Lisi Harrison - Alicia

Copyright 2008 by Alloy Entertainment

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Poppy

Little, Brown and Company

Hachette Book Group

237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017

For more of your favorite series, go to www.HachetteBookGroup.com

First eBook Edition: June 2008

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN: 978-0-316-03259-9

THE CLIQUE

BEST FRIENDS FOR NEVER

REVENGE OF THE WANNABES

INVASION OF THE BOY SNATCHERS

THE PRETTY COMMITTEE STRIKES BACK

DIAL L FOR LOSER

ITS NOT EASY BEING MEAN

SEALED WITH A DISS

BRATFEST AT TIFFANYS

THE CLIQUE SUMMER COLLECTION:

MASSIE

DYLAN

ALICIA

KRISTEN (Coming July 1)

CLAIRE (Coming August 5)

For my mom, who taught me what being there for someone really means.

BARCELONA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
CUSTOMS GATE

Monday, June 8
1:45 P.M.

Alicia Rivera stuffed her purple and turquoise vintage Pucci silk wrap in the side pocket of her Louis Vuitton monogrammed carry-on and wheeled it toward the baggage claim. She could practically hear her mother scolding her for treating the delicate, wrinkle-prone fabric with such reckless abandon. But she opposite of cared. Nadia was back in Westchester, and Alicia had just arrived in Spain. Thanks to an all-consuming lipo-gone-wrong trial, her attorney father and supportive mother had to stay home. And that meant she was parent-free for the first summer of her entire life.

The rules were about to change.

Barcelona International Airport (or Bar-theh-lona, as the locals called it) was another reminder that Alicia was a world away from New York. Women whizzed past her, smelling like musky cologne and wearing brightly colored pumps. Men wore hair gel that shined like MAC Lipglass, and loafers without socks. College kids with bulging neon backpacks that had been sloppily stitched with American or Canadian flags shuffled by in Tevas, their expressions a mix of airplane-groggy and let-the-games-begin psyched.

If Massie had been in the overly air-conditioned terminal, shed have been rolling her eyes at the poor-taste parade. But Alicia had a secret appreciation for the variety. Light denim washes and sneakers that looked like bowling shoes werent exactly her thing, but they were differenta welcome change from the usual Rock & Republic five-pockets and Havaianas. And isnt that what summers all about?

A loud, girly squeal, the kind perfected by High School Musical fans, forced Alicias attention to the orange wall of billboards to her left. Between the faded ads for a Goya exhibit at El Prado and some sugary cereal made of red marshmallow-shaped bulls were five Euro-tweens giggle-posing next to a poster of an overly Photoshopped, deeply bronzed, black-haired, hazel-eyed boy.

After their picture had been taken, they each kissed his bleached, bathroom-tile-like teeth, leaving behind cherry red lip prints and a citrus-floral medley of the different perfumes they must have been sampling in the duty-free shop.

Alicia stopped in front of the billboard and tried to decipher the yellow, all-caps font that shouted: SI ERES UNA VERDADERA BELLEZA ESPAOLA TE QUIERO PARA MI PROXIMO VIDEO MUSICAL. EL BAILE RECREADO PARA LA CANCIN RAIN IN SPAIN. LAS AUDICIONES SERAN EN EL HOTEL LINDO. I! TE HARE UNA ESTRELLA.

Alicia had learned enough Spanish from her mother and their six previous visits to know that the pop star on the poster was looking for a real Spanish beauty to be in his new music video. Andfrom what she could gatherhis name was i!.

Instantly, a vision of herself in a swiveling makeup chair being blushed, blow-dried, then whisked off to wardrobe made Alicias travel-chapped hands slick with excitement-sweat. After the Spanish paparazzi had made her a household name, shed return to U.S. soil, ready to claim her seat on the alpha throne. Shed hold a private viewing party in her fathers screening room, where the Pretty Committee and their new crushes (TBD) would admire her on the big screen as she played her international music video for them over and over and over. Every time shed turn it off, theyd beg her to run it again so they could admire her beauty and study her advanced dance moves one more time. It would be the perfect way to start the eighth grade. Massie would envy her times ten. And that would give her a surplus of confidence that would fuel her until Thanksgiving, if not a week or two longer.

So what if she wasnt a real Spanish beauty. Her mother was, and that made her half. And half of Alicia was better than anyone elses wholeat least from what she could see in the Barcelona International Airport: Her slick dark hair was the shiniest, her white Diors were the roundest, her navy Ralph Lauren shirtdress and wide gold metallic belt were the most stylish, and her wood-soled Miu Miu wedges were the highest. Besides, she trained at Westchesters prestigious Body Alive Dance Studio. And there wasnt a purebred in all of Spain who could claim that.

She might not have been an alpha yet, but becoming a Spalphaa Spanish alphawas totally doable. And once she ruled Spain for a summer, shed have enough experience to dominate Octavian Country Day School back home. From the moment Alicia stepped off the plane, twenty-seven peoplewait, make that twenty-eighthad checked her out. And she hadnt even arrived at baggage claim yet.

When she did, she spotted her sixteen-year-old twin cousins, Celia and Isobel Callas. They were sitting in one of those long golf carts used to transport luggage and old people, teasing the driver by repeatedly knocking off his black patent-leather cap. They threw their long, tanned necks back and cackled as he feigned frustration. It probably wasnt every dayor every decade, eventhat the pint-size porter had two leggy, raven-haired socialites ravage him for free. The scene made Alicias exfoliated feet tingle with joy.

Yippeeee! Celiaor was it Isobel?hollered as she tossed the drivers cap like a Frisbee. It landed on the moving luggage conveyor belt and began making its circular journey. He rolled his eyes playfully and hopped off the cart to chase after it. Isobelor was it Celia?jumped in the front seat, gripped the wheel, slammed her metallic gold espadrille on the gas, and began doing donuts across the shiny beige marble floor.

Alicia couldnt have been more proud to call them family.

A-lee-cia! A-lee-cia! they shouted, speeding toward her.

Hola! Alicia beam-waved, then jumped out of the way. They screech-stopped in front of her, leaped out, and planted a series of double-cheek welcome kisses on her blushing face.

So great to see you, Cousin, said Celia, tugging the massive gold C on her massive gold chain. It hung below her barely-there cleavage and knocked against the stiff edges of her fuchsia denim vest. She wore it with a burnt orange taffeta bubble skirt and lace-up gold sandals. Her hair was slicked into a tight bun that reflected more light than the porters patent-leather cap. Dont you look very stylish.

Grassy, Alicia chirped, putting her new abbreviation for gracias straight to work.

I love how you say grassy! May I borrow? asked Isobel, who was wearing a Mediterranean blue tube top, white short shorts, and oversize Ray-Bans with bright blue plastic frames.