Unfriendly Competition Read online

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1: Two Weeks Notice

  Chapter 2: Emergency Meeting

  Chapter 3: Party Planners, Inc.

  Chapter 4: Table For Two

  Chapter 5: Callie vs Brit

  Chapter 6: Did You Miss Me?

  Chapter 7: Passing Notes

  Chapter 8: Charm’s Fave

  Chapter 9: Back in the Saddle

  Chapter 10: Legendary For . . . Canterwood?

  Chapter 11: Epic Party . . . ?

  Chapter 12: Happy Birthday, Heather!

  Chapter 13: Speechless

  Chapter 14: Blast From the Past

  Chapter 15: The Only One Who Understands

  Chapter 16: History Lesson

  Chapter 17: Really Gone

  Chapter 18: It’s Showtime!

  Chapter 19: Passing the Gloss

  About the Author

  To everyone who helped Sasha make the journey from the first book to now. I can’t express how grateful I am.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A huge thanks to the Simon & Schuster team including Fiona Simpson, Bethany Buck, Mara Anastas, Liesa Abrams, Jessica Handelman, Venessa Williams, and Bess Braswell (miss you both!), Lucille Rettino, Katherine Devendorf, Alyson Heller, Ellen Chan, Karin Paprocki, Russell Gordon, Dayna Evans, and super editor Kate Angelella.

  Kate, your wonderful ideas and thoughtful edits made Sasha’s end-of-reign at Canterwood an amazing one. Canterwood would not have made it to this book without you—no doubt. You’re the dream editor that authors wish they had. (But I’m totally territorial, fellow authors, ahem . . .) I can’t even begin to thank you enough for being there for Sasha’s final moments as narrator.

  Ross Angelella, thank you for being a source of support though writing this book and much more.

  Bonne Belle, it wasn’t hard to mention lip gloss, oh, at least a zillion times throughout the book.

  Team Canterwood, you are the heart of these books. I can’t begin to thank you enough for all you do! xo

  While writing this book, I learned a lot about what priorities really are and what is important. My perspectives on a lot of things have changed.

  Kate, by the time you’re reading this in book format, a new year will have just begun. We’ll be signing a new pop song that will annoy everyone around us, have enough Silly Bandz to fill a small closet, and will have outfitted ourselves with everything possible from Hello Kitty. ^_^ LYSSM. < 33

  1

  TWO WEEKS NOTICE

  “WILL THE FOLLOWING STUDENTS PLEASE report to the headmistress’ office: Heather Fox, Alison Robb, Julia Myer, and Sasha Silver.”

  The loudspeaker silenced and I jerked up my head. Why was I being called to the office? My palms instantly started to sweat and my pink, sparkly Bic pen became slick in my fingers as I kept scribbling in my math notebook, hoping I’d imagined the announcement.

  “Sasha, go ahead,” Ms. Utz said. “I’ll be sure one of your classmates fills you in about the weekend’s homework.”

  Um, guess not.

  “I’ll get your homework,” Brit whispered, leaning toward me. Her almond-shaped eyes were framed by nervous, pushed-together eyebrows, but I could tell she was trying to hide her worry. Probably to help me from getting more scared than I already was. “Text me when you’re out of Drake’s office—I know you’ll be fine.”

  I nodded, gathering my notebook, pen, textbook, and butter-soft brown messenger bag that I’d borrowed from Brit. As my BFF and roomie, she had calmed me a little.

  But note: only a little.

  I slung my bag over my shoulder, stepping around desks, and walked out of the math classroom, closing the door behind me. The second I got outside, my phone buzzed.

  It was a BlackBerry Messenger conversation. And Alison, Julia, and Heather were already talking. The Trio wasn’t wasting a second dissecting the sitch before we got to Headmistress Drake’s. I opened the talk.

  Alison Robb:

  Why r we being called?

  Julia Myer:

  Who knows. We didn’t do ANYTHING. Don’t worry.

  Heather Fox:

  ’Course we didn’t. Silver? Where r u? Were u wearing earplugs when the impossibly-loud announcement was made?

  Geez! I started typing.

