Spoiled (22 page)

Molly sat backstage in her makeshift costume corner cutting fabric for Mrs. Pearce’s maid’s uniform. Her phone lit up with
an incoming text from Max.

HE KNOWS MY NAME!!!! SORT OF.

In the distance, Molly heard Brooke’s usual directorial
bellowing, but she tuned it out with ease. It was a skill she’d developed living with Laurel, who couldn’t watch Molly open
a jar of Jif without lecturing her on the liver-pickling toxins of nonorganic snack foods. In that sense, Molly reflected,
Laurel and Brick
were
made for each other.

Max again:

YOU MEASURED HIS INSEAM?!?

Molly texted back:

A LADY NEVER MEASURES AND TELLS.

She heard very cranky-sounding footsteps coming in her direction just as Max’s reply buzzed through.

PLEASE DON’T ALTER HIS PANTS.

Molly didn’t have time to respond before she was confronted by a blonde banshee clutching a plaid coat.

“Plaid? Really, Molly?” Brooke seethed. “And what about ‘Julie’s chin can’t pull off a bonnet’ did you not understand?”

Molly ignored her and took a fortifying sip of the coffee she’d bought from the sophomore class snack cart. It had been like
this since she was strong-armed into working on the play. Eliza’s gown wasn’t rich enough. Her flower-girl rags weren’t ratty
enough. Henry’s monocle wasn’t round enough.

“And Jake says his pants are so tight he’ll split them in the first scene,” Brooke said. “I swear to God, Molly, if you ruin
this… Eliza needs to look like a goddess, Freddy Eynsford-Hill should not have a porno package, and Julie Newman cannot wear
a bonnet!”

“What’s so bad about it?” asked Julie from behind Brooke. “Molly has amazing fashion sense. Did you know that Katie Holmes
owns that tank top? Besides, I think it’s kicky.” She patted her bonnet fondly.

“Well, your fake accent makes
me
kicky, so either go practice or put a plug in it,” Brooke snapped.

“Brooke, I have three weeks total to pull this together,” Molly said, summoning all her patience. “This is the fastest play
production in the history of mankind. You’ll get what you get.”

“
So
nice to see you share your mother’s care and attention to detail,” Brooke snarked.

“So nice to see
you
share your mother’s…” Molly paused. “Wait, where
is
your mother, again?”

Rarely had Molly ever come up with the exact sharp retort in the exact moment it needed to be deployed. She didn’t have time
to decide if this made her proud: Before Molly even registered what was happening, Brooke knocked Molly’s coffee all over
the maid’s uniform, liberated the scissors from her hands, and—with a flourish—stabbed Julie Newman right in the bonnet.

“There,” Brooke said. “Maybe
that
will challenge you to do a better job.”

She walked out in a huff, leaving behind a gaping Molly and an awestruck Julie Newman, still wearing the bonnet, scissors
dangling precariously over the top of her head.

“
SHE STABBED IT?
Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Molly affirmed, unlocking the front door and ushering Shelby inside the house. “Can you believe it?”

“Fascinating,” Shelby said, her eyes darting around the Berlin family foyer. In a flash she found and popped open the secret
coatroom. “Is that a bow and arrow? Does this mean Brick is actually considering doing the remake of Russell Crowe’s remake
of
Robin Hood
?”

“Beats me,” Molly said, reaching around and clicking the door shut as nonchalantly as possible. “Come on, my room’s upstairs.”

Molly led the way as quickly as possible. She wasn’t one hundred percent certain that Brick would approve of Trip Kendall’s
daughter being granted passage, much less get
ting a peek at the coat closet, so she thought it best to try to avoid Stan—Brick’s eyes and ears—altogether.

“A bust of Brick wearing a Viking helmet,” Shelby murmured as they passed the second floor, where it guarded the door of Brick’s
memorabilia room. “Priceless.”

“Your dad must have a ton of souvenirs from work, huh?” Molly asked.

“Oh, goodness no, not in the shared spaces,” Shelby said. “He wants the house to feel like
everyone’s
home, you know?”

