Secrets of the Sisterhood (The Cinderella Society, Episode 1) (16 page)

True to my word, I donned each one and headed out to the mirror at the end of the dressing room hall, bracing myself for their comments. But instead of giving me simple
yea
or
nay
reactions, I got my second master class of fashion that day.

Sarah Jane showed me how certain fabrics draped better on me, Mel was all about how tiny tweaks in tailoring could make the clothes perfect for my figure, and Kyra gave me a crash course in how to combine patterns without looking like Krusty the Clown. We studied the colors against my new highlights and makeup palette, deciding that Stephan was right on the money with his “clear, crisp colors” analysis.

They smoothed out wrinkles, had me turn this way and that. I felt like Cinderella with a whole team of fairy stylists at her disposal.

The last outfit was a not-too-girly-but-still-flirty dress that I never in a billion years would’ve picked, but that made me feel totally knockout. I put it on, did a little spin in the dressing room to watch the fabric swirl, and I knew it was the one. Kyra was the crowned princess of dress shopping.

I walked down the dressing room hall, only to hear a commanding “Stop!” from Sarah Jane as I approached the mirror. “How do you feel in that dress?”

“Awesome,” I admitted sheepishly, unsure why it warranted a major halt in the action.

“Look at your profile.”

I turned to the side and saw that I looked every bit as confident as I had during my walk of fame in Lorraine’s studio. I hadn’t even thought about posture or walking or anything. I’d just let the dress’s happy vibes get the best of me.

I ended up choosing four outfits because the Cindys had been such amazing bargain shoppers: the killer coral dress (Kyra), a cute shorts outfit for knocking around in (SJ), embroidered capris and a gauzy shirt and cami set (SJ again), and a dynamite mini and tank combo (Mel). The funniest part was that even though I looked completely Mt. Sterling-worthy, nothing I bought was designer. Not one thing. Proof that you could definitely dress with the best on a budget.

With a little help from the Cindys.

We took the four outfits to the accessories department and played with different combinations that fit my
fun-feminine-sporty
style. I’d never been a big necklace fan, but the tiny silver chain with the swirl-enameled butterfly begged to be taken home. Combine that with a pair of small silver hoops (I’d never be a dangly earring kind of girl) and a thin pearly watch (for time-obsessed me), and I was a happy shopping camper.
 

Even with the extras, I still had a few dollars to spare on my debit card until next payday. Enough to celebrate with a triple-decker sundae and four spoons, a token of gratitude for my savvy Sisters’ help.

We sat at a big umbrella table on the patio outside the food court, surrounded by a dozen bags of clothes. We joked around under the shade of the umbrella, quickly scooping the ice cream before it melted in the heat. All in all, a definite check in the win column of my
CMM
progress. Nothing could’ve ruined my day at that point, not even Gaby with a fistful of projects.

Nothing, that is, except seeing my archenemy watching me from the parking lot.

Lexy stood outside her sleek black Lexus, her ultra-expensive sunglasses reflecting the afternoon sun.

Some girls from school were blocking the rest of our table as Lexy headed in my direction. She was almost to the sidewalk surrounding the patio when the girls in front of us moved on and the rest of our table came into Lexy’s view.

She pulled up short.

It was the first time I’d seen her since the spa incident with Nichele, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. Me with my new babe hair and bags of clothing at my feet, chumming with my super popular friends. I’d gone from being public enemy number one to being her living nightmare. Her favorite target was surrounded by people every bit as strong as her.
 

Life’s tough when your targets are protected, isn’t it, Lexy?

She watched me a few seconds longer, then let her attention drift away when two newly minted grads stopped to congratulate her on being crowned Miss Teen Blue Ridge.

By default,
I wanted to yell.

Lexy strolled back toward the parking lot with them, but not before throwing me a look over her shoulder. Despite the sunglasses, her message came through loud and clear. I might’ve built a safety net, but she wasn’t done with me yet. Even a safety net as strong as the Cindys couldn’t protect me twenty-four–seven.

