Unfriendly Competition Read online

  “What are you and Trix working on?”

  That was Brit. Always trying to stop fights before they started.

  “What do you care?” Julia asked. She yanked her short hair into a ponytail. Pieces escaped around her face. “You’re on the YENT. Like you want to know what advanced rider Julia is doing.”

  If Brit was fazed by Julia’s comments, she didn’t show it.

  “We’re friends,” Brit said. “So I do care. But you don’t have to tell me.”

  I didn’t get Julia. After I’d helped prove that Jasmine had framed her and Alison, she’d at least made an effort not to openly hate me. But now, it was as if Brit and I had done something to her. She only really made an effort—and not always a great one—to be nice when Heather was around.

  Before Julia could respond, the door opened and Heather and Alison walked in with two full trays of snacks and drinks.

  “Hey!” Alison said, her greeting waaay more enthusiastic than Julia’s.

  Brit and I said hi to Heather and Alison as they set the trays on the dark-wood coffee table.

  “Thanks for the snacks,” I said.

  Heather smoothed her black leggings and folded her arms. “Trust me,” she said with the famous cocky-Heather look on her face. “I didn’t drag Alison to the common room with me just to feed all your faces. You’re going to need the caffeine and sugar, ’cause you’ll be here as long as it takes to make my party plans perf.”

  “It’s going to be amazing,” I said. “Don’t worry.” Everyone else nodded.

  That made Heather smile. She handed us all legal pads with purple paper and pens.

  “You obvi want it to be big, right?” Alison asked. “I mean, a crazy-huge blowout where we invite everyone.” She paused. “Well, by ‘everyone,’ I mean all the cool people we know.”

  Heather stared at her paper for a second. She blinked her mascara-coated lashes then looked up at all of us from her center spot on the couch.

  “I was totally going to go that route, you know, like, the most luxurious party this school has ever seen. But . . .”

  “But what?” Julia asked.

  Heather gave her a look. “But that’s what everyone expects. And I don’t do what everyone thinks I’m going to do. I’m thinking a supertight invite-only party. Just us and a few other people. I mean, we really don’t like too many other people.”

  Alison smiled. “So true. I love it! It’s your birthday, so we’re going to do whatever you want.”

  I sneaked a glance at Julia—her lips were pressed together and she wasn’t saying a word. Julia wanted a huge party, I knew it. But she wasn’t going to argue with Heather. Not when Heather already seemed kind of annoyed by her attitude lately.

  Heather looked around at all of us, perfectly waxed eyebrows raised. “Start taking notes—hello.”

  We all looked down at our papers, waiting for her to continue.

  “I want to throw it here,” Heather said. “Something cozy—not anything where we have to get crazy dressed up. We’ll make a small guest list, order food, and watch a ton of movies that we haven’t had time to see lately.”

  Guests

  Food

  Movies

  I wrote on my paper.

  “That sounds perfect,” Brit said. “I’d want a quiet party, too. I love the idea of watching movies. We could do a theater-themed party and transform the living room into a theater. We could have popcorn, M&M’s—all the movie snacks.”

  Heather nodded, smiling. “I love that. And you guys pick out the movies. You know what I like. Or . . .” She eyed all of us. “I should hope you do.”

  “We’ll get the list right,” Alison said. She turned to a fresh sheet of paper, covering it with her hand as she wrote. “I’ve already got ideas.”

  Julia was the only one who hadn’t said anything so far. I tried to send her an ESP message to say something before Heather jumped on her.

  “That sounds fun,” Julia said, almost as if she’d heard me yelling at her in my brain. But her enthusiastic tone sounded fake.

  Heather turned her head toward Julia, her blond hair whipping around. She stared at Julia for a long time. Brit and I exchanged quick looks—both of us braced for a fight between the two of them. But Heather looked away from Julia and then back at us.

  A tiny part of me felt sorry for Julia, but selfishly, I was glad it wasn’t me. It had always made me feel worse when Heather ignored me and left me to worry about what she was going to do instead of attacking me. I wondered if Julia felt the same or if she was used to that kind of treatment by now.

  “Let’s talk food,” I said.

