Fabulous Page 3

  Starr watched the row of Jaguars, Benzes and high-end SUVs dropping their students off at the front of the main building. Her driver, Marcus, steered the Bentley toward the area reserved for visitor parking. He knew the routine well.

  Every morning all three of the Pacesetters’ drivers parked there to ensure that the girls always walked into school together.

  Starr double-checked her face in her Swarovski crystal-encrusted compact case. She snapped it closed just as Marcus pulled the Bentley to a stop beside Dionne’s chauffeured BMW in the cutest shade of royal blue.

  “Unlock the doors, Marcus,” Starr said as she watched Dionne grab her book bag and climb out of the car dressed in her plaid skirt, white shirt and fitted red blazer.

  CLICK.

  Seconds later Dionne’s car pulled away as she climbed into the rear of the Bentley with Starr. They squealed excitedly as they hugged each other close.

  “Thank God summer is over,” Dionne drawled, raking her fingers through her long weave with loose curls created with a rod and set so it flowed down her back and against the sides of her face softly.

  Starr looked at her oddly. “Girl, please, I wish it was summer all year long. Good weather, vacays, and no school? Summer is fabulous.”

  “There’s Marisol,” Dionne squealed, turning in her seat as a silver Mercedes pulled up beside them.

  The SUV barely stopped before Marisol hopped out and raced over toward them. Dionne climbed out of the vehicle and hugged Marisol close.

  Starr had to admit that she was glad the three of them were back together again. They had gotten to hang out some when they weren’t vacationing with their families, but she had missed the three of them all hanging out together almost every single day. The world felt so right and she didn’t hide the grin that spread across her face.

  “Have a good day, Miss Starr,” Marcus said, bending down slightly to smile at her in the rearview mirror.

  She nodded and gave him a small wave. Marcus was so in tune to her wannabe great ways, so she didn’t bother with the whole “put on your hat and open my door” unless he was dropping her in front of the school. She grabbed her matching Louis Vuitton messenger bag and pocketbook before she climbed out to stand beside them.

  Starr winked playfully at her crew and then became all business. “First day. Freshmen. All eyes on us? But we don’t care, right?”

  “Right?” Dionne and Marisol answered in unison.

  “Then let’s do this,” Starr said with attitude.

  The three girls all took a deep breath as they made their way up the concrete walkway to the sprawling front lawn of Pace Academy. Clusters of teens were greeting each other and many stopped to greet the Pacesetters as they breezed by.

  The truth was Starr was exactly like her name. She was one of the lucky ones, one of the chosen few. When people looked at Starr they thought there was nothing in the world she didn’t have or couldn’t get.

  But nothing could be further from the truth.

  As the girls climbed the staircase leading into the school, Starr cut her eyes over to the group of teens gathered under the branches of the oak tree. All were fashionably stylish despite the uniform and each was incredibly popular.

  In the midst of the group was a teenage R&B star fresh from his summer tour, two teen actors with starring roles in popular soaps, the youngest son of a former rapper with his own hit reality show, children of politicians and a few children of entertainment lawyers, who usually were just as rich as their wealthy clients. While many of the white students at Pace were from aristocratic families or the sons and daughters of wealthy businessmen and financiers, the black students were mostly from new money—the offspring of sports stars and celebrities.

  “Girls, Pace Academy has its perks,” Starr said salaciously, with her eyes on Jordan Jackson.

  Even wearing the corny-looking Pace uniform—blazer, gray slacks, white shirt and plaid tie—he looked so divine. Jordan looked up from his iPhone and their eyes locked as he threw her that big Kool-Aid grin that always made her heart stop big-time.

  Starr gave him the flirty smile she and Marisol perfected in the seventh grade. While butterflies took over her stomach, she recalled the particulars she jotted down in her Crush Notebook when she first saw him at Pace Academy:

  Name: Jordan “Too Fine, Must Be Mine” Jackson

  Age: 16

  B-Day: 2/04

  Fab Cred: Son of R&B singer in megagroup Shyne. (All About U is my jam!) About to drop his own album with my Dad’s label so that he can be a Tru-Starr! (I HAVE to be in his 1st video.) Drives a pimped out Benz that is all his! (Bye-bye, Marcus, hello, riding shotgun with my Boo.)

