"Can we dig a tunnel that leads to Briarwood so the boys can sneak in?" Claire asked.

"Love it all!" Ma.s.sie tapped all their suggestions into her PalmPilot. "Done, done, and done."

The photos faded away, and candlelit Skye returned. "And there's something else in the room that's way too incredible for your little seventh-grade eyes to see." "And there's something else in the room that's way too incredible for your little seventh-grade eyes to see." Skye winked at the camera. Skye winked at the camera. "But it will be yours...if you are the first one to find the key." "But it will be yours...if you are the first one to find the key."

Ma.s.sie smacked pause.

"First one to find it? Who else will be looking for it?" She ran a shaky hand through her chestnut brown layers. "Don't I automatically get it?"

"Yeah," huffed Alicia. "I thought it got handed down from one alpha to the next."

"It's probably just a formality," Kristen suggested. "Like how you have to say the name of your favorite radio station before you win the concert tickets."

Ma.s.sie took a deep breath to calm her quaking hands, then pressed play.

"Since it's the fifth anniversary of the room, I'm going to break tradition and do something different. Instead of automatically handing the key off to the seventh-grade alpha, I'm turning this into a contest and have sent out five CD-ROMs to a wide range of girls. This way, nonalphas have the chance to become alphas, just as our great founders did, five years ago. And I've hidden the key under the mattress of a highly respectable Westchester boy who understands that being an alpha is about more than having the right clothes-"

"Yes!" Kristen punched the air.

"It's about staying true to yourself, no matter what anyone else thinks."

Dylan stuffed a piece of bubble gum in her mouth and slurped back the onslaught of watermelon-flavored spit.

"I hereby dedicate the key, and the following poem, to him." Skye's Tiffany box-colored eyes glistened with tears. Ma.s.sie couldn't help wondering if the effect had been added in Photoshop. Skye's Tiffany box-colored eyes glistened with tears. Ma.s.sie couldn't help wondering if the effect had been added in Photoshop.

Biting her lip, Skye closed her eyes and began. Her words floated across the screen in a pink glittery script that seemed too cute and playful for the low, raspy voice reciting them.

The boy who sleeps atop the key Is into the exact same things as me.

He loves all creatures, big and small, So his age doesn't matter, not at all.

I try not to think about his "glamour-don't" style By focusing on his kick-b.u.t.t smile.

Note to self: I've kissed this guy, But I've kissed them all. How bad am I?

We already rode off into the sunset together, But the next time we do, it will be forever.

Holla!

The pink glittery script faded away and Skye's lips returned.

"Talking about this to anyone, including me or the DSL Daters, is against the rules. Searching for the room before you are in possession of the key is against the rules. And asking any boy if I have been to his house is a waste of time. The answer will always be yes. If you find the key, wear the Coach key chain with the little handbags on it around your neck. Then wait. I will contact you. May the true alpha win." Skye blew out the Tocca votive candle. A swirling gray ribbon of smoke twisted in the darkness, eventually giving up and fading. The screen was black. Skye blew out the Tocca votive candle. A swirling gray ribbon of smoke twisted in the darkness, eventually giving up and fading. The screen was black.

"May the best alpha win?" Ma.s.sie whacked her computer. "How many alphas does she think there are are in the seventh grade?" in the seventh grade?"

The image of Carrie Randolph and her BFFs Alexandra Regan (metal mouth) and Livvy Collins (lip-gloss eater) ruling the room popped into her head. The make-out virgins would probably throw parent-supervised girls-only parties where they'd talk about the latest technology in braces and the best-tasting balms. All this while the Pretty Committee roamed the cold, bustling halls in last year's calf-high Kors boots, searching for a warm place to hang.

"What if someone else wins?" Dylan anxiously tore a subscription card out of Alicia's Teen Vogue Teen Vogue, then folded it around her chewed gum.

"Im-possible." Alicia batted the air. "This is our destiny."

"It better be," Ma.s.sie brooded, a ma.s.sive to-do list forming in her head.

"Shhhh." Kristen lifted a finger to her lips. "We're not allowed to talk about this with anyone."

"Point."

"That can't possibly apply to us us," Ma.s.sie whispered, just in case.

"Point."

Ma.s.sie turned her back on the naked mannequin and snapped into drill-sergeant mode. "Kristen, put a file together of Skye's hobbies. Alicia, I need names of the boys she's kissed. Dylan, find out who else got this CD-ROM. And Claire, ask Todd what she said to him. We'll go over everything tomorrow during lunch."

