Secrets of the Sisterhood (The Cinderella Society, Episode 1) by Kay Cassidy

basketball players in cut-off muscle shirts and high-tops. Not exactly the fashion mecca you’d expect for a signature style intro.
    SJ slowed in front of a baseball diamond, where I recognized some kids from school. Some teachers too.
    “This is the annual Student-Teacher Summer Slam,” she explained. “The teachers and students always play each other for bragging rights the next year. Yesterday was the basketball game—we crushed ‘em—and today’s the baseball game.”
    SJ steered us toward some empty bleachers near the outfield to give us a good view of the grandstand, the real reason we were there. With so much of the In crowd in attendance, it was practically a fashion event waiting to happen. We climbed up a couple of rows, made ourselves as comfy as the metal benches would allow, and shifted our attention to our fellow classmates.
    Inadequacy hit me like a wave. I’d rarely fit the bill for trendy anywhere I’d lived. Oh, I’d tried. But after breaking the bank trying to overhaul my wardrobe every time we moved—only to find out I was unforgivably last year or, worse, the poster child for generic—I’d learned to become a savvy observer of fashion and style.  
    SJ leaned back, propping her elbows on the bleacher behind her. I followed suit, and we let our sunglasses hide our gazes from the world.
    “Let’s start with one close to home,” SJ said. “How would you describe my signature style?”
    Um, perfect? I glanced over at the ever-fabulous Sarah Jane Peterson. Sarah Jane had classy prep down to a science. If Ralph Lauren or Tommy Hilfiger made it, it inevitably found its way into SJ’s closet. With her classic blonde good looks and natural makeup, it was a freak of nature she wasn’t the latest face of Cover Girl.
    “All-American classy prep?” I ventured.
    I saw SJ’s eyes widen. “I call it all-American dockside prep, but you nailed it. What about Kyra? She’s sitting second row from the bottom.”
    I squinted at the crowd and found her sitting next to Mel, cheering for Ben at bat. Kyra had a totally fun and flirty style—she was decked out in a super cute sundress that was one of my favorites on her. Plus, she had that amazing auburn hair and tan skin that needed almost zero makeup to look fabulous.
    “Fun and flirty girl-next-door.”
    “You’ve got the gift, J. Kee calls it ‘flirty and fresh romance,’ but again, bull’s-eye. Your makeover’s going to be a breeze.” She scanned the grandstand again before giving me my final test. Top row, dead center. Black shirt.
    My eyes skimmed the row until they landed on the last person I wanted to see. I stifled a groan and dutifully studied her signature style. I hated to admit it, but Lexy had a way tight style. Designer all the way. Form-fitting Hugo Boss for getting noticed (always high on Lexy’s agenda) and Diesel jeans with Urban Chic tanks for slumming. With her custom-dyed, blacker-than-black hair and pale skin, she definitely made a statement: Welcome to Sex and the City, The Early Years.
    “Revolting sex kitten?”
    Sarah Jane gave me a gentle but disapproving look. Definitely a no-Wicked-chatter kind of girl, our Sarah Jane.
    “Lexy has a powerful style, I’ll give you that much,” she said. “Try to take your emotions out of it and give it another shot.”
    I watched Lexy slouching with the Wickeds, doing her best to draw attention to herself while pretending to be oblivious to everything around her. I narrowed my eyes at the ruse. “Calculated sexy chic.”  
    “That’s closer,” she said. “The effect is thrown together and sexy, but it takes a lot of effort to pull off. You have to be fully committed to that kind of style.”
    Bottom line? These were no mere mortals. Master fashionistas roamed the halls of Mt. Sterling High. How could I possibly compete with them? Ryan knowing my name was one thing. Putting it in a sentence that included “Wanna go out?” was another.
    SJ sat up, giving me a huge grin.