Popularity Takeover

  But why not wear what she really wanted for once? Loaded down with shopping bags—made, the assistant told her, from recycled lunch bags—Lili staggered up to the front door, pushing it open with her shoulder. The clothes might be a little weird, but she hadn’t had so much fun in ages. She had to tell the other Ashleys about this place. Maybe open their minds a bit.

  As she walked out, the door almost hit someone waiting to come in.

  “Sorry!” she said, looking up with a broad smile. A smile that instantly froze on her face.

  Max! He looked as surprised as she felt. The door closed behind them, and there they were, standing on the chilly sidewalk, mouths open like goldfish. Someone had to say something, but what?

  “Ah . . . you shop here?” Max finally asked. All Lili could do was nod. She felt completely stupid, as though her head were stuffed with cotton wool.

  “It’s a cool place,” Max said, smiling.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “It’s cool.”

  There was an awkward silence, and Max looked down at his shoes.

  “It’s pretty cold today, isn’t it?” Lili burbled. She had to say something, even if it was completely inane.

  “Way colder than yesterday,” Max said, and then they fell silent again. Lili’s hands were numb and the handles of the bags were digging into her palms, but that was nothing compared with the churning agitation she felt deep inside. Her face was as red as the vintage wrap dress she’d just bought.

  “But it was hot in the store,” she told him, as though she had to explain away her red face. Why was she acting like such an idiot? Seeing Max turned her brain to Jell-O. He was so cute, with his bright platinum hair and dark eyes. She couldn’t help herself: She’d been trying to forget Max, but it was impossible.

  Even though he’d been kind of mean to her and had so easily believed all those lies about her, she still really liked him. And he seemed pretty eager to stand around chatting. He could have made his excuses and ducked into the store, but no—he was still here.

  “So, do you like it?”

  “The store? Yeah. It’s, you know, different.”

  “No, I meant this new sticker.” Max was holding up his skateboard and pointing to a wave-shaped blob above the rear wheels. Lili nodded, but she couldn’t see anything clearly right now. At least he didn’t seem mad at her anymore—that was a relief. Lili had so much she wanted to say to him: that she wasn’t lying when she had said she was grounded; that she’d never had another boyfriend, no matter what anyone had told him; and that she’d seen him with another girl who didn’t look like she was just a friend.

  But how could she just come out and say all this stuff when they were talking about a sticker on Max’s skateboard?

  “I wanted to tell you,” she began, trying to get the courage to follow through. “I never dated anyone—”

  “Lili!”

  Yikes! There was no mistaking that voice. Over Max’s shoulder, Lili could see her mother’s ­humongous SUV bearing down on them, its driver’s window down. It’s a hybrid! Lili wanted to tell Max once she saw the disapproving look on his face. He was super eco-friendly, of course.

  “Go on. . . . You never dated anyone . . . ,” Max prompted.

  “I never dated anyone else—” Lili tried to say.

  “ASHLEY OLIVIA!”

  “I never dated anyone else but you . . . I mean, while we were together. I know someone told you I had been, but it’s a total lie. . . . I know you don’t believe me, but I couldn’t contact you, because I was totally grounded because of the camping trip. My mom took my computer and phone away and everything. . . .”

  Max’s eyes widened, but before he could respond, Lili’s mother yelled again and Lili jumped up, racing to her mother’s car.

  “Coming, Mom!” she called, trying to pretend that her mother wasn’t glaring at them, her face frighteningly stern. Great, now her mother was going to lock her up for the rest of her life.

  “Lili . . . ,” Max said, trying to catch up with her rapid pace.

  But there was no time to hear what he would say, unless she wanted to bring the wrath of Khan down on her head once again. All too soon, Lili and her shopping bags were locked inside, and the SUV was pulling away. She lifted one purple-tipped hand and forlornly waved good-bye. Max raised a hand in return, looking deeply troubled.

  Lili consoled herself with the knowledge that even if she’d made a total fool of herself, at least he knew the truth.

