Had she been wrong? A. A. had believed Tri was as much into the kiss as she’d been. She thought that he liked her as much as she liked him.
But if he felt that way, why hadn’t he gotten in touch? Wouldn’t he maybe think about breaking up with Ashley? Going over to her house to help her pick an outfit for the party didn’t sound like someone who was planning to dump her. A. A. just didn’t get it.
Meanwhile, Hunter was still totally into her, probably because he didn’t know she’d had a tongue-fest in the closet with another guy. At the Seven party, he’d tracked her down after his poker game. The stupid boy had picked the wrong phone out of the bowl—one that was studded with rubies. They both felt the same, he explained, when you had a blindfold on, but he swore he wouldn’t kiss Miss Ruby Studs. A. A. had her own phone safely back in her bag at that point, and she told Hunter she was going home.
By Tuesday afternoon, when Tri still hadn’t called and after the hundredth text message from Hunter, she finally relented and said Hunter could come to the Preteen Queen party.
It looked like it was a strictly one-kiss thing with Tri. She felt totally dissed. There was no hope for anything else to develop.
Actually, if A. A. was being totally honest, she’d still had a glimmer of hope when she arrived at the party. But that was dashed the second she saw Ashley and Tri together, holding hands like they were Brad and Angelina. There was nothing she could do but sample some of the sushi and pomegranate iced tea, admire the tiara-shaped cake standing on a table near the center of the room, and wait for Hunter to arrive.
Ashley tracked her down in front of the buffet and beckoned her over to the window. The results from the Miami group were being announced on the big screen, and the screaming from that party was deafening.
“What do you think of my dress?” she gushed, doing a slow spin so A. A. could see the back. “It’s Zac Posen.”
“It’s fabulous,” A. A. said flatly, wishing that the party was over already. Ashley gripped A. A.’s arm and pulled her close.
“Don’t say anything to anyone,” Ashley confided, “not even Lili or Lauren, but . . .”
“But what?”
“I’ve decided to break up with Tri.”
“Really?” A. A. was surprised and—she had to admit—not unhappy to hear this. Ever since the kiss, she’d felt a hurricane of different emotions. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. One minute she was ecstatic, but the next she felt depressed because he still hadn’t called.
Then she felt guilty about kissing her best friend’s boyfriend, and strangely a little guilty about kissing someone who wasn’t Hunter. She’d been desperate for Tri to call her, but she was also determined not to chase after him. But now Ashley was announcing that things with Tri and her were over.
“I’ve been meaning to do it for ages,” Ashley explained. “That’s why I didn’t come to the party on Saturday. I told him that we should take a break, maybe, and start seeing other people. Not be so serious. But then he came over to my place on Sunday and was nearly in tears. I mean, it was embarrassing.”
“Why? Did he cry or something?” A. A. scoffed. She couldn’t see Tri doing anything that silly.
“Almost.” Ashley reached for A. A.’s drink and took a long sip. “He said he couldn’t stand it. He said he realized on Saturday night that no other girl was my equal, blah blah blah. He went on and on about how beautiful I was. I felt so bad for him. I think he might be in love with me. Can you believe it?”
A. A. shrugged.
“And he wanted to kiss me, so I agreed,” Ashley continued. “I know, I know. I should have said no. But he’s a pretty amazing kisser, and I couldn’t resist. Sorry—is this TMI?”
“Whatever.” A. A. felt sick. When Ashley handed her back the pomegranate tea, she set the cup on the windowsill.
“He told me that it was the best kiss of his life,” Ashley stage-whispered. “So what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t break up with him. I decided to wait until after this party.”
“Good call,” said A. A., when she realized that Ashley was waiting for a response. Everything she was wearing felt heavy, like it was a suit of armor rather than a chiffon dress.
“He was so freaked out at the idea of me coming to the party without him,” Ashley said. “It would have been mean. And I do like Tri, I really do. Just not in that way. He’s just a teddy bear. You understand, right?”
“Totally.”
