Poseur #3: Petty in Pink: A Trend Set Novel Read Free Page A

once
     shown up at school in a mint-condition 1960s Courrèges trapeze dress, like, “Isn’t this hilarious?” As if boundary-breaking
     couture dresses
in perfect condition
were funny! Then again, humor came in different forms; perhaps Charlotte’s was a more exclusive type? That
special
sort of humor supposedly found at Barneys,
you
know—along with “taste” and “luxury.”
It’s not that I’ve lost my sense of humor,
Janie realized, stunned;
I can’t afford the right brand.
    “At least try it on?” Charlotte barged into her mind-blowing epiphany. “You can always change back into whatevs.”
    Hugging the bulging robin’s egg blue bag to her stunted chest, Janie sighed her surrender. “Fine.”
    “Oh, good!” The tiny hands clapped as luxury cars continued to sail by. “But don’t do it yet, okay? Wait till lunch so I can
     see.”
    Despite herself, Janie cracked a small smile. Last year, Charlotte had barely spoken to her (unless you count the occasional
     soul-crushing insult), and yet here she was, dressing her up like a favorite doll. Not that Janie had any illusions. She’d
     had favorite dolls of her own, and most of them ended up bald, dismembered, and abandoned under her bed. No doubt Charlotte
     was on a mission to “improve” her, to increase her value in Winston’s social stock market and thereby justify their otherwise
     mystifying relationship. “She is so full of herself!” Amelia would later fume, incensed. But privately, Janie was grateful.
     More and more she’d catch girls (Farrah Frick, Bethany Snee, Nikki Pelligrini) eyeing her with a hungry, envious look—a look
     she recognized, having perfected it herself on Charlotte.
    Of course, maybe she was overthinking? Maybe, just maybe, Charlotte
genuinely
liked her? It seemed unlikely (the girl had made Janie’s ninth grade a living hell) and yet… stranger things were possible.
     She’d dated Janie’s
brother
, forgodsake. True, they’d broken up, but they’d both moved on, and if Charlotte could befriend Jake, a former dorkatron who’d
cheated
on her, then what should be so bizarre about befriending Janie, a former dorkatron who… who
nothing
?
    “Where’s your brother?” Charlotte inquired lightly. Janie stared, baffled. The girl had an uncanny ability to invade her mind,
     but like, selectively—pocketing the one thought that interested her and casting the rest aside. Pretty crazy Jake interested
     her at
all
, at this point, considering their now legendary breakup and subsequent post-breakup drama. Janie smiled, relieved. Maybe
     they really were making an effort to be friends?
    “Still in the car, I think,” she recovered, gray eyes flitting to the underground parking elevator. “They’re doing some kind
     of KROQ acoustic countdown. He was all,
if Nirvana isn’t number one, I’m chaining myself to Courtney Love in protest
.”
    Charlotte’s laughter was cut short by the growling sound of an encroaching sports car; Jules Maxwell-Langeais, Winston’s imported
     half-English, half-French boy candy had just cruised through the black metal gate in his acid-green Ferrari. His petite girlfriend
     must not have realized, however, because instead of making a big show of greeting him, she kissed Janie’s cheek—“Ciao!”—and
     bounded toward the elevator. If not for the orange-blossom fog lingering in her wake, you’d never have known she was there.
    By lunch, of course, the fog had faded. But the kiss remained. With Lauren gone and Janie free to peruse her reflection, she
     finally noticed it: a just perceptible pink smear along her left cheekbone. She made a mental note to clean it off, but first:
     she turned in front of the spotless mirror. Somehow, despite Charlotte being a full foot shorter, her black-and-ivory silk
     dress fit perfectly, nipping her long wisp of a waist, skimming her narrow hips, and halting just below the knee. True, the
     dainty cap sleeves, ruffled skirt, and chaste mandarin collar