  Cute Factor: 10 (Those lips. Ahhh!)

  Style Factor: 7 (Way too many hoodies.)

  Hot Boyz Rank: #1…OF COURSE!!!

  Jordan eased past the rest of the fellas to throw an arm around Starr’s shoulders. He pulled her close for a hug and she fought the urge to snuggle her face into his smooth neck and instead inhaled a deep breath of his cologne. She tried to identify it. Warm. Spicy. Gucci. Definitely Gucci—her favorite scent.

  That’s a sign, she thought as she pretended to be comfortable—friendly comfortable, not girlfriend comfortable—in Jordan’s arms.

  “Whaddup, ladies?” he said in that husky voice that only hinted that he could sing Chris Brown or Usher out of any arena.

  Uhm, uhm, uhm. Starr could only shrug, as she wished she didn’t get so tongue-tied around him. A crush messed a girl up every time…especially when that girl was fighting hard not to let him know…at least not yet.

  “Nothing much. Whaddup with you?” Dionne responded, thankfully filling in the silence.

  “You know my boy Reg likes you, right?” Jordan said to Dionne as he licked his lips and shifted his arm from around Starr’s shoulder to grab the straps of the book bag he wore on his back.

  Starr’s eyes shifted from his lips to Dionne just as she did the kinda cute and flirty shrug Starr taught her. She would have been proud…if it wasn’t Jordan’s face Dionne was smiling up in.

  Starr’s expression changed as Heather Framer, the step-daughter of a famous Oscar-winning actress, and her crew walked up to them wearing their uniforms Lil’ Kim style. With lacy leggings under their plaid skirts, bright red high heels and unbuttoned shirts with flashes of their lace bras showing, they had managed to elevate their uniforms from classy to straight trashy.

  Heather and her crew were everything Starr wasn’t: extra tall, with extra-large breasts, extra makeup, extra everything. They were video vixens in training.

  Starr turned up her nose in distaste as she tried to arch her back to push her A-cups forward in her La Perla padded bra. She had no doubt that the whole crew were going to wind up in the headmaster’s office before lunch. “Nelly is just waiting to run a credit card down the crack of someone’s butt,” she drawled as she studied her manicured nails.

  Dionne laughed.

  Marisol pursed her lips and made a face like “ohnoshedidn’t.”

  Heather shifted uncomfortably where she stood and actually tried to ease her shirt closed a bit. “Hi, Starr.”

  Starr fought not to roll her eyes.

  Heather was desperate to belong. Last year her dad, who had been a yard man, married into money. Heather’s status was so precarious that if her father got divorced, he’d be back at his $11.00/hour gardening job the next day. Rumor had it that she had already done the do with several boys at school, including Hunter Grant—the former star of some ABC Friday-night sitcom now in syndication. Her desperation made her sleep with random guys, dress like a working girl and take whatever crap high school It girl, Starr Lester, dished out.

  Starr actually felt a little bit sorry for her. Pace could be big-time intimidating—especially for someone who hadn’t grown up with money. Behind her shades, Starr’s eyes shifted to Dionne. Thankfully she took in all the newness in stride—with Starr’s help. Unfortunately for Heather, BFF slots on the roster of St
arr’s closest and dearest friends were filled.

  “Hi,” Starr finally said, ignoring the surprised expressions on Dionne and Marisol’s face.

  “You workin’ that uniform, Miss Heather,” Jordan drawled before he licked his lips and raised one of her hands high to twirl her slowly like a showroom car on display.

  In Starr’s mind if Heather was a car, she would be a rusty, beat-down, hooptee with a flashy paint job that couldn’t hide all the wear and tear.

