Author's note: Thanks for all of the reviews so far! I've finally figured out where this story is heading, so I hope to have many (longer) updates in the upcoming week. Thanks for reading!
Stacey was dripping with couture. "Not necessarily a bad thing!" Laine called from the dressing room next to hers. Stacey pulled off the Kenneth Cole boots and threw on some Monolos instead, pleased with how she looked. Her new Diesel jeans fit her perfectly, enhancing her skinny body. For a while, the members of the BSC had told Stacey that she needed to gain weight, especially after she had moved back to New York. But as many times as they had tried to tell her, Stacey knew that she could never get past a size 4. Her diabetes limited so many things that she wanted to eat that she just couldn't get up an appetite to binge on apples. Plus, she thought she looked great. She had gotten taller, her cheekbones looked like awesome slashes in her cheeks, and her hipbones looked perfect paired with low-rise jeans. She had the perfect body to hang designer clothes on.
"I'm taking everything!" she called to the salesgirl. Stacey liked to think that her only real vice brought on by New York was shopping. Her dad had recently received a promotion at work, which meant that he upped Stacey's spending privileges. Still, she knew she was just a tiny bit over budget this month. So, instead of paying her bills of right now, she had taken to throwing away her balance so that her dad wouldn't see it. She figured that she'd work out a way to pay it off eventually. Or her dad might not even notice. Maybe she could slip this one past him.
"$1, 596.32," the salesperson said pleasantly. Stacey handed over her platinum card and tried not to wince.
"Geez, this is a sample sale," Laine said. "I thought you were supposed to end up saving money at these things."
Stacey gestured towards her piles of bags. "But look at how much stuff I ended up getting." It was true – Laine could count seven different carrier bags stuffed with clothes. The seams were stretching on a few as it was.
Stacey looked longingly at the cashier's Dior sunglasses. "Did you get those glasses here? Are there anymore?"
The cashier smiled. "Sure, right over there on that display."
Stacey grinned. "I'll take two pairs." She passed one over to Laine. "What's the fun with having money if you can't share the wealth?"
A half hour later, Stacey and Laine were across town waiting for the subway. Laine had secured special invites to a club where this new jam band, Lucky Strike, was playing. "Invite only!" Laine had said earlier, dangling the tickets in front of Stacey's face. Stacey, on the other hand, had been facedown on her bed with a blanket pulled up to her chin. She didn't want to leave her room ever again.
"Stoneybrook, come on!" Laine had said.
"God, I hate when you call me that!"
"Then get up and get ready. And we have to stop at the sample sale too. Let's go."
So, that was how they had ended up together for the day. They were now planning to stop by Stacey's apartment and drop off their bags, get ready for the night, and head out.
"I hope I meet someone tonight!" Laine giggled.
"Laine, you always meet someone when we go out."
"Yeah, but never anyone quality. What about a doctor? That would be all kinds of hot."
"You're fifteen. Like some doctor is going to hook up with you."
"Well, maybe a doctor just out of med school. And I easily look eighteen. So why worry?"
Stacey wondered why she even put with Laine sometimes. Sure, they had been best friends when they were younger. But maybe too much time had passed, maybe they were too different. What would have happened if she had stayed in New York her whole life and never moved to Stoneybrook? Would she have been – gulp – another Laine?
Sure, Stacey could imagine that people probably thought of her and Laine as the exact same kinds of people: snobby, well-dressed, and privileged. And of course, Stacey liked the perks of having a dad who spoiled her rotten and always let her have whatever she wanted. But she knew there had to be more to life than this. She had found some semblance of that in Stoneybrook, where her biggest stressors had been what boy liked her in middle school, what client she was sitting for that afternoon, or what event her friends were planning. There had to be more to life than this.
Unlike Laine, Stacey had a plan. She wanted to go to NYU so bad – it was the only school she could ever picture herself attending. Laine's plan was to bed as many guys as possible and hopefully marry young and rich. Stacey knew that the partying was going to catch up with her; it was really only a matter of time.
Until then, though, Stacey would allow herself to be dragged to more events. After all, she was only young once, right?
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Kristy spent most of the evening in her room, pretending that she was asleep. Watson and Elizabeth had both poked their heads in from time to time and murmured sympathetic responses to Kristy's complaining. Kristy hadn't yet told them about the demise of the BSC; she was equally surprised when Watson called to her that Mallory Pike was on the phone.
She couldn't remember the last time that she and Mal had had an actual conversation. Of all the members in the BSC, Kristy and Mallory had the least in common. Even when the club first formed, Kristy had trouble getting past Mal's age difference. Sure, she was a great sitter, but the fact that she couldn't take on as many jobs or the later hours gave Mal a severe handicap. Kristy could never admit it to anyone else, but she always thought that the BSC should have tried to find a few extra members the same age or pressured Logan and Shannon to be full-time. But of course, no one else would understand that rationale.
Mal seemed to feel the same way about calling Kristy. "Hey Kristy," she said, sounding slightly panicked.
"Hey Mallory, what's going on? Is everything okay?" Kristy threw that last part in on purpose, knowing that Mal would only call her if there was some sort of emergency going on.
"Actually, it's not. Adam broke his arm while the triplets and Nicky were playing baseball in the yard. My parents are taking him to the hospital, and I need someone to help me watch the kids. I tried called Claudia and Mary Anne, but you were the only one I could get a hold of."