  Sasha Silver:

  I heard it, H. I’m in math and on the way 2 the admin bldg. Where r u guys? Wanna meet up and go 2gether?

  Heather Fox:

  We def should. Let’s all meet at the courtyard ASAP.

  Alison Robb:

  K. Glad 2 go w u guys. Nervous.

  Julia Myer:

  BRT.

  I closed the conversation and shoved my cotton-candy-pink BlackBerry into my bag. I pushed open the glass door of the math building and hurried out into the early November air. It was already cold outside, but anxiety made me even chillier. I tugged down my scarlet-colored cable-knit sweater and buttoned my black wool coat, shoving my hands in the pockets.

  I made my way across the empty campus and hurried to the courtyard. The cobblestone circle with its fountain and stone benches was only a couple of minutes from the admin building.

  Boots clicked on the cobblestones, arms looped together, Heather and Alison walked up to me.

  “Any idea what this is about?” I asked, assuming that if anyone knew anything it would be Heather Fox.

  She shook her soft blond hair. “Nope. But I’m not worried. At least, not for myself.” She shifted her blue eyes to me, then to Alison. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Me either!” Alison’s normally soft voice was loud. She ran her fingers through her sandy brown hair like she always did when she was worried. “I just want to go and get it over with. Where’s Julia?”

  Alison started to pull her phone out of her camel-colored Burberry coat. But just as she did, Julia came around the corner a few yards away and walked up to us.

  Her angled blond bob had two pieces twisted back with tiny purple flower clips with rhinestones (actually, probably diamonds) in the centers.

  “We’ve been waiting for, like, five minutes,” Heather snapped.

  “Sorry.” Julia shrank for a second, then recovered. “I was in the middle of a history pop quiz. I had to finish before I left.”

  Heather waved off the excuse with her butter yellow leather-gloved hand. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

  The four of us left the courtyard and our boots crunched on the grass, dried by the weeks of cold air. The administration building loomed in front of us, looking imposing like the rest of campus. Even though I’d been at Canterwood Crest Academy over a year, there hadn’t been a time when I didn’t notice the prestigious, gorgeous campus.

  Until now. My nerves wouldn’t allow me to do anything but look straight ahead.

  We reached the administration building waaay too soon. Even Heather, the fearless Canterwood Queen Bee, paused for a second before stepping up the stairs flanked by spiky black iron railings.

  Alison, Julia, and I followed her inside, and I sighed to myself, glad for the heat that blasted us when we walked inside. We followed the gold plaques pointing to the headmistress’s office and stopped in front of her secretary’s desk.

  Mrs. Kratz, who might have been here when Canterwood was started in the eighteen hundreds, looked up at us through horn-rimmed glasses.

  “I’m Heather Fox, and we’re here to see Headmistress Drake.”

  There wasn’t a waver in Heather’s voice. She sounded as if she was ordering movie tickets.

  “Ah, yes. Ms. Drake is expecting all of you now. Go right in.”

  Julia turned first, and Heather, Alison, and I followed her across the room to the headmistress’s glossy wooden door.
Without pause, Julia knocked on the door. The sound seemed to echo in the tiny hallway.

  “Come in.”

  The headmistress’s voice came from behind the closed door. My mouth was so dry, I couldn’t even swallow. The headmistress was scary.

  Julia turned the brass knob and we filed inside behind her. Headmistress Drake, seated in a large, leather office chair behind her desk finished writing on her notepad before glancing up at us. With minimal makeup, a buttoned black blouse and half-carat diamond studs, she looked every bit the headmistress of an elite East Coast boarding school.

  Her black hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she was sleek, but looked like she could take somebody down. Ms. Drake’s pale skin looked even more delicate against her red lipstick.

  She didn’t offer any of us a chair and none of us moved to sit. We stood in front of her—waiting.

  Headmistress Drake looked at us for what felt like hours. “I know one of you created the gossip blog.”

  I tried not to let my knees shake.

  “The school’s technology department did some research and narrowed it down to a certain building—Orchard Hall. With even further investigation, we were able to find Internet protocol addresses that matched two rooms.”