  And the five of us got into it and spent the next hour going back and forth about snacks and drinks. We decided on oversize soda cups, popcorn, lots of candy, and invites shaped like movie tickets.

  “We should definitely have—” Heather stopped when her phone rang.

  She picked up her BlackBerry, frowning when she saw the screen.

  “My mother,” she said to us, her tone matching her frown.

  She pushed the call button and held the phone to her ear. “Hi, Mom,” Heather said.

  The rest of us looked back at our notepads, trying not to look as if we were listening to Heather’s convo.

  “Um, no, Mom, really,” Heather said, her voice rising. “That’s really generous of you and Dad, but my friends and I already started planning it and—”

  Heather rubbed her forehead with one hand, listening. “Mom, I know turning thirteen is a big deal, but I—”

  I could tell that Heather was struggling to keep her cool because if she fought back too much, Mrs. Fox wouldn’t even listen to her. Kind of like she wasn’t listening now.

  “I’ve watched you plan so many amazing parties,” Heather said. She took a huge breath, trying to keep her voice steady. “That’s why I’m telling my friends exactly what to do. They understand just what I want—a lowkey party in my suite.”

  Heather waved her free hand in the air, as if in defeat, and slumped backward. I could hear Mrs. Fox’s voice though the phone. The cold voice seemed to suck some of the warmth out of the room.

  Brit and I looked at each other, sending this sounds bad signals with our eyes.

  “Okay, Mom,” Heather said. Her voice was quiet. “Thank you.” She moved the phone from her ear, holding down the end call button until the orange AT&T screen flashed and the phone went dark.

  Everyone looked at her, but no one spoke. Alison, Julia, Brit, and I were waiting for Heather to speak first.

  Heather ran her fingers through her hair and tossed her notebook on the coffee table, almost knocking over Alison’s Sprite.

  “My mother will be here on Wednesday,” Heather said.

  “What?” all of us said in unison.

  Heather didn’t even look furious—just resigned. “Apparently, she’s been planning my party for months, and it’s not going to be something we throw. She’s wants it to be the social event of the fall.”

  “And she’s coming?” Alison asked. “Why? She never visits school.”

  Heather’s laugh was bitter. “Right? But of course she has to oversee my party to make sure everything is Fox-worthy.”

  “There’s no talking her out of it?” Brit asked.

  “You don’t know my mother,” Heather said. “No one dissuades her from anything once she’s made up her mind. She’s already talked to the headmistress. She’s going to be here early Wednesday afternoon to oversee the caterer, and the party planner that she hired to basically micromanage every aspect of the party.”

  “She wouldn’t even consider letting you plan your own?” Alison asked. She shook her head. “I know your mom, but this is so unfair. It’s your thirteenth birthday. Maybe you can call her back later and try to explain again.”

  Heather shook her head. “She won’t listen, Alison. You know that.” Heather stared with a blank look for a few seconds. “Instead of movie night, she already planned a fancy party that would be a
big deal even for the Waldorf.”

  Julia sat up straighter, her eyes wide. “Details, puh-lease!”

  “Oh, it’s the usual Fox type of party. Expensive dresses for the girls, black tie for the guys, a transformed ballroom, caviar, and other food that no one will eat.” Heather sighed. “Add to that my mom, who will be in a ridic frenzy.”

  “I know how your mom is,” I said. “And you’re right, there’s no talking her out of anything. So, we’ll go along with her party, but that doesn’t mean we won’t have fun.”

  Heather nodded, getting up off the couch. “Duh. Be right back.” She walked away toward her room, her shoulders slumped a little.

  “We’ll go to her mom’s party,” Alison whispered. “But we have to throw her the party she wants.”

  “A surprise party sounds perfect!” Brit said.

  The rest of us nodded, stopping the second we heard Heather’s footsteps. With the four of us playing party planners, I had no doubt Heather’s thirteenth birthday was going to be better than she could ever imagine.

  4

  TABLE FOR TWO

  I HELD UP A ROYAL BLUE CARDIGAN, A WHITE v-neck tee and skinny jeans. “Date-approved?” I asked Brit.

