All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons,

living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Frenemies: Fabotage

© 2012 by Alloy Entertainment and Alexa Young

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or

by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without

prior written permission of Alloy Entertainment. If you would like to use material from

the book (other than for review purposes), write to permission@alloyentertainment.com.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for

author or third-party websites or their content.

Produced by Alloy Entertainment

151 West 26th Street

New York, NY 10001

www.alloyentertainment.com

First edition November 2012

Design by Liz Dresner

ISBN 978-1-939106-05-6 (Nook)

ISBN 978-1-939106-06-3 (Kindle)

ISBN 978-1-939106-07-0 (iPad)

ISBN 978-1-939106-08-7 (Kobo)

ISBN 978-1-939106-09-4 (OverDrive)

For my mom, a fabulous friend

and warrior among women

DON’T GET DRESSED WITHOUT US!

Hollywood Confidential posted by the_style_snarks: sunday, november 16, at 3:13 p.m.

Hello, fabulistas!

We’re just heading back to La Jolla after yet another star-studded Hollywood

party. What can we say? When you get a style-911 call from your new BFF (that’s Best

Frankie Forever, as in Francesca Geraci, as in F.G. of MTV’s The Cliffs, as in the next

big designer of urban couture!) and the limo’s waiting, you don’t exactly have a choice,

right? We’re still pinching ourselves to make sure it wasn’t all some crazy dream—or

nightmare, in the case of certain sightings. Translation: Welcome to the first (and

probably not last!) installment of The Style Snarks, Celebrity Edition:

Not-So-Bella Forget Team Edward and Team Jacob; Kristen Stewart was

on Team BARNEY when we spotted her at a Bev Hills Starbucks wearing

this purple-and-green polka-dotted jumpsuit. Sing it, kids:

“With a great big ugh and a dis from us to you, we can’t say we love

KStew.”

Paris, Trance AGHHH! Flashbacks! Flashbacks! New millennium to

Hilton: It’s time to check out of the Eighties Motel. The gold sequined

headband is bad enough without the fried-white hair and acid-wash

minidress. If you must, try picking one trend from that decade—not all ten

years’ worth.

PoshKat . . . in the Hat Seriously, Victoria and Katie, it’s kind of hard to

decide who’s wearing it best when you’re both looking your worst.

Uh-huh. We said all that. Look out, Perez . . . we’re ready to steal your spotlight.

(JK!) And BTW, nobody rocks plaid polyester like you! See you at the next soiree. Can’t

wait!

Word to your closet, Shop on,

COMMENTS (202)

OMG! I can’t believe you saw all these celebs! I’d say you’ve got the makings of a

FABLOID right here, snarkies. Keep it up! xoxoxoxoxo

posted by luv2gossip on 11/16 at 3:32 p.m.

You guys are SO INSANELY KOOL! I kannot wait 2 hear more abt ur hollyweird

adventures. <3

posted by kre8ivekween on 11/16 at 3:57 p.m.

Wow. Are you sure your heads are going to fit through the SMS classroom doors now

that you’re such star-stalking EGOMANIACS? I said it before and I’ll say it again: Stay

in L.A. with all the other phonies. PLEASE!!!!

posted by rockgirrl on 11/16 at 4:04 p.m.

So. Loving. YOU! I am totally trembling in my plaid polyester and cannot wait to hang

w/ you snarkettes again. And that KStew/Barney song? LOL! SNAP! :)

posted by mizz_perez on 11/16 at 4:11 p.m.

You’ve hit a new low with this one. Aren’t there enough gossip rags already? Oh! But if

anyone wants to engage in a real discourse about the mental disorders that drive people to

crave fame and fortune, click here for the new SMS Daily psych column, “Excess

Hollywood.”

posted by dissect_this on 11/16 at 4:28 p.m.

Withering heights

There was a high-pitched buzzing echoing in Halley Brandon’s ears as she sat on her

bedroom floor, picking at one of the shaggy orange threads on her favorite rug. She

blinked her bleary eyes and looked around—from the iMac on her desk to the sliding

glass doors leading out to her stone patio to the lime-green sketchbook and pens scattered

around her on the floor—for a possible source.

“Halley. Halley? HELLOOO? HALLEY!” The irritating sound finally registered

as a voice when Avalon Greene squatted down and brought her face within inches of

Halley’s—so close Halley could smell the sweet watermelon scent of her lip gloss.

“Hello? Why are you yelling at me?” Halley wrinkled her nose and jerked her

head back as she glared at Avalon.