  Headmistress Drake looked at the Trio. “Your suite.” Then she looked at me. “And your room with Brit Chan.”

  “None of us—” Alison started, stopping when Headmistress Drake cut her off with a shake of her head.

  “I have proof, Miss Robb. The only reason I did not call Miss Chan here is because she is a new student and does not have the insight on campus that the blogger does. So, there are two options for the four of you.”

  I felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach. There was no way one of us had created that dumb gossip blog. The blog that ridiculed the school and made up awful rumors. I hadn’t and the Trio was too smart for that.

  I glanced at Heather, noticing her eyes were focused to the side for a brief second before she shifted her gaze back to the headmistress.

  “You have the choice to step forward and tell me who created the blog,” Headmistress Drake said.

  Not one of us moved.

  “Or, you will all be expelled from Canterwood Crest Academy unless I learn the truth. I’m giving you one week, then I’m telling your parents.”

  2

  EMERGENCY MEETING

  “TEXT BRIT AND TELL HER TO MEET US AT our suite” were the only words Heather spoke as we walked back to Orchard. Since we’d all been in our final class of the day, Headmistress Drake had told us to go back to our rooms. Meaning: no afternoon riding lesson for us. We’d been sent back to Orchard and the head-mistress said she’d notify Mr. Conner of our absence.

  “This is ridiculous!” Julia yelled, slamming the Trio’s door behind us when we got inside.

  Brit, glancing at all of us, had no clue what had happened.

  “First, the random accusation and now we can’t even go to our lesson today?” Julia continued. “What is she thinking?”

  “You can’t ride?” Brit asked, still standing near the door. “Why?” Unlike the rest of us, Brit was dressed in breeches, glossy Ariat boots, and a button-down riding shirt.

  “Apparently, one of us created the gossip blog,” I told her. “Headmistress Drake said one of us has two weeks to confess or we’re all going to be expelled.”

  Brit couldn’t mask the shock on her face. Her dark brown eyes opened wide, and she flipped her long black French braid over her shoulder. “What?”

  “The tech department traced the blog’s IP to our rooms,” I said, flopping on the Trio’s couch. “But that’s impossible. How could they get that so wrong?”

  “If they tracked it to our rooms, why didn’t I get called into the office?” Brit asked.

  “Newbie card,” Alison said, her cheeks still pink from the cold or embarrassment—I wasn’t sure. “The head-mistress thought the blog was too rooted in Canterwood history for someone so new to write it.”

  Heather couldn’t sit. She paced around the Trio’s living room before planting her hands on one of the recliners.

  “No one’s confessing anything.” She looked at Brit. “And you need to get to the stable. Unlike the rest of us, you’re still riding today.”

  Brit glanced at me. “I don’t want to leave when you’ve got this going on.”

  “You have to,” I said. “You don’t have an excuse. Go or you’ll get in trouble. I’ll fill you in when you get back.”

  “Okay,” Brit said, finally. She stepped backward toward the door. “I’m so sorry, guys. But we’ll figure it out and prove that none of you did it.”

  Alison, chewing her cheek, nodded. “I hope so.”

  Brit left and it hit me that I wasn’t going to see Charm, my Thoroughbred-Belgian gelding, tonight. Sadness turned to anger. I hadn’t done anything. Neither had the Trio.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked.

  Heather, who had finally sat down, looked up at me from her cross-legged position on the carpet. Julia kept playing with her phone, and Alison wrapped herself tighter in her pool blue throw blanket.

  “I’m definitely not going to sit around and hope whoever did it goes to the headmistress,” Heather said. “I’ve worked way too hard to get here. There’s not a chance that I’m going to let someone mess with my future, especially when it comes to riding. I’m not missing Huntington because some bored, pathetic person decided to spill their guts on the Internet.”

  Huntington Stables. The Huntington Classic. I’d been so focused on the e-word—expulsion—that I’d forgotten about the biggest, most important event in my career as a rider. My first major horse show as a rider on the Youth Equestrian National Team—the most difficult riding program in the country. If anyone could figure this out, it would be Heather. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous. If we were expelled, we wouldn’t be going to the classic.