  10

  MEMBERSHIP HAS ITS PRICE

  THE ASHLEYS WERE IN CRISIS mode and—as Ashley insisted—something, or someone, had to give. Ashley didn’t care that A. A. had to cancel a tennis lesson or that Lili had to give up an afternoon tutoring underprivileged kids. The Ashleys were so busy on Sundays because being fabulous was a 24-hour job. Because if anyone was giving up anything, it wasn’t going to be Ashley.

  A. A. looked around Lauren’s ostentatious house, waiting for the other girls to show, so they could have what Ashley referred to as a Major Brainstorming Session about Congé.

  After she rang Lauren’s doorbell and was taken aback by its booming chime—based on Big Ben, Lauren explained—A. A. was greeted by Trudy Page.

  “I know I should let the butler answer the door,” Trudy apologized, ushering A. A. into the concert hall­­­–size lobby, with its pitched glass roof and contorted modern sculptures.

  Trudy herself was wearing something semi­sculptural. It looked like some Alexander McQueen creation that wasn’t supposed to be seen anywhere but in a haute couture fashion show or a museum. “But I just get so excited when Lauren has friends over! You’re going to have your meeting in the chill-out zone, but until the others get here I thought you could hang out in the game room.”

  A. A. wasn’t surprised that she’d arrived first: Lili was probably racing from the museum, her other Sunday extracurricular, and Ashley was still busy, in all likelihood, supervising the redecoration of her new room. She followed Mrs. Page through a labyrinth of stark corridors and down a flight of stairs into what A. A. guessed must be the game room. Though “room” was an understatement: This was as big as an arena football field, and it looked like one too.

  “Is this Astroturf?” A. A. asked, gazing in wonderment at the floor. Trudy beamed, as though she’d just been paid the greatest compliment.

  “Looks like it, doesn’t it?” she said. “But no, it’s Axminster carpet, imported from Devon, England. I got them to custom-dye it so it looks like Astroturf, and then we flew some guys from the NFL over to make sure all the lines were in the right place.” Trudy gestured at the yard markers beneath their feet.

  “It’s pretty amazing,” A. A. said, looking around. Sure, it was amazingly tacky, but part of her was drooling over the sixteen-foot screen that took over one entire wall—so perfect for multiplayer zombie killfests.

  “Lauren’s up in the chill-out zone, but I’ll drag her down here. I thought it would be fun for you girls to play with some of our new toys.”

  A. A. was happy to be left alone. The room was crowded with every possible gadget, from slot machines and arcade games to a neon orange snooker table, a three-lane bowling alley, and a seven-foot animatronic robot marching up and down the sideline. A. A. laughed aloud gleefully, jumping onto an Alpine ski simulator game. The other Ashleys could be as late as they liked: She had a virtual mountain to navigate!

  But before she’d finished her third run at the slalom, Lauren appeared, apologizing profusely for her mother’s “mistake.”

  “You weren’t even supposed to see this room,” she said, dragging A. A. by the arm up the stairs. “It’s my father’s little . . . hobby room. It’s a bit too much.”

  “It’s fun!” said A. A., thinking of how much Ned and Tri would love it. She could already picture them riding the mechanical bull set up in one corner and trying to deprogram the robot.

/>   Lauren smiled nervously. “And I’m sorry about my mom nosing around. She really wants to be one of the girls.”

  “Oh, no worries at all. Your mom’s nice.” A. A. felt kind of sorry for Lauren. Her own mother, Jeanine, could be embarrassing, but she was never uncool. And Lauren had a lot on her plate right now. If she didn’t come up with some inside information on the S. Society, she’d be facing the wrath of Ashley. And that A. A. wouldn’t wish on anyone.

  “About time,” Ashley said indignantly when Lauren and A. A. finally reached the chill-out room.

  A. A. gazed around the room, understanding at once why Lauren wanted this to be their main impression of her house. It was as pristine and white as the spa they’d visited the day before, and the floors were an understated bleached ash. Not a dyed carpet with NFL goal lines in sight.

