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didn’t meet Lauren’s eye. It was one thing tomake fun of someone when they were across the room, but a totally different story when they were sitting right in front of you. Looking so hopelessly eager .
    Then A. A. accidentally snorted while sipping her tea, and the three of them began laughing again.
    By the time the tea was over, Lili knew that no one would even care how rich Lauren was supposed to be, or how good she looked. Because who could be jealous of a little Miss Piggy?

8
A PRIVATE TEA PARTY
    ASHLEY’S HOUSE WAS ONLY A few doors down from her place, so A. A. lingered, helping clean up—which meant hanging out with Ashley and her mom at the Spencers’ kitchen counter while the kitchen staff did all the dirty work. This was A. A.’s favorite part of any party, when all the guests were gone and only a few close friends remained and everyone could relax and unwind and get down to the real business of eating. Too bad Lili couldn’t stay longer, but her mom was always ridiculously strict about her “timetable” and kept Lili on a rigid schedule. She’d marched Lili right home for violin practice.
    â€œWell, that was a success, don’t you think?” MatildaSpencer asked, hands on her hips as she surveyed the copious remains of the tea. “Nancy always orders too much food, and with Trudy bringing in her whole entourage, we had enough to feed an army.”
    â€œYeah, Mom, you rocked it,” said Ashley, bumping her mother on the hip while opening the door to the Sub-Zero. She brought out a whole tray of gourmet tea sandwiches, a tub of chocolate pudding, and assorted cream puffs and pastries, and laid everything out on the island counter in front of them.
    â€œOoh, yum,” A. A. said happily, rubbing her hands with glee at all the bounty.
    â€œDibs on the éclairs,” Ashley warned, reaching for a gooey chocolate-covered treat. “Suzanne makes the best ones,” she added, referring to their cook.
    A. A. waved her off. Ashley could keep the éclairs. They weren’t even made of real chocolate, and they tasted like cardboard—everything at the Spencers’ was carob this and yogurt that. Instead she grabbed one of the golden brown scones nestled underneath a folded linen napkin in a silver bowl. “You can have them. These are my favorite. Mmm. They’re still warm!”
    â€œCan you believe they flew him all the way out to bake those just for the tea?” Ashley asked as she wipeddark brown icing from her lips with a monogrammed napkin. “Someone’s insecure.”
    â€œHey, if they want to throw their money around, that’s fine with me,” said A. A., spreading clotted cream on her scone and putting the entire thing into her mouth.
    â€œGirls, be nice,” Matilda warned, picking up a cherry tomato from a crudités platter. “They just wanted to make an effort. I’m sure she was just embarrassed about last year.”
    â€œWhat happened last year?” Ashley asked, looking up from her second éclair, a chocolate mustache on her lip. “I don’t remember anything.”
    A. A. devoured three scones in short order while Ashley’s mom told them about Lauren’s mom’s sad turkey sandwiches.
    â€œWe had to give them to the homeless. I didn’t want them to go to waste.” Matilda sighed.
    Ashley shot her a look, and A. A. snickered. Okay, so it was totally mean to laugh at someone’s social faux pas, but seriously. Picnic sandwiches? Even her mom, who was in Barbados with some senator during last year’s tea, had managed to send their maid over with a box of Italian cookies.
    â€œPass that cheese plate,” she requested, pointing to an oval platter stacked with five different kinds of artisanal cheese. A. A. wasn’t a secret eater like Ashley was, but she did relax knowing her mom wasn’t around to tell her to eat like a lady. Meanwhile, Ashley,