Birthday Vicious (The Ashleys, Book 3) Page 8

  Any ambivalence Lauren had felt about her secret plan to crush the Ashleys was gone. She felt keen with purpose, and she knew just where to begin. She was going to get Sadie--and the whole seventh grade--invited to Ashley's super-exclusive birthday party.

  Lauren knew exactly how to do it. All it would take was rounding up a few of the disgruntled rejects to place some very important phone calls to someone as insecure and power-crazed as Ashley herself--Lili.

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  13 ASHLEY FACES A JURY OF HER PEERS?

  A SHLEY COULD NOT BELIEVE HER EARS. SHE'D just slid into her chair for Manners & i Morals, in front of a formal place setting. They were learning dining etiquette that week. The first course had been served--some sort of cold, slimy appetizer. Was it calamari? No, apparently it was some kind of French-braised octopus. They were supposed to eat using the correct utensils while making polite conversation. But the question she'd just heard was anything but polite. "What did you say again?"

  "I said, is it true you're facing the Honor Board this afternoon?" Guinevere Parker looked like she would faint if Ashley directed another glare in her direction.

  "I'm what?" Ashley looked at her friends for backup.

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  A.A. was too busy poking dubiously at her appetizer to answer, and Lili couldn't meet her eye.

  "It's true," Lili finally admitted, picking up her salad fork and looking skeptically at the food on her plate. "I didn't want to bring it up earlier, but, um, here's your summons."

  "Excuse me?" Ashley was floored. She looked at the little piece of paper Lili had handed her.

  She, Ashley Matilda Diana Spencer (yes she was named after that people's princess), had been summoned to appear before Miss Gamble's Honor Board. The Honor Board! Like she was some common criminal, plagiarist, or cheat!

  "But aren't you the head of the Honor Board?" Ashley asked, her voice ringing with betrayal as she pushed her plate away in annoyance. She scowled at Lili. "Can't you do something about this?"

  Lili shook her head primly. "I'm sorry, but that's not how the board works."

  Ashley decided she wouldn't worry. She had appeared before the Honor Board before. It met once a month in the oak-paneled school library, a room with ornate molded ceilings, a huge chandelier, glass-fronted bookshelves, and a giant central table rumored to have come from Thomas Jefferson's house, Monticello.

  And once a month, Ashley was called in because she had three late notices. Whatever! Nothing happened. Lili made a

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  solemn little speech, and everyone nodded, and then someone told Ashley how cool her hairstyle was, or asked her where she got her new handbag. She promised to try not to be tardy in future and then swanned off to lunch. A Cakewalk.

  "Didn't Honor Board already meet for the month?" Ashley asked, finally taking a small bite and grimacing. Miss Charm told them that part of being citizens of the world was developing a sophisticated palette. Last week they'd dined on a selection of raw fish: ceviche, crudo, and sushi.

  Lili nodded. "Uh-huh, but this is, um, a special meeting."

  Ashley couldn't help but notice that Guinevere was taking it all in. This was so not cool. The Ashleys always put up a united front--if word got out that there was infighting in the ranks, then what were the Ashleys but just another group of girls banded together for fear of being alone?

  She wanted to wig out on Lili: Her parents would definitely lose it if they found out ... she was already on thin ice ... she'd barely gotten her party back on track--if what her parents were planning could even be called a party at this point (Ashley shuddered when she saw the crepe-paper decorations Matilda had picked up at Party City). It was the reason why she hadn't been so gung-ho on going into detail or shopping for outfits. But an Honor Board demerit would sink any party, lame or not.

  There could be only one reason she was being called

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  before the board: It had to be because she was late on Monday, didn't it? There couldn't be something else, could there?

  "What did I miss?" Lauren asked, scooting into the empty seat next to A.A. and looking askance at the rubbery mess in front of her. "How am I supposed to eat this exactly?"

  "Fish knife!" Ashley explained, holding up the correct silverware. "And I'm surprised you haven't heard. Apparently, it's all over school: I'm being called in front of the Honor Board--but I have no idea why!"

