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question.
    “You teach me how to dress to impress a skater, and I’ll teach you how to shop like Massie.”
    “Why?” Ripple sat up; this time, her tone was unmistakably full of questions. “Who do you like?”
    “No one.” Kristen fanned her cheeks. “I have a costume party next weekend and—”
    “Is it Jax?” Ripple’s light brown eyes were full of insecurity, not cattiness. And for a split second, Kristen took pleasure in the idea that another girl might consider her a threat. Too bad that other girl wasn’t Skye.
    “It’s not Jax.”
    “Scooter?”
    “No.”
    “Tyler?”
    “No.”
    “Cam?”
    “No.”
    “Plovert?”
    “No.”
    “Josh?”
    “Stop!” Kristen shouted. Getting interrogated by a nine-year-old was more humiliating than wearing an old head trend (in poo brown!) to impress a boy who wasn’t even home.
    Ripple was silent while she considered the other possibilities. “Who else do you know who skates?” And then she slapped her hand against her goopy lips. “Noooo!”
    Kristen nodded shyly.
    “Massie’s crush? Derek Harrington?” Ripple widened her narrow eyes as much as she possibly could.
    “Gawd, no! It’s Dune!” Kristen accidentally blurted. It was all she could do to keep the little wannabe from thinking she’d ever, in a billion years, steal her alpha’s crush.
    “My brother?” Ripple screeched, as if they had been talking about Shrek.
    “Yeah.” Kristen peeked down at the driveway to make sure no one had been listening. “Now will you help me?”
    “Yeah,” Ripple said as she eyed Kristen’s pasty legs. “Someone’s got to.”

ROXY/QUIKSILVER
    WESTCHESTER, NY
    Monday, July 20
    11:58 A.M.
    The twenty-seven dollars Kristen spent on the cab ride to the new Roxy/Quiksilver store was almost half of what she’d made during her short career as a tutor-sitter. But as she saw it, the money was an investment in her future. A future she could no longer imagine without her CLAM crush.
    After a quick sweat swipe with the nubby coral towel, both girls decided their new “thems” couldn’t wait for a shower and wardrobe change. They wanted to be transformed immediately. So off they went covered in little more than sarongs and SPF 30.
    “Are you sure this is the best place?” Kristen asked Ripple as she clutched the mini-surfboard door handle and stepped inside the Hawaiian-themed boutique. The blast of air-conditioning rendered her red and orange wrap useless and made the blond hair on her arms stand up.
    “Trust me.” Ripple led her to the back of the store where giant colorful posters of sunny girls with cute braids and sea-sprayed bangs charged giant waves in bright bikinis. Their simple lifestyles suddenly made the pads, cleats, and unflattering kneesocks of soccer seem stinky and un-cute.
    “May I help you?” asked a glitter-dusted Asian girl with a perky grin and a pricing gun. She wore faded denim short shorts, a yellow tube top, and a pink lei around her neck, which suddenly seemed ten times more creative and alluring than Kristen’s conservative Coach locket. Brightly colored cotton in fun, girly prints swirled all around her, the fabrics looking as light and giddy as the girls they were designed for. And suddenly Kristen longed to be one of them. She longed to be satisfied by a beautiful day at the beach. To be tickled by her whimsical wardrobe. To be riding in a beat-up old car with no AC, her sand-covered, home-polished toes sticking out the windows. She longed to be free. She longed to be Roxy.
    “Can you show us your baggy cargo shorts and—”
    Kristen snapped back to reality at the sound of Ripple’s pinched voice and grabbed her by the wrist. “We’re okay, thanks,” she told the salesgirl.
    “Kewl,” said the girl as she gladly punched a SALE sticker on a pair of silver skull–covered board shorts.
    “Rule number one,” Kristen hissed. “If you want to shop like Massie, never ask for help. Make them think
you’re
the