  Brit eyed my clothing choices, nodding. “So approved. With your ankle boots?”

  “Love.”

  I’d just finished going through my closet, looking for the right outfit for my Sweet Shoppe date with Jacob. I changed, then sat at my desk chair to apply makeup.

  “Are you still getting, like, a dozen texts or e-mails a day from guys wanting to go out with you?” I asked Brit.

  She blushed. “Please. I’ve had a couple of guys ask me out, but none I’ve wanted to date. There just hasn’t been that spark—like with you and Jacob.”

  “You haven’t been here too long,” I said. “I know you’ll find someone—when you’re ready. You’ll meet the right guy.”

  Brit put down her phone. “I might have met someone.”

  “What?” I almost dropped my foundation brush. “Who?”

  “I was talking to Andy after a lesson,” Brit said. “And he’s so sweet and cute and funny.”

  “Omigod! Andy would be perfect for you!”

  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of the two of them together before. Andy, an intermediate rider, was one of my friends at the stable.

  Brit smiled. “He’s so gorgeous. I mean, I don’t even know if he likes me since he hasn’t asked me out or anything, but we’ve talked a few times. I think he might like me.”

  “Andy would be dumb if he didn’t,” I said. “He’s a really nice guy, Brit. If he wants to go out with you, definitely go.”

  “Hopefully, we’ll keep talking and he’ll ask me,” Brit said. She sat up on her bed.

  “He will,” I said, dabbing concealer on my chin. “It’s so exciting that you have a crush!”

  We both giggled, and I told Brit everything I knew about Andy—that he was smart, funny, a good rider, and he had pizza at least three times a week. I stopped talking when my phone buzzed.

  I opened a new e-mail and saw a Google alert that made me clench my Dior lip gloss—one I only used on special occasions.

  “What’s wrong?” Brit asked.

  I got up without answering her and opened my computer. I motioned her over on my bed, and she watched as I opened Firefox and clicked on a bookmark.

  “Oh, no,” Brit said.

  We both looked at the screen—staring at the Canterwood gossip blog. The entry was short, but it didn’t need to be longer to cause more damage.

  Rumor has it that a certain soon-to-be teen queen is having a birthday bash that’ll be the blowout of the century. If only all of her lowly worker bees were so happy about the special date. One, for example, would love to see this birthday blow.

  “Heather’s party,” Brit and I said together.

  We read the entry again to ourselves.

  “Heather’s mom just called her,” Brit said.

  I closed my laptop lid in disgust. “I know. How did it get around school so fast? Unless the Trio already started telling people.”

  “But who is the blogger talking about?” Brit asked. “We haven’t talked to anyone, and Julia and Alison want Heather’s public party to be awesome.”

  I shrugged. “I have no clue. It seems like the blogger is talking about Julia, Alison, you, or me, but you’re right—none of us want Heather to have a bad birthday.”

  Brit shook her head. “I hate this. This post is obviously a lie, but it’s going to start making things crazy if people believe the blogger.”

  I pulled on my cardigan and put my phone in my black purse. “You’re right. But, so far, the blogger has zero credibility. Everyone seems more fascinated by the posts than gullible enough to believe them.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way,” Brit said.

  She waved me out as I headed down Orchard’s hallway to The Sweet Shoppe. I rifled through my purse, already feeling the need to re-gloss, when familiar laughter made me look up.

  Callie Harper.

  And Paige Parker.

  My two ex–best friends.

  Both girls looked away from each other and stopped laughing. They were carrying an armload of textbooks. Paige’s long red-gold hair looked pretty in loose waves, and Callie’s black hair was pulled back in a French braid. Orchard was Callie’s dorm, too. Paige must have come over to study with Callie.

  I paused midstep, then kept walking. We passed each other in the hallway and neither girl said a word. Callie’s dark brown eyes and Paige’s green ones stared straight ahead—not looking at me.

  I pushed open the side exit door with my palms on the glass instead of the handle. I couldn’t get out of Orchard fast enough. Light from the campus lanterns made warm yellow shadows over me as I hurried down the sidewalk.

