The Pretty Committee Strikes Back (12 page)

Dylan hid her face in her hands and shook her head.

“Sounds cool!” Strawberry blurted out. Her excited expression changed the instant she realized she was the only one in the room who felt that way.

“No, it doesn't!” Alicia shouted. “Not only are we going to be on TV wearing the same outfits every day, but there are
guys
here. Why should they see us in the same clothes day after day? It's not fair to
them
.”

“I assure you, they will be following the same rules,” Mr. Myner said.

“This is a Board of Health issue,” Dylan protested. “It's not sanitary.”

“You will be taught to wash your clothes in the lake with Ivory soap. It's biodegradable, you know.” Mr. Myner held up his index finger. “And I assure you, there is no fresher water source in the entire state.”

“Most of my stuff needs to be washed in warm water, and that lake is freezing.” Livvy shivered as she bit down on her bottom lip.

“How are we supposed to explain this to the clothes we leave behind?” Olivia asked. “They're going to be so upset.”

Everyone giggled.

“What about all the money we spent buying new wardrobes for the trip?” Alexandra asked. “Will we be compensated for that?”

“Your parents got a newsletter that explained all of this.” Mr. Myner stroked his mustache.

“Puh-lease, no one reads those.” Massie rolled her eyes.

The girls nodded in agreement.

“Whatifsomethinggetsstainedorsoiledormuddythenwhat?” Carrie shouted.

“What?” Mr. Myner sounded frustrated. “Ladies, this is a survival trip, not Fashion Week. You'll see it's very liberating. Trust me, at the end of our time here, you'll thank me.”

“How does he know about Fashion Week?” Alicia whispered to Massie.

“My mom,” Dylan suggested.

Layne tore the top off another Go-Gurt. It must have been her fifth one of the day.

“Which reminds me,” Mr. Myner said. “I will be collecting your food stashes. Not only does stuff like that attract bears and rodents, but also an endless supply will keep you from feeding off of your existing fat stores in case of a crisis.”

“The only fat store I know about is Lane Bryant,” Massie said.

The whole class burst out laughing. Even Mr. Myner smiled.

“Seriously, though,” Dylan shouted above the laughter. “What if you don't have any fat stores?”

Massie and Alicia rolled their eyes.

“Trust me, you do,” Mr. Myner said.

Dylan folded her arms across her chest and stuck her tongue out at him the second he looked away.

“Do I need to remind you that your performance on this trip is worth extra credit?”

The girls immediately turned to one another to discuss what to save and what to surrender. While they debated, Mr. Myner made the rounds with a big green garbage bag. One by one they reached into their handbags and dumped their bubble gum, sugar-free gum, Luna bars, yogurt bars, wheat-free bars, carob chocolate bars, and baked Lays into the bag. Layne tossed her tube of Go-Gurt in and swore up and down that it was her last.

“If it's all right with you, Ms. Block, we took the liberty of leaving your five cases of vitamin water on the bus.”

“Whatevs.” Massie shrugged.

“Next I am coming around for all of your electronics, so please have those out,” he said. “Cell phones, Sidekicks, BlackBerries, video games, DVD players, and computers—all of it. A violation buys you a ticket home, no exceptions.”

Mr. Myner ignored the enraged protests that followed and stayed his course.

“And another thing,” he said. “Claire and Layne, you will have to get rid of your glittery shoes.” He pointed to their rhinestone-covered sneakers. “They attract bears and other wild beasts.”

“Yes!” Massie lifted her hands above her head and punched the air with her fists.

Layne sighed and started picking the black rhinestones off her Chucks. Claire simply took hers off and dumped them in his trash bag.

“You too, Massie,” Mr. Myner said.

“Ew, puh-lease, I would never wear glittery sneakers,” Massie insisted.

“Your necklaces,” he said. “The light reflects off them as well.”

“I can't.” Massie grabbed her chains like they were her life support.

“You will.” Mr. Myner held out his hand.

Massie ran her fingers through the gold tangles around her neck, separating one chain from the other. When she found the one she was looking for, she held it in the air like an Olympic medalist showing off her gold. “This one has a compass. And I'll need that out here.”

Mr. Myner stepped over the girls on the floor on his way over to Massie. She held the round gold compass in front of his face while he examined it closely. He lifted it in his manly chapped palm and turned it in every direction to make sure the needle moved.