“Hello?” Avalon parroted back before standing up and giving her long, blond

hair an exaggerated shake. “Because you haven’t responded to anything I’ve been saying

for the past ten minutes!”

“Oh.” Halley rubbed her pale blue eyes and squinted at her best friend. “Sorry. I

guess I’m just tired from being out with Frankie all night, plus the drive back from L.A.

and everything.”

“Tired? How can you be tired?” Avalon demanded as Halley stifled a yawn. “You

should be energized! On fire! I mean, Francesca Geraci just made us her most exclusive

houseguests even though Fashion Week ended, like, a week ago. She could have invited

anyone to hang with her. But she picked us. US!”

Halley wanted to get swept up in Avalon’s enthusiasm. But as her friend bounced

around the room like a tidal wave in the turquoise minidress Frankie had loaned her, all

Halley really wanted to do was curl up with Pucci—the girls’ shared golden retriever mix

puppy, who was snoring away on Halley’s bed—and rewind her life back to the first day

of eighth grade. If she could do that, she would be able to start over with Avalon and

preempt all their arguments over everything from new friends to fashion choices. She

would also be able to start over with Sofee Hughes, the one friend she’d ever felt almost

as close to as Avalon, and finally confess to her crush on Wade Houston, aka Sofee’s

one-time boyfriend, aka the lead singer of Sofee’s band.

Wade. Halley swallowed hard as she thought of her incurable crush in all his

messy-haired, dark-eyed rocker perfection. That was the relationship she most wanted to

restart. If only she’d told him how she felt about him on that first amazing day of school,

before he and Sofee became an item . . . and before he and Avalon had their fauxmance-

turned-fling. No matter what had happened between her friends and Wade, Halley knew

she was the only one who had a real connection with him.

“Once again . . . are you even listening to me?” Avalon’s voice cut through the

mental train wrecks twisting through Halley’s mind.

“I am . . . ,” Halley said softly as the late-afternoon sun streamed through the patio

doors and directly into her eyes. She scooted along the hardwood floor, repositioning

herself closer to the head of her bed to avoid the glare. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“I know, right?” Avalon plopped down into Halley’s egg-shaped desk chair,

plucking the orange velvet cushion from the back and hugging it to her chest excitedly.

“Which part are you thinking about? How awesome the party was last night? How many

A-listers were there? How much everyone was loving us? How fabulous things are going

to be when we start interning for Frankie over winter break—?”

“Actually—,” Halley said, cutting Avalon off. All of those things were definitely

amazing—especially the part about Frankie wanting them to work as interns on her new

fashion line—but none of it changed the fact that Sofee and Wade weren’t speaking to

Halley. “I’m thinking about school tomorrow and wondering if all our friends are going

to keep treating us like lepers.”

“Huh?” Avalon flared her nostrils so fiercely she resembled their friend

Kimberleigh Weintraub—the blond blessed with the kind of upturned nose that prompted

Halley and Avalon to secretly refer to her as Piggleigh Swinetraub—but Halley resisted

poking fun at her and instead continued to think about Wade. How could he be so distant

after all they had been through, especially the moment they’d shared up in L.A. last

weekend? She knew he, like the rest of their friends, was upset that she and Avalon

hadn’t given them VIP passes to the Fashion Week music showcase—but she thought

that confessing her feelings for him would somehow soften that particular slipup.

Tragically, when she blurted out that she always had and always would care about him,

he completely bailed. Back at school, Halley could practically feel a chill in the air right

before he came anywhere near her—which, the more she thought about it, was just one

more thing proving how truly connected they were.

“I mean, I thought everyone would get over the whole Fashion Week thing, but

they just seem so intent on punishing us,” Halley explained, continuing to tug agitatedly

at the threads on her rug. “I can’t understand why it’s not bugging you too.”

“Ohmygod.” Avalon shook her head in frustration. “The only thing bugging me

right now is you.”

“You’re telling me you’re not the least bit bummed about Brianna and Sydney

and . . .” Halley trailed off before saying Wade’s name. The only members of the group

Avalon really cared about were those two cheerleaders anyway—even if they were the

ones Halley cared about the least.

“Why would I be bummed?” Avalon leaned back in the white desk chair and

began spinning around like she didn’t have a care in the world. “Because they’re so

jealous they can’t even bear to look at us?”

“No.” Halley rolled her eyes. “Because they think we’re the most devious,

horrible people in the world. I’ve never felt so hated by anyone.”

“Not even by me?” Avalon laughed as she brought the chair to a stop.

“Totally different,” Halley insisted, remembering some of the more brutal fights

she and Avalon had gone through this year.