Molly prickled a bit. “Well, I like it,” she said. “It’s fun to see everything Brick has done.”

“Of course it is,” Shelby cooed. “It’s like a museum of all the years you missed.”

It sounded cheesy when Shelby said it, but that’s exactly how Molly felt when she’d peeked into the room full of old costumes,
props, photographs, and scripts. They were tangible items that lined up Brick’s life with hers: When she’d broken her arm
falling off the monkey bars, Brick was cowriting
Diaper Andy
; when she won the West Cairo Regional Spelling Bee, he’d been in the middle of playing Leif Ericson in
It Takes a Pillage
; when she’d gotten her braces removed in ninth grade, he’d just finished the Dirk Venom series (the tightrope from which
was preserved lovingly in a Plexiglas case). It made her feel close to Brick even though, in Florida, he was currently as
far away geographically as ever. But she certainly didn’t expect Shelby to understand that, and she wasn’t up for explaining
it.
Talking about Brooke was one thing; they had her in common. Brick was personal.

When they reached the third floor, Molly turned. “Are you ready for more pink than a Barbie Dream House?” she asked, and then
flung open the door to the bedroom. She knew Shelby had been dying for this kind of access to Brooke’s inner sanctum, and
seeing the intense curiosity fill Shelby’s face, Molly felt weirdly powerful being able to satisfy it. Even if it was just
to do algebra.

“So this is Brooke Berlin’s room,” Shelby said, her eyes darting across every surface with the quickness of a speed-reader.

“Yeah, I take no responsibility for the poster of that
Lust for Life
guy,” Molly said.

“He never did call me after that day on the beach,” Shelby mused. “Which means he’s way too virtuous for Brooke.”

“Or too sane,” Molly said. “She acted like a complete psycho today.”

“
Today?
” Shelby laughed.

“No kidding,” Molly said. “I’m beginning to think that crazy is actually her normal state.”

“She’s so destructive,” Shelby said. “I can’t understand it. This house isn’t to my taste, of course, but it’s not like she
was raised in a barn.
My
mother would be mortified by that sort of behavior. But then again, my mother is very involved in my upbringing.”

“Oh, really?” Molly asked. “Does she work at
Hey!
, too? What does she do?”

“A little of this, a little of that,” Shelby evaded, tugging on a strand of hair. “But she makes sure she’s around. I don’t
even see any pictures of Brooke’s mother in this room.”

“Look again,” Molly said, pointing at the wall. “Those are Kelly’s award-winning hands massaging themselves with lotion.”

“So she claims,” Shelby said, leaning in to examine the tear sheet more closely. “I wonder what Kelly Berlin is up to these
days.”

“Whatever she’s doing, apparently it involves staying as far away from L.A. as possible,” Molly said.

She dumped her backpack on the bed and dug through it for her algebra book. “Okay, so how do you want to do this? Start the
homework and just stop me when you get stuck, or what?”

“That sounds perfect,” Shelby said. “But can I check my e-mail first? My phone gets no signal here and my laptop’s broken.
Daddy loaned it to a reporter who dropped it climbing up Heather Locklear’s drainpipe.”

“Why was a reporter climbing up Heather Locklear’s drainpipe?” Molly wondered.

“Someone has to.”

“Can’t fight
that
logic.” Molly curled up on the bed and hugged her math book to her chest. “I can’t believe I have to remake all those clothes,”
she groaned. “It’s going to take me forever, which is exactly what Brooke wanted. I guess she wins this round.”

“You must feel so betrayed,” Shelby said. “Get it off your chest.”

Molly happily obliged. It
was
their favorite subject, after all.

“She obviously thinks I’m trying to tank the costumes, which is ridiculous,” she began. “It’s my reputation, too. Everybody
knows I’m doing them.”

She heard Shelby murmur her approval.

“And the cast is getting fed up with her. I can feel it,” Molly said, gazing absently out the window. “She acts like she’s
the only person this play matters to, which is bull. Neil Westerberg came offstage practically crying the other day when she
yelled that Paula Abdul would make a better Colonel Pickering.”

