BODY ALIVE DANCE STUDIO
MRS. FARSON'S OFFICE
12:03 PM
JULY 12, 2013
"Oh my goodness, Alicia, I'm so sorry I'm late; I was at a meeting for the Body Alive budget and time just flew by!" She laughed lightly, clearly flustered. "Anyway, we've matched you with an agent. She should be here any second now." She checked her watch. "Actually, I have a question for you first." Without letting Alicia absorb the information, she began talking. "How many people did you meet with on Tuesday?"
"Two days ago, you mean? The second time around? 22."
"A lot." Mrs. Farson raised her eyebrows. "Well, good for you, Alicia. You do have promise." She said this in such a way that the Beta wondered whether she hadn't had promise before.
"Thanks." She would have elaborated slightly, but there was a knock at the door.
"Come in!" called her teacher, rising from her plush brown seat. "Alicia, you do remember talking to Karen, yes?"
"Um…"
"Oh, right. Her last name. Woodstrow. Karen Woodstrow."
Alicia could only recall a few details about any of her meetings, but she remembered the one with Miss Woodstrow the best. She was African-American, with huge brown eyes and tightly braided hair. The beads at the ends of the strands clacked together as she walked. She bustled over to Alicia and stuck her hand out. "My name is Karen Woodstrow. Do you remember me?"
"Kind of," she replied honestly.
"Good enough." Karen smiled. "So. I am to be your agent. I think we can go far, Alicia. Do you agree?"
"Sure," she responded generously.
"Great." Karen grinned warmly, handing over a folder. "I'll need you to review these with your family and get them signed by at least one legal guardian. Okay?"
"Okay," she answered dubiously. "But what's the plan? Am I going to photo or modeling shoots? What troupes will I be dancing in? Will I train under a celebrity?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Karen placed her hands on Alicia's shoulders and looked deep into the girl's eyes. "I'm not allowed to discuss your future with you until you get these signed, sweetheart. And then we talk. Understand?"
Flushing, she nodded. "Okay, thanks, Miss Woodstrow."
"Oh, call me Karen."
"Fine, thanks, Karen."
PINEWOOD APARTMENTS
MASTER BEDROOM
12:18 PM
JULY 12, 2013
"Mom!" Kristen called as she pounded on the door, already turning the knob. "We need to go!"
"I think you're spending too much time with that Kemp kid," her mother admonished. "Maybe you need to cut down."
Kristen barged inside.
Mrs. Gregory was facing away from her, in black work pants and a plain eggshell bra. She averted her eyes as her mom pulled on a blue tank top, over which she buttoned a white jacket. After fastening a thin gold chain around her neck, she turned to look at her daughter. "I'm serious, Kristen. It's nice that you're broadening your horizons, and I find it lovely that you're spending time with someone other than Massie, Alexa, Dylan, and Claire-"
"Alicia," she corrected half-heartedly.
"Alicia," she repeated, "but we don't need any boyfriends right now, do we?" She looked stressed and pleading.
"No," Kristen agreed with a smile, lying through her teeth to make the one authority figure in her life happy. "We sure don't."
"So maybe-"
But maybe what, Kristen never quite found out. Because one second Mrs. Gregory was talking casually, albeit acting a little peculiar, and the next, she'd crashed onto the bed, face-down, not appearing as though she was breathing.
"Ehmagawd, ehmagawd, ehmagawd," she panicked. "Help!" she screamed futilely. "Help!"
A loud pounding echoed through the apartment. Kristen raced for the front door and threw it open, almost collapsing against the one neighbor who'd been considerate enough to investigate.
"Are you okay?" Mr. Marshall asked. He was in his mid-twenties, a student-teacher at a nearby high school. He had wavy brown, blue eyes, tan skin, and the most caring face she'd ever seen.
"No, no. Please..." She grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside, not caring that he was more or less a stranger. "Look." She pointed into the master bedroom, then cowered away.
"Would you feel comfortable if I performed mouth-to-mouth?" His comforting voice slightly calmed her.
"Anything," she responded instantly. "Mommy..."
"Your mother will be okay," Mr. Marshall announced, flipping Marsha onto her back and leaning over her. He placed a hand over her neck first. "She has a pulse," he told Kristen before pinching Mrs. Gregory's nose shut and placing his lips on hers.
Nothing. No magical awakening, no Sleeping Beauty scene. She lay there, as good as dead.
Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he threw his iPhone 4S at Kristen. "911. 911."
Obediently, she hit Emergency Call and shakily pressed in the numbers.
