Claire LaZebnik - Epic Fail

Claire LaZebnik lives in Los Angeles with her TV-writer husband and four children. She is the author of the novels IF YOU LIVED HERE, YOUD BE HOME NOW; THE SMART ONE AND THE PRETTY ONE; KNITTING UNDER THE INFLUENCE; and SAME AS IT NEVER WAS . She is also the co-author of OVERCOMING AUTISM and GROWING UP ON THE SPECTRUM . You can visit her online at www.clairelazebnik.com.

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T he front office wasnt as crazy as youd expect on the first day of school, which seemed to confirm Coral Tree Preps reputation as a well-oiled machine.

That was a direct quote from the Private School Confidential website I had stumbled across when I first Googled Coral Treeright after my parents told me and my three sisters wed be transferring there in the fall. Since it was on the other side of the country from where wed been livingfrom where Id lived my entire lifeI couldnt exactly check it myself, and I was desperate for more information.

A well-oiled machine didnt sound too bad. But I was less thrilled to read that Coral Tree was basically a country club masquerading as a school. The same anonymous writer added, Ive yet to see a student drive a car onto campus thats not a Porsche or a BMW. And even an AP math student would lose count of the Louboutins on the girls here. Yuck.

But while I was clicking around that site, I learned about another private school in L.A. that had a condom treekids allegedly tossed their used condoms up into its branchesso I guess my parents could have done worse than, you know, Coral Tree.

True to the schools reputation, the administrator in the office was brisk and efficient and had quickly printed up and handed me and Juliana each a class list and a map of the school.

You okay? I asked Juliana, as she stared at the map like it was written in some foreign language. She started and looked up at me, slightly panicked. Julianas a year older than me, but she sometimes seems youngermostly because shes the opposite of cynical and Im the opposite of the opposite of cynical.

Because were so close in age, people frequently ask if the two of us are twins. Its lucky for me were not, because if we were , Juliana would be The Pretty One. She and I do look a lot alike, but there are infinitesimal differencesher eyes are just a touch wider apart, her hair a bit silkier, her lips fullerand all these little changes add up to her being truly beautiful and my being reasonably cute. On a good day. When the light hits me right.

I put my head closer to hers and lowered my voice. Did you see the girls in the hallway? How much makeup theyre all wearing? And their hair is perfect, like they spent hours on it. How is that possible? Mine was in a ponytail. It wasnt even all that clean because our fourteen-year-old sister, Layla, had hogged the bathroom that morning and Id barely had time to brush my teeth, let alone take a shower.

Itll all be fine, Juliana said faintly.

Yeah, I said, with no more conviction. Anyway, Id better run. My first class is on the other side of the building. I squinted at the map. I think.

She squeezed my arm. Good luck.

Find me at lunch, okay? Ill be the one sitting by myself.

Youll make friends, Elise, she said. I know you will.

Just find me. I took a deep breath and plunged out of the office and into the hallwayand instantly hit someone with the door. Sorry! I said, cringing.

The girl Id hit turned, rubbing her hip. She wore an incredibly short miniskirt, tight black boots that came up almost to her knees, and a spaghetti-strap tank top. It was an outfit more suited for a nightclub than a day of classes, but I had to admit she had the right body for it. Her blond hair was beautifully cut, highlighted, and styled, and the makeup she wore really played up her pretty blue eyes and perfect little nose. Which was scrunched up now in disdain as she surveyed me and bleated out a loud and annoyed FAIL!

The girl standing with her said, Oh my God, are you okay? in pretty much the tone youd use if someone you cared about had just been hit by a speeding pickup truck right in front of you.

It hadnt been that hard a bump, but I held my hands up apologetically. Epic fail. I know. Sorry.

The girl Id hit raised an eyebrow. At least youre honest.

At least, I agreed. Hey, do you happen to know where room twenty-three is? I have English there in, like, two minutes and I dont know my way around. Im new here.

The other girl said, Im in that class, too. Her hair was brown instead of blond and her eyes hazel instead of blue, but the two girls long, choppy manes and skinny bodies had been cast from the same basic mold. She was wearing a long, silky turquoise tank top over snug boot-cut jeans and a bunch of multicolored bangles on her slender wrist. You can follow me. See you later, Chels.

Yeahwait, hold on a sec. Chelsor whatever her name waspulled her friend toward her and whispered something in her ear. Her friends eyes darted toward me briefly, but long enough to make me glance down at my old straight-leg jeans and my this is what a feminist looks like T-shirt and feel like I shouldnt have worn either.

The two girls giggled and broke apart.

I know, right? the friend said. See you, she said to Chels and immediately headed down the hallway, calling brusquely over her shoulder, Hurry up. Its on the other side of the building and you dont want to be late for Ms. Phillipss class.

She scary? I asked, scuttling to keep up.

She just gets off on handing out EMDs.

EMDs? I repeated.

Early morning detentions. You have to come in at, like, seven in the morning and help clean up and stuff like that. Sucks. Most of the teachers here are pretty mellow if youre a couple of minutes late, but not Phillips. Shes got major control issues.

Whats your name? I asked, dodging a group of girls in cheerleader outfits.

Gifford. Really? Gifford? And that was Chelsea you hit with the door. You really should be more careful.

Too late for that advicein my efforts to avoid bumping into a cheerleader, I had just whammed my shoulder on the edge of a locker. I yelped in pain. Gifford rolled her eyes and kept moving.

I caught up again. Im Elise, I said, even though she hadnt asked. You guys in eleventh grade, too?

Yeah. So youre new, huh? Wherere you from?

Amherst, Mass.

She actually showed some interest. That near Harvard?

No. But Amherst College is there. And UMass.

She dismissed that with an uninterested wave. You get snow there?

Its Massachusetts, I said. Of course we do. Did.

So do you ski?

Not much. My parents didnt, and the one time they tried to take us it was so expensive that they never repeated the experiment.

We go to Park City every Christmas break, Gifford said. But this year my mother thought maybe we should try Vail. Or maybe Austria. Just for a change, you know?

I didnt know. But I nodded like I did.

You see the same people at Park City every year, she said. I get sick of it. Its like Maui at Christmas, you know?