“You need to get a grip, Hal.” Avalon sighed. “Their opinion of us isn’t our

problem. It’s theirs. I mean, hello? We are who we are. We have the entire rest of the

school—and tons of people in Hollywood and the world—in love with us. We don’t need

drama queens.”

“Too bad they think we’re the drama queens.” Halley frowned as an orange thread

finally came loose between her anxious fingers. She couldn’t believe Avalon would let go

of their friends so easily—without a fight.

Wait! That was it! If Halley was going to convince Avalon to help her get their

friends back, she would have to appeal to her best friend’s competitive side. Why hadn’t

she thought of that before?

“In fact,” Halley continued, casually twisting a lock of her long, dark hair,

“doesn’t it bother you that there are people at school—people who once called us their

friends—dragging down our reputation with hateful comments, trying to sabotage us . . .

just for being fabulous?”

She could feel the energy in the room change as Avalon began processing

Halley’s words. Her best friend stood up and began to pace along the hardwood floor.

Avalon’s shoulders twitched as she studied the clippings of all the supermodels Halley

had taped to her cappuccino-shade walls. Finally, Avalon spun around in her rhinestone-

adorned Juicy sandals, her golden-brown eyes full of angst-ridden determination.

Game ON!

“Um.” Avalon stared down at the floor and chewed on her lower lip. “I hadn’t

really thought about it like that.”

Finally, Halley caught the buzz Avalon had been riding all afternoon. She sat up

taller on the rug and tugged down on the hem of her blue-striped top. If she could get

Avalon into battle mode, maybe together they could figure out a way to win their friends’

forgiveness.

“Well, think about it now!” Halley dug deep and pulled out all the pep squad

enthusiasm she could access—even though becoming cheer captain had been an

unintentional accomplishment, just to get back at Avalon for stealing Wade from her.

“We need to fix this, even if it means forcing them to understand how sorry we are for

what happened. We need to make them take us back! RIGHT?”

“Oh, Halley.” Avalon slowly shook her head and puffed up her glossy pink lips in

an empathetic pout. “You’re going about this all wrong.”

“What?” Halley felt her palms prickle with sweat as her pulse quickened. “How

do you figure?”

“If we want to win, we need to operate like winners—not like groveling, pathetic

losers,” Avalon insisted, rushing back over to Halley’s desk and sitting down at the

computer. “Here! I’ve got the perfect plan!”

Uh-oh. As Halley watched Avalon open a new document and begin to type on the

keyboard at a frantic pace, she wasn’t sure if she should be psyched that a formal,

Avalon-devised strategy was finally in the works—or totally freaked out by how it could

potentially backfire.

DON’T GET DRESSED WITHOUT US!

Where the Styled Things Are posted by the_style_snarks: monday, november 17, at 7:07 a.m.

If you thought yesterday’s post was harsh, we have three words for you: Get. Over. It.

We’re in the truthanasia business here, people: We kill off fashion offenses before they

do serious damage. J ANYWAY! Thanks to Frankie’s private yoga instructor (you

seriously have not lived till you’ve done a Sun Salutation on the beach in Malibu), we’ve

got a yen for Zen—so we’re going to balance out our celebutaunts by showing you what

happens when the stars and their style choices are perfectly aligned:

A Smiley for Miley. We wouldn’t have believed it ourselves unless we

saw it with our own eyes, but hello—somebody finally got herself a

stylist! This rose-hued, cap-sleeved Alice + Olivia dress was the perfect

mix of sass and class. Party in the USA, fo’ sho’!

Haute School Musical. When Vanessa Hudgens walked in wearing this

emerald-green CK minidress with silver-spiked black boots, we thought

we’d died and gone to edgy-couture heaven. We love you, VanHud!

Kisses to you and your adorable sister! xoxo

T-Sizzle! Nobody can do sweet and innocent like Taylor Swift, but she

seriously turned up the heat—without going completely sugar-free—in

this gorgeous strapless gold D&G dress. (PS: Her hugs are way stronger

than her voice!)

See? Not all of Hollywood gets bitten when they go swimming with

Snarks. J Hugs and kisses to all our new followers—keep that fan mail

coming!

Word to your closet, Shop on,

COMMENTS (213)

Wait. Are you telling me you hung with all these girls and THE Perez Hilton is now

commenting on your blog, too? I am 2 jealous 4 words. But good job! (Oh, and totally

agree with you. . . . T-Swiz cannot sing her way out of a paper bag, but that girl can dress,

oh yes!)

posted by willwork4fashion on 11/17 at 7:18 a.m.

