Page 16 of Social Order


  Worst of all was the stupid Tumblr, AshleyRank, that her father’s lawyer had managed, at long last, to close down. Some sixth-grade wannabes had been making her life a misery, dropping her ranking from number one to a tragic number four. The most unforgivable offense: The blog had crowned a new queen—Ashley Li (better known as Lili) as the new ruler of the seventh grade.

  Okay, so Lili was her best friend, and they were devoted to each other—but c’mon! Lili was a total copycat—always buying a pair of Current Elliot cargos only after seeing Ashley’s, always crushing on boys Ashley had declared adorable, always being the first to admire Ashley’s new handbags.

  Thank goodness AshleyRank was history, and Ashley hoped that its demise had torpedoed the idea that anyone other than Ashley was numero uno as well. Her party would show them she was at the top of her game. All she needed was a little parental cooperation. And a huge party budget, of course.

  Mona Mazur’s parties cost more than most weddings.

  “You know, sweetie,” her mother said with a pained smile, rattling the saucer as she set down her teacup, “I wonder if we could come back another day to do this. I’m just not feeling very well right now.”

  “Mom!” Ashley whined. “Are you sure? Can you just hold it together for a little longer?” She looked at her mom worriedly. There was clearly something wrong with Matilda, but the thought of a sick parent was too scary to contemplate. Ashley hated whenever her parents fell ill, and she harbored nightmarish scenarios of being a poor, friendless orphan whenever they did.

  Plus, her birthday was practically tomorrow, and nothing was planned yet. How would she know which outfits to buy if they hadn’t decided on a theme? She squeezed her mother’s arm and hoped it would communicate how important this was.

  Luckily, Mona seemed to be on her side.

  “Unfortunately, there’s not much time to pull all this together, Mrs. Spencer,” she said. “But we can make it quick, yes? Ashley, have you seen anything in my book that inspires you?”

  “Well, yes and no,” Ashley began, pausing when she glanced at her mother. Matilda really did look bad. Her forehead looked clammy, and she kept closing her eyes. Oh God. She would be a foster child. Or worse, sent to live with the Spencers’ only living relative: batty Aunt Agnes, who lived in Vermont with two hundred sheep and made cheese.

  Ashley started rattling off ideas as quickly as they formed in her head in order to shake the scary image of having to live among barn animals. “I was thinking of some kind of international theme. . . .”

  “I was thinking of something more age-appropriate,” her mother said faintly, as though she was too exhausted to continue, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

  “Like the circus, perhaps?” Mona suggested, her face serene. “I think that would work very nicely with the space as well. You have those lovely cathedral ceilings, perfect for a tightrope. We could have rides and carnival attractions in the yard, fire-eaters on stilts along the entryway . . .”

  “A circus?” Ashley was pouting. She didn’t want anything too childish. It all sounded like a clowns-tying-balloons party, the kind of thing the Ashleys had always mocked.

  “It can be very sophisticated,” Mona explained. “Think of Cirque du Soleil. They did such a fabulous job with the tribute to Michael Jackson.”

  Ashley liked that. The King of Pop had nothing on her, the reigning queen of Miss Gamble’s.

  “Yes.” Ashley’s mother stood up, shaky on her feet. “Let’s move ahead with that. Just send me the plan and the estimate. . . .”

  “That’s it?” Ashley blurted. So there was to be no more discussion? She crossed her arms and huffed. First her mother had to be dragged here, and now she was racing out the door before they’d even had a chance to discuss a circus-themed menu, how Ashley was going to make a grand entrance on a Vespa, or how many lions they could fit in the den. Everything was being left to chance. Well, chance and Mona. But planning was half the fun!

  “I’m sorry.” Her mother offered a limp hand to Mona. “I just don’t feel very . . . BLEAAGH!”

  And with that, Matilda Spencer vomited all over the coffee table, her teacup, and Mona’s famous black book, all over her shoes, and all over the snow-white sheepskin rug.

  The place was covered in lime green vomit.

  “Omigod!” shrieked Ashley, jumping to her feet. “Mom! Are you okay?” She looked at her mother, stricken with fear and disgust. Nimble Mona had leaped from her stool and avoided getting splattered, but Dorothy the poodle wasn’t so lucky: She’d been prancing past just as her mother started barfing and was now dripping with what looked like a mess of regurgitated peas.

  Ashley put a hand on her mother’s elbow, shocked speechless. She hoped it was just food poisoning and not something more serious. Nothing that would mean Ashley would live out the rest of her life having to wear itchy wool sweaters and eat Aunt Agnes’s horrible cooking. Matilda was bent double, one trembling hand holding back her ponytail. Mona looked concerned and just a tiny bit appalled.

  Uh-oh. Maybe this was going to be a deal breaker. Maybe Mona didn’t like clients who threw up their lunches all over the black-and-white decor, even if those lunches were organic and prepared by a private chef. Maybe she’d show them the door and badmouth them to all the other party planners in San Francisco.

  But even as she was anxious about her mother’s health, Ashley couldn’t help but wonder: What did this mean for her Super-Sweet Thirteen?

  MELISSA DE LA CRUZ is the New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and Publishers Weekly best-selling author of many books, including the Beach Lane series; the Blue Bloods series, which has 3 million copies in print; and the Witches of East End series, which is now an hour-long drama on the Lifetime network. Frozen, the first book in her new fantasy series, Heart of Dread, is cowritten with her husband. She is a former journalist and has written for Teen Vogue, Seventeen, Harper’s Bazaar, Glamour, Marie Claire, and Allure. Melissa attended the Convent of the Sacred Heart in San Francisco, which served as an inspiration for the school in the Ashley Project series. She currently lives in Los Angeles and Palm Springs with her family.

  ALADDIN

  Simon & Schuster, New York

  MEET THE AUTHOR, WATCH VIDEOS, AND GET EXTRAS AT

  KIDS.SimonandSchuster.com

  authors.simonandschuster.com/Melissa-De-La-Cruz

  Don’t miss any of the Ashley Project books:

  The Ashley Project

  The Ashley Project #3:

  Birthday Vicious

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ALADDIN

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This Aladdin hardcover edition June 2014

  Text copyright © 2008 by Melissa de la Cruz

  Previously titled Jealous?

  Jacket illustration copyright © 2014 by Jason Brooks

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  ALADDIN is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc., and related logo is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Also available in an Aladdin paperback edition.

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  Jacket design by Jessica Handelman

  Interior design by Mike Rosamilia

  Jacket illustration copyright © 2014 by Jason Brooks

  The text of this book was set in Adobe Caslon Pro.

  Library of Congress Contr
ol Number 2014932875

  ISBN 978-1-4814-0667-3 (hc)

  ISBN 978-1-4424-9036-9 (pbk)

  ISBN 978-1-4424-9037-6 (eBook)

 


 

  Melissa de la Cruz, Social Order

  (Series: # )

 

 


 

 
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