The Clique_ Charmed And Dangerous_ The Clique Prequel Part 4

"Jillian. Okay, Jillian. Can you name the last five Miss Kisses?"

Claire, Sarah, Sari, and Mandy gripped hands and shook their heads, cosmically jinxing Jillian.

"I sure can. Polly Cayman..."

No more.

"Vicki Tomlinson..."

No! Stop!

"Camille Anning..."

JINX! Double jinx! Triple jinx!!!!

Claire's palms began to sweat. She felt like she was being robbed.

"Hayden Henning..."

"Yes!" Claire pulled her hand away from Sari's and punched the air with joy.

"Awww, so close." Dr. Party sounded genuinely upset as he hung up on Jillian. And then, with a quick click, he was on to the next caller. "You're on with Sc.u.m 101.1, can I have your name, please?"

No one responded. "Number three, can I have your name please?" The only sound he got was the deafening screech of feedback. "Caller number three, turn off your radio and-"

"Ehmagosh, caller three!" Claire shouted at Sari.

The girl was statue-still.

"Stage fright!" Mandy barked. "Someone grab it!

Sarah backed away.

Without thinking, Claire yanked the phone away from Sari's ear and turned off her Dream Machine. "Hi, Dr. Party, this is Claire."

"Hi, Claire, can you-"

"PollyCaymanVickiTomlinsonCamilleAnningJenniEaganandCoraShandler. Hayden Henning was the original winner but she fell during her acceptance walk and the crown was given to Jenni."

A cheering-crowd sound effect blasted in the background. Claire's friends fused together in a victorious group hug.

"Stay on the line, Claire, so we can get your address," Dr. Party told her. "A limo is on the way!"

"Ahhhhhhhh!" The girls began screaming and jumping.

"What are we going to wear?" asked Sarah, wiggling out of her pj's.

"Nothing!" Sari joked, whipping off her nightgown.

They stomped on their paper hats and masks in a mad dash for the closet.

"Shhhh." Claire pointed to the open bedroom door.

"How are we going to get past Kelsey?" Mandy whispered, wrapping an old orange and black Halloween boa around her neck.

"Very quietly," whispered Claire, dabbing her lips with green glitter. "Very, very very quietly." quietly."

WESTCHESTER COUNTY AIRPORTMERRI-LEE MARVIL'S NEW YEAR'S YVES PARTYFriday, December 31st8:39 P.M. P.M.

With the help of a huffy security guard and a keen eye for "fas.h.i.+on don'ts," Ma.s.sie found her way back to the Ahnnabees. They were standing in the center of the crowd, sipping smoothies out of champagne flutes. It was obvious from the four half-empty tumblers by their feet, and the pink stain down the middle of Brianna's Burberry, that they had transferred the drinks into the grown-up gla.s.ses themselves. As if flutes flutes would somehow fool people into thinking they had style. would somehow fool people into thinking they had style.

"What happened to you?" Ahnna asked, placing a sticky palm on Ma.s.sie's shoulder. "We were soooo worried."

Lana, Brianna, and Shauna nodded slowly in agreement, their lips a.s.suming various interpretations of a concerned pout.

"You were?" Ma.s.sie squinted, trying to spot the truth. Her insides felt like a soft-serve vanilla-chocolate ice cream cone-half light, half dark. A swirling blend of wanting to believe Ahnna and not trusting her.

"Of course course we were." Anna smiled slowly, baring her oversize front teeth. "You weren't here for the check-in call with my dad. And he was mad. He said if anyone's missing for the next check-in he'll take us home. Midnight or we were." Anna smiled slowly, baring her oversize front teeth. "You weren't here for the check-in call with my dad. And he was mad. He said if anyone's missing for the next check-in he'll take us home. Midnight or not not!"

"And that makes us worried," Lana added, a thin blue vein bulging in her neck.

"Very worried." Shauna took off her red gla.s.ses and glared. worried." Shauna took off her red gla.s.ses and glared.

"Very, ver- ver-"

"I get it!" Ma.s.sie snapped, cutting Brianna off. "But if you hadn't run off like that I never would have gotten lost and-"

"Who's gonna show me their thong?" shouted a deep voice over the microphone.

"Whooooooooooo!" answered the audience.

All of a sudden, a lively, booty-shaking beat filled the hangar.

"Let me see that thonnnnng," the voice began singing a cappella.

