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"Oh, we so do," Vienna replied, laying her manicured hand out flat. "We can get all kinds of free crap from people." "It's what we
do," London confirmed. "No one can say no to us." They looked at each other and giggled, which made all of us wonder what, exact-
ly, they did to make themselves irresistible. But I wasn't about to ask. "Okay, so now that that's settled, we need to make sure this is
the event of the season," I said, popping the top off my pen. "It has to be original. It has to be fabulous. It's last-minute, so it has to
make people want to cancel whatever other plans they might have and make this their first priority."
My friends were riveted by my speech, each sitting on the edge of her seat, fully alert. There was a palpable energy in the room.
We were going to nail this. I could feel it. "So, any ideas?" I asked, pen at the ready. No one said a word. "Anything. Really. We just
have to get started and then the ideas will flow," I urged them. Skittish glances abounded. It was as if they were afraid to speak. God
help us. "I have an idea!" Lorna said finally, raising her hand. Once chunky and frizzy-haired, Lorna had lost a good deal of weight
since last year, thanks to joining the Easton cross-country team, and had tamed her frizz into a sleek mane. Lately she was looking
healthy--almost pretty. And it all resulted in her speaking up more. "Shoot," I told her. "We could do an eighties theme," she an-
nounced happily. Everyone groaned. "Lorna, this isn't a public school prom. It's a fund-raiser. For adults," Missy said with a sneer.
Lorna sank in on herself. I shot Missy an irritated glance. Maybe eighties was a horrendous idea, but why did Missy always have to
be so callous to her so-called best friend? "What ideas do you have, Missy?" I asked. Put on the spot, Missy blanched. "Well, we
could do a silent auction--" "I'm so over those," Portia said, rolling her eyes. "What fun is an auction when you can't beat down your
opposing bidder in front of everyone?" "Besides, what would we auction?" Tiffany asked. "Ourselves?"
Strained laughter everywhere. I looked around. These were fifteen of the smartest, most accomplished, most well-traveled and
well- partied girls in North America. Did they have no thoughts? "Anyone?" I said. "Vicars and tarts?" Astrid suggested meekly.
"Oooh! I like that!" London exclaimed. "You would like anything with 'tarts' in the title," Shelby joked as she checked her messages. I
was pretty sure she was addicted to her iPhone at this point. "What is vicars and tarts?" Sabine asked, wrinkling her nose. "It's a
British thing," Astrid replied. "The men dress up as holy men and the women go as streetwalkers. I know it sounds mad, but the geri-
atrics think it's hilarious. We do them all the time back home, but it would be exotic here, I think." "Maybe."
I didn't like it. I mean, I could see how it could be fun on some level, but I wanted the party to be sophisticated, not like a Playboy
Mansion thing. Still, I wrote it down. I had to write down something. Plus I didn't want Astrid to think I was holding the fact that she'd
borrowed a barrette from me against her. Which she might actually think, considering how bizarrely I had reacted at the time. "Any-
one else?" "We could do a beach theme. Or exotic locales," Sabine suggested, sitting up straight. "Bring summer into winter. We can
bring in sand and palm trees and have everyone wear summer dresses and flowers in their hair and--" "Should we get plastic leis as
well?" Shelby joked. Sabine blushed. "Well, people are always doing Christmas in July. Why can't we do July in the winter?"
"No one's going to go for it," Noelle said, shaking her head. "What if it snows and everyone's walking around in coconut bras and
sandals? We could land everyone in the hospital with pneumonia and end up getting our asses sued. No way." Sabine shot me a look
