cut to a stunned blond girl with crooked bangs and round blue eyes standing in front of her house. She was dressed in a ridiculous red dress waving, metronome style, at the camera. Kristen hate-kicked her math book onto the floor. Even the freaks were having fun tonight!

"Tell him you're on the phone with me and that I say hi." Ali crossed in front of the TV. "Tell 'im. Tell 'im now now. Go. Gogogogogo. Yeah, I'll wait!"

"Move!" Kristen waved Ali aside. Kristen waved Ali aside.

Ali responded by sticking out her tongue and middle finger.

Kristen turned up the TV.

"We're also going to see performances from..." Merri-Lee paused, and then looked down. She squinted in confusion while the rest of her forehead remained Botox-smooth. The camera pulled back to reveal a brunette, about Kristen's age, whispering something to Merri-Lee. Then she grabbed the mic from Merri-Lee's hand and addressed the crowd. Wearing kneesocks, wedges, and a black dress covered in metallic triangles, she had Teen Vogue Teen Vogue style and style and CosmoGirl CosmoGirl confidence. confidence.

"Excuse me, I have an announcement to make." Her alluring amber eyes were fixed on the uproarious guests, refusing to be discouraged by the chaos. Off to the side, Merri-Lee was shaking her head and shrugging her bony shoulders, letting everyone know she had no clue who the girl was or what she was doing. But as always, Merri-Lee embraced spontaneity. Her end-of-year highlight shows were always hilarious because of it.

"I lost some very important charms," the girl shouted. "A dollar sign, a shoe, and a pig. If anyone finds them, please return them to me, Ma.s.sie Block. My cell number is-"

Merri Lee grabbed the mic away from Ma.s.sie. "Okay, that's enough. We don't want every creep on the planet calling you now, do we?" She giggle-petted Ma.s.sie on the head.

"Watch the hair." Ma.s.sie swept Merri-Lee's hand aside.

Kristen gasp-laughed. The girl had guts.

"Ha! What a hoot!" Merri-Lee took a step back to admire the intriguing stranger. "You sound like one of my daughters." Then she leaned in, as if confiding in Ma.s.sie. "Wait, you don't think you're fat, do you?"

"Gawd, no." Ma.s.sie put her hands on her hips and rolled back her shoulders. "I'm perfect." She winked into the lens.

Kristen burst out laughing. Was the girl joking or boasting? Not that it really mattered. She was exactly the kind of person Kristen needed in her life. Fearless. Flawless. Fabulous. Fun! Fun!

"Okay!" Ali shouted into her phone. "I promise I'll be there as soon as I possibly can. Yes, alone alone." She side-glared at Kristen. "It won't be too late-the Colemans are pretty dorky. They never stay out past-"

The front door clicked open.

"Gottagobye." Ali hung up her phone, slid her marshmallow-and-c.o.ke concoction over toward Kristen, and then picked the math book off the floor. She plopped down on the couch and began leafing through the pages.

Kristen considered telling her that the book was upside down but didn't bother.

"Mr. and Mrs. Coleman!" Ali looked up. "What are you doing home so early? It isn't even midnight."

Mrs. Coleman gripped her mouth with one hand and her stomach with the other. Then she made a mad dash for the bathroom.

"Greta ate some bad sus.h.i.+." Mr. Coleman loosened his tie. "She threw up five times at Merri-Lee's."

"You were at Merri-Lee's?" Kristen cried.

"Not the point," Ali said through clenched teeth. Then smiled with the compa.s.sion of a nun. "I pray she'll be okay. We should probably get going."

"There was bad sus.h.i.+ at Merri-Lee's?" Kristen wondered, unable to imagine anything being bad at that party.

"No, we ate before we got there." He pulled a money clip stuffed with bills out of his side pocket. "We stopped at my sister's house first. She took an international cooking cla.s.s at the community center and made her own tuna hand rolls." He shuddered. "I warned her. I said, 'My sister can't make reservations. What makes you think she can cook?' But Greta insisted."

"Wow, that's too bad," Ali said, checking the time on the cable box. "I guess we better get going then."

"Listen," Mr. Coleman said, flipping through his cash, "I won't be able to take you home because, you know." He thumbed in the general direction of his barfing wife. "But I told our driver to drop you wherever you need to go."

"Awesome!" Ali stuffed the math book under her arm. "Hey Kristen, you may want to put your gla.s.s of whatever that is in the sink. It's rude to leave dishes."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Kristen stomped into the kitchen, vowing revenge on her cousin with every indignant step she took.

She returned to find Ali stuffing a wad of cash in her pocket.

"Thanks again, girls," Mr. Coleman said, ushering them toward the door. He tossed a gold dollar-sign charm on the front-foyer table, then extended his hand for a shake. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year to you, sir." Ali returned the gesture with Girl Scout gusto.

"What's that?" Kristen asked, eyeing the charm.

"Oh, just a little something Greta spotted on the ground at the party while she had her head between her knees. She wanted to take it home for good luck, but frankly, I don't think it's working."

Kristen picked it up and closed her fist around the gold charm.

"Would you like to have it?" Mr. Coleman asked before Kristen had the chance.

Too overwhelmed to speak, she nodded her head yes and was out the door before he could change his mind.

The limo smelled like cigar smoke and hair spray. "We're going back to Merri-Lee Marvil's party, please," Kristen told the driver, cracking the window.

He started the engine.

"No way!" Ali barked. "He's dropping me at Morgan's house." She pulled a pair of patent leather stilettos from her green-and-white L. L. Bean bag.

"Please," Kristen heard herself beg. Fate was calling. She had to answer. "I'll only be a minute. Then we can go wherever you want."

"We?" Ali snapped, hooking the stiff heel of her stiletto and forcing it over her heel.

"You're not going anywhere with me. You're going home." She leaned forward. "First stop, the Pinewood Apartments, and then we're going to 6783 Sycamore Crescent. Over by the high school."

"No, we're not." Kristen leaned forward too. "We're going to Merri-Lee's party, then then Sycamore Crescent." Sycamore Crescent."

"Are not!" Ali unscrewed her mascara wand.

"Okay then." Kristen sat back on the black leather seats. "I'll just follow you to the party and tell everyone that sometimes you pick your nose and roll your boogers into a ball when you think no one is looking."

Ali punched the seat. Makeup scattered onto the floor. "You can't!" she pleaded.

"I can and I will." Kristen folded her arms across her red Juicy hoodie. "Unless we stop at Merri-Lee's first."

Ali checked the time on her cell phone. "You better be quick."

Kristen leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.