More cheering.

And then, a bare-chested muscular man in baggy white pants flipped onto the stage. His dark skin had been s.h.i.+ned to reflect the pulsating stage lights.

"Sisqo!" Ahnna shouted. She quickly placed her champagne flute on the floor in preparation to rush the stage. The other Ahnnabees did the same.

Ma.s.sie looked around, wondering if anyone had a problem with four girls leaving eight fragile gla.s.ses on a packed dance floor. But no one seemed to notice. All anyone cared about was shaking their backsides and- "Ehmagawd, stawp!" Ma.s.sie shouted. "I see Her!" stawp!" Ma.s.sie shouted. "I see Her!"

Her being short for Hermia, Merri-Lee's infamous resident psychic. being short for Hermia, Merri-Lee's infamous resident psychic.

But the girls had already made a break for the stage.

"I said, stop!" she shouted louder.

Several models, barely wider than the straws in their fruity c.o.c.ktails, froze mid-grind.

"No, not you." Ma.s.sie blushed. "Them!" "Them!"

"Who? Za Good, Za Plaid, and Za Ugly?" joked an exotic blonde wearing a white thigh-dusting dress. Her date's necktie hung sloppily around her neck.

Ma.s.sie giggle-nodded. Not a bad joke for a model Not a bad joke for a model.

She raced to catch up with Ahnna, then tapped her on the shoulder.

"That thong th-thong thong thong!" Ahnna gyrated-sang as she whipped her head around to face Ma.s.sie. "What?" "What?"

"Hermia's here here!" Ma.s.sie pointed to the gold tent at the edge of the dance floor.

"I can read," Ahnna snapped. Her heavily lined brown eyes fixed on the video screen beside the tent. The spiritual messenger's face-s.p.a.ckled with makeup and framed by a ma.s.s of ruby red hair-appeared alongside footage of the earthquakes, stock market fluctuations, and celebrity breakups that had occurred in the past year. All of which Hermia had predicted. The future is coming. Are you ready? The future is coming. Are you ready? appeared in spooky black calligraphy with a ma.s.sive digital clock counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds until the New Year. The phrase pulsated on-screen and then vanished. appeared in spooky black calligraphy with a ma.s.sive digital clock counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds until the New Year. The phrase pulsated on-screen and then vanished.

"We have have to see her," Ma.s.sie urged. "We can find out if LMNOP will-" to see her," Ma.s.sie urged. "We can find out if LMNOP will-"

"How 'bout we show Sisqo some love!" Merri-Lee cooed into the mic from the dancers' pit at the bottom of the stage, her red hair radiating a fresh dye job. It was the first time Ma.s.sie had ever seen her in person. And if she could get close enough, she might advise her to go lighter on the blush. "How much do we love him?"

The hangar echoed with a torrent of eager applause. "And now, coming to you via satellite from Orlando, the boy-band capital of the world, please welcome one of this year's hottest groups, N'S-"

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" The Ahnnabees shook their hands and ran-shoved to the front of the stage.

"They're nawt even here!" Ma.s.sie called after them. "It's via satellite!"

But that obviously didn't matter. In a blur of Bur, the Ahnnabees were gone.

An itchy wool peacoat of sadness hung over Ma.s.sie's entire body, weighing her down with despair. She'd ditched her parents, Paris, and Chanel shopping for this this? Not even one compliment on her fetching outfit/chignon/makeup/charm bracelet/brooches/or ability to pull off mixed metals had come her way. Nawt one! Nawt one!

It was only a matter of time before people started to stare. Not because of her fetching outfit/chignon/makeup/charm bracelet/brooches/ability to pull off mixed metals. But because she was standing in the middle of a thumping dance floor on New Year's Eve at the best party in the country, motionless, friendless, and on the verge of tears.

A camera on tracks rolled by. What if someone saw her on TV? Alone? Alone?

Out of sheer desperation, Ma.s.sie flipped open her cell and managed a half-smile. The only way to save pride was to fake a phoner and get out of there. Fast Fast.

"Heyyyy." She burst out laughing as if Jim Carrey was on the other end. "What?... No!... Did you say private jet or private fete fete? Seriously?... Wait, I can't hear you.... Hold awn...." She jammed a finger in her ear, then marched toward the gold tent, like whatever Jim was saying was urgent, possibly tragic, and deserved her undivided attention.

