Free Kristen by Lisi Harrison Page B

Holmes–style.
    “We
did
hate this place . . . until we tried the pool,” Tyler cut in. Just then Scooter floated by on a blow-up dolphin raft.
    “And the clam sauce.” Jax rubbed his finger along Ripple’s back where DSL DATER IN TRAINING was written in red goo.
    “Well, you guys can be my guests all summer if you want,” Skye sighed. “It looks like I may not be going to Alphas.”
    “What?
Why?
” Kristen gasped, giving away just how much she’d been counting on the dancer sashaying out of Westchester for good.
    Apparently too full of herself to realize that Kristen’s reaction was one of disappointment, not sympathy, Skye took off her white frame Ray-Bans and lowered her blue eyes. “My application was lost in the mail. I could do it again and send it in, but that would mean writing another ten-page entrance essay on a winning attitude, and I’d rather spend the summer with”—she brushed her fingers along Dune’s shoulder like she was checking for dust—“these guys.”
    “Awwwww.” The DSL Daters dog-piled her for a group hug, taking Dune with them.
    “Hey, let me in!” Jax jumped in.
    “And meeee.” Ripple dove on top of the heap.
    In an effort to protect his arm, Tyler stood over the hugfest and rested his butt on Ripple’s back as if she were a giant beanbag.
    Once again, Kristen stood to the side like an LBR and watched. “Don’t you have the essay saved on your computer?” she tried.
    “I had to handwrite it,” Skye giggle-yelled from the bottom of the love pile. “They wanted to analyze our penmanship to gauge our personalities.”
    “Well, did you press hard with your pen?” Kristen tried again.
    The group broke apart and Skye went through the motions of taming her wild curls. “What does
that
have to do with anything?”
    “Sometimes, if you run a pencil over a pad of paper really softly, you can see what was written on the page before it.” Kristen smile-shrugged like she was just trying to help. “It may be worth a try.”
    “The only thing worth a try are the club’s virgin mango daiquiris!” Skye threw her arms in the air like she’d just jumped out of someone’s birthday cake. “Who wants?”
    “Meeeeee!” they all shouted.
    Skye summoned the waiter by gracefully lifting her finger, the way a ballerina might complete a plié.
    Kristen hid her tearing eyes by checking her Guess Carousel watch. “I better go. Garreth is probably waiting for me.”
    Skye shielded her eyes from the sun and looked out at the green. “Doesn’t look like it.” She tilted her head toward a tall man in white linen shorts and a green polo. He and a stout bald man wearing too much madras were getting into a cart, their clubs sticking out the back. “He probably won’t be back for hours.” She smirked.
    Kristen felt like someone had shot a golf ball straight into her gut. “I’ll just come back later,” she managed. “I have tons to do today. See ya.”
    Without another word Kristen turned on her silver Pumas- and bolted back to her mother’s car, where she would begin a long afternoon of lying to Marsha about Garreth and all the wonderful things he’d said about her. And
that
would end up being the best part of her day.

THE PINEWOOD
    KRISTEN’S ROOM
    Wednesday, July 22
    4:44 P.M.
    Nothing is more pathetic than spending a beautiful summer day hiding out in bed when you’re not:
    A) Sick.
    B) Jet-lagged.
    C) Coming off an all-night study session.
    D) Recovering from surgery.
    E) All of the above.
    And Kristen was definitely E. She was depressed in a way that made Victoria Beckham look cheerful. Massie had been right from the very beginning. Dune was done. Skye had won. Seeing them together at the club had eliminated any last bits of hope she had been clinging to. And the only thing left to do now was cry about it.
    Beep . . . beeeeep . . . beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
    David Beckham climbed up the side of Kristen’s C-shaped body and licked her cheeks.
    “I hear it. I hear it.”