Kristy tried not to get offended about the comment. Clearly, Mal wasn't thinking because of Adam. Plus, she did live across town. Maybe Mallory was more logical than Kristy had given her credit for. "Okay, let me get Watson to give me a ride. I'll be over in twenty minutes."
"Thanks, Kristy! You're a lifesaver."
Kristy sprinted around her room, quickly changing out of her pajamas and throwing on her usual uniform. She stuffed her slightly greasy hair in a baseball cap that had a picture of a collie on it and glanced around again. Should she bring her kidkit? Nah, Mal would have one of her own still, most likely. She threw on a pair of gym shoes
When Watson dropped her off at the Pike house, Mrs. Pike was already sprinting out the door. "Thanks, Kristy," she called, getting into the family's brand new SUV. Kristy could see Adam propped up in the backseat with a pillow, looking like he was in a lot of pain.
"Thank you so much, Kristy," Mal said, giving her a huge hug. Kristy didn't return the hug, mostly because she was so confused by the gesture. It's not like Mallory and Kristy were ever close, nor shared any signs of affection towards each other, but Kristy guessed that this was brought on by her brother's injury.
"The kids have been pretty quiet today," Mallory said, leading Kristy inside. "I think they're so freaked out by Adam that they are on their best behavior. Vanessa, Claire, and Margo have been putting together a puzzle downstairs, and the other triplets and Nicky have been locked in their rooms.
"So it's a low-key night at the Pike house," Mal continued. "I probably could have handled this on my own, but I would rather have some company. Please, sit down for a bit. Can I get you anything?"
It was so odd interacting with Mallory. So formal, yet so forced. It was as if one didn't want to offend the other with anything she might say. Kristy couldn't remember the last time she and Mal had had any sort of extended conversation that didn't have to do with the club.
"So, are you okay with the BSC breaking up?" Mal asked Kristy.
"As okay as I can be," Kristy replied. She really didn't feel comfortable talking about this with Mal. Her wrists itched, and she almost rolled up her sleeves, betraying her secret stress reliever. Luckily, she remembered in time. There was no way that she wanted Mal involved in this.
Claire, the youngest of the Pike kids, came skipping into the room. "Is Adam going to be okay?" she asked.
"Well, he's probably going to have a cast for a while. We're still waiting for mom and dad to come home."
"A cast? Cool!" Over the past year, Claire had developed a fascination with all things medical. The Pikes had gotten a satellite dish, and Claire spent hours watching the Discovery Health Channel. The Pikes encouraged this obsessive TV watching only because it was educational.
As Claire wandered out of the room, Mallory hesitantly invited Kristy to hang out upstairs in her room. "That way, we can still hear everyone if they need something."
"Sure."
Kristy could never remember feeling this awkward with Mallory before. She tried to mentally calculate what was different about her now. Though Mal was now in eighth grade, she was still as awkward as she had been in the sixth grade. However, now she tried a lot harder to enhance her somewhat homely appearance. Her hair, originally unruly and red, had been lightened to more of a strawberry blonde shade ("Which doesn't work with her skin tone at all," Claudia had pointed out many times). What little makeup that her parents allowed her to wear was applied poorly, and she still wasn't allowed to wear the kind of outfits that Stacey and Claudia could. Still, Mallory was at least trying to play up some assets; she hadn't gone too over the edge to look clownish or silly. Of course, Kristy would have pointed that out to her. Though Kristy wasn't one to notice fashion, she was quite apt to point out when someone else's look didn't quite work. After all, her friends had been criticizing her for years for her "uniform."
Since Mal was the oldest, she was finally granted the privilege of having her own room. Mrs. Pike had taken the spare bedroom (really, no bigger than a closet) and had converted it into Mal's own space. Inside, there were rows of bookshelves, covered in everything from classics to children's lit. There were also framed pictures of horses on the wall, a hobby that Mal had never really outgrown.
"You're room looks great," Kristy said, trying to break the ice. She sat down on Mal's desk chair and began glancing over the contents of Mal's desk. She was the only Pike to have her own computer, which she had saved up for with her babysitting money; the rest of the family used the computer in the den. Kristy opened up a game of solitaire and Mal began thumbing through a textbook. She couldn't remember ever being this lazy while babysitting.
"I can't believe how quiet everyone is. I'm going to go check on them and make sure everything's okay."
"Want some help?"
"No, stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Mal left the room, and Kristy continued to play her card game. Right as she was about to move the last king to the top, an IM popped up on the screen from Ballerina01.
Jessi, of course. Kristy didn't know any other ballerinas in Stoneybrook. Jessi had been absent a lot from the BSC lately because her career had begun to take off, so she spent a lot of time in Stanford and New York, putting in long hours to further develop her talent.
Kristy tried not to read the IM, but it was too enticing not to.
Ballerina01: Mal, hey. I know we haven't talked in a long time.
Ballerina01: So I've been thinking about what you said and what happened between us. I mean, I have always loved you as a friend, Mal. But what happened between us shouldn't have happened. I don't feel the same way about you as you feel about me.
Ballerina01: Mal? Are you there?
Kristy didn't know how to react. Jessi and Mal? She could guess what had happened between them (well, maybe she couldn't), but did she really want to know in the first place? Kristy downsized the conversation box and left it for Mal to read over later. There was no way that she was having this conversation with her. She already had invaded Mal's privacy enough that day.
But Kristy had to wonder. How many of the other members of the BSC were carrying secrets this heavy?