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documents in the Society and does not leave the Club. There are lockers in the lounge for you to lock them up when you leave.”
    Since when did makeovers require training? My fantasies about simple before-and-after photos were looking more and more like a pipe dream.
    Gaby consulted the book in front of her, leaving her finger on the page to mark her spot. “It goes without saying that nothing you see, hear, or do in the Club goes beyond the Club. You’re not to mention the CMM or anything about The Cinderella Society to non-Cindys.”
    “What about Audrey?” I asked. “Doesn’t she know?”
    Gaby smiled. “You’re quick. A group like ours can’t function without help, so we have a dedicated support system for what we do. Audrey has a lucrative contract with us for the space, so that works for both of us.”
    I couldn’t imagine what lucrative meant to a millionaire supermodel, but the Cindys had to be seriously well funded. I made a mental note to get the scoop from Sarah Jane on who was financing our little group. She’d sworn it was strictly a “no dues” thing. Which was good, because my allowance couldn’t support a hamster, much less a supermodel.
    “She’s also our eyes and ears,” Sarah Jane added. “That’s part of why she’s so chummy out front. She’s like that anyway, but she picks up a lot from people who come into the store.If it’s detrimental to us or to”—she paused—“other people, Audrey lets us know.”
    “And those other people are exactly why you’re here,” Gaby said. “The Cinderella Society’s creed is simple but powerful: Celebrate your strength, embrace your future, and be extraordinary. Every Cindy, no matter what level, has the same creed. It’s what drives everything the Sisterhood is about.”
    It seemed Sarah Jane had left a few things out in her explanation about the Cindys. Or maybe I’d glossed over them the minute I’d heard the words you and makeover in the same breath.
    Gaby had us flip open our Cinderella Makeover Manuals to a slick chart that shed light on the whole ranks thing. “The Society has four levels,” she explained. “Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Delta. As soon as you accept the call during initiation, you’re officially an Alpha. As Alphas, your priority is to learn about the Society’s mission and complete the first part of your Cindy training to prepare you for the battle ahead.”
    Training, training, and more training. When did we get to the—
    Wait. Did she say “battle”?
    “We work hard to be the best we can be and to contribute to the greater good. But for every one of us, there’s someone on the opposite end of the spectrum. Kind of like in physics, where—”
    “Gab,” Sarah Jane cut in. “Ix-nay on the science lecture.”
    “Spoilsport. What I mean is that for every Cindy there’s an opposite.”
    “A Wicked?” I joked, but stopped chuckling when I realized none of my Alpha sisters got the reference. “You know, like Cinderella’s wicked stepsisters?”
    Gaby lost any hint of a smile. “We never joke about the Wickeds. But yes, they’re our opposites. For the most part, Wickeds live a surface existence. Very superficial, very interested in the now. Casual sex, drinking, sometimes drugs, even small-time illegal. They push the envelope without worrying about the repercussions. Or if they worry, they don’t let it cramp their style.”
    An Alpha named Kat nodded. “Taking the Me Generation to the extreme.”
    “You got it,” Gaby agreed. “Cindys, on the other hand, understand the need to sometimes sacrifice the now— sometimes , not always—to get the bigger win later. There’s a grander plan in motion, and we’re only one piece of the puzzle.”
    “So,” Mel said, trying the idea on for size, “the Cindys are good and the Wickeds are bad. Like a high-school battle of good and evil?”
    “The Wickeds aren’t one hundred percent bad, just like the Cindys aren’t one hundred percent good,” Gaby