  Starr slipped her arms through Marisol and Dionne’s to gently guide them along inside the building. Jordan had definitely just worked her last nerve and dropped down several notches on her Pace Academy Hot Boyz ranking. Boys can be soooooooooo stupid, Starr thought as they continued their strut up the brick-paved walkway.

  “I’ll holla at y’all later…especially you, Starr,” he called out after they turned to walk away.

  Mad at him or not, Starr’s heart still raced as she stepped inside the doors of Pace Academy.

  IT’S ON!

  Posted in uncategorized on September 02 @ 6:00 a.m. by thedivaofdish

  Today is the very first day of school at ole Pace Academy. Not exactly sure how I really feel. I mean I love Pace Academy and all, but the freaky teachers? Mr. Funky-breath, the Headmaster? Silly classes? Insignificant grades? Horrible rules? Terrible school lunches? Wannabe cliques? Gross drama?

  Puh-leeze.

  In one hour we all fill the halls and the school year begins. What will it bring? What will go down? What will I have to say about it all? Check back often and peep Pace Academy…the way I see it.

  Just remember this is for students’ eyes only. So don’t tell. Just in case you all can’t keep a secret, I’ll show you that I can fo sho, because who I really am is for me to know and you all not to bother trying to find out!

  Smooches,

  Pace Academy’s Diva of Dish

  0 comments

  five

  Dionne

  September 2 @ 7:40 a.m. | Mood: Grateful

  Walking inside the main hall of Pace Academy was like stepping back in time. The long tiled hallway. The front of the lockers covered with dark walnut doors. The eighteen-foot ceilings arched like cathedrals. The floors smelled like polishing wax and the paneling and railings had a lemon-scented fragrance from what the cleaner used on the wood throughout the building.

  Depending on the lighting, Pace Academy could look as heavenly as a church or as creepy as a haunted house. Well, to Dionne anyway. It was a long, long way from South 17th Street Elementary.

  She remembered how afraid she had been last year when she walked inside the main hall that very first day. Everything was so different—so new, so scary. Even though there were three hundred students at Pace, Dionne had been scared. Thank God I have Marisol and Starr with me now, she thought to herself as she twisted her precious bracelets.

  “Welcome back to Pace Academy,” Marisol said softy, as they stood there framed by the sunlight beaming in from the open doors behind them.

  Time seemed to stand still as the activity around them moved in slow-motion as they tried to take it in. All eyes were on them. It was as if now, school could officially start. The Pacesetters had arrived. The girls loved it. Starr couldn’t have planned a better entrance.

  “Too bad classes and teachers have to go along with all this,” Dionne whispered as if she wasn’t still overwhelmed by their popularity. She pulled her vibrating Sidekick from her purse and slid it open with a flick of her thumb.

  Starr just gave a hint of a smile as she stepped up to the large display board and pushed her shades atop her asymmetrical haircut. “There’s a freshmen assembly right after homeroom,” she told them as they stepped up behind her.

  “Good, my first-period class is algebra.” Marisol’s high-pitched voice was agitated. “I mean no offense, but how is that going to teach me how to handle my inheritance one day? Seriously? Seriously? Se-ri-ous-ly!”

  Dionne laughed along with Starr, but thought about what her mom had said and her life back in Newark, where most people didn’t have much money.

  Why couldn’t her mom get back with her dad? she thought. Or let her live with him? Or let him buy her a bigger house in a better neighborhood like he’d offered? It would be so much easier that way. Then she wouldn’t have to lie to her friends.

  Dionne fell back behind her friends a bit as they made their way down the hall. Starr and Marisol knew she lived with her Moms. But they thought Risha Hunt was a stay-at-home mom, living off a stipend from Dionne’s father in a huge house in Livingston, New Jersey, who was busy with lots of charity work. She only hung out with them or had weekend sleepovers at her dad’s apartment. They didn’t know anything about her real life with her mom in Newark in a two-bedroom apartment. They didn’t realize her mother had to work. They didn’t know about her old Newark friends or her crush, Hassan—none of it. She always had to stay on her toes and keep her story straight to keep her friends from finding out.