“I don’t want to break his heart. He actually said that I was the most beautiful and interesting girl he’d ever met. Isn’t that sweet? Maybe a little creepy, though. I’m going to end it tonight after the party, before he gets even more obsessed.”
A. A. couldn’t bring herself to speak. What a slimebag Tri was! First he kissed her like he meant it, then he ran back to Ashley, swearing undying love. Ashley had to be telling the truth. What else would explain the way Tri had avoided and/or ignored A. A. ever since Saturday night? He hadn’t even tried to break up with Ashley. Here he was at the party, holding her hand and looking as devoted as ever. She wanted to slap him. He wouldn’t even look in her direction!
“That guy’s waving at you,” Ashley told her, pointing over A. A.’s shoulder. “Is that Hunter? He’s dishy.”
A. A. spun around and saw Hunter walking toward her. He looked really hot in his Lacoste polo shirt and crisp pressed khakis, his red hair slicked down, his eyes sparkling. Sparkling at her. Here was a guy who really liked her. A guy who ran around trying to get her attention, sending her messages, asking her out. The show was on a commercial break, so music was blasting out of the speakers, and a DJ was shouting at everyone to dance.
“Wanna dance, Miss Preteen Queen?” Hunter shouted over the racket, and A. A. smiled at him, taking the hand he offered. Forget Tri and that stupid kiss. Maybe she’d kiss Hunter tonight, at the end of the party—and not in a closet, either. Ashley wasn’t the only one who could have a boyfriend.
29
IS THIS THE END OF AN ERA? OR JUST THE END OF THE ASHLEYS?
IT HAD BEEN A LONG time since the coed mixer at Miss Gamble’s, where Lauren was still a social pariah and saved the day only by—literally—saving Ashley’s life. When she thought how terrified she’d been about walking into that party, how she’d come up with the ploy of dragging Billy Reddy along to give her some credibility, Lauren wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. How things had changed!
Now she was one of the main attractions at the Preteen Queen results party. The photographer from the Gambler, the school newspaper, hustled her into a photo with the three Ashleys, all of them pouting and posing like the StripHall Queens—their favorite pop group. Ashley shoved her way into the middle, of course, practically elbowing Lili out of the way.
Guinevere Parker, who had managed to bag the job of social reporter, cornered Lauren to ask “who” she was wearing, so they could print every vital fashion detail.
“Is it true that you were the one approached by the TV show?” Guinevere asked, scribbling furiously in her flip-top notebook. The Ashleys were right: She did have a bobblehead. “Without you, none of this would have happened?”
“Well, I don’t know about that.” Lauren shrugged. She wanted to tell Guinevere that her friend Dex was right, you shouldn’t care too much about what people thought, although it was a lot easier not to care when you knew everyone liked you. Or feared you. Or wanted to be you, somehow. That’s why Ashley got away with being so mean, Lauren decided. Nobody would be snubbing her anytime soon. “It’s true that the producers approached me, but the show was about all of us. And it’s not really that big a deal. Really.”
Though it was clearly a big-time biggie for Ashley herself, Lauren noticed. Ashley kept glancing up at the giant TV monitor, watching Alexa read the results from different cities, even though everyone else was preoccupied with eating and dancing and waving at one another.
Lauren had decided to make the evening less stressful than Saturday’s party by ensuring that only
one of her guys was on the premises. After much careful thought—i.e., an hour-long phone call with Lili on Sunday—Lauren had invited Christian to come along to the results party.
Meanwhile, Alex was going to come over to her house later to hang out, eat dinner, and watch a tape of the show.
Her mother was so excited about A Real Boyfriend coming over to the house, she’d wanted to go completely over the top with all the arrangements: order an In-N-Out Burger mobile unit to set up in their front yard, get a new popcorn machine, and install an even bigger screen in the already gigantic screening room. All week her mother had driven their builders and decorator crazy with the new plans.
Thankfully, Lauren had succeeded in persuading her mother to forget about the renovation: They were only watching a DVD of a reality show, not the latest revised edition of Star Wars. Trudy had been madly disappointed that she wouldn’t be allowed to do anything except greet the boy, and Lauren understood, kind of. For so long they had nothing. Now they had everything, and her mother wanted to make up for lost time. Trudy wanted Lauren to have the perfect teenage life, even if she wasn’t quite a teenager yet.
