Free The Clique by Lisi Harrison Page A

communicate.
    Kristen reached out her hand and pretended to squeeze
    Chris Abeley’s butt. This made Alicia and Dylan shake with suppressed laughter. Even Massie had to fight the urge to crack up.
    MASSIE: WHAT IZY W8ing 4?
    DYLAN: U
    MASSIE:
    Massie was enjoying the thought of Chris Abeley waiting for her after school too much to notice that something cool and sticky was trickling down her back. She lifted her head slowly. A stream of pink liquid was making its way from a can of Red Bull onto her scalp. Massie covered her phone with both hands to protect it from the moisture.
    A blue BMW blasting tinny guitar-heavy boy music pulled up in front of Chris Abeley.
    “How was detention?” a guy’s voice shouted over the music.
    “Killer!” Chris Abeley cheered sarcastically. “Best time ever.”
    He scooped his bag off the ground and whipped the empty can behind the hedge. It ricocheted off Alicia’s kneecap and she let out a loud yelp. Luckily the drum solo that blasted from the car’s stereo kept her from being heard.
    As soon as the car sped off, the girls rolled around on the grass howling with laughter. They held their stomachs and wiped the tears from their eyes as they pointed at Massie’s wet hair. Once they finally caught their breath, Alicia’s bright red knee made them crack up all over again.
    “You guys look ridiculous,” Dylan said.
    “Look who’s talking.” Alicia pointed at the mountain of cherry pits piled high beside Dylan.
    Her lips were so red, she looked like the Joker from
Batman
.
    “You know, that’s not a bad color,” Massie said. “I wish someone sold that.”
    Dylan pulled her silver hairbrush out of her bag and flipped it over.
    “You’re right.” Dylan puckered up for her reflection and blew herself a kiss.
    “Maybe she’s born with it,” Massie sang.
    “Maybe its Maybelline,” the others responded.
    Later that night, before she went to sleep, Massie made a record of the afternoon’s events.
CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION
IN
OUT
RIDING
HIDING
RED CHERRIES
RED BULL

O CTAVIAN C OUNTRY D AY S CHOOL F IRST -F LOOR B ATHROOM
    9:25 A.M . September 5th
    Massie and Dylan stared at themselves in the bathroom mirrors while they spoke.
    “I can’t believe my lips are still stained.” Dylan grabbed a soft white facial towel off the cosmetics table by the window and rubbed it across her lips, but it only made them look redder.
    “Top it off with a clear gloss and you’d be onto something,” Massie said to Dylan’s reflection.
    “It’s not funny. My sisters called me Liperacchi all night and my mother threatened to cancel my Zone deliveries if I keep eating high-sugar fruits that aren’t part of the program,” Dylan said.
    Massie slid a tube of gold shimmer across her lips.
    “I wish my makeup lasted that long,” she said.
    “Maybe Kristen should start a makeup company for her class project,” Dylan joked. “She can sell cherries.”
    “Brilliant!” Massie clapped with excitement. “We’ll make everything ourselves using all-natural ingredients. Your mom can have us on
The Daily Grind
so we can promote our new line and—”
    “Are you kidding?” Dylan asked. “Do you really think it’s a good idea or are you just making fun of me?” Dylan worked her brush through a tangle.
    “No, I’m serious,” Massie said.
    “We’ll call it Homebody,” Dylan suggested. “You know, because all of our ‘body’ products will be made from ‘home.’” She added air quotes to “home” and “body” just in case Massie didn’t get how genius her suggestion was.
    “Maybe the name should be more glamorous,” Massie said.
    Dylan pulled strands of red hair out of her brush and shook them to the ground, but they clung to her like spider-webs.
    “I think it’s all about being catchy and clever,” Dylan pushed.
    “There’s nothing catchy or clever about Guerlain, Dior, or Clarins,” Massie said. “And they’re doing a little better than Hard Candy and Urban Decay,