The Clique by Lisi Harrison Page A

maybe I’ll take it,” Kristen said.
    She held the sweater beside her face, but the girls shook their heads no.
    “Into the box it goes,” Kristen said. She bit off the $300 price tag and handed the sweater to Kendra.
    “What are you guys doing?” Claire finally asked.
    No one said a word until Kendra cleared her throat in a very loud you-better-say-something-
now
sort of way.
    “We host an auction here every year to raise money for OCD scholarships,” Massie said.
    “Looks like you’re getting rid of a lot,” Claire said.
    “Well, of course we are. All of this is
last
season,” Alicia said. “After we’re done, we go on a shopping spree to replace it all with brand-new stuff.”
    Claire felt a rush of panic rip through her body. The kind she’d felt when she waved back to Andy Jeffries (her sixth-grade crush) before she realized he was waving at Becky Manning. It was the same general feeling of cluelessness. She had been wearing the same pair of Gap jeans for a year and a half, up until the paint incident.
    No one had told her clothes were like milk or cheese, with a “best before” date and a shelf life. The only time she ever threw anything out was when it got stained or if she grew out of it.
    “I have a bunch of stuff I can donate,” Claire offered.
    “
No!
” the four girls said in unison.
    Claire cocked her head and scrunched her eyebrows.
    “The whole idea of the auction is to
make
money.” Alicia rolled her eyes.
    “I know
that,
” Claire said. “I’ll go get some things and I’ll be right back.”

T HE B LOCK E STATE T HE K ITCHEN P ANTRY
    9:15 P.M . September 5th
    “I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal to you,” Massie said to her mother. They were standing in the kitchen pantry surrounded by cans of soup, bottles of mineral water, bags of pretzels, and boxes of doggie biscuits, which Bean was sniffing. For some reason this was always the place her mother chose to talk when Massie was about to be in trouble for something.
    “She is a guest in our house, not to mention a very lovely girl. I know you’ll really like her if you give her a chance,” Kendra said. One of her hands rested on the thick wood countertop and the other was on her tiny waist. She was wearing a black Juicy sweat suit and a pearl choker.
    “Mom, why don’t you stop worrying about
her
so much and start thinking about how all of your matchmaking is affecting me!” Massie said. Her voice shook as she spoke and she was scared if she said any more, she would start to cry. “It’s like you care about her happiness more than you care about mine!”
    Massie stormed out of the pantry and locked herself in the yellow-and-white downstairs bathroom. She sprayed some French rosewater on her face and gently dabbed it dry with a fluffy yellow towel, making sure to pat, not rub. She’d once read in
Seventeen
that it was a crime against beauty to wipe your face with a towel because it pulled the skin and caused wrinkles.
    “Mass,” Kristen called through the door. “We’re going out to the cabana to set up—you coming?”
    Massie cleared her throat and forced her voice to sound normal. “Go ahead,” she called back. “I’ll see you guys out there in a bit.”
    Massie sat down on top of the closed toilet and read old issues of
Town and Country
for about ten minutes until she heard her mother go upstairs for the night. When she opened the door, Bean was right there waiting for her.
    Massie was about to head outside to the cabana when she heard a noise coming from the living room. She slid off her flip-flops to avoid slapping noises and carried Bean in her arms so the tags and charms around her Gucci collar wouldn’t clang. She figured Kristen had snuck back in to swipe a few things out of the box, just like she’d done the year before, and she wanted to catch her in the act.
    Massie poked her head in the doorway of the living room. Ribbons of yellow light, sent from lampposts on the front lawn, broke up