Disclaimer: not mine. belongs to Dan Schneider, Nickelodeon and all that jazz. I only own the computer I wrote this on, and even that's debatable.

"seven. eight. nine.

ten."

Her bed seems too big. She knows that's a stupid thought, it's the same size it's ever been. It's not as if it has magically grown in the wake of her sudden single-ness. It's still the same bed she's had since she had turned fourteen and refused to sleep in a twin, forcing her father to buy her a big, fluffy queen sized with black sheets and a dark maroon comforter. It's the same bed she lost her virginity in, the same bed. It doesn't smell like him, though, and that makes her want to scream. It doesn't smell like anything but fabric softener and her vanilla scented shampoo. She feels like it should be smaller, since it only smells like her. It holds no memory of him at all.

It's a fucking mammoth of a bed.

"Tell me you love me."

"Magic word?"

It just takes a few clicks. Open her laptop, click on her internet browser. Sign in, go to her page. Edit. Click single. Done.

Three years, and all she really has to show for it is a (now extinct) relationship status.

"I'm his girlfriend, which makes him ridiculously lucky."

"So lucky."

She doesn't go to school the next day. She watches the unedited version of The Scissoring and cuts up receipts and movie tickets and old notes she'd passed in class with him. She's still at it at five thirty when her step-mother shows up with her brother and she glares at them as they pass her by. They don't talk to her, though, so she doesn't have to explain why her face is blotchy or why it looks like she threw a confetti party.

It's not like they'd even care, anyway. They barely knew him.

"You love me again."

"Who said I stopped?"

She wakes up in the middle of the night, cold and sweaty. Her first thought is, what the chiz? And it's only when she's halfway to her shower, phone in hand with his name pulled up in her contacts that she remembers. She throws her body wash into the medicine cabinet instead.

Her father tells her she needs to get over it. She gives him a few choice words in return.

"Tell me something you like."

"Like, or love?"

"Love."

"You."

She's walking to class, trying not to look at him. It's hard but not impossible. She is who she is, after all, and that's nothing if not a great actress. He looks, though.

"Hey."

She doesn't look, but she replies as nonchalant as she can, even if it comes off just a bit angry. "Yeah, hey."

It's always been easy for her to act like she doesn't care. (You don't believe that, do you?)

"Your girlfriend's pretty."

"I know."

She can't remember the last time she hung out with Cat, just the two of them, but she's pretty sure nothing was destroyed that time. This time there's a broken guitar, a broken window and a broken heart.

She's almost positive no one can tell the guitar's broken, though.

"You gonna say you're sorry?"

He brings up her pseudo-date and she almost wants to cry. He wasn't supposed to be here, to see her with Cat. He was supposed to think she had places to be, boys to play. Her night wasn't supposed to end up like this, dealing with Cat's crying and Robbie's awkwardness and his feigned heroism.

She has to admit, though, she likes the way he keeps looking at her.

"We were voted Worst Couple! And the other two weren't even a couple!"

Tori tries to talk to her. It's a bit annoying the first time, but after that it makes her want to kill the brunette and stick her in the fryer in Festus' van. She keeps saying stuff like, "I know you're not together anymore, but I would still like to be your friend." and "Would you like to go out for some fro-yo after school?"

Each time she says no a little bit more louder until the only time Jade is speaking to Tori is when she's screaming. Really, though, it's not like it's that surprising.

"I'm not happy with our relationship."

She figured he would be dating someone by the end of the week but he's not. She's not, either, but no one cares enough to ask. She still doesn't look at him, even when they're in improv and it's basically required for her to look at him. She always looks above him, or beside him. She can't tell if it's bugging him like it's bugging her but it works. She hasn't broke down in class yet.

There's a bunch of used tissues in the Janitor's Closet, though.

"This is causing me pain. And not the good kind."

I miss you. Can we

message deleted

Can we talk? I need

message deleted

I'm sorry I was such a

message deleted

I'm sorry.

"She can be a gank."

"You have no idea."

She's digging her Art History book out of the bottom of her locker when her phone vibrates.

Me, too.

A/N: yeah... I don't even know. This is just a whole bunch of whiney, uhhhh-ness that I wrote after watching The Worst Couple and Andre's Horrible Girl back-to-back. I just. BADE IS GONE. I'm a mess. I can't even. It's not faaaaaair. Why, Dan, why? I love Bade. Bade is the OTP to end all OTP's.

and the italicized quotes don't pertain to the story, really. it's just Jade remembering their relationship and stuff and ugghhhh. whatever. I'm going to go crawl in a corner and cry some more. tell me what you thought, pleeeease. and if I made any errors. because. I need to know.