Monday, April 27, 2009


alphas excert

Westchester, NY
Body Alive Dance Studio
Thursday, July 22nd
11:37 a.m.

There were five Skye Hamiltons in the Body Alive Dance Studio. One on each mirrored wall and one in the flesh. As in-the-flesh Skye step-turn-step-plié-step-fan-step-ball-changed, the reflections followed. So did the nine other girls in Atelier No. 1. Or at least they tried.
A trickle of sweat slithered from the base of Skye’s tightly bunned blond waves down the back of her pale blue leo. She drew her shoulder blades back (even more), trying to pinch the salty snake, not because she was embarrassed, but because she could. Her body always did what it was told. All she had to do crank up the music and ask.
“And one . . . twooo . . . thu-hree . . . fourrrr . . . five . . . six . . . seh-vuuuun . . . eight.” Madame Prokofiev slow-clapped to the jazzy ooze of Michael Bublé’s “Fever” while scanning her students for TICS (Timing, Incongruity, Carelessness, and Smiles). As always, her scrutinizing brown eyes whizzed past Skye like two bullets aimed at someone else.
“Too wristy, Becca!” She clapped. “Less chin, Reese.” Clap. “Rollllllll the knee, Wendi. Don’t poke.” Clap. Clap. “And I swear on my tendons, Heidi, if you don’t fix that posture, I’m going to use you as a throw pillow!”
Chignoned and clad in a no-nonsense black cami with matching flare dance pants, the aging brunette looked like a prima ballerina laced up tighter than a pair of toe shoes. Yet she moved like honey and stung like a bee.
Skye loved her.
Charged by Madame P’s silent approval, Skye added a turn before the freeze, then came out of it with hands in prayer pose, or rather, a Bollywood Namaste Flower. The routine hadn’t called for it—her instincts had. She’d downloaded the MIA track from Slumdog, and like some people got songs stuck in their heads, Skye had this one stuck in her body.
“Enough.” Madame P clapped sharply, the frown lines in her passion-wrinkled forehead bunched like loose leg warmers. Had she gone too far with her flower?
All nine dancers stop-panted. But Skye’s heart kept hitch-kicking against her rib cage. Finally, she crossed her arms over her B-minus cups and ordered it to take five.
She lined up with her dance BFFs Missy Cambridge, Becca Brie, Leslie Lynn Rubin, and Heidi Sprout. Like Skye, her besties were blond—two in braids, two with ponies—and wore identical pink balloon skirts over gray leotards and tights (BADS Anna Pavlova Collection). Skye had added her signature sleeves; today’s were black mesh with five mini sterling silver locker keys dangling from the holes—one for each of her friends. Every time she moved they jingled, adding a little extra something to the otherwise humdrum musical score.
“Flair, ladies.” Madame P heel-toed to the center of the room, clucking her tongue in disappointment. “Dance is not just knowing the steps. It’s interpreting them.” She winked at Skye, releasing her from the scold. “So please try to remember. We’re doing Twyla, not Twilight, so stop sucking!”

boys r us exceprt

5:35 P.M.

Claire Lyons trudged across the immaculately manicured lawn of the Block Estate, feeling the same way she felt after a worthy contestant got voted off American Idol: Technically, she hadn’t been the one everyone text-rejected. But she felt the sting just the same.
Cam Fisher flirt-punched her shoulder. “You okay?”
“Huh?” Claire glanced up at her crush. The warmth in Cam’s one blue eye and one green eye shielded her against the late afternoon chill. She buried her hands inside the sleeves of the burgundy Briarwood Tomahawks jersey she wore over grey leggings and flirt-punched him back. “Easy!”
“Ow!” He laughed. A grape bubble gum-scented cloud puffed from his mouth. It smelled like love.

“Worried about Massie?” Cam slipped his arm around her shoulder and left it there for approximately three Mississippi’s before stuffing it back in the pocket of his red hoodie.
Claire nodded, nibbling her Blistex-coated bottom lip to keep from purring. Now was not the time to think about how she and Cam were so close or how he could practically read her mind. And now was definitely not the time to sneak an intoxicating noseful of Drakkar Noir. Now was the time to focus on being there for Massie, since the rest of the Pretty Committee was avoiding her way Lindsay avoided food.
It had been less than forty-eight hours since Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen had boycotted Massie’s Friday night sleepover, but to Claire, it felt longer than lent. She’d spent most of that time fielding four-way texts and calls from her friends, having no idea how to respond. Dylan vented about how she and Derrington could have taken their crush public a week earlier if it weren’t for Massie holding her back. Alicia bragged how much better her cheer squad, the Heart-Nets, was going to be than Massie’s, since Alicia was a superior choreographer. And Kristen kept moaning about bad sushi.
Massie, on the other hand, hadn’t reached out since Claire and Cam had shown up to her sleepover and found her totally alone. Her silence felt eerie, like the calm before the doors opened for a 75 percent off sale at BCBG. Because madness was sure to follow.
“Do you really think Alicia and Dylan’ll stay mad forever?” Cam’s gentle voice brought Claire back.
She wished she could tell Cam that the Pretty Committee would be back together before dinner. But Alicia and Dylan seemed done with Massie’s rigid, Lycra-ing ways. Done with the alpha controlling who they crushed on, what they wore, and what they did with their Friday nights. Actually, Claire understood their frustration better than anybody. Before Massie, she’d been perfectly content with her non-designer wardrobe. Now, she could barely walk past an Old Navy without imagining being shot at by a round of deadly comebacks.
“Dunno,” she replied honestly. She tried not to think about what could happen if her friends stayed mad. Sure, Lycra kept a tight hold on things. It could even feel suffocating. But it also held everything in its place. Without Massie, the Pretty Committee could fall apart. And where would that leave Claire?
“Sucks,” he offered, obviously trying to sound sympathetic and male at the same time.
It was adorable that Cam thought he knew just how dire the situation was. But no matter how many times Claire tried to explain, he couldn’t possibly understand. At this point a reunion for the Pretty Committee seemed less likely than a five-year wedding anniversary for Spencer and Heidi.