  "That sucks," said Lauren, looking nervous all of a sudden. Then she quickly brightened up. "Hey, if you need a student defender, I'll do it."

  Normally Ashley didn't bother with a defender, because it was hard to defend a late notice slapped on you by an overzealous, fashion-challenged teacher. Just admit the crime, do the time. Ashley usually got away with a painless "warning."

  But this time Ashley agreed to have Lauren argue her case. Everyone knew Lauren was smart. If anyone could outfox Lili and her Honor Board vixens, it would be Lauren Page.

  "It'll be okay, I'm sure," Lili soothed, wiping her mouth carefully with a napkin as one of the refectory workers took their plates away and replaced them with bowls full of what

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  their menu said were "sweetbreads," although they looked more like fried brains, which, they were soon not too pleased to learn, was exactly what they were.

  "Uh-huh, thanks for nothing, Benedict Arnold Li," Ashley grumbled.

  "It's out of my hands, honest," Lili swore, gagging on a particularly chewy piece.

  After the last class of the day, Ashley met up with Lauren in front of the library doors.

  "Like I told you, I have no idea what this is about," Ashley complained, not bothering to lower her voice. Let the cries of the prisoner echo through the halls of Miss Gamble's!

  "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can get you off the hook," Lauren reassured her. "Just promise me you'll stay calm and let me do all the talking. Well, most of it--okay?"

  Ashley nodded. Lauren rapped on the heavy door of the library.

  "Enter!" That was her friend formerly known as Lili, seated at the head of the giant oak table. Arranged in a U around the table were her myopic-looking Honor Board cronies, Supriya Manapali, Cameron Welch, and Vicky Zimmerman.

  Ashley sniffed and held her head high, leading Lauren to the other end of the table. For these girls, Honor Board was as close as they'd ever come to knowing- power--whereas

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  Ashley knew it every day. She pitied them. Really, she did.

  "I'm sorry we had to call you in here today," said Lili, and she certainly looked sorry. Just as well. She was on very shaky ground. "But an urgent matter was brought to our attention, and we felt it necessary to address the issue immediately."

  "Who's been bitching about me?" Ashley burst out. Lauren placed a calming hand on her arm and shot Ashley a "you promised to be good" look.

  "What my client--I mean, Ashley--is asking is this: What is the nature of this urgent matter? Of what is she accused?" Lauren sounded very professional. She probably watched too many Law & Order reruns.

  "Nobody's accusing anyone," squeaked Supriya.

  "The thing is," explained Lili, clicking her Mont Blanc pen and giving Ashley her most earnest look. "I got a lot of calls yesterday concerning what happened during MODs. Some of the girls felt very excluded when you handed out party invitations in public and left some students out. They've gone to the headmistress about it. We had no choice but to call this meeting."

  Lauren coughed and kept her eyes on the notebook in front of her.

  "According to the complaint," said Cameron, who was only on the Honor Board because her parents had paid for new sectional sofas, a flat-screen TV, and a wet bar for the

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  Staff's break room, "you were promoting clique culture."

  This was so ridiculous! Of course she had to exclude a lot of people from the party--that was the whole point! Some people were just more special than others. Although to be honest, the uninvited wouldn't be missing much. Her party was so downsized,
Ashley wouldn't be surprised if her mother showed up with one of those ready-made cakes from Carvel where they spelled out your name in icing right before they rang you up at the checkout.

  She had been so sure that by this time Cirque du Ashley would be back on the party-planning menu, but so far nothing had worked. Not crying, not sulking, not locking herself in her room, not threatening to leave home. ("Where would you go? Vermont? Say hi to Aunt Agnes for me!" her mom had said too cheerfully.) Going on a hunger strike didn't make much of an impact. Especially since after two hours Ashley caved in and devoured a whole bag of Pirate's Booty.

  The most infuriating thing was, her parents hardly seemed to notice how upset she was. They were completely distracted, as though her party was the last thing on their minds. She had only two more weeks to wear them down.