You guys are such wannabes. It’s like you’ve totally forgotten who your real friends are.

Makes me sad. L

posted by rahdeal on 11/17 at 7:29 a.m.

Um, nice try but I totally saw that T-Swizzle pic on people.com yesterday. I don’t believe

you met any of these people.

posted by fandemonium on 11/17 at 7:53 a.m.

Thanks, Fandemonium, but people.com actually bought that pic from us. Check out the

photo credit (and always read the fine print!) J.

posted by Style_SnarkA on 11/17 at 7:58 a.m.]

Cheer and loathing in La Jolla

Avalon brushed away a bead of cheer practice–induced perspiration, tightened her high

ponytail and breathed in the crisp fall air. She plucked her Focus VitaminWater off the

lowest bench of the bleachers and took a long sip, savoring the kiwi-strawberry flavor,

then spun around and squared her shoulders. She was ready.

“Awesome job today, Bree!” Avalon smiled brightly at Brianna Cho, who was

just heading off the football field with the rest of the cheerleaders. “Didn’t you think so,

Hal?”

“Yeah! You were on fire!” Halley nodded in solidarity, following along with the

plan Avalon had carefully scripted last night. It was Avalon’s best one yet, and it all

began with flattery—something even the angriest opponents couldn’t resist.

“Um . . . thanks?” Brianna tilted her head and shot a skeptical look at Sydney

McDowell before squinting in Avalon’s direction.

“You should really wear sunglasses out here—I mean, when we’re not practicing,

at least,” Avalon noted, scanning Brianna’s flawless skin and long, shiny black hair

before slipping on her Wayfarers. This was part two of her plan—offering some friendly

advice. “Squinting like that will totally give you premature wrinkles.”

“Bree doesn’t have to worry about wrinkles!” Sydney shook her dark blond bob

furiously as she leapt to Brianna’s defense like a true co-captain—even though she no

longer held that position.

When the pep squad merged with the gymnastics team early last month, Halley

had somehow been voted in as captain—replacing Brianna, who was now second-in-

command. It was one of the few times things hadn’t gone the way Avalon planned. Not

that it hadn’t worked out for the best. After all, if Avalon had become cheer captain,

Seaview Middle School might have won the state competition. And if they’d won, Halley

and Avalon would have had to go to nationals instead of to L.A. Fashion Week. And if

they hadn’t gone to L.A. Fashion Week, they wouldn’t have met Frankie. And if they

hadn’t met Frankie, they wouldn’t be living the fabulously amazing lives they were

now—mere steps away from ruling the fashion world!

“Well, Syd, that’s the funny thing about wrinkles,” Avalon purred wisely as she

pulled on her red hoodie. “You never think you have to worry about them until the

damage is already done. The signs of aging are sneaky that way—and so difficult to

undo.”

“Since when did you become a skin-care expert?” Sydney asked, her cheeks

flushing the same rosy shade as her hot-pink Juicy romper.

Avalon shrugged and sighed nonchalantly as the four girls began walking off the

field together. “It’s, like, one of the most popular topics of conversation at A-lister

parties. Right, Hal?”

“Uh-huh.” Halley was nodding with a knowing blink of her pale blue eyes.

“Avalon’s pores practically disappeared within seconds of Frankie giving her a secret-

formula facial.”

Outside, Avalon was the picture of composure, but inside, her heart was doing an

ecstatic and flawlessly choreographed celebratory cheer. Things could not be going

better! It didn’t matter that Bree and Sydney sped up, walking a few steps ahead on the

brick path, or that Bree was whispering something into Sydney’s ear. That just proved

Avalon was making an impression. This was part three of her plan: dazzling Sydney and

Brianna with how fabulous she and Halley had become, demonstrating exactly what they

were missing by refusing to forgive them. In mere moments, they’d acknowledge that

Halley and Avalon hadn’t really done anything so wrong—they’d say they completely

understood why Halley and Avalon had wanted to enjoy Fashion Week on their own, that

of course you don’t have to share VIP passes with all your friends just because you have

them.

Avalon shivered with excitement as she picked up the pace and gently grabbed

Bree and Sydney by their arms, prompting them to stop, turn and face Halley and Avalon

just outside the main SMS building. “It was seriously amazing, you guys,” Avalon said

with a wide-eyed smile. “Hanging out and swapping beauty secrets with all the hottest

celebrities!”

“Uh-huh. That does sound amazing.” Brianna’s voice was as tired and icy as a

decaf Frappuccino, and her smooth features were equally frozen.

