Popularity Takeover Page 15

  There was just enough room for the two of them to sit side by side, their legs dangling. The sounds of the falling rain and the relentless pulsing of the sea merged until it seemed to A. A. that they were surrounded by a rustling curtain of water. She shivered again, leaning into Tri.

  He was still holding her hand.

  “I’m glad that . . . you know,” he said. A. A. didn’t know. Was he glad it was raining? Glad she got wet? Glad that stupid net made her practically fall on her face? “That you’re here today, and I’m here today. You know, at the same time.”

  “So am I,” whispered A. A., though she couldn’t look at him. He was sitting too close by. He was too handsome. He was still holding her hand!

  “Because, you know. There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you.”

  A. A. held her breath. Finally Tri was going to tell her what she’d done wrong, why he was so annoyed with her.

  “The thing is, ever since Ashley’s birthday party, I’ve tried really, really hard not to like you,” he said. Huh? A. A. felt totally crushed. Her whole body went limp, and her eyes filled with tears. Tri didn’t like her. That’s why he’d been acting so weird and cold—he didn’t want anything to do with her anymore.

  “And I’ve succeeded,” he said grimly.

  “You don’t . . . like me?” She turned to look at him, her face red. This was worse than anything she’d imagined.

  Tri shook his head. “Not one bit.”

  “Oh.” A. A. felt hot tears form in her eyes and willed them not to fall.

  But Tri took her hand gently in his. “You see . . . you see, the thing is . . .” He swallowed, then looked into her eyes. “I don’t like you at all. I love you.”

  A. A. shook her head. Was she hearing things?

  “And that’s why . . . that’s why I haven’t been able to talk to you much lately,” Tri was explaining. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious you don’t feel the same way. I told you what went down with me and Ashley. Either you don’t believe me or . . . or I guess you hate the idea of going out with me. I thought we could just be friends like you said, but now I don’t think that’s possible. I’d always be wanting something more.” He sighed.

  Now the tears that fell down her cheeks were tears of joy.

  “Why are you crying?” Tri asked.

  A. A. shook her head. She was too happy to speak. Finally she said, “You’re right. We can’t be friends. We tried it and it doesn’t work anymore.” But she was smiling as she said it, smiling and grasping his hand so tightly.

  “You mean . . .” Tri looked confused and hopeful at the same time. “You mean, um, that you don’t like me, either?”

  “I don’t like you, and you don’t like me!” A. A. shouted.

  Tri grinned back, his smile practically splitting his face in two. He looked incredibly handsome, even with his hair wet and disheveled. Even in his Gregory Hall uniform.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  He pulled her closer to him. And once again, even better than the first time, they kissed.

  32

  LILI AND MAX REALIZE: YOU’RE THE ONE THAT I WANT

  THE RAIN HAD FINALLY STOPPED, but Lili was still lurking around the parking lot, near all the parked buses. She’d taken off the stupid sweatshirt Ashley had handed her, trading it for a shimmery vintage jacket she’d bought at Twist Again.

  Over her Brigitte Bardot bikini she’d pulled on a pair of sixties-style gingham capri pants that looked really funky with her raffia sandals—even though the rain had made her sandals feel all squelchy and heavy. It didn’t matter: The main thing was that she didn’t look like an Ashley clone anymore.

  Today nobody really cared about this, she knew—not even Ashley, who was more preoccupied with rescuing Congé from its watery grave and dancing about on the sand, looking for Cooper’s yacht. Right now she was marching around all the grills and ordering them relit. Lili wouldn’t be missed, not for a while anyway. She’d wait for another ten minutes. Maybe twenty. Maybe half an hour. What else did she have to do?

  She was waiting for Max.

  If Lili was honest with herself, this whole new image wasn’t all for Max. She liked expressing herself through clothes that Ashley hadn’t dictated she buy. Lili felt independent, unpredictable, and more like herself.

  Two days ago, when Miss Charm confirmed the specific date for Congé, she’d sent Max a text, telling him exactly when she was going to be on Stinson Beach. His school break had started, so he had no excuse.

  Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes passed. Lili leaned against the side of one of the eco-buses, willing Max to arrive. Maybe he couldn’t find someone to drive him there. Maybe he had given up on her and never wanted to see her again. Maybe . . . was that his father’s Jeep pulling into the parking lot?

  She straightened up, tugging at her shiny jacket, hoping the rain hadn’t made her hair look too limp. The rain had done a thorough job of washing away her makeup, though, which might be a good thing.

  Waving at the car as it drove toward the bus, Lili wondered what Max would think of her new look. He’d seen glimpses of it before, like at French class, when he must have noticed her new bag and shoes. But he’d never seen her looking completely different. It wasn’t possible when they went hiking—there were no vintage fleece vests or mountaineering boots! Women were smart in the old days, Lili decided. They knew that hiking was a boring waste of time.

  The passenger door opened, and Max’s fair head popped out. Lili couldn’t wait to see him. Or see him see her . . . whatever!

  “Hi!” she called. “Over here!”

  “Hi,” he said with a smile, stepping out from behind the car door.

  He looked at Lili and his mouth dropped open. Which was funny, because Lili’s mouth had dropped open too.

  Max looked completely different. He’d cut his hair so it was all neat and tidy, short around his ears. He was dressed in a Ralph Lauren polo shirt, a tennis sweater, and pressed khakis. And what were those things on his feet, Adidas Sambas? He’d turned into a total preppie! Had he done this for her?

  “What happened to you?” she asked, trying not to laugh. He looked cute, but kind of silly. Not like the Max she knew at all.

  “I should ask you the same thing.” He looked her up and down. “Don’t get me wrong, you look cute and all, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “It’s just strange to see you looking so retro. Normally you’re so together.”

  “Uptight and high maintenance you mean,” Lili taunted him. He looked funny in that polo shirt. It just wasn’t him at all.

  “No! I like the way you normally dress.” Max smiled. “You know, all Vogue’d out.”

  “Really?” Lili laughed.

  “Yeah.”

  “But this is me too,” Lili told him.

  “Aw, you look cute in anything you wear,” he said.

  “But I like you all scruffy,” Lili told him. It was true. If she wanted a Gregory Hall clone, there was a beach full of them to choose from. But she didn’t want that kind of guy. She wanted Max.

  And he seemed to want Lili—just the way she was too. Whether in designer or vintage. The clothes didn’t matter at all. It was the person underneath that mattered—to both of them.

  “I hope they take returns at Nordstrom,” Max said, fingering his pale pink collar. “Or maybe I could give this to my dad for Father’s Day.”

  Lili beamed at him. She was a little tired of wearing Vans. Not that she wanted to go back to wearing the Ashley-dictated Louboutins anytime soon. Maybe it was time to find a new shoe of her own. . . .

  33

  AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN

  THANK GOODNESS THE SUN WAS shining again. Ashley had urgent business to attend to—and no, that did not mean toasting marshmallows with a bunch of fawning sixth graders. She’d finally
spotted Cooper’s yacht approaching. As she waited impatiently for it to moor a little way offshore, she was texting him like crazy. At last he was rowing ashore to get her. About time.

  Because the waves were buffeting the little dinghy, it took ages for Cooper to get anywhere near the beach. Ashley stripped down to her bikini and sweatshirt and waded in as far as she dared. Not that it mattered if she got wet—there would be a hundred fluffy towels on board, and she could warm up in the hot tub.

  As he neared, drawing the oars back and forth with strong, broad strokes, Ashley caught sight of his outfit. He was all in white, with little black epaulettes on his shoulders. Was this some kind of costume?

  “Over here!” she called. It was annoying the way you had to row backward—Cooper was heading straight into her. “Help me climb up!”

  Cooper glanced over at her and shook his head.

  “I’m coming ashore,” he said, the boat bobbing up and down. He was wearing a uniform, she realized—white with brass buttons. And was that a name tag? “We need to talk.”

