Disclaimer: Yeah, no. I haven't managed to purchase The Clique rights from Lisi Harrison yet. Although I'm getting close… evil laughter to follow
A/N: This is the product of some pairings requests I received. I figured: Why not stuff them all in one angst-ridden OneShot? For Dernier Cri and massieroxmysox. This isn't really a songfic, but I think the song "Beautiful" by 10 Years is perfect for Massie and you should all listen to it.
Beauty and Pity
-A Clique OneShot by: Honour Society-
visually you're stimulating to my eyes
your cinderella syndrome's full of lies
your insecurities are concealed by your pride
pretty soon your ego will...
kill what's left inside.
-layne-
She takes a long breath. Her fingernail - gleaming and glittering - hovers above the doorbell. She can't believe she's here. At Massie Block's house. At her fricking spa. It's pretty late on a Friday night. Her new watch - a silver timepiece she saw in Teen Vogue - tells her that it's somewhere around eleven-thirty. It's one of those vague, hard-to-read timepieces that look all futuristic and modern. Almost like they belong in a museum circa the year 3000.
And then she's pressed it.
Oh God.
What has she done?
-massie-
"Ugh." You just saw Svetlana the eyebrow waxer yesterday and you're positive that all the exercise the identical dark arches just below your forehead are getting is not a good thing. They furrow again. You pout. "I bet it's, like, Inez or something."
Claire - the only one in the group wearing her pyjamas - shrugs her shoulders. "Maybe it's your mom."
You accept this. "Could be." And your eyes roll for the millionth time that night. "She's been trying to - Gawd, I can't even say it - bond with me lately."
Kristen doesn't look convinced. "Don't your mom and Inez have keys?"
You nod, your fingers immediately climbing up the vintage pearl necklace strung around your unfortunately pale neck. That reminds you - you better get some more self-tanner the next time you're at Sephora.
"It's totally an axe-wielding murderer." Dylan gulps so loud you can hear it from your sleeping bag across the room. Looking brave, you stand up. It's your duty as Alpha.
-claire-
As soon as I see her, my jaw drops open, in the process it spills non-salted pretzels and several Dunkaroos on Alicia's glossy head. She mumbles an excuse to Massie - all the while shooting death glares at me - and runs over to her shiny red purse that probably cost more than the mortgage on my Florida home.
And then it's just me, Massie and...her. Kristen and Dylan had already left to go prank-call some boys.
"Layne?" I practically gasp, my eyes search hers. Everything about her looks different. The pale pink slip with expensive-looking lace trim. The Ugg boots with custom detail that was probably driving Massie crazy because hers weren't half as cool. The caramel-highlighted black hair that hung straight over her shoulders like a curtain. And she was wearing makeup that wasn't in giggle-inducing bright colours.
Who was she?
Certainly not the Layne Abeley I knew.
What happened to her over summer break?
-massie-
It's ten minutes later but you don't feel any better. Since the very first time you laid eyes on her that night, a deep, ugly part in you was awakened. And as much as you wouldn't like to admit it - it's a jealous part. There's something about her - that Insane Layne - that...sparkles. Something in the way this little smirk is always painted on her face. Something in the way she wears the designer brands like it's ironic. Something. Something undeniably Layne Abeley.
"So. Layne." You half-smile - your signature as Claire pats the empty space beside her on the sleeping bag. Layne grins and sits beside the petite blonde, whispering something in her ear that makes them both bust out laughing. Your smiles fades. Claire's posture straightens up. She elbows Layne - who rolls her eyes and stays slumped. "Who are you wearing?"
"What?" Layne's eyebrows furrow. With some sense of pride, you notice how unkempt they look. Not exactly bushy - just not clean and streamlined like Svetlana always says is the most important thing.
You flash her a toothy smile and seeth through gritted teeth, "Who. Are. You. Wearing?"
She shrugs and twists her shoulders around to get a good look at the label. "Er. Stella McCartney?" She's an uptalker. Great. Always stating things like they're questions. You wonder when she'll realize she's not wanted here.
"Spring or fall?"
"Uh." Layne looks confused. "It's neither. It's the summer, Massie."
--
-layne-
Almost a year later, everything has changed. The words "Pretty Committee" have no meaning. And yet, the same girls still rule. Only with a different leader. One Layne Abeley. The terms "LBR," "GLU," and the other ridiculous acronyms the once-great Massie Block coined have long since been forgotten. She's still there. In the clique. The last one named, the one often forgotten. Pretty much the new Claire.
And Layne loves her spot at the top.
She's sitting at the cracked wooden table. It overlooks a positively postcard-worthy sunset and azure lake. Her summer house. Chris is inside somewhere, probably blasting zombies on XBox 360. Or maybe, if he's feeling hyper, WiiFit.
Her smile has changed. It's less genuine, more contrived. But it's still the same girl, she thinks and snuggles closer to her boyfriend, the captain of the BOCD boys' soccer team.
Yes.
That's right.
Josh Hotz and Layne Abeley are the new 'perfect couple.'
And Massie's left in the dust, fulfilling Layne's every wish.
-massie-
You cross your arms over your chest as tightly as you can. Leaning against the smooth wooden wall at the back of the Abeley's summer house, you imagine squeezing and squeezing until your heart pops out. If it's not enough that Claire scooped up Derrington like he was an empty Coke Zero can left on the ground that she felt she ought to clean up, your only other love is taken, too.
No. Not Cam. He's probably still pining over Claire, the new beta of BOCD's hottest clique. Even hotter now, you think bitterly. Because of that bitch. That Alpha-spot-swiping bitch.
And thinking of her makes the tears flow.