A snaking line of women, some glossing, others biting their nails, most drinking pink c.o.c.ktails, had formed outside Hermia's lair.

Ma.s.sie's glossy lips began to quiver. The only thing worse than being solo in the middle of a dance floor was standing at the back of a line on New Year's Eve to see a TV psychic. Little said I am beyond miserable and need hope I am beyond miserable and need hope quite like that. Tears were on the way, and they were bringing friends. Ma.s.sie hurried toward the tent flaps. quite like that. Tears were on the way, and they were bringing friends. Ma.s.sie hurried toward the tent flaps.

Just as she was about to enter, a heavy hand descended on her shoulder, its square fingernails digging into her flesh. "Back it up, honey. We've been standing on this line since last New Year's. No cutting!"

You talking to me or your manicurist, Clawberry Shortcake?

Turning slowly, Ma.s.sie sniffled. "I wasn't cutting cutting." She locked eyes with her captor and then released the first teardrop. "I-I need to see my mommy. It's an emergency."

"Jenna's not your mommy mommy," the woman slurred.

"She's not even married," added her friend. She tucked a frosted curl behind her ruby-studded ear. "Or dating for that matter."

"Hasn't had a guy for years, thanks to Rick," said Clawberry. "That's why she's with Her Her."

They burst out laughing.

"Nawt Jenna." Ma.s.sie wiped her salt-stained cheek. "Hermia." "Hermia."

"Hermia's your mother mother?"

Ma.s.sie nodded. Clawberry released her grip. "You are so lucky. You must always know-"

"Yip." Ma.s.sie rolled her eyes, feigning boredom with her mother's gift gift, and then hurried inside.

"Um, excuse me." A red-nosed woman, probably Jenna, blew into a tissue. "This is my my reading." reading."

"I know, but your friends wanted me to tell you Rick is here," Ma.s.sie said with an innocent grin. "I think that's what they said. Rick or Ray or something?"

"Really?" Jenna sniffed back years of heartache and rolled her shoulders. Her face seemed to change from black-and-white to color, like Dorothy when she landed in Oz. Jenna sniffed back years of heartache and rolled her shoulders. Her face seemed to change from black-and-white to color, like Dorothy when she landed in Oz.

Jenna leaned over the table of tarot cards and gave the psychic a condescending squeeze. "Nice try, Hermia. But you were wrong. He left his wife! He left her! I knew he would. I knew knew it!" it!"

Hermia smiled with her mouth pressed shut.

"Thank you!" Jenna kissed Ma.s.sie on the cheek, grabbed her black sequin clutch, and bolted.

"Yes?" Hermia asked, her tone dripping suspicion. "And how can I help you, Ms.?..."

Um, shouldn't you know?

"Block. Ma.s.sie Block." She helped herself to a seat on the vacant but still warm wood stool.

Around her, the tent was ripe with the smell of dust and chai. Piles of Moroccan pillows, overlapping Oriental rugs, and the warm glow of candlelight surrounded Ma.s.sie like an exotic womb. Beyond the gold velvet walls, the party was in full swing; staccato bursts of laughter, ba.s.s booming from the speakers, clinking crystal.... Yet everything was m.u.f.fled like the distant dinner party noises that often lulled Ma.s.sie to sleep while her parents entertained. They were the sounds of feeling safe.

Hermia crossed her fleshy arms over her maroon-colored caftan and glared at Ma.s.sie expectantly, as if she'd just powered up a cell phone and was waiting for a signal.

"What?" Ma.s.sie giggled and anxiously crossed her legs.

Hermia held out her palm-a map of cracks and lines that were tinted orange. (Henna? Spray tan? Beta-carotene poisoning?) Without hesitation Ma.s.sie offered her hand. Her charm bracelet fell over her thumb. "Sorry," she said shyly. "It's a little loose."

Hermia grinned patiently.

"I'm not really sure why I'm here," she began nervously. "I just needed a place to-"

"No more," Hermia insisted, closing her gold-shadowed lids and tossing back her flaming red hair. She rocked back and forth and exhaled with dragonlike force-and then began to chant: "Spiritus maximus shareshareshare... spiritus maximus shareshareshare... spiritus maximus shareshareshare..." "Spiritus maximus shareshareshare... spiritus maximus shareshareshare... spiritus maximus shareshareshare..."