  The last thing I wanted to think about before meeting Jacob was Callie and Paige, but I couldn’t stop my thoughts from going there.

  Paige had been my BFF and roommate before I’d moved in with Brit. She was also friends with Callie, my other ex-BFF. I’d lost Callie over Jacob. Then, Paige had backstabbed me by siding with Callie.

  I’d gotten used to the emptiness of not having Callie in my life, but the loss of Paige still hurt. More than anything, I wanted our friendship back. Paige had been there with me through everything and, even though I had a new friendship with Brit, it didn’t stop me from missing Paige.

  I shook myself out of my memory and realized The Sweet Shoppe was just ahead. I didn’t want my time with Jacob to be ruined, so I shook Paige and Callie out of my brain.

  Scents of fall treats—pumpkin spice–flavored coffee, apple tarts, and hazelnut cookies—drifted out of the cozy shop, as students came in and out. I walked under the blue and white awning and up the stairs to the building. Inside, I looked around.

  I didn’t have to look far.

  At a table for two near the back, Jacob caught my gaze. His hazel eyes settled on mine and his smile made thoughts of Callie and Paige disappear. He had that effect on me.

  “Hi, Sash,” Jacob said.

  “Hi.” I walked over to him, grinning.

  I stopped in front of him and he took my hands, gently pulling me close to him. I squeezed his hands to try and keep myself steady. Our lips brushed together and his breath, minty and sweet, was gentle on my face when we parted.

  “Hi,” I said again like an idiot.

  “You look amazing,” Jacob said, pulling out my chair.

  I sat down and gazed across the table at him. Our being together was still so new—I almost couldn’t believe it. Being out in public with him made me feel giddy and self-conscious at the same time. I couldn’t help but wonder if girls looked at me and wondered why beyond hot and popular Jacob Schwartz was dating Sasha Silver.

  “Thanks,” I said. “So do you.”

  And he did look great. His light brown hair was messy—in that on-purpose way—and his slightly faded tan made his teeth look sup
erwhite.

  “I might have had some kind of idea what you like,” Jacob said, his tone teasing. “So, I ordered two hot chocolates that should be here any sec.”

  “Yum. Perfect,” I said.

  As if on cue, a waitress walked over with a tray carrying two steaming white and blue striped mugs of hot chocolate. She placed a bowl of mini-marshmallows and two spoons in between us.

  “Enjoy,” she said, walking back to the counter.

  I looked at the marshmallows, smiling without being able to stop. I’d met Jacob here once, long before we’d been torn apart by Heather, and we’d had hot chocolate. Jacob had noticed I’d eaten all my marshmallows and had spooned some from his cup into mine.

  We put marshmallows into our mugs and took sips.

  “This was such a great choice,” I said. “I guess you do know that I sort of like chocolate. Just a little.”

  Jacob laughed. “Yeah, only a tiny bit.”

  His gaze made me feel warmer than the hot chocolate on my tongue.

  “How’s your weekend so far?” Jacob asked, stirring his drink.

  “Busy and . . .” I trailed off, not wanting to talk about stuff that would bring down the mood.

  “And what?” Jacob asked, his tone gentle. His eyes went back and forth across my face. “I can tell something’s up. What’s going on?”

  I sighed, looking up at him from my mug. He knew me too well. “Today’s just been a little stressful. At the Trio’s, we were planning Heather’s party and her mom called.”

  “Uh-oh,” Jacob said. I’d given him a brief history of Mrs. Fox before.

  “Yeah, giant uh-oh. She’d already planned Heather’s entire party as the exact opposite of what Heather wanted. She’s coming to school and it’s going to make Heather freak.”

  “Lame,” Jacob said. “You know I’m not Heather’s biggest fan, but you guys have sort of a friendship now. And anyway, she should get the birthday she wants.”

  “I know. I agree, and so do Julia, Alison, and Brit. We’re still giving Heather the party she wants—it’s going to be a surprise party after her mom’s event.”

  Jacob reached over, running his thumb across the top of my hand. “That’s what I love about you. You’re insanely busy, but you’re taking time to help throw a surprise party for someone you used to not be able to even be in the same room with.”