P.S. I Loathe You


By Lisi Harrison

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Massie Block: When the Pretty Committee deems its boy-fast null and void, boy fever sweeps through BOCD. What better way to backhandspring into new crush Dempsey’s heart-and make old crush Derrington jealous-than cheer for him on the soccer field? And just like that, Massie forms BOCD’s first-ever cheerleading squad. But will Massie still have something to cheer about when Dempsey starts spending ah lot of time with LBR Layne Abeley? Give me an “E” for Ehmagawd!

Kristen Gregory: With Massie and her SBFF (secret best friend forever) Layne vying for the same boy, Kristen has to make a choice: A) the Pretty Committee, or B) the Witty Committee. And if she doesn’t choose fast, she’ll end up C) Committeeless.

Dylan Marvil: Is hiding something, and it’s not just those peanut butter Luna bars stashed under her mattress. She’s got a secret crush on Derrington-and it’s no secret that he likes burpilicious redheads. . . .

Alicia Rivera: Prefers pliés to pom-poms, especially when Massie orders her to the bottom of the cheer-pyramid. Can Alicia accept her beta status, or is it time to become alpha of her own squad?

Claire Lyons: Now that she’s back with Cam, Claire finally has her love life in order. But her friends are trading crushes like styling tips. Will the Pretty Committee survive the boy-swap intact, or is the Clique about to come apart at the seams?


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Table of Contents

A Sneak Peek of Boys R Us

A Sneak Peek of Pretenders

Copyright Page

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Monday, September 21st
7:58 A.M.

A plaguelike swarm of pigeons, the same milky color as the overcast sky, circled above the Pretty Committee. Their flapping wings sounded like the crisp snap of a magician's cape. Their phlegmmy cooing reached a frenzied pitch. And they unleashed their watery white poo on the fuel-efficient cars below them with remarkable precision.

In movies, opening scenes like these often suggest something eerie is approaching. That a menacing force is gathering strength. That a curse is looming. That the natural order is being disrupted…

But Massie Block knew better.

"Ehma—Ewww." She stopped walking to wave a drifting feather away from her face.

Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen stopped too.

"This is so Briarwood's fault." Massie pinch-tightened her gold silk scarf, wiping her leather leggings clean of any bird essence.

"How's this pigeon infestation Briarwood's fault? What did they do?" Alicia adjusted her unsightly pink New York Yankees cap.

"Relax." Massie cupped Alicia's shoulder with more force than a shoulder-cupping called for. "I'm nawt saying it's Josh's fault. The only thing I blame him for is that hat."

"Massie's right." Kristen twirled her shark-tooth necklace. "The kitchen scraps have more than doubled since the boys moved in." She gestured to the wall of wide metal Dumpsters that lined the far side of the faculty parking lot. "It's a dirty-bird buffet."

"All you can tweet," Dylan giggle-added.

Massie sighed, no longer in the mood for seventh-grade jokes. She had waited all weekend to make fun of the ex-crushes in their trailer classrooms and wanted to get there before Claire did. It was bad enough Claire had turned down carpool to double on Cam's bike. For her to scoop the "Ex-Crushes Banished to Tiffany Box Trailers" story would be unbearable.

"Form-a-tion!" Massie thundered. An asphalt-pecking klatch of pigeons flapped their wings in panic and flew en masse to the far side of the lot.

The girls quickly lined up on either side of their alpha, awaiting further instruction from her purple Marc Jacobs Mouse flats. As soon as she lifted the left one off the pavement, they synchronized, then launched. Within seconds the Pretty Committee picked up speed, charging the parking lot like the Radio City Rockettes in a cutthroat game of Red Rover.

Destination: the two distant trailers behind the maple trees where the terrified birds had just landed.

The same trailers Principal Burns had tried to pawn off as "overflow facilities" when the Briarwood boys had crashed OCD. The same ones the Pretty Committee had been sent to—with the LBRs—thanks to a devious plan hatched by ex-Derrington and the other soccer boys. The saaaame ones Massie had made over into glam, supersize Tiffany boxes and eventually unloaded back onto the exes. Sure the trailers cleaned up well, but just like an LBR after a department-store makeover, one good scrub and they were back to their ghastly old selves again.

