These Boots Are Made for Stalking Read Online Free Page B

attention to Massie,
     she narrowed her eyes. “Um, isn’t it past your bedtime?”
    Massie wanted to strangle her with Bean’s collar. But instead, she whirled around on her heel, signaling to her friends that
     it was time to go.
    “I’ll check on Bark tomorrow,” she whispered, too ashamed to look at Landon. She picked up Bean and tucked the pug under her
     damp, stress-stained armpit.
    “Nighty-night,” Brianna said dryly.
    “Text you later,” Landon said halfheartedly, without looking up.
    The PC and their crushes were silent as Massie stalked out of the house and through the yard. Tears threatened to spill onto
     her pale cheeks, but she refused to let two orange-tinted LBRs make her cry. She hugged Bean to her chest and tried to put
     on a brave face.
    But how was she supposed to do that when her puppy smelled like some ninth-grader’s cheap perfume?

THE BLOCK ESTATE
    MASSIE’S BEDROOM
    Friday, October 31st
    9:57 P.M.
    “Oof.” The thick strap of Claire’s borrowed Jimmy Choo Sky bag dug into her shoulder as she lugged her loot across Massie’s
     white-carpeted bedroom floor toward the sleeping bag circle in the middle of the room. Every muscle in her neck, arms, and
     shoulders throbbed from the weight of the night’s stash. But Claire felt about trick-or-treating the same way Massie felt
     about her
Ab Blaster
workout DVD: If you couldn’t feel the burn, you weren’t doing it right.
    “Which is worse?” Sitting cross-legged at the head of her sleeping bag, Alicia was studying the label on a tin of pumpkin
     spice malt balls. “Trans fat or saturated fat?”
    Dylan plopped down on her hunter green sleeping bag, then slapped a palmful of gourmet popcorn to her mouth. “Traaaaaaans
     faaaaaaaaat,” she burped.
    “Guh-ross.” Kristen lifted her Juicy Couture cotton nightie over her nose. “Jalapeño?”
    “Sí.”
Dylan nodded happily.
    “I’m trading anything with this many calories anyway.” Alicia resumed calculating protein-to-fat ratios on her iPhone.
    “How come Layne went home so early?” Kristen turned to Claire.
    “Wardrobe malfunction.” Claire dropped her bag to the floor and eased into her usual spot between Kristen and Dylan. “Her
     costume gave her a rash, so she had to go home and take an oatmeal bath.”
    Dylan snorted.
    Alicia wrinkled her button nose. “That’s what she gets for going synthetic,” she decided, pointing and flexing her feet absently.
    “Poor Chewie.” Kristen smile-braided a few blond layers, then finger-combed her hair and started over again.
    Drawing her knees to her chest, Claire watched as Dylan snuck a mini Twix and Alicia admired her polished toes. It was moments
     like this that made Claire want to pinch herself, just to be sure she was actually here, in Massie Block’s bedroom, hanging
     with the Pretty Committee like things had always been this way. Like she belonged.
    She flinched at the memory of last year’s costume. What had she been thinking, co-hosting a Halloween party dressed as a Powerpuff
     Girl? Of course, last Halloween hadn’t been
all
bad. After all, she’d met her ah-dorable crush. And she was here now and she finally belonged. Now that the PC was reunited
     and Massie’s Friday-night sleepovers were back to normal, everything was perfect. Except…
    Claire eyed Massie’s empty lilac sleeping bag and her fluffed pillow, where Bean was curled up in a ball. On the other side
     of the room, Massie was sitting on the edge of her bed, jamming her iPod onto the sleek portable dock on her nightstand. Her
     candy bag sat untouched next to her.
    “We can’t start withoooout you,” Claire sang, trying to sound upbeat. She tried to get a read on Massie’s mood. But Massie’s
     flat-ironed tresses were shielding her expression like a silky chestnut curtain.
    “You guys go ahead,” Massie murmured. “Be right there.”
    “You sure?” Claire nibbled her thumbnail. If it weren’t for her stupid N.H.L.B. rule, the