  And we’d never see Canterwood again.

  3

  PARTY PLANNERS, INC.

  LAZY SATURDAY MORNINGS WERE MY favorite. Brit was cross-legged on the floor, going through her crazy sock collection.

  I peered over my bed, staring at her. “What are you looking for?”

  Brit shrugged, her attention still on her socks. “Something fun to wear under my black boots.”

  She had way more than a dozen pairs of socks—rainbows, hearts, all colors of stripes and polka dots. I loved this about Brit: She dressed like a catalog model, but wore something fun under her jeans or shoes that no one saw. It was an unexpected and cool departure from her überchic outfits.

  “I love the red and black striped ones,” I said. “They’re so pretty and very fall-like.”

  We were both getting ready, slowly, to go to the Trio’s suite. Our phones had buzzed at the same minute. It had been a text from Heather. She’d invited Brit and me over to her suite to chill—or, and, as she’d put it in the text, “Get over here 2 plan my epic bday party. Ur already late.”

  Brit and I had just shaken our heads then started to get ready. Heather’s thirteenth birthday was nothing to mess with. Thirteen was a big deal. And I was sure until the date—November tenth—Heather would be making sure she got the blowout she wanted.

  Brit pulled on her pair of socks—the red and black ones I’d suggested—and my phone buzzed. BBM.

  Jacob Schwartz:

  How’s ur morning?

  I hurried to type back. Just seeing his name pop up on my BBM made me feel all fluttery.

  Sasha Silver:

  Good! Brit and I r abt 2 go 2 Trio’s suite.

  Jacob Schwartz:

  Why?

  Sasha Silver:

  Heather invited us over to plan her 13th bday. It’s on Weds.

  Jacob Schwartz:

  Ohhh. Man. Did u ever think *U’d* be planning her bday?

  Sasha Silver:

  LOL. Um, not rlly. But you know how our friendship has changed, so I’m actually excited. Got to run, but talk
later?

  Jacob Schwartz:

  Def. Maybe over hot chocolate @ SS?

  Sasha Silver:

  <3 to. TTYL.

  I stopped typing and glanced up. Brit, still on the floor, was grinning up at me.

  “That wasn’t, oh, I don’t know . . . Jacob,” she taunted. “Was it?”

  I put my phone in my purse, unable to stop my smile.

  “He wanted to know what we were doing,” I said. “I told him about Heather’s party. And he wants to meet up tonight.”

  Brit stood, pulling on knee-high boots. “Yay! And it’s going to be the party of the year. Maybe of the decade. I know I haven’t been here long, but I can’t imagine there’s going to be a party even close to the one that’s about to happen this week.”

  I smoothed my comfy purple VS Pink yoga pants and put a hoodie over my black shirt that looked as if it had been dusted with fine glitter.

  Brit and I left our room and walked to the Trio’s suite. Someone, probably artsy Alison, had decorated the door with fall decorations. A beautiful wreath of bright-colored fall leaves hung above their white board. Above and around the doorway, a string of soft white lights made their suite look fall-ready.

  Brit knocked and, seconds later, Julia pulled open the door. She was dressed in riding clothes and there was a look of annoyance—something that had seemed permanent since YENT tryouts—on her face.

  “Hey,” Brit and I said, stepping inside. We went for the small couch in their living room and sat down. I loved the Trio’s cozy suite. A liquid potpourri holder gave off wafts of pumpkin spice in the air. Like always, the place was spotless and the flat-screen TV was muted on an entertainment channel.

  “Hi.” Julia’s response was short. She picked up her MacBook Air off the couch, slamming the lid shut. She looked comfy in cropped leggings and an oversize red sweater. “Heather and Alison are grabbing snacks from the common room. They’ll be back in a sec.”

  “Cool,” I said. “You going riding soon?’

  Julia stared at me for a looong time. “Are the non-riding clothes not a big enough hint?”

  “Just asking,” I said, my tone short like hers.

  Brit took a breath and leaned forward on the couch, toward Julia.