Friday, April 24, 2009


I havent updated for a while for that I am truley sorry. In Lisis blog she had stated that there wil be a nintendo ds game of the clique. The goal of the game is to become popular by accomplishing tasks. Lisi also has a twitter account now so you can search LISI HARRISON. THERE IS NOTHING ELSE REALLY EXCPET FOR THE POLL RESULTS:
43% of you said I LOVED PS I LOATHE YOU
12% said IT WAS WHATEVS.


questions, contribuitons, comments, concerns? comment

love tpcc

Wednesday, March 4, 2009


Big shoutouts today to Lindsey and Sunkissedchicka…you weren’t the only ones who guessed the next Clique book title: These Boots Are Made For Stalking. But your comments were the first two I read. So yayyyyy for you. How did you guys guess that? I may start writing these blah-gs using the first letter of each word instead of writing the whole thing. It will be a huge time saver for me and I have no doubt you girls will know exactly what I’m talking about. :)

Another reason I want to shout-out to Sunkissedchicka is because her screen name makes me want to be all tanned and crispy. I love the buzz of the sun on my skin and I am really starting to crave the summer. That said, I don’t want to look like a vintage leather tote so I’m not going to bake on the beach anymore. Those days are over. So what’s a pasty girl to do?
Sunday afternoon I bought some spray tanner from CVS and hosed myself down. The smell of that stuff alone gave me an instant lift (it’s come a long way and no longer reeks of graham crackers and chlorine). Like a Polaroid, I was slowly starting to develop over the course of the day. The browner I got the more confident I became. I had found my genie in a bottle. Summer 2009…here I come.
At bedtime I stripped down to admire my caramel coating. And then I screamed. My genie wasn’t a genie. She was an abstract graffiti artist. And she tagged me.
I was striped, spotted, and had brown drip marks all over my ca-ankles. I would love to show you a full body shot of the damage but it’s not that kind of Blah-g. So here is the G-rated version
My wrists…

My ankle
My heel
I mean seriously. I hope all of my new Facebook friends don’t un-friend me now that they know what an LBR I am. I’m off to buy lemons. I heard those works wonders. I hope it’s true. TTYW,Lisi

(im proud to say I guessed right)

questions, contribuitons, comments, concerns? comment

love tpcc

Tuesday, March 3, 2009


hey if you want to join tpcc this is what you do.
step 1. comment the blog or email with this information:
name:(first only please)
age: (im not a stalker. i sware)

step 2: subscribe to the blog

step 3: create an account (optional) to tell about yourself give us the link.

step 4: enjoy the site. read the blogs and make a profile. have fun!

then i will list your name under the pretty committee members on the side you all start out with 20. then you can do various things to earn points.

****NOTE THAT IF YOU choose to give information to get points you have to give your source because it must be true.****

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

facebooooook and psily

so heres the new blog:
* That’s right my friends, I have a new book out today. FACEBOOK! I finally have my own fan Facebook page. All those other ones are designer impostors. But this one is the real deal. If you want to friend me go to
* There are ah-dorable buttons on my page that look like the PSILY stickers. I will do my best to post updates. I can’t, however, promise that they will be exciting. But hey, I’d love to read what you guys are up to.


* Most of you loved PSILY and I love that :) But some of you had some issues and I promised I would address them this week so here goes…The top three issues were (SPOILER ALERT!):
* LISI’S ANSWER: Because reading about people who are happily in love and stay happily in love is no fun. Admit it. What if the back of the book said something like; Claire and Cam are back together and things couldn’t be going better for them. One night, they have an amazing phone conversation where Cam tells Claire he will never break up with her. Claire says she won’t break up with him either. The Pretty Committee names them B.C.E. (best couple ever) and they all eat sours for two days straight and no one gets any cavities. SUH-NOOZER! There’s no drama there. And I wanted Claire and Cam to be happy together for an entire book so I put the focus on some of the other girls. But don’t worry. Claire is a major part of Boys R Us. Pinky Swear.
* ISSUE #2: Why aren’t Massie and Derrington together?
* LISI’S ANSWER: Beee-cause, he and Dylan are perfect for each other. Can’t you see that??? He was too goofy for Massie. And frankly, her heart wasn’t in it. He was a trendy accessory. He was her hairband. And look around people. No one is wearing hairbands anymore. I promise she’ll find a real boyfriend in Boys R Us. And this one will be right for her. So please, try to be happy for Dylan. If you remember, she did like Derrington first.
* LISI’S ANSWER: Hate the game not the player. And the name of this game is drama. You can’t write 15 books without shaking things up a little. Well, maybe you can but I can’t. But hey, if I can break them up I can make them up. Right? And I just might if you’re nice to me. I do, however, promise you this. Things are going to get a lot worse before they get better. So tighten up your bra straps and hold on. :)
* Thanks for all of your genius book title suggestions. I finally thought of one. It will come after Boys R Us. It’s called TBAMFS. Can you figure it out? Try. I’ll tell you next Wednesday. NOW THAT’S DRAMA BABY!
* Don’t forget to friend me on Facebook…
* xox Lisi

and if u didnt read psily heres a previiew:
comments questions and concerns

Monday, February 23, 2009