Not pretty tears like you'd expect to see dripping from Nicole Kidman's baby blues or perhaps Leighton Meester's brown orbs during a particularly heart-wrenching episode of Gossip Girl. Heart-wrenching. You think it's a terrible term, but quite appropriate for how you feel right now. You can clearly imagine taking a wrench to your chest and yanking out your heart. It doesn't even matter to you that it would completely ruin the teal blue Marc by Marc Jacobs tunic that you're using as a cover-up for your embellished white bikini.
You don't care.
Nothing matters anymore.
Except for him.
-claire-
"You look gorgeous."
I giggle-snort and then quickly cover up my ski-slope nose with the tips of my new manicure. Layne and I did our nails last night. It's so much fun being beta. And she's not mean at all like Massie. I don't even really remember why I used to hang out with her so much! Or why she's still in the clique. But...that's Laynie's decision to make not mine. She listens to me, though, and the other girls, unlike our former amber-eyed Alpha.
"Thanks. You're not looking too shabby either, Derrick." We lean into each other and Eskimo-kiss. You know, rub noses. He's so cute! I haven't even thought of this since Cam, but I think I may be in love!
He grins that mischievous grin of his and parts his lips for a real kiss. I oblige.
God. I love being me.
-massie-
Head in your heads, knees drawn to your chest, you cry. You cry like the world is going to end tomorrow. But for you, it's already over. Over and done with and time for curtain call. You lower your knees for a second and pull away from the back wall so you can tear off your four hundred dollar tunic. Some of the fabric catches on a stick and rips. While trying to loosen the silken fabric, a splinter forms on your finger.
And that just makes you cry harder.
Wearing a bathing suit so tiny it would make Pam Anderson blush, you try to admire the beautiful palette of colours that is that night's sunset. If only you could. The salty tears are blurring your vision, making the sky one big swipe of a vaguely pinkish-orangeish colour.
"Mass?"
"Josh," you breathe. It almost feels like you're coming home when he starts wrapping his arms around your shoulders and whispering sweet nothings in your ears. His fingers brush the two-carat diamonds that adorn them. You smile through the tears.
Before you know it, he's kissing you. Strangely enough, you're kissing him back.
The tears cease.
-layne-
"Where's Josh?" the queen bee herself demands, looking around, but not seeing the Yankees cap he hasn't ditched yet.
"I dunno," Claire giggles, as Derrick kisses her eyes. Layne cringes. Is he using tongue?
She frowns and picks the longest French fry she can see out of the wicker basket. She slips it through her glossy lips and bites down as hard as she can. It's her freaking summer. It's the freaking summer of Layne and Josh. So where the hell is he?
-massie-
"I can't do this." He pulls away first, he always does. You've migrated inside, into the guest bedroom. He pulls his Hollister t-shirt - the one so faded the graphic is unreadable - and looks forlorn.
"I know you can't." You bite your tongue - literally. You've found it helps keep the tears from coming back. It always ends this way. When both of you forget you're not exactly single and have to leave before feelings get involved. Except you both know that feelings are always involved. Sometimes, when the first hint of morning shines through the blinds, he tells you he loves you. And you second the sentiment, altogether too quickly and too powerfully.
You want to crawl back under the covers and just let all the tears - You stop yourself, abruptly sitting up straight. You're no Claire. When did you become Claire? You're Massie Block, Alpha or not, you never show fear. Never allow yourself to be defeated.
Over top of your swimsuit goes a pair of hip-hugging Seven jeans and a plain white ribbed tank. You quickly clasp a choker around your neck. Next up; hair. You gather your almost hip-length chocolate-coloured locks and pull them through a hair tie. Now that you think about it, your hair hasn't been cut since Layne's arrival at that sleepover in eighth grade. You're in high school now - ninth grade. It's a whole other world. Continents apart. Hell, middle school and high school are more like two completely different planets in the same solar system.
-claire-
All of us - the whole clique and the guys - are sitting around the dining table inside Layne's summer house. Her parents are gone - Nantucket, I think? We're in the Hamptons, baby. We're young and hot and...young and we have an entire house to ourselves. Chris, Layne's now-dorky brother, is upstairs. She didn't even bother telling him about dinner. Not the same nice Layne who was BFF with her older brother, but, hey. We've all grown up.
Cam and Massie are sitting next to each other, the cute couple they are. Even if she doesn't deserve him. All she does is sulk. Kind of like I used to. Only I didn't look so pretty doing it. Neither of them is smiling. They wear identically bored expressions.
Alicia and Kemp, her boytoy, are together. Giggling. I bet they're playing footsie under the table - OW! That was my foot. I guess that's my answer.
Derrick's beside me, obviously.
Kristen and her new boyfriend, this genius-type with rectangle-framed glasses and shaggy hair, James, are sharing facts and talking about...smart people stuff. They're perfect for each other. He even comes to all her soccer games.
Dylan, single, lonely, Dylan. Poor her. It must suck to be the only one not coupled up. I think she still misses Massie's heyday. Sometimes I do, too. It's not quite as fun without Massie's elaborate plans and hilarious pranks. She's not the same person anymore. I miss that old, ever-scheming Massie who cut her hair every week.
I miss the Pretty Committee.
-massie-
It is the summer of Layne Abeley. And of Josh Hotz. But oh, no, it's not your summer. You're forced to watch them kiss, listen to them banter, and even as your boyfriend - your stupid, loyal boyfriend - is kissing you, is wrapping his arms around you... you can't help but realize that this is not the summer of Massie Block.
It never will be again.
just as beautiful as you are
It's so pitiful what you are
you should have seen this coming all along
BEAUTIFUL - 10 Years