Free Sealed with a Diss by Lisi Harrison

their upper lips in disgust and rolled their eyes.
    “Mr. Plovert has the bear, not you,” Dr. Loni reminded Kemp.
    “Sorry.”
    “Ha!” Dylan leaned over and playfully tugged Alicia’s side-pony. “So much for not eating till I’m married.”
    “Are you sure they meant you and not me?” Alicia whimpered.
    Dylan widened her green eyes in disbelief.
    “No offense.” Alicia placed a kind hand on her friend’s shoulder. “It’s just that these guys are usually crushing on me and—”
    “And today they’re nawt.” Dylan turned away. “Chew on that! Oops, sorry, I forgot. You don’t
eat
!”
    “When I write about her in my journal”—Plovert pushed up his glasses again—“I call her Marvil-ous, you know, ’cause of her last name.”
    “Very nice.” Dr. Loni applauded. “That was a very brave admission.”
    “Ehmagawd, I have a fan club! I have a fan club!” Dylan jumped to the ground and danced to the beat of her raging excitement.
    “I have a crush on Griffin.” Kristen shimmied beside her like Shakira. “How cool will it be to show up at a party with a mysterious pizza heir?”
    “What did Derrington mean by re-gifting?” Claire asked, feeling like a stone statue. She could sense the excitement swirling around her insides, but she felt heavy, immovable.
    “What did Cam mean by ‘big issue with Massie’?” The alpha stomped her wet bare foot.
    “Why didn’t anyone talk about
me
?” Alicia whined. “You’re not going to tell Skye, are you?”
    The bell rang.
    “Ehmagawd,” they all shouted, and then hurried for the door.
    “Hit the lights,” Massie barked.
    The room went dark.
    “What are we gonna tell Myner?” Claire asked as Massie scrambled to lock the door behind her.
    “Bad sushi,” everyone answered at once.
    “Fine.” Claire accepted their lame excuse without question. Getting busted by her geography teacher was suddenly at the bottom of the list of things to freak out about. Abandoned moral high horses, a mysterious camp-tramp named Nikki, and re-gifted cinnamon hearts had shot straight to the top.
    Not necessarily in that order.

O CTAVIAN C OUNTRY D AY S CHOOL
T HE C AFÉ
    Monday, April 19th
    3:48 P.M.
    “Sit!” Mr. Myner pointed at table number three with his cleft chin. Positioned between the swinging kitchen doors and the carving station, the dreaded table was plagued by an invisible cloud that still smelled like a mix of soapy metal spoons and rare roast beef, even though the Café had been closed for hours.
    “Meat seats,” Dylan coughed.
    The girls fought to suppress their giggles as they sat.
    “You’re probably wondering why I’m making you serve your detention here, in the Café, and not in my classroom.” Mr. Myner—aka the Brawny Paper Towel Guy—folded his muscular, too-tanned-for-April arms across his log-brown flannel button-down.
    The Pretty Committee examined their cuticles.
    “Well, for starters, I’m not sure you girls know where my classroom
is
.” He towered above them like a giant redwood tree and stared straight into Massie’s amber eyes.
    She fired back dozens of invisible hate daggers, each one Gillette Venus sharp.
    “And don’t think I’m going to let you turn this detention into an opportunity to cram for your finals.” The corners of his full, dark lips curled into a “Ha! Take that” smile.
    Massie looked away, refusing to give the cocky Birken-stalker the satisfaction of seeing her asphyxiate on lemon-scented cow fumes.
    It was the first time she had seen the Café empty. Usually she was holding court at table eighteen, all the way in the far corner by the windows. And this unfamiliar perspective—without the lively chatter or pop-hiss of opening soda cans—made her feel strangely vulnerable and out of place.
    “Now.” Mr. Myner sat on the edge of their table and crossed his thick log legs. “Who would like to explain why you missed today’s soil sampling?”
    The girls giggled at his choice of