Part 7 (2/2)
Their enthusiasm was infectious, and hope returned to Kristen like a loyal puppy. And that made her feel beautiful. Even if Dune was too Skye-struck to notice.
THE COUNTRY CLUB.
BEHIND THE BUSHES NEAR THE POOL.
Wednesday, July 22 11:49 P.M.
Dressed as their favorite Gifteds, Kristen (Cleopatra), Aimee (Shakespeare), and Rachel (Oprah) were breaking down three hundred empty Jell-O boxes, trying not to complain about the paper cuts, leg cramps, and mosquito bites they were getting from crouch-hiding. They had been behind the shrubs that surrounded the pool area for three hours, while Einstein and Bill Gates tinkered with wires and homemade refrigeration mechanisms, in a nail-biting race against time to chill the strawberry flavor-crystals before Skye and Dune arrived for their midnight swim.
Kristen's watch beeped after the guards made their ninth security pa.s.s. ”It's time,” she whisper-announced.
Oprah and Shakespeare nodded. Without a word they made a mad, barefoot dash across the golf course, each with a lemon yellow pillowcase (Martha Stewart Collection) stuffed full of empty Jell-O boxes. Their plan was to bury them in the sand traps on the golf course, then make an anonymous call in the morning so they could be dug up and recycled. And they pulled it off in record time. After a quick burial, they were back behind the bushes, silent-high-five-giggle-panting at the success of their mission.
Kristen's forehead was sweating under her wig. Her hands were clammy. And her mouth was dry. Not so much because of the humidity, but because this scheme was by far the most ambitious one she had ever been a part of-Pretty Committee included. And while failure would mean going back to the drawing board for her accomplices, for Kristen it would mean game over. No Dune. No fun. No reason to get out of bed until September.
”Ready!” Bill Gates whisper-announced while Layne scurried around the deck collecting blue Post-its filled with schematics and formulas that had dropped out of Bill's overflowing code binder.
Kristen sigh-peered through the dense leaves, fighting her urge to call the whole thing off. Yes, it was an incredible accomplishment-speed-chilling Jell-O on an eighty-degree night-but beyond that, their plan would never work: Skye would never never jump into the oversize strawberry-flavored Jell-O bowl and become too goopy to lip-kiss Dune. As soon as she arrived, she'd see the gigantic pink gelatinous slab where seventeen thousand gallons of water used to be. Dune would arrive, and then they'd have a big laugh about it, falling into each other's arms. Then Skye would take credit for the whole thing and Dune would give up surfing to spend his days drifting in her sea blue eyes. jump into the oversize strawberry-flavored Jell-O bowl and become too goopy to lip-kiss Dune. As soon as she arrived, she'd see the gigantic pink gelatinous slab where seventeen thousand gallons of water used to be. Dune would arrive, and then they'd have a big laugh about it, falling into each other's arms. Then Skye would take credit for the whole thing and Dune would give up surfing to spend his days drifting in her sea blue eyes.
”We're almost set.” Bill Gates licked his lips hungrily and opened his silver MacBook Air. ”I need room-can everyone please please give me some room?” give me some room?”
Oprah, Shakespeare, and Cleopatra did a three-step reverse crouch-walk, like sumo wrestlers in rewind.
Einstein pulled a Tupperware container of blue water and a slim flashlight from the inside pocket of her tweed blazer. ”Ready?”
Bill Gates nodded.
She lifted the lid, shook the water ever so slightly, and shone her light on it. Bill Gates captured the image with his computer's camera and somehow managed to send it to a projector he had perched atop the snack bar roof. With a few quick right clicks, the image was sent to the pool.
Kristen gasped, then quickly covered her open mouth with her sweat-drenched palm. The pool suddenly appeared to be full of gentle lapping water.
Oprah and Shakespeare drew back their breath in awe.
”Where there's a will, there's a wave.” Bill Gates grin-winked at Layne.
She grin-winked back.