"I can't wait to see how funny the wannabe-Beckham boys look in robin's egg–blue classrooms with glitter-cotton walls, mirrored desks, and vanilla-scented room spray." Massie grinned, the light breeze heightening the sensitivity of her Whitestripped teeth.

"They'll still be Beckhams," Kristen deadpanned. "Just Victorias instead of Davids." She cackled.

"Point!" Alicia smacked the side-view mirror of a white Infiniti as they sailed past it.

Massie stopped suddenly. "Ew! Smell that?" She lifted her Chanel No. 19–scented wrist to her nose for relief. But the parmesan cheese/rotten lettuce/cat food stench emanating from the pigeon-infested Dumpsters could not be avoided.

Screeching to a halt, the others lifted their shirts to their noses and inhaled their powder-scented deodorants.

"Gawd." Massie jammed her winter white Juicy Rock the Bag tote against her ribs, protecting it like a puppy in a hurricane. "If I wanted to go to school with trash I'd be at Abner Doubleday Day."

"Let's sue!" Alicia lifted her index finger and strut-blocked Dylan's path.

Dylan sidestepped Alicia and giggle-lifted her Starbucks cup to avoid Mr. Myner's pine green Chevy Tahoe hybrid.

"Ahhhh!" she yelped as the plastic top popped off. Latte splashed all over her white Joie henley dress. "Leeeeesh!"

The girls jump-backed away from Dylan's chai-soaked wrist.

"What did I do?" Alicia squealed.

"You body-checked me into Myner's truck." Dylan whipped the empty cup through his open window.

"Where was I supposed to go?" Alicia stomped her camel-colored Kate Spade flat against the asphalt. "Someone insisted we walk in formation."

"What's wrong with formation?"Massie flicked Alicia's shiny black ponytail.

"Nothing." Alicia steadied her swinging hair. "It's just that walking side by side isn't the best idea when you're surrounded by cars covered in pigeon butt—"

"Can everyone puh-lease focus on me for a minute?" Dylan pulled the soaked brown cotton off her belly. "I look like I'm wearing used toilet paper."

The girls burst out laughing.

"It's the opposite of funny!" Dylan's green eyes began to moisten.

"Here." Kristen held out her floral-print canvas Roxy bag.

"How's last summer's beach bag gonna help?"

"Open it," Kristen insisted.

Dylan lifted her sunglasses and peered inside. Kristen's G-rated, mom-approved outfit was crumpled in a pathetic reject heap. As usual, she'd worn it out of her condo, and then Range Rover–replaced it with something sexier—generally handed down from one of the other girls. Today it was blue-and-black plaid wool short shorts, a gray V-neck bell-sleeve sweater, and knee-high black moccasins.

"What am I gonna to do with baggy navy cords and a white turtleneck?" Dylan handed the bag to Kristen. "Crash third-grade picture day?"

"Your call, Cottonelle." Kristen hooked the Roxy over her shoulder.

"Hehhhhhhhhhh, hoooooooooo. Hehhhhhhhhhh, hoooooooooo. Heeeeeeeee, hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo."

A low-flying pigeon hovered above their heads, flapping its wings but not moving, like it was treading water.

"Hehhhhhhhhhh, hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo," it announced, then quickly flew away.

"Ahhhhhh!" Dylan shouted at her shoulder. "I've been tagged!"

Students lazily making their way toward the BOCD main building turned and stared. Passing boys on their way to the overflow trailers snickered. The Pretty Committee burst into hysterics.

"It's nawt funny!" Dylan giggle-cry-shrieked.

"Ahhhhh!" Alicia wailed. "It got me too!" She lifted her thigh and wiped her splotched gray Ralph Lauren skinny jeans on the door of a black Prius.

Massie grabbed a passing LBR by the arm, ripped the black, fake-Prada backpack off her shoulder, and held it over her own head.

The curly-headed blonde was too shocked to speak. Instead, she glared at Massie, her wide brown eyes begging for an explanation.

"Buh-lieve me." Massie fart-waved her away with a dismissive shoo. "I'll give it back once I'm inside."

"Strike three!" Kristen shook her arm, but it was too late. The fly-arrhea had already seeped into the wool fibers of her gray sweater.

She reached for her bag. "Ineedmyclothesback."

Dylan yanked it away. "You said I could wear them!"

"That was before I got hit!"