  Lili and Ashley were already positioned in huge, chocolate-colored leather beanbags. Lili looked like she was ready for a nap. Her eyes were red, and A. A. knew she’d been crying all night. Lili had engineered a four-way Ashleys conference call about her disastrous meeting with Max. They all told her she had been right to tell him what she did, and if he didn’t believe her, then he wasn’t worthy of being her boyfriend anyway. Ashley was sitting up very straight—or as straight as she could manage in a beanbag.

  Lauren dragged the remaining two beanbags up so they formed a circle, and A. A. took her seat. Mmmm, this was comfortable. It was so quiet up here, and just the right temperature. The windows were long, horizontal slits high up in the walls, so all you could see out of them were slivers of sky. No wonder it was called the chill-out zone. And no wonder she was finding it hard to pay attention to Ashley!

  “. . . squash the S. Society once and for all,” Ashley was droning.

  A. A. tried not to yawn.

  “. . . information we need . . .”

  “. . . doing the best I can . . .” This was Lauren. A. A. pinched herself: She had to stay awake! Lili was practically comatose, and this meeting would be a complete waste of time if they couldn’t get any planning done.

  “That’s not good enough!” Ashley snapped, and A. A.’s eyes popped wide open. Ashley was leaning forward, one accusing finger wagging in Lauren’s miserable face. “Don’t you understand what’s at stake?”

  “Really, I do,” pleaded Lauren. “It’s just taking longer than I thought.”

  “Maybe if you spent less time thinking about your boyfriend and more time working on Sadie . . .”

  “That’s not really fair, Ash,” interrupted A. A. She couldn’t let Ashley get away with this one. All they’d been hearing for the past few weeks was Cooper, Cooper, Cooper!

  “Oh, so you’re on her side now?” Ashley was obviously in a foul mood. “You don’t care if the Ashleys are humiliated?”

  “Of course I do!” protested A. A., flopping back into her beanbag. She hated it when Ashley went into attack-dog mode. It was totally counterproductive.

  “We all do,” chorused Lili, who seemed to have woken from her daze. “But sitting here arguing and making accusations isn’t very productive. So I have a suggestion to make. By this time next week, we should all research three ideas. The only rule is—they have to be bigger and better than anything we’ve done before.”

  A. A. whistled.

  “That’s saying something,” she said. It really was: Two years ago they’d done the tall-ships tour of the harbor, and last year was the train trip around Napa. And usually they were just competing with themselves for brilliant ideas, not with another rival committee.

  “And in the meantime,” said Ashley, glowering at the unfortunate Lauren, “one of us has to keep her promise and find out what the members of the S. Society are planning. Or else . . .”

  “Or else what?” Lili asked irritably.

  A. A. suddenly noticed the unique black-and-white top Lili was wearing. It looked like something from an eighties music video, but in a good way.

  “Let’s just say we might have to review our own membership,” muttered Ashley, staring straight at Lauren, who seemed to be cowering in the folds of her beanbag.

  It was hard not to feel bad for her. If Ashley wanted Lauren out of the Ashleys . . . well, there wasn’t anything in the world that A. A. could do to save her.

  11

  J. LO IS RIGHT: LOVE DON’T COST A THING

  THE CONGÉ MEETING HAD BEEN an entire waste of time, Ashley decided, inadvertently squeezing Cooper’s hand with annoyance the next evening. It was another school night, but her parents didn’t even notice. They were too busy with the new baby. Cooper squeezed her hand back and grinned at her. They were wandering through Chinatown, strolling up under the ornate Dragon Gate with its stone lions and looking at the cute stuff street vendors were selling. Cooper even bought her the most darling paper fan! He was so cosmopolitan: It was really obvious that he was a world traveler. Every other boy she’d ever known suddenly seemed so provincial by comparison.

  If only he would stop saying he “wasn’t in relationship mode.” Whatever that meant. He hadn’t even wanted to exchange Christmas presents and had forbidden her from getting him anything. Of course she still gave him something—a cozy cashmere scarf monogrammed with his initials. He had yet to wear it, she noticed. She tried to discuss it with A. A., who had been no help, and she tried to ask her father, who just told her she was too young for a relationship and that Cooper seemed like a sensible young man.

