alpha and get some answers. But that would have to wait. Right now she had a bedroom filled with designer clothes and her three oldest friends standing by.
And both needed some serious attention.
CLAIRE’S BEDROOM
KISSIMMEE, FL
Saturday, August 8 3:36 P.M.
“On the count of three, everyone push it to the bed.” Claire pressed her palms against the wardrobe box, right next to the big purple letters that said, HANDLE W/CARE OR U WILL B SUED .
“Ready? One . . . two . . . threeeeee.”
SAS added their hands to the box and the girls grunt-shoved the six-foot package across the white shag rug. It reminded Claire of last winter in Westchester when her dad had struggled for almost an hour to dislodge their Ford Taurus from a snowbank in the Bagel Paradise parking lot. She and Todd had stood outside in the cold, rubbing their hands together and cheering him on. Their words had come out in gray puffs, like they were smoke-breathing dragons.
The sudden memory surprised Claire. Now that she was tanned, barefoot, and swaddled in humidity, icy images like those should have been stored away until fall. But once again the scent of Chanel No. 19 was seeping through the corrugated crate and, like invisible ropes, dragging her back up the coast. It reminded Claire that leaving was entirely different than getting away.
She shook her head, focusing on the task at hand. When the box was in position, the girls climbed up on Claire’s grass green bedspread and started attacking the seams.
“Use your nails!” Sari urged Sarah as she pounded the thick layers of clear packing tape.
“No way! I just painted them.” Sarah wiggled her short, opalescent fingertips. They shimmered pink or pearly white, depending on their angle.
“I’ve got it.” Claire plucked a pushpin from her daisy-covered headboard. The backward-facing photo of Cam seesawed to the floor. She stepped on it as she walked back over to SAS.
Now you know how I feel.
Using the pin, she poked at the packing tape until it tore into thin ribbons. SAS hungrily tore into the box of clothes.
“Omigosh!”
“These are amazing!”
“Look at this blue thang!”
Claire smiled while her friends dug through stacks of silk and margarine-soft cotton, trying to convince herself that she didn’t mind the invasion one bit. But a tiny part of her would have preferred to be alone when the package arrived. Not because she didn’t want to share, but because it would have been nice if she’d had the chance to take the more expensive pieces out. To protect them, of course.
“Why did she do this?” Amandy asked, her fists practically choking Chloé, Marc, and Calvin.
“Did you have to pay for them? Because if you did, I bet it’s going to cost a lot. Not a lot like a-few-weeks’allowance a lot. More like quit-school-and-work-full-time-for-your-brother a lot,” Sari said, her upper body half in the box like a rat inside a boa constrictor.
“Do you get to keep them?” Sarah swayed back and forth with an electric blue pair of jeans. She accidentally knocked her hip on the corner of Claire’s desk. “Owie!”
Normally everyone would have cracked up, even Sarah. But clothes were being tossed around the room like confetti. There was no time for distractions.
Claire watched the silk storm and wondered how to respond to their questions. The truth was that she wanted answers even more than they did. All she knew for sure was that since the box’s arrival almost ten minutes ago, SAS hadn’t once mentioned iced tea bombs, Westchester, or the Pretty Committee. The clothes were bringing friends and families together in ways that Santa only dreamed of.
“Massie sent this stuff for
all
of us,” Claire fibbed. “You know, for Miss Kiss. She thinks its awesome you got in and she wanted to say congratulations.”
“Beats flowers,” Sarah said, gathering clothes off the floor.
“How thoughtful.” Sari lifted her head out of the box. Her shoulders were draped with
And both needed some serious attention.
CLAIRE’S BEDROOM
KISSIMMEE, FL
Saturday, August 8 3:36 P.M.
“On the count of three, everyone push it to the bed.” Claire pressed her palms against the wardrobe box, right next to the big purple letters that said, HANDLE W/CARE OR U WILL B SUED .
“Ready? One . . . two . . . threeeeee.”
SAS added their hands to the box and the girls grunt-shoved the six-foot package across the white shag rug. It reminded Claire of last winter in Westchester when her dad had struggled for almost an hour to dislodge their Ford Taurus from a snowbank in the Bagel Paradise parking lot. She and Todd had stood outside in the cold, rubbing their hands together and cheering him on. Their words had come out in gray puffs, like they were smoke-breathing dragons.
The sudden memory surprised Claire. Now that she was tanned, barefoot, and swaddled in humidity, icy images like those should have been stored away until fall. But once again the scent of Chanel No. 19 was seeping through the corrugated crate and, like invisible ropes, dragging her back up the coast. It reminded Claire that leaving was entirely different than getting away.
She shook her head, focusing on the task at hand. When the box was in position, the girls climbed up on Claire’s grass green bedspread and started attacking the seams.
“Use your nails!” Sari urged Sarah as she pounded the thick layers of clear packing tape.
“No way! I just painted them.” Sarah wiggled her short, opalescent fingertips. They shimmered pink or pearly white, depending on their angle.
“I’ve got it.” Claire plucked a pushpin from her daisy-covered headboard. The backward-facing photo of Cam seesawed to the floor. She stepped on it as she walked back over to SAS.
Now you know how I feel.
Using the pin, she poked at the packing tape until it tore into thin ribbons. SAS hungrily tore into the box of clothes.
“Omigosh!”
“These are amazing!”
“Look at this blue thang!”
Claire smiled while her friends dug through stacks of silk and margarine-soft cotton, trying to convince herself that she didn’t mind the invasion one bit. But a tiny part of her would have preferred to be alone when the package arrived. Not because she didn’t want to share, but because it would have been nice if she’d had the chance to take the more expensive pieces out. To protect them, of course.
“Why did she do this?” Amandy asked, her fists practically choking Chloé, Marc, and Calvin.
“Did you have to pay for them? Because if you did, I bet it’s going to cost a lot. Not a lot like a-few-weeks’allowance a lot. More like quit-school-and-work-full-time-for-your-brother a lot,” Sari said, her upper body half in the box like a rat inside a boa constrictor.
“Do you get to keep them?” Sarah swayed back and forth with an electric blue pair of jeans. She accidentally knocked her hip on the corner of Claire’s desk. “Owie!”
Normally everyone would have cracked up, even Sarah. But clothes were being tossed around the room like confetti. There was no time for distractions.
Claire watched the silk storm and wondered how to respond to their questions. The truth was that she wanted answers even more than they did. All she knew for sure was that since the box’s arrival almost ten minutes ago, SAS hadn’t once mentioned iced tea bombs, Westchester, or the Pretty Committee. The clothes were bringing friends and families together in ways that Santa only dreamed of.
“Massie sent this stuff for
all
of us,” Claire fibbed. “You know, for Miss Kiss. She thinks its awesome you got in and she wanted to say congratulations.”
“Beats flowers,” Sarah said, gathering clothes off the floor.
“How thoughtful.” Sari lifted her head out of the box. Her shoulders were draped with
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