Dylan jumped back. "Sorry." She hugged the quilted floral bag to her chest. "I need to pull a bag borrow-and-steal."

Massie laughed from the safety of her Frauda canopy.

"No way!" Kristen gasped. "Those are my clothes!"

"You already have a crush," Dylan pouted. "And he won't be back at school for another week. So who cares what you wear?"

"Point." Alicia lifted her finger in support of Dylan. "I have Josh, Claire has Cam, Massie has Dempsey, and you have Dune. Dylan is the only C-minus. She needs all the help she can get."

Suddenly, everyone was silent, each girl wondering if she was the only one on the outside of the inside joke.

The wheels in Massie's head spun like a Ferrari's. I ended the boyfast…. Now everyone is allowed to have a crush… and everyone does…. Well, nawt everyone… Poor Dylan is more boyless than Lindsay Lohan on date night but… Ehmagawd… Got it!!

Massie's dark eyebrows shot up. Her amber eyes widened. Her glossy lips parted. "C-minus! Crush minus. Without crush. Right?"

"Given." Alicia nodded. "I knew you'd get it."

Massie cocked her head and half smiled. "I knew I would too."

"Fine, C-Minus, keep 'em," Kristen muttered to Dylan. Then she rolled back her shoulders. "Who knows? This may be just what you need."

"LBR clothes?" Massie crinkled her nose.

"No, the poo." Kristen giggled. "I heard getting pigeon-painted was good luck."

"Funny." Massie eyed the boys gathering at the end of the parking lot. "You don't look so lucky." She rolled back her shoulders and picked up her pace.

Her friends' proud smiles faded like Mystic tans.



Monday, September 21st
8:08 A.M.

BOCD's majestic brick building and its highly perfumed student body were well behind them. Now the overflowing trash bins were only steps away, and the parmesan cheese/rotten lettuce/cat food smell had become unbearable.

Massie dry-heaved. "Activate face cover in three… two… one… annnnd go!" She jammed her gold scarf into her nostrils then ushered the Pretty Committee past what resembled the set of WALL*E.

"Diiiieeeeeeeeeee, dirty birrrrrrrrrrds!"

Bloated pigeons unclamped their pink talons from rusty bins and panic-flapped to safety.

"Wait for meeee!" Alicia called, her face buried under her black-and-white striped cashmere tunic.

"Over'ere!" Massie whisper-barked once she hit grass, signaling her troops to join her behind the thick trunk of a maple tree. Cautiously lowering her scarf, she nose-sipped the air. "Ahhhhh." She sighed with relief. "Much better."

The parmesancheeserottenlettucescatfood smell had dissipated. But the crisp Alpine spring water scent of OCD was hardly back. Something new had taken its place. Something fragrant. Something Christmassy… Something…

"Ehma-pine," Massie gasped, her eyes lifted to the sky.

Kristen, Alicia, and Dylan stared up in amazement, their glossy lips shaped like Cheerios. Hundreds of green, tree-shaped air-fresheners, the kind sold at gas stations and suburban mini-marts, dangled from the branches of the maple. They twirled and swayed in the breeze, creating small flickering shadows over the girls' designer footwear.

"Look!" Dylan whipped off her dVbs and widened her emerald green eyes. Her gaze led them to the ex–Tiffany box trailers.

"What did they do?" Massie's heart sank to her knees. A moment later it sank to her Mouse flats. Then it sank all the way to China.

Beyond the pine-scented maples were two freshly painted white trailers. Both were covered by black tarp canopies that provided enough shade for the—

"Soccer videos?" Kristen blurted, her eyes darting across the outside of Trailer No. 1, which showed Landon Donovan kicking the ball to Beckham. Trailer No. 2 featured EA's FIFA 09 video game, which Josh Hotz and Kemp Hurley were playing with fight-to-the-finish intensity.

"Ohhhh!" the spectators roared when Josh blocked Kemp's shot.

"Seriously?" Alicia removed her pink crush-cap. "Josh was a total text maniac this weekend and never said a word." Her dark brown eyes practically filled with little thumping hearts. "Impressive."

"Who did they hire?" Massie hate-glared at the projectors fastened to the branches of the nearby maple.

"Bill Gates," Kristen stated confidently, staring at the A/V setup.

"Puh-lease," Massie snapped. "It's not that impressive."