  “But why can’t we talk on the yacht?” she pleaded. She’d been looking forward all day to lording it over the other girls, waving to them from the luxury yacht and letting only the other Ashleys come aboard. Maybe Lauren would start speaking to her again once they were all sitting on deck, drinking hot chocolate and soaking in the hot tub.

  “Help me pull this in,” he told her, and Ashley—for once—did as she was told. She helped Cooper drag the dinghy through the shallows, pulling it up onto the sand. Why was he dressed in this strange way?

  Cooper leaned against the prow of the little boat, his white pants rolled up almost to his knees. He looked very unhappy.

  “I don’t get it,” Ashley said. “Why can’t I come to the yacht? Why are you wearing that?”

  He folded his arms. “It’s a uniform, Ashley. I should have told you this before, I know, but the time never seemed right, and I thought you’d just run a million miles when you found out.”

  “Found out what?” Ashley didn’t understand.

  “That the yacht isn’t mine. It doesn’t belong to my family—my family can barely afford a car. It belongs to a Hollywood director who’s hardly ever in town. Some guy named Marty Law. My uncle works on the boat, and sometimes I do as well. Today the director’s in town, so I’m working. Hence the uniform.”

  Ashley was speechless. Utterly speechless. Cooper was poor?

  “I really meant to tell you,” he said, running a hand through his dark hair. “I tried to tell you . . . but I know how important money and nice things are to you. I knew you would just despise me if—”

  “No!” Ashley interrupted him. She didn’t despise Cooper. Of course she didn’t—he was way too cute. So what if he was poor? She was rich enough for the two of them. “But what about that guy who was following us everywhere—I thought he was your bodyguard?”

  Cooper shook his head. “That night I came to your house, he was parked in your driveway. Didn’t you see him when we went out to the car? You’re probably right that he was a bodyguard. Your parents must have hired him to trail us. They probably wanted to make sure you were all right. You know, hanging out with a lowlife from the wrong side of the tracks.”

  “Don’t say that!” she cried. “My parents really like you.”

  “Really?” Cooper looked kind of pleased.

  “Yes.” Ashley nodded. They must have known that Cooper wasn’t a Greek shipping heir, but clearly it didn’t bother them. She wasn’t sure whether she should be pleased or annoyed that her parents had hired a secret bodyguard. On one hand, at least it showed they still cared and worried about her. On the other hand, they were kind of treating her like a little girl who needed to be looked after every minute of the day. Didn’t they trust her? When were they going to let her grow up?

  “They seem pretty cool,” Cooper told her, and Ashley knew he was right. Her parents were over­protective, but it was just because they loved her.

  “They are,” she said. “They like you and so do I. What kind of girl do you think I am? I mean, seriously. You think I’d care that much about whether you owned a yacht or not?” She blew out her bangs and rolled her eyes.

  “Really?” Cooper looked up at her. He was so dashing in that uniform!

  “God, you’re silly,” she told him. “Do you want to come toast marshmallows?”

  “I better get back.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her close, and swiped a quick kiss on her cheek. Swoon! “Now that the sun’s coming out, everyone’s going to be wanting drinks on the deck. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

  Ashley stood, watching him row back to the yacht. She was kind of glad that Cooper wasn’t a big-time heir. She didn’t really want to move to Greece or waste a lot of time at charity balls. She’d rather go shopping in London or sunbathing in Cabo. If Cooper was poor, then he’d go anywhere she wanted. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Ashley!”

  She swung around on her heels. It was only A. A., looking like thunder. Really, if A. A. wanted to play beach volleyball, then she had to get the teams organized and set the net up herself. Ashley couldn’t do everything.

  “We need to talk,” A. A. barked, and Ashley sighed. First Cooper, now A. A. Today, it seemed, everyone wanted to talk to Ashley.

  Being popular was so tiring. Thank goodness the weekend was coming up—at this rate, Ashley was going to need bed rest to recover from Congé.