“Yeah, amazing!” Sydney sneered, exchanging a mutual eye roll with Bree.

“Seriously?” Avalon scrunched up her face at her friends’ extreme attitude. She

looked over at Halley, who was no longer offering looks of solidarity but instead staring

down at the path, biting her lower lip. “Why are you being so harsh?” She was trying to

be friends again. Couldn’t they see that?

“Why do you think?” Sydney’s cheeks got even redder, totally clashing with her

violet eyes.

“I don’t know!” Avalon’s entire body stiffened, and she hugged her arms across

her chest. “I was just about to share this extremely confidential information straight from

the expertly glossed lips of major celebrities who I have personally met, and you get all

sarcastic and act like you’re better than me!”

“Oh, no!” Brianna gasped and widened her dark almond eyes in mock horror.

“Nobody should ever act better than Avalon Greene—not when we’re all so clearly

beneath you and your fabulous celebrity friends!”

“Ohmygod.” Avalon shook her head and looked over at Halley, silently willing

her to look up—to join her in disbelief. “What’s the point?”

“Avalon . . .” Halley slowly lifted her head and raised her dark eyebrows, which

Avalon read as a silent message to keep trying.

“No.” Avalon stared down at the brick path, blinking back an angry tear. “I’m

done. This is pathetic.”

“You’re pathetic!” Sydney barked in her yappy little voice, reminding Avalon of

the early days—before they’d become friends—when Avalon had silently dubbed her the

Cheerhuahua.

“Oh, really?” Avalon gave Sydney’s velour romper a disgusted once-over before

glaring into her beady little eyes. “Well, let’s just see how pathetic you think I am when

I’m the hottest fashion designer in L.A. and you’re still dressing like a Cabbage Patch

Kid!”

Avalon breathed in and out a few times to regain her composure before

continuing. “You’ll be the only girls at school who don’t benefit from my awesomeness,

and then you’ll be begging me to forgive you. But guess what? I WON’T! Maybe then

you’ll see how it feels when you hand someone an olive branch and they poop all over

it!”

Avalon inhaled deeply and frowned as she grabbed Halley by the arm and

stormed past Brianna and Sydney, pushing through the glass doors into the SMS lobby

and dragging her best friend all the way to the girls’ restroom. Once there, Halley

dutifully shooed away the group of seventh-graders who were comparing their split ends

in front of the mirror.

Then, and only then—when she was sure she was safely behind closed and locked

doors—Avalon allowed the tears to fall. She just wasn’t sure who was more surprised by

this sudden emotional outburst: her or Halley.

A peaceful, queasy feeling

Halley grabbed a box of tissues off the dark wood vanity table in the girls’ bathroom

sitting area and joined Avalon on the gold carpeted floor. Seeing her best friend so

distressed made Halley feel doubly miserable. This was totally her fault! If Halley hadn’t

convinced Avalon to try and make up with Brianna and Sydney, she wouldn’t be on

Kleenex duty right now. She also wouldn’t be worrying about how Sofee and the Dead

Romeos might react to her imminent peacemaking efforts.

Of course, Halley thought as she handed a tissue to Avalon, my approach isn’t

going to be quite so . . . showy.

“Well, I guess Sydney was right about one thing,” Avalon said softly between

sniffles, motioning for Halley to hand her another tissue. “I am pathetic.”

“Are not!” Halley frowned and passed along the Kleenex.

“Am so.” Avalon’s face became even more blotchy and red as a fresh set of tears

fell from her dark eyes onto her cropped navy stretch pants. “Why else would I be crying

over two jealous-beyond-belief cheer-losers?”

“Hmmm.” Halley couldn’t help but laugh as she blotted her friend’s cheeks dry.

“You have a point there.”

Avalon glared back at Halley for a moment, but then her face broke into a smile

too. “I do, don’t I?” Avalon shook her high ponytail with renewed confidence, jumped up

from the floor and headed straight for the mirror. Pulling her Kate Spade makeup bag out

of its matching duffel, she sat down on one of the purple-cushioned antique vanity stools

and got to work on her tear-stained face.

She’s ba-aack. Halley sighed with a mixture of relief and regret. A small part of

her was glad Brianna and Sydney hadn’t forgiven Avalon. Now Halley could have her

BFF all to herself—back to the way they used to be. But that wouldn’t solve the situation

between Halley and Sofee . . . or between Halley and Wade. As much as she wanted to

focus on the new-and-improved Halvalon, until she was back on track with the other

people who mattered, her life would feel incomplete.

