The Clique by Lisi Harrison Page B

the darkness and helped Massie see the box. As soon as she spotted it, there all alone in the middle of the big room, a wave of loneliness filled the pit of her stomach. She got the same feeling around Christmas when she’d look at the tree in the middle of the night. Something about seeing it all tall and proud, decorated with lights and surrounded by presents, seemed so depressing. Like looking at someone who was all dressed up with nowhere to go. Massie heard something brush up against the cardboard. She leaned in to get a closer look. It was Claire. She was kneeling beside the box and feeding it folded sweatshirts. She had a soft semismile on her face. She looked both peaceful and proud.
    “At least they both have company,” Massie whispered into Bean’s batlike ear. She gave Bean a squeeze and slowly crept away.

T HE B LOCK E STATE C ABANA #3
    10:15 P.M . September 5th
    “Sorry I took so long.” Massie shut off her flashlight and put Bean on the floor. “I had to take her for a walk.”
    Four sleeping bags were laid out like the spokes of a bicycle wheel, and Bean’s white sheepskin bed was in the center. A glass bowl filled with butter-flavored soy crisps and Junior Mints—the ultimate combo—was on Dylan’s lap. They were in the middle of an intense round of What Would You Rather?
    “’Kay, what would you rather?” Alicia asked. “A condition that makes you snore twenty-four seven or a condition that makes you fall down every ten seconds?”
    “Snore,” Dylan said.
    “Snore,” Kristen agreed.
    “What would you rather have, a long curly pig’s tail or Chihuahua ears sticking out of the top of your head?” Kristen asked.
    “The tail would be like having one big panty line all the time, so I’m going with Chihuahua ears,” Alicia said.
    “Tail for me!” Dylan said. “I already look like a pig, so I might as well just go with it.” She snorted and stuffed a handful of soy crisps and Junior Mints in her mouth.
    “You do
not
look like a pig!” Kristen snapped.
    “You just smell like one.” Massie was trying to lighten the mood. The
last
thing she needed right now was for the night to turn into yet another Dr. Phil session about Dylan and her insecurities.
    “I have one,” Massie offered. “What would you rather be? (
a
) Completely and utterly friendless or (
b
) someone with tons of friends who secretly hate you?”
    The other girls were silently weighing their options, but Massie knew her answer right away. She would pick (
b
) no question—in both scenarios she’d have no friends, but at least in the second scenario she wouldn’t be alone.
    “I’d definitely pick friendless loser.” Alicia flipped her hair. “I wouldn’t want to live a lie.”
    “Same with me,” Kristen agreed.
    “Ditto,” Dylan said. “What about you, Massie?”
    “Friendless loser, of course.” Massie added an eye roll for believability.
    Claire walked into the cabana holding her CD case. Massie saw her examine the sleeping bag situation.
    “What a great setup.” Claire’s cheeks were flushed from running to the different houses. “This is so much better than my brother’s setup. You should see—” Claire stopped talking when she counted four sleeping bags instead of five.
    Massie watched the tiny pulses beat like a heart on the side of Claire’s jaw.
    “Claire, what would
you
rather be?” Alicia asked. “A friendless loser or a person with tons of friends who secretly don’t like you?”
    “A person with tons of friends who secretly don’t like me,” she said quickly.
    The other girls exchanged a look and Massie couldn’t decide if she thought Claire’s honesty was brave or stupid.
    “Congratulations, you’re halfway there. The ‘friends’ part is the only thing you’re missing,” Alicia tossed off coolly.
    Alicia looked at Massie for approval because her comment was nasty times ten, but she got nothing. Massie’s attention was on the zipper of her sleeping bag, which she was