Clique Summer Collection 3 - Kristen by Lisi Harrison

Author:Lisi Harrison
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2009-01-06T08:00:00+00:00

After intense analysis, Kristen had decided on a long black Juicy tunic hoodie (Massie hand-me-down) over gray denim capris (Old Navy, to be destroyed by “accidental pen explosion” one week before the Pretty Committee returned). Black ballet flats (Capezio sale bin—seven dollars!) completed the vandal-chic look she was going for. She’d considered wearing her Cleopatra wig, not only for the pop it gave her green eyes, but for its ability to conceal her blond hair. Ultimately, though, she’d decided against it. Because the only thing Kristen wanted more than to make Dune fall in love with her was to keep the Witty Committee secret. They could always cheer her up if she lost Dune, but he could never fill the void if she lost them. No one could. So tonight, her blond hair was stuffed under a Burton snowboard cap. As she urged her bike forward, she pedal-prayed the combination of extreme humidity and black wool would not make her forehead break out in the morning.

Kristen got off her bike three blocks away from the country club and locked it to a burned-out streetlight. She checked left, then right. Certain no one was watching, she lifted the flap on her leather saddlebag (a gift from her uncle Billy in Texas) and pulled out the clear backpack. The pink crystals inside made it too heavy to wear, so she carried it in her arms like a big, crippled dog and waddled down the dark sidewalk like a pregnant penguin.

For the next three and a half hours, Kristen hid behind the shrub next to the service gate and studied the instructions the Witty Committee had left in the outside pocket of her backpack. They weren’t complicated. In fact, their simplicity was brilliant.

As her legs cramped from crouching and her stomach grumbled from a Ziploc dinner of milkless Lucky Charms (for luck), Kristen thought—fleetingly—about bailing. She was not a rule breaker by nature. Sure, she wore cute clothes behind her mother’s back and let the PC copy her homework, but nothing illegal. Ever! Yet here she was, about to trespass and vandalize. In a place she loved going to with Massie and the Blocks. And that should have made her feel awkward and uneasy, like she had in those boy clothes. But for some reason it didn’t. Instead it felt:

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