"Oh no, I meant—" Kristen stopped and blushed, as if she had accidentally revealed something she shouldn't have. "I meant Danh Bondok probably did it."

"Who?" Alicia and Massie giggle-asked at the same time.

Kristen finally took her eyes off the Galaxy game and focused on the conversation. "I mean Candy Corn."

"Candy Corn the LBR?" Alicia looked at Massie, silently asking her if such a thing were possible. "That yellow-toothed guy?"

Massie shrugged.

"The one we just made over?"

"Yes, Candy Corn the yellow-toothed LBR," Kristen said with a trace of impatience. Or was it defensiveness? "His real name is Danh Bondok and he's a tech genius. He could do this in his sleep."

"Bonnn-dock," Dylan burped.

Everyone laughed except Massie. "How do you know him?"

Kristen blushed again. "Um, he's on scholarship too, so we just kinda met that way, I guess."

"Whatevs." Massie sighed, fighting the urge to run home backwards, get into bed, and start the morning all over again.

"Can you believe this?" a familiar voice chirped.

The girls turned to see Claire and Cam coasting toward them on a black Electra bike with thick fat tires and dark green spokes. Legs lifted out in front of them, matching silver helmets tilted left, they smiled brighter than the bike's reflectors. Their fight was ah-bviously over, and they were back together. Forever.

If they had been actors in a movie, Massie would have thought they looked enviably ah-dorable. But because Claire was her friend, and clearly way happier than Massie was, Massie wanted to knock them both to the ground.

The day was nawt supposed to start like this. Nawt at awll. Claire wasn't supposed to ditch carpool so she could bike to school with Cam. Birds weren't supposed to destroy their post-boyfast outfits. The soccer boys weren't supposed to make over the Tiffany box trailers. And the Pretty Committee was nawt, nawt, nawt supposed to be impressed.

Massie suddenly felt like she was trying to turn a door handle with overmoisturized hands. Her grip was slipping. And she was starting to panic.

"Why are you hiding?" Cam slammed on the brakes.

Claire stepped off the bike, unclipped her helmet, and shook out her blond hair like some Italian supermodel shooting a Vespa ad.

"We're nawt hiding," Massie explained to Cam's one blue eye, which matched his navy sweatshirt in a distracting sort of way. "We were, um, waiting for you guys. This is where we decided to meet. Right, Kuh-laire?"

Luckily Claire nodded, untangling the knot in Massie's stomach and turning it into a smile. Despite her reconciliation with Cam, she still had Massie's back.

"If you wouldn't mind excusing us"—Massie smirked at Cam, this time looking into his green eye, just to show she had no real preference—"we have some Pretty Committee business to take care of."

"No prob." Cam saluted, his wheels already angled toward the heated match between Josh and Kemp. "Going to the game tonight?" he asked, mostly to Claire, who was snapping her helmet around his handlebars.


He giggle-nodded in a "what else would I be talking about" sort of way. "We're playing the Maverick School Groundhogs. And MSG plays hard."

Claire turned to Massie, lifting her blond brows with hope.

"Opposite of yes." Massie twirled her eighty-four-day-old purple hair streak. "We're going to Dylan's to do some online shopping."

"Sounds fun!" Cam said sarcastically as he high-fived Claire and rode off to greet his friends.

"Shopping?" Claire stomped a red Converse All Star, unable to hide her disappointment. "Don't you want to hang out with Dempsey after school?"

"He's not into soccer." Massie swiped her lips with devil's food cake–flavored Glossip Girl. "He's an actor," she said with a trace of a British accent. "And he got a call back for the Wizard of Claus. For the Wizard."

"So you're still into Dempsey?" Kristen smacked a pine air-freshener.

Massie cocked her head to the side. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno." Kristen shrugged. She bit her thumbnail before pressing on. "So how much do you like him? You know, out of ten?"

"Ten," Massie insisted. "Times ten."

Just then Layne Abeley and her alt-to-a-fault friend Meena strolled by belting out the song "Popular" from Wicked. And for some reason Kristen kind of half smiled at Layne when she passed. It had to be pity, because she was singing about something she'd never experience… well, either that or gas.

"So basically you'd be upset if someone else liked him and he liked them back?"

Massie leaned closer, her amber eyes fixed and serious. "Have you heard something?"

"No," Kristen blurted. "Why, have you?"