Immediately, a strong male voice spoke into her ear. "911. What's your emergency?"
"My mother. Ehmagawd, help me. My mother passed out."
"Is someone assisting her at the moment?"
"Yes, my neighbor."
"Are you over 18?"
"No."
"Is your neighbor over 18?"
"Yes, he is, sir."
"May I please speak to him?"
Without answering, she shoved the phone at Mr. Marshall. 'They want to talk to you,' she mouthed.
He accepted the phone and lifted it to his ear for a harried conversation. As he hung up, he turned to Kristen. "An ambulance will be here in eight minutes, and they'd prefer it if you didn't come. Is there someone you could call?" He took in her crestfallen glare. "You can come. It's fine."
"No, no." She didn't want to be thought of as friendless little baby. She dialed the number of the first person who came to mind: Dylan Marvil. Even though the situation that was playing out in front of her eyes clearly didn't warrant it, she smirked a little as she reflected that a year ago, the youngest daughter of America's most well-known talk-show host would have been the absolute last person she would call in a crisis. "Dyl?"
"Kris? Is something wrong?"
"Yes, uh-huh, really wrong."
"Stawp it. Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack," she snapped, her teeth clamping down on her tongue as she spoke the words. Had she just horribly jinxed everything?
"Okay, Kris. What do you need?"
"Pick me up, puh-lease, Dyl. Even send Lloyd by himself, I don't care."
"No, I'll come." Kristen heard her shout something, presumably to Vera. "K, I'll be there in about 15."
"Thanks." She exhaled in relief. "I'll be waiting outside." She took a step closer to her silent, still mother and brushed Marsha's blonde hair off her wide forehead. "Love you, Mom." And then she took the elevator downstairs to wait for her friend.
WANG HOUSE
HALLWAY
12:54 PM
JULY 12, 2013
"Hello!" Dylan hollered into the house.
"Hi!" chimed a pretty voice that belonged to a young Asian woman.
"Hey, CeCe!" Dylan hugged her godmother's daughter and pecked her on the cheek. "Cecilia, this is Kristen Gregory. Kristen, Cecilia Wang."
"Nice to meet you."
The scent of Cecilia's Intimately Beckham perfume confused Kristen. Why wouldn't she sport her own mother's designs? But it was really none of her business. "You too."
"So, do you want to watch a movie?" offered Cecilia. "We've even got some yummy low-cal brownies, if you want to try them."
"That sounds good," Dylan agreed with a smile. "Come awn, Kris."
"Actually, I don't think I can right now. Can you just show me where your room is, Dyl?"
"Um, sure," the redhead replied, baffled, leading the way up the stairs. "Do you want to talk to me or something?"
"No, you can watch the movie if you'd like. I just need some peace and quiet."
"No. I know you're upset. Seriously. Do you want to talk to me? About... whatevs this is."
"Nawt right now, Dyl. Thanks, though. I just need a moment. Watch the movie and come back up, and then I think I'll tell you."
"Is... is anyone... er, I mean, can everyone... Never mind."
"No one's dead or anything." It often appeared as though Kristen could read minds, not because she actually posessed that ability, but because she was so smart she almost always understood what was going on. Not her teachers nor her grades-obsessed mother could quite grasp her extraordinary brain power. "Seriously, Dyl, go watch."
Finally, the redhead turned away.
"Oh, and one more thing." She held her hand out and widened her blue eyes. "Could I borrow your phone?"
AUNT JEAN'S HOUSE
GUEST ROOM
7:14 PM
JULY 12, 2013
"Darling!" Kendra Block exclaimed as she floated out the coral-painted door and smashed into her daughter. "I have good news!"
"What?" She'd actually been going to ask whether she could run down to the park and check whether Alex was there, but it was good her mom had stopped her. She needed to get her infatuation in check.
"The Carsons are coming to dinner! Oh, it will be lovely to see Jeanette again. I haven't in years." She pinched her toned stomach. "Gosh, I hope she hasn't been taking Pilates, or she'll be ashamed to sit next to me."
"Gawd, Mom, you've been taking classes for years. Just chill."
"But you know the Carsons, Massie, don't you, chérie! Haven't you been seeing their little son in the park? What's his name, Alec?"
"Alex," she corrected in spite of herself, a smile creeping across her lips. "And what are you so excited about?"
Kendra just picked up a beaded Calvin Klein shawl and threw it over her shoulders. "You don't know how good it is to see them again. Goodness, Massie, I practically grew up with Jeanette and her family, at least in the summers. They had a vacation home in old Westchester. Off Mohegan Lake, I think. We'd visit them all the time."