“Ow, you're choking me.” Massie rubbed her neck.

“Fine.” Mr. Myner dropped the compass. “But the rest have to go.”

Massie grinned. In the context of this day, she considered this a major victory.

“You have exactly ten minutes to wash up and dress warmly. I'd like to see you all in front of Powwow Log at fourteen hundred hours. That's the big stump to the right of the dining pavilion.”

Olivia raised her hand.

“Yes, Olivia?”

“My watch only goes up to twelve,” she said.

Everyone laughed. Olivia looked around with a confused expression on her face.

“Fourteen hundred is military time for two o'clock,” Mr. Myner said kindly. “I will be happy to explain how it works if you'd like.”

“Nah.” Olivia waved him away. “It's not like I'm going to join or anything, but thanks anyway.”

Mr. Myner raised his voice so he could be heard over the laughter. “The Adirondack park patrol will stop by to remove your excess luggage and put it in storage. Please cooperate with them.” He turned the knob on the cabin door and looked back at the girls with a satisfied smile on his face. “Welcome to paradise!” He threw open the door and breathed in the crisp, sun-drenched mountain air. “Ahhhhh.” He exhaled, then left.

Massie reached for her PalmPilot to enter her latest State of the Union only to realize Mr. Myner had confiscated it. Maybe Kristen didn't have it so bad after all.

LAKE PLACID, NEW YORK FOREVER WILD CAMPSITE POWWOW LOG

Monday, February 23rd 2:02
P.M.

“I bet she's memorizing
TV Guide
.” Alicia buttoned her gray cashmere Ralph Lauren coat.

“I bet she's checking out the sales at Target,” Dylan guessed.

“You're all wrong,” Massie said. “She's probably working on her college admissions essay.”

While the girls played guess-what-Kristen's-doing on their walk to Powwow Log, Claire tried to focus on the rhythmic sound of twigs snapping beneath her two-toned boots. It was a little game she'd just invented called step ‘n’ snap. The object was to crack a twig with every step she took. It was her latest attempt to take her mind off of Cam and focus on something else. But it wasn't working. Didn't he miss her at all? Was she that easy to get over?

Cam's unmistakable snicker instantly distracted her—a cross between a giggle and a rusty jackhammer. He was standing ten feet away on Powwow Log, with his hands stuffed into the side pockets of his brown leather jacket. He was kicking his heels into the thick, dry wood and talking to Plovert, who was leaning on a crutch, trying to stay balanced on the soft ground.

“Look how tough he is.” Dylan tapped her heart when she saw Plovert. “One working leg and he's out here braving the elements.”

“Why don't you go over there and tell him how you've been madly in love with him since eight-thirty this morning?” Massie gave Dylan a playful shove.

“Shut up!” Dylan smacked Massie lightly on the arm.

Within seconds the two girls were throwing pine needles in each other's hair and laughing hysterically.

Claire wondered if they knew they had an audience, then assumed they did. Massie rarely did anything without one.

“Catfight!” Derrington shouted as he approached the log with Kemp Hurley and Josh Hotz. Five other guys lagged behind them, but Claire didn't even know their names. According to the Pretty Committee, they didn't count because:

1) They never bothered to flirt.

2) They weren't on the soccer team.

3) They were barely tall enough to turn on a light switch.

“Watch out,” Massie shouted. “We're coming for you next.”

Claire admired Massie for being able to act comfortable around Derrington even though she wasn't. How did she do it? If only Claire could pretend to be happy without Cam. But it was impossible. Every time she tried, her voice sounded higher than usual and her movements felt foreign and exaggerated, like she was watching a bad actress play the role of Claire Lyons in the movie version of her pathetic love life.

“Bring it!” Derrington put up his dukes and punched the air.

“Hold me back.” Massie pretended to lunge toward Derrington but stayed close to her girls.

“Relax.” Mr. Dingle jogged up behind Derrington, grabbed his fists, and lowered them. “We're not here to beat up the girls.”

“We're not?” Derrington wiggled his butt.

The boys laughed. A light breeze blew Cam's thick dark hair to the right of his face, revealing his blue eye. Claire sighed. She knew it would be a matter of days before another girl stole him away for good.