The more she thought about it, the more Brooke’s selfishness rankled. It wasn’t Brooke’s play. It was
everyone’s
play. They deserved to be treated with respect, not terrorized by a despot who wouldn’t know the words
thank you
if they took human form, introduced themselves, and handed her a coupon for free Zone Diet Home Delivery.

“And yet no one stands up to her,” Molly went on. “They’re all afraid of her. It’s ridiculous, seriously. Who the hell is
she, anyway? She needs to be brought down about thirty pegs, I swear to God.”

Shelby stopped typing.

“Brought down?” she asked.

“Okay, maybe not thirty pegs, but at least two,” Molly said.

Her eyes focused again, and she noticed Shelby was using the laptop at the desk.

“Dude, that’s Brooke’s computer, not mine,” she said.

Shelby clicked the mouse twice quickly and made a big show of recoiling in horror.

“Where is my Purell?” she retched. “I can’t touch my face until I sanitize. I might grow a mustache.”

Molly laughed. It felt good to have someone who just sympathized with her instead of trying to make her see the other side
of things all the time, and on that score, Shelby was the world’s greatest company. She didn’t know what Teddy had been so
paranoid about: It was just dumb high school gossiping. Nobody was getting hurt.

Three hours and half the Barneys shoe department after rehearsal, Brooke’s mood had improved. Nothing beat the healing power
of a five-inch stiletto, especially when you tried on enough of them to fund a semester of Ivy League tuition.

“Ohhhhh, that’s the stuff,” Brooke exhaled, leaning back on the cream-colored banquette and admiring the hunter green croc
booties gleaming below her ankle.

“Gorgeous,” Brie said, jotting notes on the spree like she always did. “It’s a dead ringer for the color of the car your dad
got Molly.”

Brooke’s mouth puckered. She sat upright and practically
tore the Lexus-colored shoe off her foot, hurling it at its box. Their regular salesman, René, turned puce and swooped over
to rescue its mate before it met with a similar violent fate.

“Careful, Brooke,” Arugula warned as René lovingly boxed them up to safety. “You break it, you buy it, as they say.”

“Let’s face it, I’m probably going to buy it, anyway. Even if it is the color of
pure evil
.”

“But according to my retail journal, you have two similar pairs at home—croc booties, and dark green pumps,” Brie pointed
out.

“But I don’t have a combination of the two,” Brooke said petulantly. “Brie, it was a really bad day. I stabbed a hat. Lashing
out at accessories is the first sign of a stress tumor.”

“You asked me to make sure you don’t double up on shoes,” Brie said. “I’m just doing my job. I think these are superfluous
to your collection.”

“Ethical fortitude
and
an ample vocabulary,” Ari said. “I approve. Maybe being plowed into by Shelby Kendall at lunch does a girl good.”

“Can I go one day without hearing the words
Shelby Kendall
, please?” Brooke pouted. “They’re more overplayed than the Black Eyed Peas.”

“I saw her leaving school with Molly today,” Brie said. “Looking very pleased with herself.”

“I don’t get it,” Brooke said. “How are they even friends? Shouldn’t our families’ DNA be, like, innately allergic to each
other?”

“You should be more curious about what they’re doing
together,” Arugula said. “It can’t just be algebra tutoring, because I saw Shelby’s grade on the last test and it was a B
plus.”

“Better grade than I’d give her summer brow lift,” Brooke said. “I’m sure they’re just sitting around braiding each other’s
hair and talking about what a bad person I am.”

“And salivating over Teddy,” Arugula added grumpily.

“Oh, chill. Molly has that dumb boyfriend at home, remember?”

Arugula straightened up in her seat. “Well, then explain
this
to me.”

She handed Brooke her iPhone. On it was a very intimate photo of Molly and Teddy at the lockers, hugging. Molly’s eyes were
closed. It reminded Brooke of the time she’d spent three hours talking with Zac Efron about hair products at a party. During
their good-bye hug, she’d committed the smell of his jacket to memory.

“Where did you get this?” she asked.

“I took it,” Ari said. “I caught them when I was looking for Teddy to do some extra credit, and I thought it could be useful.”