“So! Ready to breathe new life into the Dead Romeos?” Avalon spun around, her

eyes de-puffed and her cheeks de-blotched to perfection. “And why are you still sitting

down there in my snot pile?”

“Ew!” Halley giggled as she glanced down at all the crumpled tissues, but then

she gave her best friend a worried look. “Maybe I’m feeling like the pathetic one?”

“Um, why?” Avalon demanded. “Didn’t we just agree? They’re the losers. We’re

doing them a favor by even offering them a chance to be part of our inner circle again. If

they don’t see it that way, it only confirms that they’re determined to stay exiled in

Lameville. Whatever happens, we still win!”

“You’re insane,” Halley said with an incredulous laugh as she got up from the

ground and walked over to sit on the vanity stool next to Avalon’s. She didn’t exactly

agree with her friend’s point of view, but her confidence was kind of contagious.

“Seriously. How do you bounce back so fast? It’s almost . . . creepy.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!” Avalon threw back her shoulders, pulled a tube

of lip gloss out of her makeup bag and handed it to Halley, entirely back in charge.

“Now. Do we need to go over the Win-Back-the-Band battle plan, or are you all set?”

“I’m all set.” Halley tried to keep her hands from shaking as she applied two coats

of gloss. “I think.”

“Then let’s go!” Avalon smiled, grabbing her duffel and bouncing to her feet,

pulling Halley along with her.

“Wait. You’re not going too . . . are you?” Halley asked as Avalon turned the

deadbolt on the bathroom door and they headed out into the hall, past the bank of gold

lockers toward the music room. As much as she adored Avalon and her almost

pathological amount of poise, having Avalon there by her side definitely didn’t seem like

the best strategy. Especially after what had just happened with Bree and Sydney.

Irritation flickered across Avalon’s face. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just . . . well . . .” Halley squeezed her eyes closed as they arrived at the door

to the music room. She had to figure out a way to keep Avalon from going in with her—

and fast. Opening up her eyes and staring intently into Avalon’s, she just let the words

fall right out. “I know you think this is about winning and losing, but for me it’s about

admitting I did something wrong . . . and about making things right.”

“What?” Avalon’s eyes widened with crazed angst. “You’ve got to stop saying

that! We didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Maybe so, maybe not . . .” Halley’s voice was barely a whisper now. “But the

point is, people’s feelings got hurt. And if we have the ability to fix that, I think we

should.”

“But that’s what I just tried to do with Bree and Sydney, and they totally shut me

down!” Avalon was blinking at warp speed, like she’d been caught off guard on a

particularly windy day at the beach.

“Hey . . .” Halley squeezed Avalon’s hands tightly and hoped her friend would

understand—if not now, soon. “Just let me try to handle this my way. Okay?”

Avalon shrugged and shook her head as Halley held up a hand, letting Avalon

know she wanted her to wait outside.

“Thanks,” Halley said, drawing a few shards of courage from her friend’s steely

gaze before turning to open the door to the music room and quietly creeping inside.

“What the hell?” Sofee shouted, stopping mid-strum and turning her dark-lined

eyes to stare directly at Halley.

Oops. Apparently creeping in quietly wasn’t something Halley had quite mastered

yet.

Wade glanced over his shoulder from where he was sitting at the piano and said a

terse “hey” before turning around and hammering out a few dismal-sounding notes. Even

when all she could see was his back, Halley felt herself melt a little bit inside. His dark

hair was so glossy in the bright music room light, his upper body so slim yet strong in his

olive-hued T-shirt.

“Why are you here?” Sofee demanded. She looked especially hard-core today in a

gray stocking cap, denim leggings with zippers all over them and a white tank under a

fringed purple suede vest.

“Um . . .” Halley exhaled deeply and tried to swallow down the lump that was

threatening to choke her. “I’m really sorry. I mean, I’m sorry to interrupt your rehearsal

and all . . .”

“Oh! She’s sorry . . . to interrupt our rehearsal!” Mason Lawrence tapped out a

ba-dum-bum on his drums like he’d just told the punch line to Halley’s joke.

“Wait a sec.” Halley could hear her voice shaking. She knew she sounded

pathetic. But she had to say what she came here to say. “I’m not just sorry for that. I’m

just sorry . . .”

“Yeah. You got that right.” Sofee shook her long, dark curls and began twisting

the tiny diamond stud in her nose.

“You know what, Sofee?” Halley started to react but quickly shook off the urge to

fight back. She was here to apologize. “You’re right. I agree. Not telling you guys about

the VIP passes was totally lame. We should have told you. We should have invited you.

But we only found out at the last minute, and then Avalon . . .”