"You know, she's auditioning." Kristen tilted her head toward Layne. "Doesn't that tell you something about how un the play is?"

"What's wrong with Layne?" Claire snapped.

"Nothing." Kristen blushed. "It's just that I… I thought maybe it would be cooler if you crushed on a guy who's into sports, nawt middle-school theater."

Massie squint-looked into Kristen's green eyes as if trying to read something blurry. Since when had Kristen become so concerned with Massie's public image? Kristen was her poor friend, not her PR friend. Who had suddenly given her permission to drop those two essential o's?

"Um, are you saying actors are nawt hawt?" Massie hissed.

"Kinda." Kristen lifted her blond brows in a "truth hurts" sort of way.

"Have you ever heard of Zac?"

"Yeah, but—"


"Yeah, b—"



"Chace? Penn—"

"Okay!" Kristen held up her hand. "It's just that you said we could like boys this week, so I assumed we'd be hanging at the game after school. Not shopping."

"Point." Alicia lifted her French-manicured finger as she watched Josh high-five Cam.

"We do like boys this week," Massie insisted. "Just nawt soccer."

Just then the boys began laugh-chanting her ex-crush's name.

"Derr-ing-ton! Derr-ing-ton! Derr-ing-ton!"

Massie immediately blushed. The Pretty Committee was studying her, ah-bviously wondering if she had any last drops of crush left in her, like an upside-down can of Diet Coke that continued to drip soda even when it was empty.

"Ew, puh-lease!"Massie rolled her eyes and snorted like a sleepy piglet. "I'm over him times ten times twenty!"

"Good." Alicia began walking. "Then let's go see what that's all about."

"Hold!" Massie swiped more Glossip Girl across her lips, then licked. Sugary sweetness coated her tongue and instantly lifted her mood. "Focus! I have an announcement to make."

The Pretty Committee formed a tight circle under the pine-scented maple, each girl resisting the urge to peek at the boys.

"Derr-ing-ton! Derr-ing-ton! Derr-ing-ton!"

Massie cleared her throat, even though it was already clear. "Last week I declared a boyfast and it almost tore us apart." Her voice was somber.

The girls nodded in agreement.

"And you know why it didn't work?"

"Because Alicia hung out with Josh behind our backs?" Dylan blurted.

"Go flush yourself, Cottonelle!" Alicia snapped.

Dylan folded her arms across her brown-stained henley and huff-turned to face the boys.

"Derr-ing-ton! Derr-ing-ton! Derr-ing-ton!"

Everyone else turned too, except Massie. Her ex was ah-bviously doing something silly to get her attention, and she refused to fall for the childish trick.

"The maaaain reason boyfast didn't work," she half yelled to recapture her friends' attention, "is because we're hawt times ten! We have ah-mazing personalities! And most of us have incredible style!" She lifted her eyebrow at Claire, who looked at her primary-red sneakers in shame. "And it was wrong for me to think that boys could resist us. They're only human, after all."

The girls nodded in agreement once again.

"So I have prepared a pledge poem that will put us back on the right path." She reached into her winter white Juicy tote and pulled out five platinum Coach key chains. Each one had five purple patent-leather letters dangling off the end: BFFWC. Massie thumbed open the dog-leash clip and hooked it onto the strap of her bag, then handed them out, waiting while everyone else did the same.

"I know I promised you bracelets, but I saw Strawberry and Kori at the mall buying you-know-whats. So I switched it up at the last minute." She smirked, then tapped the screen of her new iPhone 3G. "Now check your texts."

The girls quickly reached inside their bags, their BFFWC charms swinging about.

"Does everyone have the new pledge poem?"

They consulted their in-boxes and nodded.

"Good." Massie grinned. "Then grab your charms and let's recite together in three… two… one…"

The girls began:

We swore off boys for ten whole days,

But it didn't work so well.

We acted like backstabbing clichés—

Ehmagawd! Boyfast was hell.

But we forgave one another;

Now we're back in the groove.

Sisters, lock up your brothers,

Because we're on the move!

This time we'll do it right:

Our friendships come first.

PC support, day or night,

Or that member will be cursed.

So I hereby decree,

As my open heart gushes,

We are now BFFWC,

Best Friends Forever With Crushes!

