Clique 02 - Best Friends for Never by Lisi Harrison

Author:Lisi Harrison
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2004-10-06T07:00:00+00:00

WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER PARTY

TREATS TABLE

9:25 PM

October 31st

Claire stood at the edge of the ice rink, watching Layne skate and flirt with a guy dressed as a rock. She was so over standing on the sidelines, watching other people have fun.

It wasn't until Layne skated over a Reese's peanut butter cup and went flying through the air that Claire actually cracked a smile. She felt guilty right away for finding mild pleasure in her friend's accident, but she couldn't help it. Layne didn't even want to meet a boy, she did, and it wasn't fair! Somehow Layne's embarrassing wipeout made everything feel right again. Besides, the cushions around her neck broke the fall, so she wasn't hurt, just humiliated.

Eli tried helping Layne up. But their costumes kept colliding, so he couldn't get a strong grip on her arm. After several failed attempts Layne crawled toward land.

“Hey there, Blossom.”

Claire heard the tiny voice and turned to find Nathan looking up at her, his green dress covered in chocolate stains.

“Hi, Buttercup,” she said softly. There was something about being around such a petite guy that made everyone use their small voice when they spoke to him. “Where's Bubbles?”

“He's hiding in the bushes, throwing Smarties at Massie.”

Claire slowly shook her head.

“Wanna go get drawn by the caricature guy?” Nathan asked.

“Sure. Why not?”

Claire knew her social life had reached an all-time low as she strolled across the lawn with her brother's midgety friend.

They found the artist on the stone porch beside the side entrance of the house.

When he saw Blossom and Buttercup approach, he slapped his hand against his heart and smiled.

“Now, aren't you two precious,” he said. “Come. Sit, sit, sit.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she mumbled to Nathan.

“Yes,” he squeaked.

“Howdy,” the artist said. “I'm Jules Denver.”

Claire noticed his dry, chalky hands as he extended his arm to greet her. She shook it politely, then wiped her palm on the side of her dress when he wasn't looking.

Jules had gray feathered hair that Claire assumed had been blown dry by a professional. His nose was big and bulbous and his deep set eyes were tiny slits. Claire thought Jules's extreme features looked like one of the sample caricatures wrapped in plastic, tacked to the side of his easel.

“I think it would be darling if your little friend sat on your lap for the portrait,” he said to Claire.

“Do you think that will make me look like a ventriloquist?” Claire asked in her kindest voice. “Maybe I should just stand behind him.”

“What-ever.” Jules's smile faded. “Please look over there.” He pointed his red Magic Marker at the big oak tree with the dangling mannequin. “And don't move.”

Five girls dressed as mice stood under the tree in a tight cluster, talking to each other with their hands over their mouths. Claire was trying to read their lips when she saw a cute guy with messy black hair, dressed as a soccer goalie, run past them. He was looking over his shoulder as if he was being chased.

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