  Otherwise, no one would have any fun at all.

  But try telling that to the Honor Board. Besides, Ashley couldn't confess her party was nothing special. It would totally defeat her image.

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  "Miss Gamble's is founded on the ideals of loyalty, kindness, and service to fellow man," Vicky intoned in a solemn voice. "Any deviation of student conduct from school policy can result in a suspension."

  Ashley went pale.

  Lili looked at her with a "don't kill me" face.

  "Suspend me?" Ashley thought she must have misheard. Ashley Spencer, suspended? That could not happen. There was no way she could talk her parents into reinstating her party to its former glory if she got suspended!

  "Surely there's a simpler solution." Lauren's voice was calm and clear. "Is the problem that Ashley's having a birthday party?"

  "No," Lili conceded. "Of course not. It's that the invitations were issued in public, and that some members of the seventh grade were excluded."

  "Ashley," said Lauren, fixing her with a serious stare. "How many seventh graders have you invited to your party?"

  "I don't know--maybe fifteen?"

  "So how many seventh graders do not have invitations?"

  "Just the lame ones. Eighteen?"

  "What would you say," Lauren said slowly, "to inviting the whole class? That way, nobody would have any reason to complain. They could all come to the party."

  Ashley opened her mouth and closed it again. Invite

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  everyone to her house? Let the plebes in to gaze at the imperial family? How very déclassé.

  "I mean," Lauren continued, staring at her hard, "you have enough space, right? And I believe that solution would be acceptable to the board, yes?"

  All the board members nodded enthusiastically. Especially since none of them had been issued invitations. They reminded Ashley of the three wise monkeys, except monkeys were cuter.

  Lili gave Ashley a long look of her own, as if to say, This is jour chance.

  Ashley sighed. She knew when the cards were stacked against her. "Oh, all right," she said. "Why not?"

  Lauren's face cracked into a broad smile, her eyes sparkling in triumph. "So the board agrees--no suspension?" she asked quickly.

  "No suspension!" they chorused, Lili's voice the loudest of all. Supriya and Cameron giggled with relief, and even Vicky, who usually only smiled when something bad happened to someone else, looked supremely self-satisfied.

  What a pack of sheep! Or was that flock of sheep? Whatever! Ashley had outwitted them--with Lauren's help, of course. Sure she had to invite a freak show to her party, but hello: It did have a circus theme, right?

  The main thing was--no suspension. Plus, now she had

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  the perfect argument to present to her parents. Mom, Dad, I would have just loved to have a small close-friends-only event like you were planning, but ... Miss Gamble's won't let me!

  She had to have her big party now. Ha! Ashley knew her mom would cave when she told her that Miss Gamble's school policy practically called for an insane blowout. Everything was working out perfectly.

  Ashley beamed back at the Honor Board geeks as she followed a triumphant Lauren out of the room.

  They wanted to attend a party? She was going to throw the biggest, baddest, and hands-down-no-jokes-about-it-this-one-is-for-the-record-books-frest party anyone had ever seen.

  Send in the clowns, jugglers, sword swallowers, lion tamers, acrobats, and contortionists! The tower of pink and white cupcakes, the fifty-foot tent, the celebrity guests, the razzle and the dazzle.

  Ashley Spencer was turning: thirteen!

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  14 THE PERILS OF BEING A TOMBOY

  A SHLEY INVITED HER FRIENDS TO SIT IN on a meeting with Mona Mazur the next day. Lili and A.A. were charmed, intimidated, and appalled by Mona's grandiose plans and haughty personality. Only Lauren hadn't been able to join them, because she had some sort of hair appointment. A.A. didn't know anyone who scheduled a haircut as often as Lauren did. Not even her mother went to Étienne Étoile (nee Stephen Star, hair god to the stars) every two weeks!

  During the brainstorming session with Mona, A.A. noticed that Ashley didn't appear at all fazed by the fact that the Honor Board had ordered her to invite the whole seventh-grade class to the party. Ashley usually didn't take too kindly to other people telling her what to do, but she didn't seem to mind at all this time.

