Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. But, oh, the things I would change with The Clique if I did...
A/N: And the evilness continues...I just want to say that the response I've been getting is amazing. So far, I've got a couple reviewers asking about the "Gawd" vs. "God" debacle and that's something I've always been confused about. The PC, them I can understand not swearing. They're "classy." Whatever. But Layne and the Briarwood boys? I mean, c'mon Lisi. I don't think I know any seventh-eighth grader who doesn't drop the f-bomb once in a while. Or at least say "crap."
"WHY ARE ALL THESE LBRS CONTAMINATING MY LAIR?"
I took the pregnant pause that followed to whisper to Nurse Adele, "What's with all the acronyms?"
She merely shook her grey-bobbed head. "Kids today. Why can't they leave this coded words in the chatrooms?"
Alicia Rivers looked affronted at Massie's outburst; she drew a blood-red manicured hand to her ample cleavage. I figured she was taking experimental drugs. Besides, any girl in the eighth grade who "developed" earlier than most would be doomed to wear oversized college hoodies and full-coverage tees from the Disney Store with Winnie the Pooh and Tinker Bell printed across the front. "Mah-ssie? Your lair? I thought I was your beta. I thought it was 'our lair.' I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND!"
Massie, aka Yellow Eyes, sniffed a haughty laugh. "It was a moment of pure insanity. Sorry, Leesh."
"I've always wondered why she calls you Leesh," I chimed in. "But now I know. She's got you on one. Oh, and Macy?" I turned to Yellow Eyes. "You know you're named after a department store, right?"
"It's pronounced 'Massie!' As in 'rhymes with sassy!'" Yellow Eyes looked positively outraged as she slammed her limited-edition purple Pucci-print purse (say that five times fast) on the table she was currently occupying. "Gawd, how hard is that to say?"
Kristen, the smart one, swiped at a couple falling tears before adding, "It also rhymes with grassy."
"And brassy," Alicia Rivers added, drawing an imaginary 'one' in the air. "Point!"
"Why do you talk that way?" I questioned, just as Claire, through her happy tears at being reunited with Nurse Adele, interjected "Glassy."
Mary Sue stomped her designer-boot-clad foot in outrage. "Yoo-hoo! I'm over here!" Even though she was covered in dirt and soot and ceiling tiles were stuck to her luscious brunette locks with natural auburn and golden highlights, she was still incomparably gorgeous. Her outfit was definitely a "10.0" on Massie's Scale: a short-sleeve ivory jersey blouse with lace trim along the low-scooping V-neckline and sleeves, a pair of Abercrombie jeans tailored into barely-butt-covering cutoffs, gold earrings shaped like keys and Dries van Noten gladiator sandals that tied all the way up her flawless calves.
"Hey, Massie!" Dylan, the annoyingly vulnerable one, grabbed my twin sister by her bony shoulders and pushed her into Massie's now-empty chair. "You're O-U-T out. This girl is a thousand times hawter than you. She's our new alpha. Our Alpha with a capital-A. Lisi keeps changing the spelling, so I'm a little confused! What were we talking about?" Dylan burped loudly. Then giggled. "Your name rhymes with gassy, too."
"And Lassie." Everyone looked at me. "What did I say?"
"It's true, you know." Alicia Rivers drew another 'one' in the air and muttered to herself, "Point..."
"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, GUYS?" Never one to cry, even in a dire situation such as this, Massie yelled as loud as she possibly could — she had to talk over the sound of the popcorn machine and TV playing the NPC's new fave movie, Camp Rock — and yet no teachers came to check it out.
"Um, isn't it obvi?" Alicia Rivers rolled her 'dancing' brown eyes like a Magic Eight ball. "You're, like, totally out of the NPC."
"I CREATED YOU!" Massie was completely overdoing it now. She ripped off the Tiffany bracelet she'd had engraved with 'NPC: ALPHA MASSIE' off her bony wrist and threw it to the floor of the bomb shelter. She then preceded to stomp on it with her Gucci-clad foot.
Shrugging their shoulders, the other girls followed suite (because, really, did they have anything better to do?) and unclasped their bracelets which merely said 'NPC: RANDOM GIRL' and had a charm of a ball & chain. They found the bracelets couldn't come off.
"What's happening, Massie?" Claire whined, clawing at her wrist. "Why won't they come off?"
Grinning like an idiot, Massie merely cackled evilly before making a dramatic exit from the Bomb Shelter in a puff of smoke.
"..."
An awkward moment passed. No one knew quite what to do without their leader; some of the former-NPC girls were still struggling to undo their silver bracelets; most of them had shrugged it off and returned to watching the made-for-TV movie. Dylan was furiously eating popcorn and pinching her waistband after every handful. Alicia Rivers was now filing her nails; she looked completely lost. Kristen was tentatively getting up from her seat in the corner and attempting to start a conversation with Dylan. Now that she had her free will back, Claire was hugging Nurse Adele through teary eyes and filling her in on what had happened between books three and eight.
"A boyfast?" The elderly nurse repeated incredulously. "Aren't you girls kind of old for that 'ew, boys are icky' routine?"
"I never thought of it like that," Claire admitted. In a flash of remembrance, she slipped out of her Massie-approved two-inch heels and into the pair of scuffed Keds she always kept in her backpack.
Mary Sue sighed and adjusted her side-bangs. "This place is so weird."
I nodded my head. "You got that right."
At that moment, the doorbell Massie had installed upon moving into the bomb shelter — as creepy as that was — rang several times to the beat of a Pussycat Dolls song. I had no clue which. They all sounded kind of the same, didn't they? In fact, those girls kind of reminded me of the NPC. None of them had personalities or names except the lead singer. Seriously, name the rest of the Dolls. You can't, can you?
"Who's there?" Alicia Rivers called, using her most sultry voice in case it was a boy.
"Several members of the Briarwood Tomahawks soccer team. Only a couple of us, though. The ones you guys take turns crushing and-slash-or dating, because, really, who cares about the other players?"
"EEEK!" All the girls screamed at once. Immediately, they began digging through their designer purses for lip-gloss. This was a momentous occasion! They were allowed to act...on their own impulses, of their own minds, in front of boys! Without Massie dictating their every breath.
Mary Sue and I exchanged a look.
"Single-sex schools." She shook her perfect head. "They're ruining our economy."
"I don't mean to be disrespectful, MS, but for one: you share initials with an autoimmune disease, did you know that? And two: what does this have to do with economy?"
Mary Sue shrugged.
"Hello?" A prepubescent voice called from behind the bomb shelter's entrance. "Isn't anyone going to let us in?"