”You're geniuses!” Kristen hugged them like two giant stuffed animals. At that moment, dressed in a Grecian gown and black bob wig, surrounded by Bill Gates, Einstein, Oprah, and Shakespeare, Kristen had never been more proud to be a part of anything in her life. Not the OCD soccer team, not the compet.i.tive scholars.h.i.+p program, not the Sudoku Society, not Students for BO (Barack Obama)-not even the Pretty Committee.
”Shhhhhhhhh.” Oprah pulled them apart. ”Look.” She whisper-pointed at the lithe figure wearing a white string bikini, tangles of gold scarves, and a straw cowboy hat. Skye looked around (for Dune? A security guard?), and when she saw that no one was there, she pulled out her phone and answered a text.
Bill quickly shuttled to another screen on his computer and intercepted.
DSL1: Is he there? Is he there?Skye:[image]DSL1: U gonna wait? U gonna wait?Skye: Few minutes. Few minutes.DSL1: Bikini? Bikini?
Skye held out her phone, snapped a quick shot of her torso, and forwarded it.
DSL1: Luv it! Hope the white's not see-thru. Luv it! Hope the white's not see-thru.Skye: Hope it is. Hope it is.[image]
Kristen gasped. If this this was her compet.i.tion, she didn't stand a chance. was her compet.i.tion, she didn't stand a chance.
When DSL1 didn't respond, Kristen pointed to her screen name, then herself. Bill Gates immediately understood her question and nodded yes.
Kristin slid beside him and he angled the silver keypad toward herself. She giggle-typed as her gifted contemporaries looked on in wonder and amus.e.m.e.nt.
DSL1: Jump in and find out. So s.e.xy if you're already in the pool. Jump in and find out. So s.e.xy if you're already in the pool.Skye: Nah. Got my own plan, thx. Nah. Got my own plan, thx.
With that, Skye threw her phone on a chaise and Kristen's shoulders rolled forward in defeat. But they didn't stay that way for long. Skye, the ultimate alpha, had rejected her friend's advice only because she hadn't thought of it herself.
But that didn't mean she wasn't going to take it.
After another check for security, she pulled off her scarves, tossed them over her shoulder, and walked straight for the pool.
Oprah grabbed Shakespeare's hand. Shakespeare grabbed Einstein's. Einstein grabbed Kristen's. Kristen grabbed Bill's. And Bill smiled.
They lowered their chins and bit their lips, doing whatever they could to keep from laughing out loud.
When she got to the edge of the deep end, Skye hooked her finger around the back of her bikini bottom and pulled the creeping material from her b.u.t.t crack. Now Now she was ready . . . but she didn't move. Instead she stood perfectly still, her pink pedicured toes curled over the concrete and her arms pressed against her sides. she was ready . . . but she didn't move. Instead she stood perfectly still, her pink pedicured toes curled over the concrete and her arms pressed against her sides.
”What is she doing?” mouthed Einstein.
Everyone shrugged.
Flip-flop . . . flip-flop . . . flip-flop . . .
Suddenly they heard what she heard. Dune was getting closer. And, like Ma.s.sie always said, why take the stage during intermission? In other words, if no one is watching, why bother doing?
”Hey,” Dune whisper-greeted Skye as he got closer.
Skye pretended she didn't know he was there and jumped.
She bent at the knees (showing off her chiseled dancer's legs), lifted her arms over her head (like she was the Sugar Plum Fairy in the Nutcracker), and pushed off with her toes.
Kristen held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut.
Next came the sound of someone slapping a fat man's gut, followed by the muted shriek of a girl who'd landed headfirst in chilly, jiggling, NutraSweetened Jell-O. Kristen opened one eye. Then another. Bill Gates had shut off the water reflection, and Skye now looked like a mini marshmallow in vat of pink Jell-O. The Witty Committee broke out in laughter.
Flip-flop flip-flop flip-flop flip-flop flip-flop flip-flop . . .
Dune hurried to her rescue.
When he got to the edge and saw the blonde covered in wiggly red chunks, he burst out laughing. ”What a sucker punch!”
Kristen picked at her cuticles, unsure whether his laughter would: A) Bring them closerB) Drive them apart.C) Alert Dwight the security guard and get them all arrested.
<script>