Given her success with the Alyssa video, bullying Heather, and the coffee spill at the Grind, I didn’t doubt she could still take me down.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Gonzalezes’ downstairs rec room (was I the only person without one?) had been transformed into a tropical paradise. Kyra’s mom waved at me from her virgin piña colada station at the bar, and I looked around for somewhere to set my gift.
 

Kyra came rushing over with Mel and Kat hot on her heels. “You’re here!” she yelled, hugging me tight then whispering in my ear. “You look
sizzling
. Ryan’s out back throwing the football around.”

I figured I’d play it cool and wait until everybody came in from outside so I didn’t look obsessed with him. We headed over to see Gwen and Sarah Jane on the couch. Everyone oohed and aahed over my new look and gave my capri outfit—the one Sarah Jane had picked out—the coveted double snap of approval. With my charm bracelet on my wrist for good luck, the launch of Jess 2.0 was officially underway.

Awkward Jess Parker had been put to bed for good.

From what SJ had told me, Kyra’s birthday parties were major events. Her mom is Irish and her dad is Cuban, so she’d had a big bash for her
quinces
(the Cuban equivalent of a Sweet Sixteen except you get it when you’re fifteen) and then another blowout for her Sweet Sixteen the following year. She was turning seventeen this year, but the festivities still looked way more elaborate than anything I was used to. Especially my piddly ones with a few neighbor friends and my parents. Or sometimes—
cringe
—with just my parents.

Dale came in from playing ball, mildly sweaty and bent on giving Gwen a hug. Pretty soon, the rest of the guys came streaming in. A few of them hunkered down on the sofa with us, and it didn’t even faze me. For once I felt like I fit. Then Cherie came down the stairs, and Kat and Mel got up to find out how her audition had gone.
 

I looked around at our little group. Gwen and Dale, Sarah Jane and Mark, Kyra and Ben. And me.

One of these things is not like the other . . .

I caught Cherie’s wave out of the corner of my eye and turned to wave back, getting up to make my escape from Couples Central. What I didn’t see was a certain someone approaching from behind who took an elbow to the arm on account of my wave. The arm carrying a large virgin piña colada.

White frothy slush smelling strongly of coconut dripped down his shirt onto the tile floor. Ryan held the glass in question tight against his chest to safeguard against a second attack.

A beat passed. Ryan looked at the glass and extended his hand. “You looked thirsty.”

I took the nearly empty drink, suddenly aware my back was feeling mighty chilly. “At least my shirt’s thirst is quenched,” I said, unable to think of anything less lame to say to disguise my level ten embarrassment.

“Nice look, Parker!” a familiar voice cackled. What was Lexy doing here? Did evil roameth
everywhere
?

Mrs. Gonzalez was there in a flash. “Don’t worry, honey,” she soothed. “That’s why we put tile down here.”

I bent to help her clean up the latest mess of my life, but she shooed me away with a smile. “Towels are in the bathroom around the corner. Why don’t you two go get cleaned up?”

I thanked her again, apologizing like crazy and feeling like a grade-A dweeb. I headed for the bathroom, trying not to look at the gawkers. I didn’t look at Ryan either, but I could hear the squeak of his Nikes behind me. Perfect. Now I had to face him alone in the bathroom while we tried to rid ourselves of our Frosty the Snowcolada costumes.

A major gaffe, and I’d only been there fifteen minutes. Twenty tops. That might’ve been a new record, even for me. Dorky Jess Parker wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!” Lexy called.

My eyes shot hate darts in her direction.

Alone with Ryan in the guest bathroom, I handed him a fluffy white towel and took one for myself. All while avoiding eye contact. I wasn’t normally a clumsy person. I wasn’t! Why did I catch the freak bug every time Ryan came near me?

I ran a washcloth under warm water and wiped away the remnants of slush on my arm and calf. I glanced up in the mirror to see Ryan watching me and quickly looked back down at the sink, fumbling with the terry cloth. “Sorry for ruining your shirt,” I mumbled.