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  As for never wanting to talk about her party before, now it seemed the party was all Ashley ever wanted to talk about. She hogged all conversations to regale them with details on how a famous French act was going to high-dive into the pool, and how they had to convince the staff to volunteer to be shot out from the cannon. News of her party had even reached the former producers of Preteen Queen, who were interested in taping it for their new show on the Sugar cable network, Spoiled Rotten.

  The whole thing made A.A.'s head swim. She was glad to be home finally and away from all the hype. She found Ned and his friends hanging out in the vast open-plan living room. Ned wasn't bad at all, as brothers went. Or so A.A. thought--none of the other Ashleys had a brother. If you had to have a brother, she decided, they should be like Ned: slightly older, smart, and easygoing.

  The only problem with Ned was his choice of friends..

  Usually A.A. didn't care who was clustered around the giant flat-screen TV, brandishing a joystick and screeching every time an alien life form or king of the underworld exploded and/or bit the dust. But today she minded. She minded a whole lot.

  "No way!" Tri was shouting at the screen, trying to drown out the jeers of the other guys.

  "He's got you, man." Ned was laughing.

  A.A. dropped onto the raspberry chenille sofa, the latest

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  addition to the living room. Her mother was under the influence of a new designer, who insisted that fruit colors in a room were the equivalent of supplements in a smoothie, i.e., vital to your physical and mental health. Only her mother would buy an idea like that, A.A. thought--but then, her mother was always open to ideas that involved spending wads of her alimony payments on clothes, shoes, or home decor.

  "Foiled again, Fitzpatrick," cackled the guy sprawled on the floor--he had dark hair and frameless glasses and was even taller than Ned. His name was something weird, A.A. remembered--like Ziggy or something. Ned's real name was Zed Starlight, the result of having Jeanine for a mother and an aging British rock star for a father, but he'd traded that in for a more normal name years ago. Ziggy, however, seemed to revel in it.

  Next to lanky Ned, long-legged Ziggy (real name Sigmund), and model-tall A.A., Tri was pretty much a midget. A.A. felt wickedly glad of this. She wanted him to feel small in every way today. She was in no mood for his snide jibes.

  "I'll play," she announced, reaching for the spare controller that was now kept in a woven banana-skin basket by the fireplace and wriggling to the edge of the sofa. "That is, if you're out, Tri."

  "Oh, he's out all right," shouted Ziggy. He propped

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  himself up on bony elbows, not even bothering to look around at A.A.--Ne
d's friends were used to her hanging out. The only time they got annoyed with her was when she nabbed the last slice of pizza.

  Tri scowled at her, climbing up off the Tibetan rug and stomping over to the other end of the raspberry sofa. A.A. decided to tune him out. He was probably going to try and throw her off her game.

  "Go!" Ziggy called to her, and A.A. focused on the screen. Her character, Kandace Kick-Butt, had to leap over a ravine, scale a cliff, and do a backflip over a slobbering tiger in order to make it to the next level. Leaning and twisting her way across the dangerous landscape, it was all A.A. could do to stay upright on the sofa.

  "Watch your back!" Ned shouted, throwing a cushion at her, and for a second A.A. was confused, thinking he meant her back rather than Kandace's. She swung her head around and saw nothing, of course, but the high nubbly rim of the sofa and the window where Ned had drawn the raw-silk curtains to keep light from reflecting off the screen.

  "What the ... !" Ziggy was back in the game now, his character Adam Avarice springing back into action on screen. "I saved you this time, dude, but I can't do this alone."

  "Sorry!" A.A. fixed her gaze on the screen again, but not

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  before glimpsing a smirk on Tri's face. She was determined to show him how much better she was at this game than he was--how much better she was at everything than he was. Together with Zig/Adam, she made it to the next canyon, and on to the next round of adversaries. But while her male counterpart was busy leapfrogging a knife-edged cactus, A.A. couldn't help glancing at Tri again.