"You mean she grew up in France?"
"Oh yes, Paris, in fact. Why so many questions?"
"Just wondering. What about their kids?" She would not ask about Alex.
"Well, they've only got Alex and his older sister," Mrs. Block replied, trying on a pearl necklace, sticking her tongue out, and unhooking it. "I think Alex lives with Cassandra in the States during the school year, while Jeanette and her husband live here. But everyone is in France during the summer,"
"Where?" she asked, trying not to sound too eager.
Kendra clicked her tongue and narrowed her eyes. "The enfants? I'm almost postive it's somewhere down in Virginia. Real horse country."
"So they ride?"
"Ride? Oh, of course. Cassandra's been featured in Horse and Rider, more than once, actually. She's very talented. And the son, Alex, he rides too."
So they ride. There were stables in Wappinger Falls, only about a 45-minute ride from her house. She could easily try out a horse, and who knew? Maybe if she was good, they'd have something else to bond about.
Right. Because there was so much already.
UNIVERSAL STUDIOS
PARKING LOT 2F
1:32 PM
JULY 12, 2013
"We only have one more week here," Mrs. Lyons commented as she took a swig of her iced tea. "We have to make the most of it."
Todd bounced up and down on the sea-green plastic bench. "I'm making the most of it!"
Judi patted him on the shoulder and smiled adoringly. "I know you are, big guy. It's not you I'm worried about." In one smooth motion, she lifted him over her lap and sat him next to her husband so she could scooch closer to Claire. "What's wrong, sweetie?"
"Nuh-thing!" She grinned. "I'm really excited!" She leaned her chin on her hands and stared over at the sea of cars. If she looked at the amusement park, where she'd spent so many happy days with Mandy, Sarah, and Sari. What had she done?
"Sweetheart." Her mom pried Claire's hands free from her face and held them tight. "What happened between you guys? You used to be so close."
'Right. Like I'm going to tell you.' "It's Massie's fault!" she blurted.
"What? Massie?" She recoiled. "I've never liked that girl."'
Great. Now she'd gotten Massie in trouble. "She didn't really do anything. I was just... telling Sari about her and she got mad."
"Well, there must be a reason. Oh, guys, the trolley's here!" She rose to her feet and grabbed Todd's wrist. "Jay!" she cried, wrenching the newspaper out of his hand. "We need to get on. We're not waiting for another one."
"Alright. Come on, guys." He used the remote control to ensure the car was locked one last time before leading them on.
"Seriously, Claire," Judi whispered as they claimed a seat to themselves. "You need to tell me. Sari's such a sweet girl. What did she do?"
"Could you puh-lease give up, Mom? In six days, we'll we back in Westchester and none of this will matter!"
"But it will," she prodded. "They were your best friends for so long. You can't just... fall apart. You can't."
"Now the Pretty Committee are my best friends," she insisted stubbornly. "And yes, we can."
WANG HOUSE
DYLAN'S ROOM
2:00 PM
JULY 12, 2013
Dylan entered her room to find Kristen sprawled out on the bed, her face buried in the pillow, her body perfectly still. The Gamma placed a gentle hand between her friend's shoulder blades and lightly began to massage her tense muscles. After a moment, the blonde sat up and sighed. There was no trace of tears on her face.
"I'm sorry, Dyl. But I guess I owe you an explanation, right?"
Dylan didn't want to push her, but she had to agree. Her curiosity was overwhelming.
"I was just standing there, talking to my mom, and she passes out. Literally, just stawps breathing and falls awn the bed. So I started screaming, and Mr. Marshall, the hawt teacher next door, comes over and calls the police and tries to save her. Then he told me to get hold of a friend and leave, so the paramedics could do their business, I guess. And I don't know anymore than-" Her phone started to ring. Both girls made a dive for it, but Kristen reached it first. "Hello?"
"Are you Kristen Gregory?"
"That's me." She shot a confused look at Dylan.
"Are you any relation to Marsha Miller? You're the first number we found in her phone."
"I-I'm her daughter."
"My name is Dr. Troy Fairin. We have her in the hospital."
Those words hit like a brick, like a soccer ball straight to her gut. "W-what?"
"We have your mother, Marsha Miller, in the Hudson Valley Hospital Center. And there are questions that must be asked of your nearest living relative or her spouse."
"Um... she and my father were recently divorced," she told the man.
"Do you have an idea of his whereabouts?" he inquired.
"He's in rehab at Cirque Lodge," she mumbled.
"Could you speak up, please, miss?"
