"Sounds like you've been hanging around Ma.s.sie."

"Ehmagawd, rea-lly?" Layne gushed, offering her best Pretty Committee impersonation.

Claire couldn't help smiling as she followed her one-of-a-kind friend up the ruby-red-carpeted staircase.

"So what happened happened?" Layne asked again from the top of the stairs.

Claire took a deep breath.

"I went to Cam's after the audition because everyone was going there after school to look for the-" She caught herself just in time. "Uh, to look for soccer tips. And Mrs. Fisher told me she sent Ma.s.sie, Alicia, and Dylan home because they destroyed Cam's and Harris's bedrooms. When I asked to see Cam she told me I couldn't 'cause he was grounded for letting them do that to her house."

"Wow, poor Cam. I wonder why they did that." Layne kicked the blowup pit bull away from her bedroom door, ignoring the terrifying bark and growl recording that played every time someone moved it from its guard post. "And that's that's why you were crying?" why you were crying?"

"No." Claire instinctively grabbed Layne's elbow when they entered her famous glow-in-the-dark bedroom, allowing herself to be led through the pitch-black labyrinth filled with all things luminescent: oozing lava lamps, posters of big-headed martians, and fiery-haired trolls. Finally they reached her bed, the duvet a ma.s.sive canvas of neon orange, yellow, and hot pink splattered paints. Above it, the solar system in sticker form clung to her ceiling, the stars and planets shining in a radioactive shade of green.

"I was crying because when I called Ma.s.sie to tell her I was on my way to her sleepover she freaked out on me."

"Why? Because you got the part and she didn't?"

"She didn't even audition."

"So, I'm sure she still expected to get the part."

Claire giggled, tickled by how well Layne had Ma.s.sie figured out. "She uninvited uninvited me to the sleepover and kicked me out of the Pretty Committee. Forever." me to the sleepover and kicked me out of the Pretty Committee. Forever."

"Why?"

The tears returned.

"She thinks I stood in the way of her and the-" Claire stopped. A flood of p.r.i.c.kly heat itched her palms, reminding her how dangerously close she had come to breaking Skye's number-one rule.

"Her and the what what?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Nothing!" Then Claire felt a tugging on her arm. "Layne, what are you-?"

Suddenly, she was being gagged with a glow-in-the-dark h.e.l.lo Kitty scarf.

"Mmmmmmm," she called. The black room, with all its brightly colored inhabitants, made Claire feel like she had been beamed to an animated planet. "Mmmmmm!"

A blast of electronica music drowned out Claire's pleas, turning her fear into panic. Suddenly, someone plopped down beside her. The smell of artificial grape flavoring got stronger and stronger until Claire felt hot breath against her cheek.

"I know," whispered Layne.

"Mmmmm?" She grunted as loud as she could, hoping to be heard above the pulsating music. "Mmmm!"

"I know about the keyyyy." Layne whispered again.

Claire ripped the scarf off, wondering why she hadn't tried that sooner. "You do?"

Layne's hand smacked against her mouth. "Shhhhhh, she might be listening."

Claire nodded, taking Layne's hand for a ride.

"I'm going to show you something. But don't speak."

Layne turned on the lights.

A bouquet of helium balloons, each with a different message and a guy's name on them bobbed against the ceiling. They said, Josh Is Number Josh Is Number 1, 1, Get Well Get Well, Jake Jake, and Best Wishes Best Wishes, Luis Luis-obviously her way in to boys' houses.

So Alicia was right. Heather had had gotten a CD-ROM, and she'd recruited Layne and Meena to help. gotten a CD-ROM, and she'd recruited Layne and Meena to help.

"Did you find any-?"

"Ouija?" Layne instantly cut her off. She reached behind her pillow and pulled out the creepy game used to contact the dead. She crossed her legs and balanced the game board on her knees. Claire wiggled into position so that the other side of the board rested on her.

The alphabet, written in sinister black font, was laid out before them. Without asking the Ouija board a question, Layne placed her fingertips on the oval slab of wood and moved it over certain letters.

Suddenly Claire understood. Layne wasn't using the board to get help from beyond. She was using it to communicate her thoughts. It was like text messaging without the technology trail.

A-N-Y-L-E-A-D-S, she spelled. she spelled.

N-O-A-N-D-M-A-S-S-I-E-I-S-F-R-E-A-K-I-N-G-T-H-E-R-E-H-A-S-T-O-B-E-S-O-M-E-O-N-E-W-E-R-E-N-O-T-T-H-I-N-K-I-N-G-O-F.

W-H-O.

D-I-D-U-C-H-E-C-K-E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E-S-K-Y-E-K-I-S-S-E-D.

Layne reached for the slab.

Y-E-A-H-Y-O-U.

D-O-H-E-R-S-H-E-Y-S-C-O-U-N-T.

"Huh?" Claire said out loud.

H-E-R-S-H-E-Y-S-K-I-S-S-E-S.

Layne snickered, then cupped her hands around her heart-shaped mouth.

"Just kidding."

"What?" Claire asked.

Layne whispered, "She gave Chris a bag of Hershey's Kisses last month when he drove her home."

"Seriously?" Claire asked at full volume. Claire asked at full volume.

