Olivia paused before starting up the stone steps that would bring her inside Octavian Country Day School For Girls. This was the moment. Make it or break it.
With a deep breath, she lifted her head, hoisted her soft gray Coach purse higher on her shoulder, and clomped up the stairs. In front of her were two huge maroon double doors.
Breathe, she ordered herself. It's okay, Ryan.
With renewed confidence, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The lobby was bustling with mostly underclassmen. Little girls who couldn't have been more than six were expertly handling the blue-and-white plastic machines on each side of the hall. They seemed to be inserting something, and then out popped a sheet of paper.
"Um, excuse me?" A bossy voice came from behind her. "Are you just planning awn standing here awl day?"
She whirled around, her cheeks fiery as she realized she was blocking the doorway. "Sorry," she murmured, letting the brunette and her group through.
"Really?" she heard the All-American-type laugh. "Who does she think she is?" Her strong voice floated back to within hearing distance of Olivia.
A sort of whimper escaped her mouth. Her stomach was beginning to hurt. Why did everyone hate her so much? And how did she know where her homeroom was so she could get her schedule?
She fingered her ID card, which boasted a picture of her with her long blonde hair spread over her shoulders, her piercing blue eyes staring into the camera, her mouth smiling, but sadly. It also gave basic information.
NAME: OLIVIA GRACE RYAN.
GRADE: 7
AGE: 12
HAIR COLOR (as though they couldn't tell): BLONDE
EYE COLOR: BLUE
SKIN TONE: CAUCASIAN
CURRENT CREDITS: 0
TOTAL CREDITS: 0
She stood examining the card thoughtfully. Something about it intrigued her, and she knew what is was. The credits. There was no way to update them as they were earned unless the card was magical. So the machines had to have something to do with it. Maybe...
Of course. Her schedule. She walked over to the row of kiosks until she found an unoccupied one. The machine looked easy enough to use. There was a slot in which to put in the card, and a bigger slot where her schedule could slide out.
The only thing out of place was a purple crown drawing. In diamonds, it spelled out TPC. And around it were five letters, M, A, D, K, and C. TPC? MADKC? Those weren't even words. So she shrugged it off as graffiti and inserted her card. It popped back out at her.
On the screen, it stated: NOT A REGISTERED MEMBER OF THE PRETTY COMMITTEE.
What?
She tried again.
NOT A REGISTERED MEMBER OF THE PRETTY COMMITTEE.
"Um, excuse me." It was the same voice as before. The hall fell deathly silent. One machine whirred and went blank. A girl who looked to be in fourth grade gathered up her schedule and ran, her sandals thwick-thwacking against the cool marble of the floor. "This is ours."
"It's for public use."
"Does it look like its for public use?" giggled the brunette, gesturing to the crown symbol. "We're the Pretty Committee. You're nawt in it. I suggest you scamper."
Now or never. "I suggest you don't tell me what to do," she snapped back.
A collective gasp went up from the girls watching.
She advanced, her eyes shining, her ID card in her hand. She shoved it at Olivia. "Do you see who I am?" she spat. "My name is Massie Elizabeth Block, only daughter of Kendra and William Block. Do nawt cross me."
"I'll do what I want."
The Latina stepped forward. She was taller than all of them. Olivia's eyes were basically level with the girl's cleavage. She began to speak, but the brunette shot her a glance.
"Feisty," the latter appraised, like a tiger inspecting her kill. "We must give credit where credit is due, girls. Do you know who we are, Olivia?"
"How do you know my name?"
"Um, duh." She rolled her eyes at the name on the card in Olivia's hand. "Olivia Grace Ryan, right?"
She nodded, unsure of what was coming next.
"We are The Pretty Committee, also knows as TPC, also known as the hawtest, smartest, wealthiest girls in Westchester. Clear?"
She swallowed.
"Right," the girl whose name was Massie continued, "I'm Massie, the Alpha."
"I'm Alicia, the Beta," stated the Latina, stepping up next to Massie.
"I'm Dylan, the Gamma." Redhead.
"I'm Kristen, the Delta." All-American.
"I'm Claire, the Epsilon." Platinum blonde.
"Nice to meet you." Olivia had no clue what they were planning, but since nobody was daring to talk, the snickering grins on the girls' faces said it all. She needed to get out, and fast. They obviously knew she didn't belong here, and they were about to kick her out, make her a social pariah. Mentally, she slapped herself. She couldn't even survive for one day?
"Do you want to sit with us at lunch?" The offer came and went so quickly, like a spark, that Olivia barely had time to register it.
"Uh-"
"Don't take too long," the Latina warned. It was the first time anyone other than Massie had spoken. "We've never done this before."
A smirk played at the corners of the brunette's mouth. "Take it or leave it," she said sweetly, her strange amber eyes gleaming, her voice like a bell.
The voice echoed in Olivia's brain as she argued with herself. It could be a prank (but they might actually like her). It's all a setup (what if they're just trying to be nice)? Why would a clique like that just take her in? She knew these girls, not personally, but she knew them all the same. She knew what they were like. She knew this wasn't worth it, and yet:
Take it or leave it, take it or leave it, take it or leave it.
She took it.