She waved Dylan out of the room. "He's in rehabilitation in Cirque Lodge," she repeated.
"Okay. Do you know where her next of kin is? A mother or father?"
"Her mother passed away ages ago. Her father is in a nursing home, and is mostly incoherent."
"A close friend or work colleague?"
"Nawt really."
"Where are you right now?"
"At my friend's house."
"Can you stay there long-term?"
"Depends on how long long-term is. A couple of days, a couple of weeks, a couple of months..." Her voice cracked and grew softer. "A couple of years?"
"Somewhere from weeks to months," he answered. "May I speak to your friend's legal guardian?"
Kristen's breath caught. She should have known this would happen. "Well, her mother and two older sisters are living in California right now. She's staying with her godmother. And I didn't tell her what happened yet. It was awl kind of sudden. And I don't know her that well anyway."
"Are you sure her house is the best choice, then?" he inquired politely but firmly. It was clear that he cared about her well-being, but that he also had work to do.
Suddenly, it dawned on her that she really didn't know any of the Pretty Committee girls' mothers. And these were the people she called her best friends. "Yes," she decided.
"Then I must speak to her," he insisted. "Can I have her name, please, miss?"
"Vera Wang," she spoke softly.
"The Vera Wang?"
"Yes," she told him.
"Who is your friend?"
"Dylan Marvil."
"That explains it. May I speak to her please?"
"I guess." She carried the phone at arm's length and made her way down to the kitchen, where, as she had expected (or possibly hoped), Vera was cooking lunch. "Um, excuse me... Ms. Wang?" She tried to sound nice and just a little lost. "I'm Kristen, Dylan's friend, who she just went to pick up." She covered the mouthpiece with a subtle shift of her palm, so the fleshy part would block out their voices.
"Oh, call me Vera, and of course, I've heard about you."
"You have?" She tried not to look particularly shocked or relieved. "Well, somebody wants to speak to you."
"Do they? Not a telemarketer again, I presume?"
"No, no. Someone... else."
Vera took in Kristen's stricken face. "Is everything alright, sweetheart?"
Tears welled up, turning her eyes from cerulean to ice. "Nawt really." She resisted the urge to lean on Vera and cry. "Puh-lease, you need to talk to him." She told Dr. Fairin one last thing before handing the electronic over. "She doesn't really know anything. Can you just... can you tell her for me?"
"Of course."
And she gave the phone to Vera.
AUNT JEAN'S HOUSE
DINING ROOM
8:37 PM
JULY 12, 2013
A single chime rang through the house.
"Ellos están aquí!" Aunt Jean, like the perfect hostess she was, rose gracefully from her chair and fluttered into the foyer to open the door. She ushered the Carsons inside and leaned in and pecked Jeanette, her husband, Harry, and the 23-year-old girl, Cassandra.
Then she hugged Alex and spoke rapidly in French. "C'est si bon de te revoir, mon cher! Comment avez-vous été? Comment est la vie en Amérique? Qu'est-ce que tu as fait? Oh, qu'à cela ne tienne, nous dire tout à dîner! Et voici ma chérie nièce, Massie Elizabeth, n'est-elle pas un être cher? Vous pouvez avec elle pendant que nous mangeons, je suis sûr que vous pouvez trouver quelque chose à raconter! Et vous parlez bien l'anglais, oui?"
"Oui." He grinned broadly, his straight white teeth bright against his tan complexion. "Hi, Massie."
She smiled, knowing what he was playing at. She stuck her hand out. "Nice to meet you, Alex."
But of course her mother had to butt in. "I thought you said you've already met Alex, Massie. More than once."
"Way to ruin the fun, Mom," she hissed in her ear.
Kendra pursed her lips. "Oops. Sorry, sweetie." Then she raised her voice, since Aunt Jean was still staring at them. "Nope, sorry, I lied. It was someone else."
Massie smirked. "Come sit with me, Alex."
He followed her into the dining room, where the rest of the family (included extended) were waiting patiently for the guests to join them. Then the French started. Not French like Massie learned in conversational. It was real French, and she didn't even want to try to understand it. Instead, she waited for the noise to die down before leaning over to whisper in Alex's ear. In English. "Do you ride horses, by any chance?"
"Definitely," he replied. "It's the best thing in the world. I have a mare named Stormy Night. Well, that's her show name; I just call her Storm, but she's the most precious thing in the world to me." He stopped and blushed, as though just recalling that he was a boy. "What about you? Do you ride?"
"Of course," she fibbed. "It's my life." Well, not really, but hey, she could start the second she got back.