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"C'mon Claire, wipe that frown off your face." Claire's mom, Judy Lyons, said.

"It's already been decided, you are not going."

Claire Lyons bit her pastely, chewed nails. She couldn't do anything else unless she wanted to be accused of 'interrupting' by her overly strict mother.

"But I have plans and it'd be kind of rude if I broke them," Claire said. "I mean...weren't you the one who always told me to 'honor my engagements'?"

She made air quotes, trying to remind her mother that it was her idea in the first place.

Claire looked to her father, Jay Lyons, for back up, but instead he just sipped his tea and continued reading the latest copy of the Westchester magazine.
"I told you about this weeks ago," Judy said. She spoke very slowly and enunciated every word, in much the same way she talked to Cathy, their live-in housekeeper.

"Your father has been good friends with Mr. Block since college. They are moving to Westchester all the way from Florida so that Mr. Block can work for him. And while they are looking for a home of their own, they will be living in our guesthouse. And as our daughter it is important that you're here to greet them when they arrive."

"Why? They're dad's friends, not mine." Judy shot her husband a desperate look, Jay stayed focused on the magazine.

"Well they'll be your friends soon enough, Massie is starting seventh grade on Tuesday, so you should have alot to talk about."

"Like...Math?" Claire snapped.

"You can always invite her to join in on your plans, so you won't miss out on anything."

"Impossible." Claire shook her head. "We've had these appointments for weeks. We can't just call the spa and add one person at the last minute."

Claire looked away, "Not that we'd want to." She mumbled under her breathe.

"Then it's settled." Judy said. "Cathy will have a brunch on the dining room table tommorow at 1:15 PM, don't be late."

Claire turned and walked out of the kitchen. Normally she took her heels off before climbing the steps because of the "delicate high-gloss finish" on the wood." But considering the circumstances, she chose to leave them on.

Every floor-scuffing step would pay her mother back for destroying the Labor Day plans she had with her three best friends.

When she got to the second floor, Claire kicked off her shoes and padded across the plush carpet straight into her bedroom.
And slammed the door behind her.

"Don't slam!" came Judy's voice over the intercom. Claire looked at the silver speaker by the bed and rolled her eyes.

Everything in her room was white: the leather chaise by the bay window, the sheepskin rug, the painted brick walls, the dozen fresh tulips, and her flat-screen Mac. Her friends called it the iPad.

She'd designed it that way after she stayed in the presidential suite at the Mondrian in Los Angeles. The only color in the enormous hotel room had come from the decorative green apple in the middle of the white marble coffee table. She loved how crisp and orderly everything looked.

But just the other day she'd read in a British gossip magazine that blue was 'the official color of tommorow', which explained the brand new azure Calvin sheets on her bed. She'd been hoping to buy more in the "future's color" during her Labor Day shopping spree, but that was no longer an option.
claire collapsed on her bed and sighed in defeat. She stretched her arm towards her night table. She grabbed her cell and hit "1" on her speed dial.
The girl on the other end picked up after the first ring.

"Hey, Claire," Kristen said.

"Hold on I'll get Alicia." Claire said.

"Sure."

Claire punched in "2" and pressed Send.

"Leesh?"

"Yeah."

"Hold, lemme get Dylan."

Claire pressed "3."

"Hey Claire," Dylan said.

"Alicia and Kristen are here too," Claire said.

"Whats up?" Kristen said, sounding like she was about to be blamed for something she didn't do.

"I can't go with you guys tommorow." Claire muttered.

"Yeah, right." Dylan snorted.

"I'm serious, your not going to believe me but--" Claire rethinked her words carefully, "I hab da flu."

"Gawd, you sound awful," Alicia said.

"Yeah, maybe we shouldn't go," Kristen offered. "We can come over and take care of you instead."

"What? Not go?" Dylan snapped. "I mean, Kuh-laire, what exactly is wrong with you? Maybe we can help."

"Feber. Headache. Stuffed up doze, you doh, duh usual." Claire added a sniff and an "uuugggghhh" for effect.

"Kristen's right. We'll bail," Alicia said. "It won't be the same without you. Who's going to squeeze my hand when I get my eyebrows waxed?"

"And who's going to tell me if I look ew when I try stuff on?" Kristen asked.

"The mirror," Dylan said.

Claire let out her famous cute giggle.

"Claire, please don't leave me alone with them..." Kristen joked.

Claire smiled with relief. They wanted her with them. And that, as always, was all that mattered.

"You all go. But I want to hear every detail of what happened." Claire momentarily forgot her sick voice. "Every single one."

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