“Oh, this old thing,” he said in a girly, Southern belle voice that made me laugh in spite of my nerves. Or maybe because of them. “It was the first little thing I put on,” he twanged.

My face heated thinking about how many clothes I’d tried on in the dressing room looking for the perfect outfit to impress him. Only to have it covered in coconut yum.

I swiped at my back a few times before a warm hand closed around my wrist. “Let me get it.”

He took the washcloth out of my hand and gently wiped the back of my shirt in long, slow strokes, catching the icy mix in his free hand with each pass and dumping it into the sink. The sensation of his warm breath on my neck, my freezing shirt and cami, and the burning insult of my latest public humiliation made a powerful combination. Complete sensory overload.

“All set,” he said quietly, handing me the washcloth over my shoulder.

I tried to look cool and composed, but all of my Jess 2.0 confidence had gone to Tahiti the minute I’d demolished his drink. So I tidied up the mess we’d made of the sink at hyper speed and turned to leave. But Ryan was right there.
 

Right there
, like he’d never moved. Which meant he was about eight inches away from me.

I looked up into his face and saw a glimmer of ice clinging to a lock of his hair. Before I even registered the motion, I reached up to wipe it away with my finger. I was touching Ryan Steele. And he wasn’t moving away.

He flicked a glance to my lips. “You look really good, Jess.”

I could barely get air into my lungs. “I’ll bet you say that to all the wet T-shirt girls.” I was aiming for breezy and joking, but it came out all breathy and pathetic.

I cleared my throat and tried again. “Sorry for being a klutz. I’ll get out of your way so you can finish cleaning up.”

I moved around him to escape, but he stilled my progress. “Wait.”
 

He leaned in, and I knew—
knew
—that my life would never be the same after this. I was about to be kissed by the only guy I’d ever truly daydreamed about, and nothing could possibly, in my whole entire life, top this moment.

He hesitated mere inches from my lips, and then I felt it. One amazingly gentle whisper of a kiss.

On my cheek.

“Mmm . . . ,” he said, licking his lips. “Coconut.”

My dream fog evaporated in a heartbeat. My first fantasy-worthy kiss was a minor-league cheek brush to capture the dripping mess caused by my geeky, spork-like tendencies.

But the saddest part? It still rocked my world.

In the end, I did what any self-respecting teenage girl would do when faced with her own ridiculousness. I fled like the coward I was.

I wouldn’t bail on Kyra until we’d done cake and presents, so I tried to find a way to blend into the wallpaper. I also got a private pep talk from Sarah Jane about the importance of deep breaths and appearing calm even when I was dying inside. Especially in front of the Wickeds. Which was easy to say, it seemed to me, when you were as close to perfect as Sarah Jane.

So I did the next best thing to leaving: I manned the iPod station.

Manning the iPod station wasn’t actually as lame as it sounds. Because pretty much everyone at the party, at one point or another, came over to request something. And suddenly, I was the Girl in the Know. The only people who didn’t come over were Lexy and Morgan (which was fine) and Ryan (which was also fine,
obviously
). My shirt was drying and not nearly as cold anymore, the flames of my mortification having long since warmed up the fabric.

SJ asked me to hang out after the party with the other Sisters for a Sisterhood birthday tradition, and I gladly obliged. Man the iPod to keep a low profile, do the Sisterhood birthday thing for Kyra, and then I’d be out of there.
I can do this.

Of course, that was also the moment my luck took a bathroom break. Avril Lavigne faded out, and I heard a tempting voice behind me. “Got any John Mayer?”

I played it chill, no pun intended. “The classics or his new album?”

“The classics. What’s your favorite Mayer album?” he asked, copping a squat on the floor next to me.

“
Any Given Thursday
. I love hearing him play live.”

Ryan nodded, the lock of hair I’d touched drawing my attention. I curled my fingernails into my palms to restrain myself from further inappropriate urges. “I like acoustic versions the best,” he said. “Acoustic always gets to the soul of the song.”