“Then Avalon?” Wade suddenly spoke, his back still to Halley.

There was an awkward moment of silence, during which Halley was able to read

every last date on Wade’s U2 360 concert tee, and then Sofee chimed back in. “See, Hal,

this is the thing that’s really messed up: Every time something goes wrong, Avalon’s

right there next to you. And I’m starting to think maybe you’re not just the innocent

bystander in all of this. In fact—”

“In fact,” Evan Davidson interrupted. He looked directly at Halley with his blue-

green eyes as he adjusted the strap on his dark-wood bass guitar. Halley had never heard

him sound so strong or look so confident. “Sometimes the person who sits by and doesn’t

say anything is the guiltiest one of all.”

“For sure.” Sofee shot an impressed look in Evan’s direction. “I mean, we all

know Avalon is annoying as hell—but not nearly as annoying as the person who just

follows along.”

Evan nodded and ran a hand over his cropped brown curls, his gaze still fixed on

Halley. “At least Avalon talks the talk and walks the walk.”

“Sorry, Hal.” Wade finally spoke up again but without turning around. “Maybe

you should just stop faking apologies and figure out who you really are and what you

really want.”

Sofee laughed through her nose and rolled her eyes at Wade. “Don’t hold your

breath.”

“Wow.” Halley’s voice squeaked, barely audible.

She looked over at Mason, hoping the stocky blond drummer would say

something funny and then everyone would start laughing—that they would run over and

hug her and tell her they were just kidding. But that didn’t happen, and suddenly Halley

felt like the air in the room was getting thinner, like she was losing oxygen and wouldn’t

be able to breathe if she stayed there another second. She stumbled backward, grabbing

the door handle to steady herself before pushing her way out into the hall. Thank

goodness Avalon was still there, waiting for her—waiting to see how things had gone.

Now it was her turn to be on Kleenex duty. Only this might require a few more boxes.

A clean sweep

Avalon tried not to cringe as she watched Halley sob into Pucci’s fuzzy head, drenching

the puppy, not to mention Avalon’s beautiful and freshly cleaned Italian comforter, with

her tears.

“Are you sure you don’t want some?” Avalon held a bag of barbecue Popchips

out to Halley from her perch on her vanity stool.

“No, thanks.” Halley sniffed so loud it almost drowned out the sound of Avalon’s

extreme crunching—which was, admittedly, the one downside to the otherwise perfectly

low-fat, low-calorie, ultra-crispy potato thins.

“But they’re your new favorite snack food!” Avalon insisted between crunches. “I

made my mom pick them up on the way home especially for you.”

“You did . . . ?” Halley barely choked out the words before dissolving into yet

another fit of sobs, hugging Pucci so tightly the dog’s soft brown eyes bulged with

surprise.

Wow. This is bad. As upset as Avalon had been over the Brianna and Sydney

shutdown after cheer practice, at least she’d gotten over it within a few minutes. Halley,

on the other hand, had been dissed by the Dead Romeos five full hours ago, and she was

still acting like she’d lost her best friend in the world, which—hello?—was obviously not

the case. Avalon always knew Halley had hit rock bottom when she stopped consuming

calories of any kind, especially comfort ones.

“Haaal,” Avalon cooed in her most soothing voice, “if you keep this up my

room’s gonna smell like wet dog.” Then, inhaling deeply, she noted, “In fact, it already

does.” Avalon spun around and lit the triple-wicked Voluspa candle on her vanity table.

She breathed in the sweet scent of citrus and turned back to where Halley and Pucci were

still snuggling on Avalon’s bed.

Finally, Halley raised her head and laughed in spite of herself. “Sorry I’m such a

mess!” She wiped the back of her hand under her lightly freckled nose.

Better you than my room . . .

“I’ve just never gone through anything like that—having all of them attack me

and pick me apart. . . .” Halley sniffed.

“They suck,” Avalon said flatly, the heat rising to her cheeks as she thought about

everything she’d heard the band say to her best friend through the crack in the music

room door—not just the stuff about Halley, either, but about how evil they thought

Avalon was. Jerks. “Nobody has a right to talk to you the way they did.”

“But . . . they did.” A few more tears slid down Halley’s cheeks, and Pucci caught

them on her tongue in midair.

“But they shouldn’t have!” Avalon insisted.

“No, I mean they did have a right to talk to me that way,” Halley moaned.

Avalon shivered with disgust. All this self-pity was making her feel dirty. It was

so wrong, on so many levels. “No. They were totally out of line. In fact, you know what I

really think this is about?”

“What?” Halley blinked through her red-rimmed eyes.