  34

  DRAWING A LINE IN THE SAND

  “SO,” SAID A.A, STARING STRAIGHT at Ashley. “I want to ask you something.” A. A. had reached a breaking point with Ashley. She was ecstatic that she and Tri had finally been honest with each other about their feelings, but she also realized they could have been happy many months ago if not for a certain blond-haired queen bee with an ego the size of the yacht docked by the beach getting between them.

  “Of course.” Ashley nodded, but A. A. wasn’t buying her reassurances. Ashley was as slippery as an eel when it came to truth and lies. Sometimes A. A. wondered if she actually knew the difference between the two.

  “When you and Tri broke up, it was before the Preteen Queen party, wasn’t it? He told you he wanted to go out with me, and you asked him to keep pretending to be your boyfriend until the party was over. That’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Well . . . technically, I guess.” Ashley looked guilty, shifting from one foot to the other.

  “Technically?” A. A. was floored. “But you told me that you were dumping him. That he begged you to stay with him! When, in fact, the opposite was true. Wasn’t it?”

  “I suppose,” Ashley admitted. “But everything’s okay now, right? I just saw you and Tri all over each other a second ago. And I have Cooper. Can’t we just forget it and move on?”

  But A. A. was too angry to move anywhere.

  “You,” she snapped, “are supposed to be my best friend. But really all you cared about was yourself. You didn’t care if I was unhappy, or if I thought Tri was a total heel.”

  Ashley heaved a sigh, digging her heels into the sand. “Why are you making such a scene about this now? All that stuff’s in the past.”

  “But I’ve been miserable for weeks!” protested A. A. Ashley just didn’t get it. She didn’t get anything that wasn’t about Ashley Spencer. She was never going to change—A. A. had to accept that. Accept it, or end their friendship.

  “So it’s all about you,” complained Ashley. “As usual.”

  Coming from Ashley, this was too outrageous. A. A. felt herself fill with righteous rage.

  “I’m thinking about myself right now,” she told Ashley, raising her voice to a shout. “And do you know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking that I can’t be your friend anymore. That it’s all over. All this Ashleys stuff! I’m out!”

  “What?” Ashley looked at her as though she was insane. “
You can’t just drop out of the Ashleys. It’s not possible.”

  “Watch me,” warned A. A. Lili was hurrying toward them, and even Lauren—who’d been in a major sulk all day—was walking over. Both were wearing the red sweatshirts Ashley had brought. Lili had put away her shimmery jacket. What was it the S. Society said about them? The Ashleys were all exactly the same—all matchy-matchy. Well, A. A. was tired of everyone thinking she was the same as Ashley. She would never be as selfish as that. Never!

  “What’s going on?” Lauren frowned.

  “We could hear you guys shouting from over there,” Lili told them. “What’s up?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s up,” said A. A., before Ashley had a chance to get a word in. “Ashley lied to me. She told me that Tri was desperate to stay with her and that he preferred her to me, when the opposite was true. He wanted to dump her for me, and she just couldn’t bear it. It’s taken her all this time to admit it! But it’s too late. Our friendship is over. And as far as I’m concerned, the Ashleys are over.”

  “Oh my God!” Lili gasped. Lauren shook her head, looking down at the ground.

  “So the question for you two is this—who are you going to choose? Me or Ashley? Because from now on, you can’t be friends with us both,” A. A. said.

  “Excuse me?” Ashley looked aghast.

  Lili looked from one to the other, as though she couldn’t believe her ears. Lauren just kept staring at the ground.

  But A. A. was defiant. They had to choose. If they chose to side with Ashley, so be it. She’d survive. School would be hard, but at least she’d have her dignity—­and Tri.

  But whatever they chose, the Ashleys were finished. Of that, A. A. was absolutely, positively certain.

  “Lauren?” she demanded. “What’s it going to be?”

  “Well,” Lauren said slowly, still looking at her feet, “Ashley is the only one of you who’s apologized for not telling me about Congé. Why didn’t you tell me about the change in plans?”