“Lauren!” Christian bounded over, his shirt endearingly untucked as usual. He was clutching something in one hand—a Tiffany’s box! “I was going to get you a corsage, but my mom told me you’d rather have something like this.”
He handed her the box and Lauren beamed at him, carefully untying the white ribbon. Guinevere stood peering over Christian’s shoulder, noting down every detail. Lauren opened the box and pulled out a platinum charm in the shape of a crown. It was elegant and beautiful. Her first-ever present from a boy!
“It attaches to your phone,” Christian explained, shifting from foot to foot. He was so sweet and diffident. Lauren felt bad that he wasn’t the one coming over to her house tonight. This torn-between-two-lovers deal wasn’t as exciting as it sounded. Just complicated and guilt-inducing.
“It’s amazing,” she told him. “I love it. But you know, I’m probably not going to win or anything.”
“That doesn’t matter,” he said, clearly relieved that she liked the gift. “You’re still . . . you know.”
They both blushed, and Guinevere leaned in even farther. She was making a sketch of the charm in her notebook.
“What’s the diameter of this, would you say?” she asked a bemused Christian, but before he could answer, Ashley pushed her way between them.
“What’s that? A little charm? Cute!” Ashley fluttered her fingers at the charm like it was a baby bird. “Lauren, I need to talk to you. Someone just said that there were big changes today on AshleyRank.”
“I didn’t look at it today,” Lauren said, a little annoyed that Ashley wanted to talk about this now. Couldn’t she see that Lauren had a date? What did she care about the stupid blog right now?
“I heard that there are seismic changes in the top rankings,” Guinevere chipped in, elbowing Christian out of the way so she could get closer to Ashley. Poor Christian! Lauren shot him an I’m-sorry-see-you-later smile and turned back to Ashley, who was glaring at Guinevere. Lauren hadn’t seen Ashley this annoyed since someone dropped a piece of spelt bread on one of her Louboutin Mary Janes in the school refectory.
“What do you mean, exactly?” Ashley demanded.
“Well,” Guinevere began, her voice trembling. She wasn’t used to being addressed directly by Ashley Spencer, Lauren thought. It was all too much for her. “Lauren’s moved from number ten to number three. It’s her highest ranking ever.”
“Really?” Lauren couldn’t believe it. This had to be the work of Christian and Alex—both of them told her at the party on Saturday night that they’d checked out AshleyRank. If they’d both given her nines or even tens in each category, then this new ranking would make sense.
“What!” Ashley shrieked.
Lauren realized why she was freaking out: If Lauren was number three, it meant that one of the Ashleys had dropped out of the top three. They no longer ruled the school! Lauren had infiltrated their clique and nudged one of them out of the way! Forget Preteen Queen—this was the real barometer of cool. And the bottom line was, Lauren’s plan had worked! She was one of them! But now that she’d gotten what she wanted, did she still want to destroy them? Lauren wasn’t so sure anymore.
“You mean to tell me that Lili is number four now?” Ashley demanded.
“Oh, no,” Guinevere said, shaking her head. “Lauren moving up isn’t the only change. Lili’s moved up as well. She’s number one.”
Ashley was ivory pale at the best of times, but now she was white as a sheet. She rocked backward a little, like she was unsteady on her feet. It looked as though she was about to faint, and this time no trace of nuts was involved. Lauren grabbed Ashley’s arm to steady her. The Preteen Queen results were about to be announced—Ashley couldn’t collapse!
“So what you’re telling me,” Ashley said, fixing Guinevere with a death stare, “is that I am now number two in the rankings?”
“Er . . . not exactly.” Guinevere took a step back, glancing over at the exit sign as though she were planning a quick escape. “A. A. is number two. You’re number four.”
For the first time ever in living memory—or at least Lauren’s memory—Ashley Spencer was speechless.