"What's your your job?" Claire asked, sounding genuinely curious. job?" Claire asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"My job?" Ma.s.sie faced her army and lifted her chin. "My job is to win."

OCTAVIAN C COUNTRY D DAY S SCHOOL T THE H HALLS.

Monday, April 5th 8:12 A.M. A.M.

Claire gazed at the Hogwarts-esque stone building, with its elegant turrets and landscaped grounds, then zipped her powder blue down jacket all the way to the very top. As she often had before, she found herself wondering how the rest of the Pretty Committee could manage to go jacketless on such a gray, bl.u.s.tery day. Granted, they were about to make their grand reentrance to OCD and didn't want their well-crafted outfits marred by coats and scarves and gloves. But didn't they feel the angry wind winding its way through the s.p.a.ces between their bones? Or the finger-numbing chill of winter? Did they not feel cold cold?

It was the first time Isaac, the Blocks' driver, had dropped them off in the rear parking lot, and the first time Claire had seen her school from that angle. The back was as majestic as the front, yet something about the view made her feel lonely.

"Ew." Alicia winced, scanning the rows of fuel-efficient Fords and Toyotas. "These cars are so Toys 'R' Us. Why are we here here? Can't we go around front where the normal people park?"

"No," Ma.s.sie huffed, in an I'm-only-going-to-explain-this-one-last-time sort of way. "We need a private place for final Outfit inspections. Besides, you may want to spend a minute or two on your hair. The wind has not been kind."

"Why? What's wrong with it?" Alicia scurried to the side mirror of a white Volkswagen Jetta and finger-combed her highly envied black shoulder-length waves.

"Kuh-laire, doesn't Judi have one of those those?" Dylan pointed to the bronze-colored Taurus sandwiched between a blue Corolla and a yellow Camry.

Claire's stomach lurched. "It's just a rental," rental," she snapped, instantly hating herself for feeling embarra.s.sed by her mother's affordable car. But the last thing she wanted on her first day back was to be any more self-conscious than she already was. she snapped, instantly hating herself for feeling embarra.s.sed by her mother's affordable car. But the last thing she wanted on her first day back was to be any more self-conscious than she already was.

Usually, this anxious niggling struck Claire the night before she entered a new grade. Or after a long Christmas break away from her friends. But never in April. And never never this hard. It was a frustrating blend of excitement and fear, the kind that made her want to run and freeze at the same time. this hard. It was a frustrating blend of excitement and fear, the kind that made her want to run and freeze at the same time.

Claire flipped the red cap on the bottle of Evian she'd taken from the mini-fridge in the Blocks' Range Rover and chugged, hoping to drown what felt like thousands of fuzzy caterpillars squirming behind her belly b.u.t.ton.

On one hand, she couldn't wait to get back to the warm familiarity of old cla.s.srooms and cla.s.smates. But on the other, she was afraid. No, she was terrified. Terrified that starring in Dial L for Loser Dial L for Loser would make her stand out, when all she'd ever wanted was to fit in. would make her stand out, when all she'd ever wanted was to fit in.

"Is anyone else kind of freaked right now?" An air cloud puffed from Kristen's heart-shaped mouth. "You know, like nervous?"

Claire nodded in her mind.

"Nervous?" Alicia asked Ma.s.sie, like she was checking to see if that emotion had been approved. But Ma.s.sie was far too busy dabbing her wrists with Chanel No. 5 to tell anyone how to feel. That, or she was battling first-day jitters of her own. Alicia asked Ma.s.sie, like she was checking to see if that emotion had been approved. But Ma.s.sie was far too busy dabbing her wrists with Chanel No. 5 to tell anyone how to feel. That, or she was battling first-day jitters of her own.

"Yeah, you know, cuz we've been gone for so long and everything." Kristen pinched her cheeks pink. "What if we can't catch up on our homework?"

"That's what you're worried about?" Dylan spit a wad of green gum onto the cold pavement. what you're worried about?" Dylan spit a wad of green gum onto the cold pavement. "Homework?" "Homework?"

"Yeah." Kristen blushed. "Why? What are you you worried about?" worried about?"

Ma.s.sie rolled her eyes and then, without warning, began making her way across the parking lot.

Everyone followed.

"Nothing," Dylan whisper-snapped defensively. "But if I was was, I'd be worried everyone forgot about us and that they won't notice we're back." She swung her striped denim Fendi Spy bag back and forth. "Not that I am am worried about that. Because I'm worried about that. Because I'm nawt." nawt."

"Ehmagawd, do you think anyone's been sitting at table eighteen for lunch?" Alicia asked as she tiptoed across the freshly mowed lawn, probably to keep the dew off her brown suede boots. "What if they don't give it back?"