  Dionne thought of the text message her Moms had just sent her:

  DIDISMOM: GOOD LUCK ON YOUR 1ST DAY. XOXO.

  She pushed aside her guilt as she followed her friends into the girls’ bathroom on the first floor at the end of the brightly lit, long hallway. Yet again, something as simple as a place to go to the bathroom was so different from her old life. There was no institutional gray-colored tile, prisonlike sink troughs lining the wall or bathroom stalls with the faint scent of industrial-strength ammonia.

  Pace Academy’s bathrooms had a plush waiting area with two chaise longues upholstered in suede, marble-tiled floors throughout and wood-framed mirrors above pedestal sinks. The stalls were white with enough room to comfortably change clothes. Floral arrangements were positioned around the huge vanity area and the walls had a mural of some garden-of-Eden-looking scene. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. And the faint scent of something sweet and fruity hung in the air.

  There was a trio of floor-length mirrors in the corner that provided a 360-degree view of one’s outfit. Small wooden boxes contained pads and tampons for those “special” days that every girl hates.

  It was not like any school bathroom Dionne had ever seen. Indeed, nothing at Pace Academy was like anything she had ever seen.

  Starr reached in her messenger bag and pulled out an OUT OF ORDER sign. She stepped outside and stuck it on the door of the bathroom. She kept one handy for times like this when they needed some privacy.

  Dionne checked her hair in the mirror while Marisol flopped down onto one of the chaise longues.

  “Just a quick FYI before we head to homeroom,” Starr told them as she moved across the floor and dropped her purse and messenger bag next to Marisol.

  “Last night I decided that I want a huge birthday party and I want it to be on MTV’s My Super Sweet 16,” Starr declared as if she was announcing that she was running for president.

  “Liar, liar,” Marisol muttered under her breath.

  Starr ignored her.

  Dionne watched their reflections in the mirror.

  “It’s going to be one of the best—no, correction—the best Sweet Sixteens!”

  “But you’re going to be fifteen,” Marisol stressed as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and applied lip gloss to her lips.

  Starr whipped around to eye her and cocked an eyebrow really high. “No sugar-honey iced tea, Sherlock.”

  Marisol shrugged.

  Dionne bit back a smile.

  Most of the time, Marisol and Starr quietly struggled with each other to see just who was in charge. It was during those tugs-of-war and silly moments that Dionne just sat back and enjoyed the show.

  Starr rolled her eyes at Mari and began to pace up and down the length of the bathroom. The stiffness of her uniform skirt made a swishing noise as she moved. “There are only a few more weeks and there is a lot of planning to do. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.”

  Marisol snorted and muttered something under her breat
h that Dionne didn’t catch. She eyed her. Marisol gestured that she would tell her about it later. Dionne’s guess was that the whole B-day bash was Marisol’s idea and not Starr’s. Their friend had a way of claiming an idea as her own.

  “I’ll have my mom’s party planner put it all together and Daddy will contact MTV and get that ball rolling.” Star continued to pace and the swishing seemed to get louder.

  There was no stopping Starr Lester when she was on a mission.

  The first bell rang.

  Dionne grabbed her book bag. “I’m out, y’all,” she told them over her shoulder before she walked out the bathroom. She wanted to get to class on time. After her talk with her mom last night she was keenly aware that Pace Academy with its high price tag and fancy bathroom was more of a blessing than a right.

  six

  Marisol

  September 02 @ 11:43 a.m. | Mood: Nosy

  Marisol’s ponytail bobbed up and down at the back of her head as she walked as fast as she could without drawing too much attention to herself. Her eyes scanned the crowd of rowdy students. All one hundred and thirty upperclassmen ate lunch during the same period: 12:30 p.m. The Pace Academy dining hall resembled an upscale mall food court, with most of the students lined up at one of the various food stations.

  Mari’s stomach growled at the thought of tasting a pepperoni personal-pan pizza from the pizza station, but she ignored the hunger pangs and forged ahead. Starr and Dionne were walking toward their table with large frozen fruit cups. Marisol headed straight for them.