"Yayyyyyyyy!" the girls giggle-shouted, then exchanged a round of hugs, with Massie in the center.

Everything felt right again. Their bond was Teflon-strong.

"Derr-ing-ton! Derr-ing-ton! Derr-ing-ton!"

"Who's ready to find out what all the chanting is about?"

"Meeeee!" Five hands shot into the pine-scented air.

Massie smiled proudly, ready to introduce her new leather leggings to the opposite sex.

This time the Pretty Committee would do it right. This time they would have it all.



Monday, September 21st
8:19 A.M.

"Derr-ing-ton! Derr-ing-ton! Derr-ing-ton!"

Like a supermodel bursting onto a runway amid a cloud of dry ice, Massie led the girls toward the chanting, as if it were all for them. She stepped over Cam's bike, which lay, wheel still spinning, on a clump of discarded backpacks. All she needed was a snappy one-liner to announce their arrival.

Hmmm… Something about going to school in a trailer park… or how they'll need a can opener to get into their new classrooms.

Nope. She didn't quite have it yet.

"Derr-ing-ton! Derr-ing-ton! Derr-ing-ton!"

Luckily, the boys were so drawn to the maple tree on their right, they didn't notice the Pretty Committee standing—

"Ehma—butt!" Massie smacked Alicia's shoulder. "Look!"

Dylan burst out laughing.

Derrington was perched six feet off the ground, squatting on a branch like an ape, with his Volcom jeans around his knees. He was shaking his Paul Frank boxer briefs in front of the projector lens and casting a butt-shaped shadow on Trailer No. 1. The leaves of the maple shook and his friends acted like amused monkeys.

The LBRs who shared the trailers with the soccer boys ignored him. Instead, they mounted the metal steps to their portable classrooms like court-bound celebrities determined to escape the swarming press.

"Magawd, he'll do anything to get my attention," Massie muttered to herself. "What did I ever see in him?"

Alicia shook her ponytail from side to side like she had no idea.

"Thank Gawd I like Dempsey now. Double thank Gawd that he'll be in the main building with us. And triple thank Gawd that he's not into soccer."

"You hardly even know Dempsey." Kristen kicked a rock with her black moccasin.

"Hey, Claire!" Layne called from an open window in Trailer No. 1. "Look!" She stuck out a red fingerless–gloved hand and pinched Derrington's butt-shadow. Claire and Dylan cracked up while Massie searched Kristen's green eyes for an explanation—something that might explain why she was so anti-Dempsey. But Kristen's lashes fluttered innocently, revealing nothing.

Massie was the first to break. "Um, are you the OCD Sirens' goalie?"

"No! I'm the captain," Kristen snapped.

"Then why are you trying to block my shot?"

"I'm nawt." Kristen side-glanced at Layne, who was now spanking Derrington's butt-shadow. "It's just that Dempsey used to be an LBR."

"So was Leighton Meester." Massie shrugged. "She was born in jail."

"He's friends with Layne," Kristen tried again.

"So is Kuh-laire."

"You called him Humpty Dempsey for an entire year. Re-mem-ber?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Massie waved the argument away like the smell of burnt microwave popcorn. "But he was cured of his LBR-thritis." Her body purred recalling the day she had first beheld Dempsey 2.0.

He had just returned from summering in Africa. Rugged safari-colored clothes clung to his new muscles like a hug, each crease on his distressed leather messenger bag probably representing an orphan he had read to. And confidence seeped from his tanned skin like two thousand–dollar Clive Christian cologne. His caramel blond highlights were natural. His army green eyes were supernatural. And she could feel his smile as if it were inside her belly. Dempsey Solomon was the ultimate comeback story. She was his ultimate comeback prize. And if Kristen had a problem with—

"You always told us LBR-thritis couldn't be cured, only treated," Kristen hissed.

"Um, are you forgetting the J.T. clause?" Massie hissed back.

Kristen folded her arms across her gray sweater, turned toward Trailer No. 2, and sighed. "Guess so," she huffed.


On Sale
Feb 10, 2009
Page Count
224 pages

Lisi Harrison

About the Author

Lisi Harrison is the author of The Clique, Alphas and Monster High series. She was the Senior Director of Production Development at MTV and Head Writer for MTV Production. Lisi is currently pretending to write her next novel.

Lisi lives in Laguna Beach, California.

Learn more about this author