Ma.s.sie choke-coughed twice, and then sped up. She didn't utter a single word until they crossed the field and reached the deserted side door entrance. Silently, she directed them to line up against the uneven stone building.

"Wardrobe check!" She beamed, the fun finally returning to her amber eyes.

Everyone rolled their shoulders and puffed out their chests, except Claire. Instead, she buried her chin in the puffy collar of her coat and prayed for invisibility.

"Alicia, let's start with you."

"Yayyy." She hugged herself, stepped forward, and then twirled.

Ma.s.sie held an imaginary microphone in front of her mouth, then began. "Alicia is looking lovely in a denim, vintage-inspired, shrunken Polo blazer with a navy silk tank and a faded Hudson jean skirt over navy stretch pants. A chocolate-brown belt and matching suede ankle boots complete the look. Her hair, which was ahb-viously blown dry with a diffuser, is looking full and extra bouncy. Congratulations: you are a nine point five."

Everyone golf-clapped while Alicia curtsied.

"Dylan?" Ma.s.sie signaled the redhead to step forward.

"Here." She burped, and then twirled the way Todd would if he were imitating a ballerina.

"As usual, you look comfy-cool in a black Ella Moss tie-back sleeveless jumpsuit with gold cowboy boots and a thick gold waist belt. Your hair has been straightened and deep-conditioned to perfection. But something is missing....

Hmmm..." She tapped her lower lip. "I know! A touch of rosy blush."

"Done." Dylan reached into her denim makeup case and pulled out a gold YSL compact.

"Congratulations: you are a nine point three."

Dylan bowed while the girls giggle-clapped with pride.

Much to Claire's relief, Kristen automatically stepped forward and spun, her arms splayed out to the side.

"Looking sporty-chic in a blousy orange-and-white-striped rugby tee and black short shorts is Kristen Gregory. She gets extra points for ditching that mom-approved, floor-length peasant skirt in the back of my Range Rover. And extra, extra points for the ah-dorable side braid. Congratulations, you are a nine point four."

Kristen high-fived Alicia and Dylan.

Claire, knowing she was nowhere near a nine, examined the silver zipper on her jacket pocket, hoping Ma.s.sie would forget about her, just this once.

"Kuh-laire?"

"Yeah." She lifted her eyes.

"Are you a zit?"

"No."

"Then why are you all covered up?"

Everyone giggled.

"I'm cold." She bounced on the toes of her denim Keds for effect. "You can skip over me."

"That would mean an automatic two," Ma.s.sie warned.

The girls gasped.

"S'okay," Claire a.s.sured her, preferring the low rating to a round of Old Navy jokes.

"You know that anything lower than a seven means you have to walk three paces behind us all day," Alicia was quick to add.

She didn't.

"You may wanna change your mind," Kristen urged.

Claire started weighing the pros and cons. Walking beside them on the first day back would definitely take some of the edge off. But what if they laughed at her pink-and-purple floral waffle shirt? Would she even want want to walk beside them? Or would she run to the nearest bathroom, sob, and spend the rest of the day wishing she'd worn the stylish but itchy maroon V-necked sweater dress Ma.s.sie had lent her? to walk beside them? Or would she run to the nearest bathroom, sob, and spend the rest of the day wishing she'd worn the stylish but itchy maroon V-necked sweater dress Ma.s.sie had lent her?

"Too late!" Dylan tapped her green quartz ToyWatch.

"But-"

Ma.s.sie held out her palm until Claire closed her mouth. Then she stepped and twirled. "I'm wearing a gray Geren Ford V-necked kimono dress with a super-chunky black suede belt that hangs diagonally across my hips. A pair of black leggings are peeking out the bottom, while red patent leather flats add a burst of color at my ankles. My hair is in a low side chignon and fastened with two red chopsticks." She placed her hands on her hips and grinned. "Feedback?"

"Nine point six," Alicia offered immediately.

"Ah-greed," Dylan and Kristen confirmed.

Claire nodded.

"What would make me a nine point eight eight?" Ma.s.sie spun again while the girls studied her.

"A touch more gloss," Alicia blurted with total certainty.

"Ah-greed," echoed the others.

"Okay." Ma.s.sie coated her lips with Rice Krispy Treat Glossip Girl. "On the count of three, everyone sing the chorus of 'Don't Cha' by the p.u.s.s.ycat Dolls in your head. That way we'll all be walking to the same beat. Oh, Kuh-laire, you should start three seconds later, since you'll be behind us."

"But-"