Free Popularity Takeover by Melissa de La Cruz

of her life.
    â€œLili . . . ,” Max said, trying to catch up with her rapid pace.
    But there was no time to hear what he would say,unless she wanted to bring the wrath of Khan down on her head once again. All too soon, Lili and her shopping bags were locked inside, and the SUV was pulling away. She lifted one purple-tipped hand and forlornly waved good-bye. Max raised a hand in return, looking deeply troubled.
    Lili consoled herself with the knowledge that even if she’d made a total fool of herself, at least he knew the truth.

10
    MEMBERSHIP HAS ITS PRICE
    THE ASHLEYS WERE IN CRISIS mode and—as Ashley insisted—something, or someone, had to give. Ashley didn’t care that A. A. had to cancel a tennis lesson or that Lili had to give up an afternoon tutoring underprivileged kids. The Ashleys were so busy on Sundays because being fabulous was a 24-hour job. Because if anyone was giving up anything, it wasn’t going to be Ashley.
    A. A. looked around Lauren’s ostentatious house, waiting for the other girls to show, so they could have what Ashley referred to as a Major Brainstorming Session about Congé.
    After she rang Lauren’s doorbell and was takenaback by its booming chime—based on Big Ben, Lauren explained—A. A. was greeted by Trudy Page.
    â€œI know I should let the butler answer the door,” Trudy apologized, ushering A. A. into the concert hall­­­–size lobby, with its pitched glass roof and contorted modern sculptures.
    Trudy herself was wearing something semi­sculptural. It looked like some Alexander McQueen creation that wasn’t supposed to be seen anywhere but in a haute couture fashion show or a museum. “But I just get so excited when Lauren has friends over! You’re going to have your meeting in the chill-out zone, but until the others get here I thought you could hang out in the game room.”
    A. A. wasn’t surprised that she’d arrived first: Lili was probably racing from the museum, her other Sunday extracurricular, and Ashley was still busy, in all likelihood, supervising the redecoration of her new room. She followed Mrs. Page through a labyrinth of stark corridors and down a flight of stairs into what A. A. guessed must be the game room. Though “room” was an understatement: This was as big as an arena football field, and it looked like one too.
    â€œIs this Astroturf?” A. A. asked, gazing in wondermentat the floor. Trudy beamed, as though she’d just been paid the greatest compliment.
    â€œLooks like it, doesn’t it?” she said. “But no, it’s Axminster carpet, imported from Devon, England. I got them to custom-dye it so it looks like Astroturf, and then we flew some guys from the NFL over to make sure all the lines were in the right place.” Trudy gestured at the yard markers beneath their feet.
    â€œIt’s pretty amazing,” A. A. said, looking around. Sure, it was amazingly tacky, but part of her was drooling over the sixteen-foot screen that took over one entire wall—so perfect for multiplayer zombie killfests.
    â€œLauren’s up in the chill-out zone, but I’ll drag her down here. I thought it would be fun for you girls to play with some of our new toys.”
    A. A. was happy to be left alone. The room was crowded with every possible gadget, from slot machines and arcade games to a neon orange snooker table, a three-lane bowling alley, and a seven-foot animatronic robot marching up and down the sideline. A. A. laughed aloud gleefully, jumping onto an Alpine ski simulator game. The other Ashleys could be as late as they liked: She had a virtual mountain to navigate!
    But before she’d finished her third run at the slalom, Lauren appeared, apologizing profusely for her mother’s “mistake.”
    â€œYou weren’t even supposed to see this room,” she said, dragging A. A. by the arm up the