Sloane Sisters by Anna Carey

Street—anywhere except at Lola. Winston had asked Andie to walk Lola to school, but he hadn’t said anything about talking to her.
    â€œWhat are you guys doing after school?” Andie asked, staring into the back of Cate’s lavender polo.
    â€œYour optimism is cute, C.C.,” Cate cooed, not bothering to turn around. “But I’m never going to invite you to hang out with the Chi Beta Phis.”
    Andie kicked a crushed Pepsi can on the sidewalk.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Stella replied, shooting Andie a smile. “You’re not missing much.”
    â€œI was thinking, Stella,” Cate said, pushing her oversize Guccis onto the top of her head. “You may want to consider joining the marching band. They accept everyone .” She turned onto Ninetieth Street, nearly punting a teacup Yorkie across the sidewalk.
    Girls in charcoal gray wool skirts were crowded around Ashton Prep’s entrance. The eight-story renovated mansion was surrounded by a small landscaped courtyard. Addison Isaacs and Missy Hurst were standing just inside the wrought iron gates, hugging each other and shrieking excitedly. At the top of the steps, two men in navy blazers stood on either side of the massive carved wood doors like bouncers, ushering uniform-clad upper-school girls inside. Molly Lambert, one of Ashton’s only goths, sat on a bench in the corner of the courtyard, drawing on her hand with a black Sharpie.
    â€œThanks for your concern,” Stella said breezily, pushing past a group of ninth-graders. “But I’ll be brilliant on my own.”
    With that, she disappeared into the crowded courtyard.
    Cate shook her head dismissively at Stella’s retreating back. She strolled confidently toward the upper-school entrance, where Priya, Sophie, and Blythe were waiting for her. The lower and upper schools were in two separate wings, with separate entrances and separate lunchrooms.
    Andie gazed longingly at Cate’s friends. They were all wearing Lacoste button-downs in pastel shades of pink, blue, lavender, and green, like a handful of Easter M&M’s. Betsy Carmichael was staring bug-eyed into the Ashton News camera, held by a twiggy sixth-grader with stringy black hair. Betsy kept up a running commentary on Chi Beta Phi’s outfits, as though the courtyard were a Hollywood red carpet.
    â€œAndie!” Cindy Ng called. She smiled wide, revealing perfectly straight, braces-free teeth.
    Andie pulled Cindy into a tight hug, breathing in her Chanel Chance perfume. “You look awesome.”
    As they started toward the lower-school entrance, Andie heard a car horn blare. She turned to see Lola kneeling on the street in front of a mustard yellow cab, a few books scattered on the ground by her feet. The driver was hanging out the window, shaking his fist at her. This morning Lola had had to borrow one of Andie’s uniform skirts, which was so short she was flashing her days-of-the-week underwear.
    â€œWho’s that?” Cindy asked, cringing.
    Andie was about to answer when Cate pushed by, Betsy Carmichael and the Ashton News camera in tow. Blythe, Sophie, and Priya were following close behind them, their hands covering their mouths in amusement.
    â€œLadies of Ashton Prep!” Cate called out, laughing. She stood by the sidewalk and framed Lola with her hands. “Meet Lola Childs!”
    Blythe pulled Cate away and the girls took off up the stairs and into the Upper School, erupting in a fit of giggles.
    Betsy Carmichael stood in front of Lola and stared into the camera. “Welcome back, Ashton Prep girls. I’m Betsy Carmichael, telling you to keep it hot, keep it fresh, and keep it real.”
    As Andie watched Lola fumble with her books, her face as red as a tomato, her stomach sank with guilt. The last thing Lolaneeded was another sister torturing her—that was the last thing either of them needed.
    â€œI’ll see you in English,” Andie