  But whatever Cooper said, he certainly seemed to like going out with Ashley. As of today, they had been going out for exactly one month and one week. Not that Ashley was keeping count, but . . . she was totally keeping count. Of course! How could she lord it over her boyless friends Lili and A. A. if she didn’t keep good personal records of all her romantic triumphs?

  One of the things Ashley really liked about Cooper was how creative and imaginative he was. Unlike Tri, for example, who only knew the most obvious places on Fillmore, Cooper knew all the coolest spots in San Francisco.

  If she’d never met Cooper, Ashley would never have known the museum had a free night. She would never have taken a tour of city hall. She would never have eaten Salvadoran enchiladas in the Mission, or delicious pizza in North Beach’s Little Italy. In fact, if Ashley was honest, she didn’t even know there was such a place as Little Italy, or that they ate enchiladas in El Salvador, until she met Cooper.

  “I love the way all the stores are still open at night,” she told him, leaning against his shoulder while they peered into a shop selling New Year’s decorations. “Is it like this in China?”

  “I don’t know.” Cooper shook his head and looked kind of embarrassed. Cute thing about him Number 106! He was so modest. Not to mention adorably handsome in his beat-up leather jacket.

  “I’d love to hear about some of the places you’ve been,” Ashley told him. Maybe with a little bit of encouragement, he’d start opening up.

  “Look at that great view of the bridge,” he said, turning her around and pointing.

  “Can’t you see it from your house?” Ashley asked. All they could see from their great room was the bridge. In fact, sometimes it was kind of annoying—it totally blocked the view of Marin.

  “I guess. You know, this place is kind of touristy, maybe, but I really like it. There’s always something new to see.” Cooper tugged her hand, and they moved on. Whenever Ashley tried to ask him about his life, his home, or places he’d been, Cooper just got vague and distant.

  “I like new things,” she told him, and he seemed to cheer up.

  “Really? Even if they’re kind of low-key like this?”

  “Of course,” she told him. “This is my favorite kind of thing to do.”

  That wasn’t entirely true. A mani-pedi, followed by a bout of serious shopping, possibly followed by a professional blow-out and makeup application, and then a huge party somewhere chic—that was really Ashle
y’s favorite kind of thing to do. But this was a very close second.

  “I’m glad,” Cooper said, his smile sweet and wide. “I’m really glad you’re not some pretentious rich kid who only cares about material things.”

  “God, no!” Ashley shook her head adamantly. She might be rich, but she wasn’t pretentious. It was so refreshing that Cooper, Mr. Tycoon, wasn’t interested in silly heiresses who wanted to do nothing but party and be superficial. So he didn’t like Twenty Questions? That was fine with her. She could just tone it down for a while and focus on enjoying herself. Live in the moment—wasn’t that what her dad’s Zen Buddhism guru was always going on about?

  He was a really nice guy. It wasn’t that Tri had been awful—he was fun as well. But Cooper seemed much more into Ashley than Tri ever was. And if she was honest with herself, Ashley had always known deep down, even before he admitted it, that Tri preferred A. A. to her—and that hurt.

  “That noodle shop I was telling you about is just up here,” Cooper was saying, pointing to a narrow staircase across the street. As they wove through the crowd of passersby, Ashley couldn’t help noticing a man she’d spotted several times tonight.

  He was wearing a dark blue rain jacket, and he was talking into a small headset tucked behind his ear. It seemed like he was always there, wherever they were walking, watching them and muttering into his headset. And wasn’t he the guy who’d been sitting at the corner table in the North Beach pizzeria? Weird.

  Or not weird at all. Of course! Ashley almost squealed aloud at her own stupidity.

  She shouldn’t be surprised at all that someone was following them around everywhere. Greek shipping heirs had to protect themselves, obviously. It was probably just Cooper’s personal bodyguard.

  Ashley shivered with glee. A personal bodyguard! She couldn’t wait to tell the other Ashleys.