Hey guys!! This is another joint for me and Smilie-Loz-x. For now I am writing Catherine and she is writing Sara.

A/N 1: I love Laura. She rules. (Yes, she really does).

A/N 2: BRIDGET JONES, HERE WE COME!!! (We read/watch BJD 1+2 too much, it inspired us to write this).

A/N 3: I want to warn you. I like the Cath/Sara ship but I don't want to write that kind of thing. But they're good friends! =)

Tuesday, 7th September 1980.

My name is Catherine Willows. I am seventeen years old, and I live in Las Vegas, Nevada - like it matters. I don't care about things like that. Anyway, this is my diary.

Today was fun. Scratch that, it was empowering. My circle of friends is ever so tight; we are the girls. We own the place. A new girl started today, Sara Sidle. She has long, dark brown hair and a big smile - not that she smiled. She's like some kind of emo, she has two scars on each arm, and started crying when she was given a pop quiz. Pathetic much? Jodie, Samantha and I were eating lunch, when she came over to us.

"Hi." She said. She was stuttering, obviously nervous. Like I give a damn. We told her to go find her mommy and daddy, and she started bawling her eyes out. Miss Kerkbaum had to drag her out of there, what a freak. She was so nerdy in Chemistry, the sent her up to the top class. Not that I care, I don't even like school. I prefer to go to parties with my friends; parties she will never get invited to.

I mean, let's face it. She sticks her head in those stupid books, how the hell can she live like that? That's not living. Living is hanging out with people, never mind friends, she has none. Living is going out, to wild parties and sneaking alcohol into your friend's sweet sixteen party. I bet the only party she's been to is the sad and pathetic table for one on her birthday. Why was she so anxious, so on edge?

I don't know if I said something wrong, to upset her, but there's something not right with that kid.

"Maybe she's from a broken home," Mom told me. "There are those less fortunate, honey. I think you should be nice to her and help her make some friends." Mom had suggested, or rather ordered that I do this, and I know I have to - even though I don't even like her. Nobody likes it when new kids come to the school. If I don't do this then Mom will take away my cellphone, my computer and my car; that's not an option.

I'm not looking forward to looking after this kid. Sure, I'll show her around and introduce her to the science nerds - she'll fit in with them - but I will absolutely NOT be 'a shoulder to cry on'. Don't bet on it. Not in a million years will I do that for her. I don't even know her but my dense Mom thinks that everybody has to be 'besties'. Her words, not mine.

She's definitely a nerd. She's just started high school a year early. It has 'freak' written all over her. Thank God this is my last year, I'm not going to college. I already work at Taco Bell, but when I get outta here I'm giving up that crappy job, and I'm gonna work in the French Palace. I know, I know, I'm going to be a stripper and blah blah blah. I'm not a stripper. The job is exotic dancer. Dancer! I love dancing. Plus, Stephanie, two years older than me, works there and is clearing ten thousand dollars a night! Now that's the life I want to lead!

Stephanie's already taught me how to do a few dances using her built-in dancing pole, she has a small, two bedroom apartment and said I could move in with her once I leave school. I'm so psyched! Mom doesn't approve of Stephanie or her lifestyle, but who gives a damn? Mom just doesn't like her because she wants people to give her attention and talk about her boring adult life.

"Catherine Willows! I am your mother and darn it, I will not have you bring shame to this family!" She would say to me anytime I brought the subject up. She would always point that wrinkly finger at me as well, and I have to stop myself from laughing as you could see a blue vein throbbing on her forehead.

Well, I gotta go. Mom is shouting me, and I just heard her say 'new girl'. That's not good. I better go.

Catherine xoxo

Wednesday, 8th September 1981, 2:34 am

My name is Sara Sidle. I am 11 years old, and today (yesterday, really) was my first day at high school. It was a pretty good day. The teachers like me, but that was kinda expected. I am a... science-geek after all. But... there was this really mean girl. Catherine and her cronies. They picked on me all day and pretty much made my day hell. Then I got home and my foster dad made me work until some ungodly hour scrubbing the bathrooms. I hate my foster parents. I hate Catherine. I hate school now. I have nothing.

So I go to the bathroom and cut myself. The release of pain is just exhilarating, and it's the only way to relieve myself of this day-to-day pressure. Catherine saw my arms today, and you should have seen the dirty look that she gave me. She was trying to make me feel worthless, but I don't really care what anyone thinks. I like it; it's my way of escaping the monotony of everyday life.

I know this is short, but I have to go. My foster mom Marg wants me to clean the dishes, and my foster dad Gary wants me to clean the bathroom. Again.

Sara Sidle.

Thursday, 9th September 1980

It's me, Catherine again. My God, why does Mom have to be such an ass? When I went downstairs (Tuesday) she ordered me to invite Sara out after school. So I did. Boy, it was a hell of a thing. I didn't know what to do. I asked her why she had started crying and she got all defensive, but eventually she told me when she began to cry a little.

"Umm, hey, how come you cried when I told you to find your parents... I'm sorry if I was mean." It was all I could offer. She was really quiet, sipping on the caramel latte I bought for her. Her lips started to quiver, I just sat there waiting for her. Boy, it was quite a story.

"I," Sara turned away from me. I didn't want to make her tell me but it seemed to come out like word vomit. Okay, so she didn't shout it out but it sounded like she really wanted to get it off her chest. I could tell as she sighed. "My mom," she muttered, only just about audible. "She's in a nuthouse, she killed my Dad because he beat the shit out of her and me." It made me feel really bad, I had no idea. So that's how she has those scars on her arms, and why she cried. That's why she was so scared.

All I could do was say "I'm sorry," and give her a small smile. We stayed really quiet, you could even hear the guy behind us slurping on his coffee and tapping on his laptop. He must have been writing an essay or something, because when I looked behind me he looked like a student at WLVU. He had the jersey.

Soon, after that we went looking through the stores, and to say sorry for being so mean, I bought her this charm bracelet thing. She cringed when I gave it her. That's when I knew she had nothing to give back. Normally, I would care, but it doesn't matter. I feel sorry for this girl, for her troubles and it's the least I can do after she just moved here - to be her friend.

Well, I gotta go again. Mom's friend Sam Braun is taking us out for dinner. He's really nice, he buys me all these gifts and practically owns Las Vegas. He owns all the casinos and hotels. Tangiers, The Monaco, The Venetian... You name it. I'm looking forward to dinner.

Catherine xoxo


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