30
THE VIEW FROM THE TOP
LILI WAS ECSTATIC! EVERYONE AT the Preteen Queen party was buzzing with the news that she had soared to the top of AshleyRank. Poor Lauren was trying to persuade Ashley that she had nothing to do with it—that she wasn’t behind the blog in any way, and that she was as surprised as anyone at the shift in rankings.
“Can you believe it?” A. A. asked Lili as they made their way to the marked spot in the center of the room. The San Francisco results were about to be announced, and a frazzled production assistant with a headset and clipboard was trying to round up the Ashleys. Ashley was still holed up in the bathroom, fanning herself with Guinevere Parker’s notebook and screaming at Lauren.
“I don’t know,” said Lili, practically skipping to her spot. What she meant was, she didn’t care. She was number one at last! How it happened wasn’t really clear. Ever since the Preteen Queen broadcast, Lili had felt like everything was slipping away.
Max rejected her and then snubbed her at French class. He hadn’t even bothered to turn up this week, probably because his new girlfriend was taking up all his free time. Everyone at school was still smirking about the hidden camera footage. And at the party on Saturday night she’d felt like a child sent to sit on the naughty stool in the corner. Lili felt really great in the dress she’d borrowed from A. A., but after Max showed up, all her positive feelings disintegrated into misery and shame. She’d gone home early, reconciling herself to a lonely single life and perpetual social shame.
But now things were looking up at last!
“We need the other two!” Matt snapped at the production assistant. “We have enough problems tonight without the talent going missing.”
“He’s in a bad mood,” A. A. observed to the PA, who gave a despondent shrug.
“I don’t even know if this is going to happen,” the PA muttered, hurrying off in search of Ashley and Lauren.
“Did you hear that?” A. A. asked Lili. “What do you think she meant?”
“I don’t know,” Lili said. Her head was still reeling from hearing that she was number one. Was it even true? How was this possible? It was everything she’d dreamed of since she’d first heard about AshleyRank.
“Okay—now stay here!” Another production assistant was dragging Ashley and Lauren toward them.
Ashley, who was puffy-eyed, was still harassing Lauren. “I know it was you. Admit it, you’re the one behind AshleyRank. Especially since you’re the only one who’s benefited from it.”
“You’ve got to believe me, I had absolutely nothing to do with it!” Lauren protested.
“But your dad runs that tech company!”
“We own a video-sharing
website. What does that have to do with anything? Lots of people in San Francisco own tech companies. Duh. It doesn’t mean we have some inside connection to anyone’s blog.”
Ashley looked stumped for a moment. “But your driver—Dex—he’s like some programming genius. . . .”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “I can assure you, Dex has better things to do than follow us around. Get serious, Ashley.”
“C’mon, Ash, pull yourself together,” Lili urged, giving her the sweetest smile. Now wasn’t the time to rub in her triumph. She would wait . . . let’s see, maybe five minutes?
Lauren was smoothing down her hair, still looking kind of shell-shocked after Ashley’s attack. If she was really the one behind AshleyRank, then she was pretty brave—and/or foolish—kicking Ashley out of the top three. If she wasn’t the one writing the blog, then it was pretty unfair of Ashley to go postal on her. But someone had to be the fall guy, and Lili was a little glad that Ashley wasn’t venting her rage on her.
A TV camera was pointed in their direction, its red light on, and Lili made sure she was smiling straight into the lens. Finally deciding to drop the subject, Ashley wriggled her way into the center as usual and pasted the fakest smile ever on her face. Lili couldn’t help admiring her. Even in a moment of disaster, Ashley could rise above her distress, and look as serenely perfect as ever.
“Everyone quiet!” shouted someone—it sounded like Matt—and the room was hushed. “We’re on in ten seconds.”
Lili looked up at the big screen for a few seconds to see what was happening. Alexa had been handed a piece of paper and she was staring at it, not saying anything.
A. A. grabbed Lili’s hand and squeezed it. “I feel like a dork,” she whispered.
“Shut up and smile!” Lili whispered back, gritting her teeth.
“Why don’t you shut up?” hissed Ashley, probably thinking that Lili was talking to her.