“I think they’ve all got a severe case of adoraphobia.” Avalon angled her

shoulders proudly.

“What’s that?” Halley looked like she was about to smile again.

“Adoraphobia: noun,” Avalon stated without skipping a beat. “The fear of

hanging out with anyone who is more adored by others than you are.”

“Ohmygod, you’re so weird.” Halley shook her head but finally laughed again—

and this time it sounded like the happiness might last a little longer.

“No, I’m brilliant,” Avalon insisted, the whole concept making more sense to her

as she developed it. “I mean, think about it. They’re in a band. They’re totally obsessed

with themselves! Their one real goal isn’t to play music, it’s to have people look at

them—and love them. It’s full-on, classic narcissism!”

Now Halley was nodding along like Avalon was the one on stage singing a new

hit single and Halley couldn’t wait to chime in on the chorus! It only made Avalon’s

brain buzz into overdrive with an even more impressive psychoanalysis.

“But because we’re the ones who’ve already hit the big time, they can’t even look

at us without feeling like losers!” Avalon jumped up and started dancing around the room

as she finished her ingenious explanation. “We’re the Style Snarks—fashion

commentators and designers on the verge of greatness—and the Dead Romeos only wish

they could be adored the way we are, so they hate us for it. Brianna and Sydney are the

same way, ’cause they’re completely conceited cheerleaders!”

Just as Avalon walked over to her iPod SoundDock and started searching for a

celebratory song to hammer home her point, Ke$ha’s “TiK ToK” ringtone began playing

from deep within her duffel. Avalon raced over to retrieve her iPhone. “It’s Frankie!” she

announced as she looked at the screen and hit the answer-and-speaker buttons in rapid-

fire succession. “Hi, Frankie! I’m here with Halley!”

“Hey, Halvalon!” Frankie said. “I’m glad I caught you both.”

“What’s up?” Halley asked, finally sounding almost normal.

“Um, are you sitting down?” Frankie asked.

Avalon bounced over to join Halley and Pucci on her bed. “We are now!” she

announced.

“Okay, ’cause this is kind of huge.” There was a triple–Red Bull energy to

Frankie’s voice that made Avalon excited but also a little scared.

“What?” Avalon demanded as she grabbed Halley’s hand. “What is it?”

“Well, you know how I used to be on a little show called The Cliffs . . . on

MTV?” Now Frankie was trying to sound nonchalant, but it totally wasn’t working.

“Yes!” Avalon and Halley both squealed in unison.

“I was telling the producer about you guys and everything that happened at

Fashion Week—how we took down Gia and how awesome you are, and . . .” The phone

suddenly went silent.

Avalon grabbed it off the comforter and stared at the screen. “Hello? Frankie?

Are you still there?”

“He wants to meet you guys! And FILM you! As part of a DOCUMENTARY!

About ME!” Frankie was screaming so loud her voice was distorted, but the words still

came through as clear as Katy Perry’s complexion.

“WHAT?” Avalon screamed back.

“Can you hear me now?” Frankie screamed.

“YES!” Avalon and Halley yelled at the same time.

“But are you serious?” Avalon demanded.

“I swear on my spring collection.” Frankie finally spoke in a deadly serious voice.

“I told him you guys were going to start interning for me soon, and I showed him some of

the stuff we did for Gia—or Jean, whoever—and he’s sold. He wants to start shooting at

my place this weekend!”

“OH. MY. GOD!” Avalon and Halley jumped off the bed, and Pucci started

barking and chasing them as they did a few impromptu dance steps from their favorite

old gymnastics routine. Finally, out of breath, they squealed and hugged each other.

“Are you there?” Frankie’s voice came through the iPhone, which was still lying

on Avalon’s bed.

“Um, yeah!” Avalon laughed.

“And we always will be!” Halley chimed in as she tore into the barbecue

Popchips sitting on Avalon’s vanity table.

“Awesome!” Frankie said. “I’ll call you as soon as I have more details.”

After she pressed END on her phone, Avalon looked at Halley, her wide eyes

beginning to sting with tears of joy. “Did that seriously just happen?”

“It seriously did!” Halley giggled as barbecued chips shot past her lips and onto

Avalon’s pristine white shag carpet.

“Ew! You’d better clean that up!” Avalon scolded, laughing, even though Pucci

was already on Hoover duty with her tongue.

Avalon didn’t even care if her bedroom got messy at this point, though. There

was no way this new development would be anything but fabulous for her, Halley and

every mission they’d ever wanted to accomplish—and it couldn’t have happened at a

more perfect time.