"Shhhhh!" Layne fanned her mouth like she'd just taken a bite of burning-hot pizza. "Unless Skye works for the CIA and you're wanted, the room is probably safe."

Layne giggled, then tossed the Ouija board on the floor.

"Skye gives Hershey's Kisses to every guy who gives her a ride. It's her thing."

"Did you check-?" Claire stiffened with regret.

A subtle twitch on the side of Layne's jaw told Claire they were thinking the same thing.

"Outta my way." Layne rolled off the bed, command style, and bolted out of her bedroom door.

Claire raced after her, thinking more about Ma.s.sie than the key. This was her chance to redeem herself in the eyes of the Pretty Committee...for life.

In an act of total desperation, she shoved Layne into a freaky decorative totem pole outside the bathroom and squeezed past her.

The m.u.f.fled sound of Ne-Yo told Claire that Chris's bedroom was at the end of the short hall. Slipping on the narrow Oriental rug, she quickly regained her balance and reached for the bra.s.s doork.n.o.b like it was a life preserver. Layne was right behind her, giggle-panting.

Claire jiggled the handle.

It was locked.

"Chris, let me in, code red!" Layne pounded.

Claire joined in. She even shouted, "Code red," figuring it would sound redder if two people were screaming it.

"Chill." Chris let them in, then dove back onto his bed and spooned a navy quilted throw pillow.

"Sorry to brother you-"

"Whoa, who's the dude?" he asked, lifting his head.

"It's me. Claire." She covered her eyebrows and smiled shyly. "It's for a movie."

"Whatever." He tossed a stuffed deer at the ceiling, then caught it. Then did it again. And again. And again.

"What are you doing to Lil' Fawn?" Layne asked, as if the doe-eyed Gund were alive.

"It's not Lil' Fawn anymore," he mumbled. "It's just a stupid deer." He whipped it across the room, knocking over the mini-cologne menagerie on his black dresser. The bottles scattered onto the hardwood floor, but he didn't seem to notice.

Feeling sorry for him, Claire dropped to her knees and started gathering them. A burgundy Clarins bottle shot toward the wall covered in pictures of his friends from boarding school and Tricky, his beloved black horse. A little bottle of Fahrenheit Summer landed near a heap of dirty jeans and torn T-shirts by the closet, and the Rive Gauche lay beneath his gla.s.s desk, near the silver mesh trash can. Inside was a heap of torn photographs of a pretty blonde with a wide toothy smile. And suddenly Claire knew.

Chris's bedroom was was Skye's poem. The cologne samples meant he was a mini lover, and there was no question how he felt about "all creatures, big and small," especially horses. And ever since Fawn had dumped him, his clothes had been stained, ripped, or both, something even Claire knew was Skye's poem. The cologne samples meant he was a mini lover, and there was no question how he felt about "all creatures, big and small," especially horses. And ever since Fawn had dumped him, his clothes had been stained, ripped, or both, something even Claire knew was "Glamour- "Glamour-don't" style.

"Maybe you should get off the bed and get some fresh air." Claire tried her best to sound constructive.

Chris rolled onto his side.

"What was the code red?" he mumbled.

"Um, nothing. We were just worried about you." Layne twirled her horse-locket necklace around her stained index finger.

Claire scanned the room, desperate for inspiration. She found it in the half-empty bottle of Mike's Hard Lemonade beside his Dell. After a quick pantomime, where she demonstrated throwing the drink on Chris, Claire handed it to Layne. They both bit their lower lips, which trembled with a combination of guilt and giggles.

And then...

"Ah-ah-ah-choooo!" Layne dumped the leftover lemonade on Chris's neck.

"What the?!" He jumped to his feet.

"Claire, why do you always push me when I sneeze?"

"Um, s-sorry, Chris," was all she could think to say.

"Sorry. We'll change your sheets while you clean up," Layne insisted.

"Girls, man!" Chris grumbled as he stormed off to the bathroom. "I am so going back to boarding school."

"Help me lift." Layne squatted.

Without hesitation, Claire slid her hands into position. "Ready? One...two...three..."

With a single hoist, they flipped the mattress off the bed. And there it was.

THE B BLOCK E ESTATE M Ma.s.sIE'S B BEDROOM.

Friday, April 9th 7:51 P.M. P.M.

Ma.s.sie pulled the cap off her purple Sharpie mini. "Yes, I'm calling from the Board of Health. Did you ever make out with Skye Hamilton?" She sat cross-legged in the middle of her purple down-filled duvet. Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen faced her, like preschool kids during story time.

"I wish," snickered Deron McEvoy before hanging up.

"Ugh!" She crossed another name off her list. "Who's next?"

"Jack Rubell," Alicia read.

While Ma.s.sie dialed, Alicia wiggled out of her nylon soccer shorts and slipped into a pair of b.u.t.tery soft black Splendid sweats.

"Yes, um, I'm calling from the Board of Health. Did you ever make out with Skye Hamilton?" She rolled her eyes, already knowing the answer. It was the same one eleven other guys had already given.

"No." he paused. "Wait. Sarah, if this is you, I'm telling Dad."

"Double ugh!" Ma.s.sie whipped her phone across the room. It landed on one of her fluffy ivory sheepskin area rugs.

"I'll get it this time." Kristen jumped off the bed and hurried to the rescue.