“Let's hang here,” Massie declared. The girls stood under a tree a few feet away from the log. Now that Massie had marked her turf, it would be the Pretty Committee's spot for the rest of the trip. When Alexandra, Carrie, Livvy, Olivia, and Layne showed up a few seconds later, they automatically knew to keep a reasonable distance. The only one stupid enough to stand right under the tree was Strawberry. She walked right over to the girls and started chatting like they were all the best of friends.

“So, what do you think our first activity is going to be?” she asked.

“I heard we're all going to stand around and watch Mr. Myner pitch a tent.” Massie tried not to laugh at her own joke, but she lost it the second Dylan and Alicia cracked up.

Claire felt bad. It was obvious Strawberry didn't get it because she just stood there, then nervously grabbed a handful of her pink hair and stuffed it under the hood of her gray sweatshirt.

“It's so funny how the boys are standing by the log and we're back here by the tree,” Claire mused.

Massie, Dylan, and Alicia looked at her, their eyebrows raised.

“Why?” Massie sounded slightly annoyed. “How
should
it be?”

“Well, at my old school in Orlando everyone would be together.”

“Perv,” Alicia sneezed.

Dylan cracked up.

“Oh, that'll happen,” Massie assured her. “You'll see.”

Claire regretted having said anything, knowing Massie would now make it a point to force the sexes together just to prove that OCD was as cool as any public school in Florida.

Mr. Myner and Merri-Lee walked out of the dining pavilion laughing, the two-man camera crew following closely behind.

Mr. Myner's smile faded when he noticed that everyone was on time. “Sorry we're late. I had an important meeting with the chef.”

Merri-Lee rubbed her flat belly, licked her lips for the camera, and gave it a thumbs-up.

“If they were eating while we were left out here to starve, I'm suing.” Dylan folded her arms across her chest.

“I doubt they were eating,” Strawberry chimed in. “It looks like your mother hasn't had a meal in five years.”

“Say one more thing about my mother and you'll be speaking out of your butt.”

Strawberry lifted her hand in the air and shook it, to joke about how nervous she was. Then she went to join the other girls on the outskirts of the tree.

Merri-Lee waved at her daughter and mouthed, “Hi, Pickles.”

“Gawd, I'll never make out with Plovert as long as
she's
here,” Dylan moaned.

Cam jumped off Powwow Log when Mr. Myner and Mr. Dingle stepped up.

“Okay.” Mr. Dingle clapped his hands, then quickly rubbed them together. “Who's ready to get started?”

“What about lunch?” Kemp Hurley shouted. His hands were in the pockets of his baggy skater pants and he swayed from side to side.

A chorus of
yeahs
rose up from the crowd.

“Lunch comes after,” Mr. Myner explained.

Everyone groaned.

“It's all part of surviving. I need you hungry and motivated.”

Merri-Lee stood beside Dylan, put a bony arm around her, and smiled for the camera, like this was how they always stood. Dylan shook free immediately and rolled her eyes.

Mr. Myner rested his man-hands on his hips and waited for silence before he continued.

“We are going to divide you into three different survival pods and those are the people you will be working with this afternoon. They are your lifeblood. You must work together to traverse the terrain, interpret the maps, and reach the final destination.”

Mr. Dingle jumped in. “The first pod to arrive will get a gourmet lunch in the dining pavilion, consisting of lobster mac and cheese, Caesar salad, and prime rib with herb-and-butter sauce. For dessert you will have your choice of bananas Foster, deep-fried ice cream, and double-fudge chocolate brownies. The losing pods will be served deviled eggs and saffron rice by the outdoor fire pit. No dessert. Aaaand the winners will also go on a hot air balloon ride so that they can admire the park's breathtaking topography.”

Everyone started talking at once until Mr. Myner put his hands on his hips again.

“Now, these maps are very basic. We've been teaching you how to read them in class for the last two weeks. If you've been paying attention, your only challenge will be working together.” Mr. Myner pulled a rolled-up stack of papers out of his back pocket and handed them to Mr. Dingle, who just stood there, looking from the maps to Mr. Myner, then back to the maps.

Mr. Myner thrust them in front of Mr. Dingle's face. “The fabulous Mr. Dingle will hand out the maps while I divide you into your pods.”

Mr. Dingle must have loved being called fabulous, because he finally wiped the offended look off his face and lifted the maps above his head.