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think you can?”
    “Given!” Dylan said, as if she was insulted that her friend even had to ask. “We’ll be prank calling him by this time tomorrow morning.”
    “Wait, your mom knows Drew Divine?” Claire asked. She leaned as far forward as she could without falling into the next row of seats. “How?”
    “She just spoke to him,” Alicia said. “Weren’t you watching?”
    “Your mom is Merri-Lee Marvil?” Claire asked. “The host of
The Daily Grind?
”
The Daily Grind
was Claire’s mother’s favorite morning show.
    “Uh-huh,” Dylan said. She picked an imaginary piece of lint off her top and flicked it into the air.
    “Do you get to meet famous people all the time?” Claire asked. “Does she look the same in real life as she does on TV? Is she really dating Geraldo Rivera?”
    “That will be all for now, Barbara Walters,” Massie said.
    Claire fell back into her seat as if she had just been punched in the stomach. She decided not to say anything anymore. What was the point? She just looked out the window and ignored the four girls, who were draped all over each other in a heap of expensive bags, shoes, and clothes.

T HE R ANGE R OVER F IRST -C LASS S ECTION
    8:19 A.M . September 2nd
    Massie tuned in to the crunching sound coming from the backseat. She tried to block it out of her head, but it kept getting louder. The faint smell of salt and greasy potatoes filled the air and Massie realized that Claire was eating chips, with no regard for the early hour or the high fat content. Massie pulled out her cell phone like she was drawing a sword.
    MASSIE: SHE’S G2G
    ALICIA: SO DO HER BANGS
    DYLAN: H8 THE WHOLE HAIRCUT
    MASSIE: _ OUT THE SHOES
    Dylan, Alicia, and Kristen turned toward the backseat and at the same time lifted themselves up so they could get a good look at Claire’s feet. Massie was dying to see Claire’s reaction, but she didn’t have the heart to look.
    KRISTEN: BETTER DEAD THAN KED
    MASSIE: NOT A G.L.U.
    DYLAN: ??????
    MASSIE: GIRL LIKE US. NEW TERM
    DYLAN: LOVE IT!
    Massie slipped her phone back in its Prada nylon case, signaling the other girls that it was time to switch back to speaking.

T HE R ANGE R OVER O CTAVIAN C OUNTRY D AY S CHOOL
    8:27 A.M . September 2nd
    Claire’s eyes widened when she saw the school she was expected to go to for the next ten months. The parking lot was filled with Mercedes, Jaguars, Lexus SUVs, BMW convertibles, and even a few limos. Her old school just had yellow school buses and a few beat-up Toyotas and Hondas that belonged to the teachers.
    Her mouth started to taste like pennies, which usually meant she was about to puke. She tried to calm down by quietly singing the words to “These Are a Few of My Favorite Things,” from
The Sound of Music
—it worked for the von Trapp family and it had always worked for her.
    Raindrops on roses
    And whiskers on kittens …
    The massive brick buildings looked much more welcoming on the cover of the brochure. Tangles of green vines swirled up the walls all the way to the roof and tall pine trees surrounded them at the base. Claire figured the excessive greenery was nature’s way of keeping out the riffraff.
    The instant the car’s engine shut off, the girls were on the move. They walked beside each other in a straight line toward the great lawn that spilled out in front of the school’s entrance. Tight clusters of friends wearing slight variations of the same outfit were getting reacquainted after the summer break. Mostly everyone wore dark jeans or minis with a tank. The color and cut of the tops seemed left up to the individual, but everything else looked predetermined by the pages of
Teen Vogue, Elle Girl,
and
Lucky
. No one had Jansport knapsacks. Instead they carried handbags with designers’ initials stamped all over them.
    Claire thought it was funny how OCD was an anti-uniform private school, yet all the students dressed exactly the same. Thanks to her mother’s idea of “fashionable,” she was