I'm currently working on another story, but I needed to do something with Karmy before it kills me. Review your thoughts!

At first, when they met, Amy thought it was fate. It was destiny. It was the best-fluke in the lineup of universal coincidences that had been laid out for her yet.
Of course, she was four, and it was preschool, so she didn't understand these concepts. But- when she was fifteen, and she thought about it, she thought it was the epitome of awsomeness.

At the end, she thought it was the biggest accident that she ever had the misfortune of being a part of. She and Karma weren't meant to be friends. They were too inherently different; and while she used to think this was amazing, and this was what gave them the ability to be so close- be such a "power couple", she had started to come to the conclusion that it just made them a destructive mess. For the both of them.

In the middle, she couldn't decide.

It was on a Thursday afternoon when the first real ripple of trouble came stirring it's way towards Karmy. Amy had a name for this ripple. In the essence of Hurricane Katrina or Typhoon Nina; she liked to call it: Ripple Booker.

For a long time, it made her shudder.

"Look at him!" Karma hissed, shaking Amy's arm, pointing far off into the distance. She squinted in the general direction her friend's finger guided, but she didn't spot him right away.

"Which one?" She inquired, raising a hand up to block the sun. Karma was boy-spotting. It had become a common occurrence in the last few years- most predominantly, in the months leading up to this point.

"Brown hair, jawline of a Greek God, delicious looking lips," Karma instructed; Amy grimaced.

"Weird."

"Oh," Karma scoffed, "Shut up. Do you see him yet?"

"I think so," She had spotted a potential suspect, hanging around with Shane Harvey; the local popular gay. And if she was talking about who Amy thought she was talking about, alarm bells started sounding in her skull. "With Shane Harvey?"

Karma nodded confirmation.

Amy dropped her hand and straightened up, sternly crossing her arms over her chest, "Liam Booker?"

Blushing, Karma nodded with the enthusiasm of a kid straight from the candy store, "He's so cute."

"So?" Amy stuck her tongue out, "He's slept with like... everyone. He's a Grade A douche."

"We don't know that," Karma said defensively, throwing another look his way.

It was classic Karma behaviour. Seriously; Amy could have written a textbook on reading the other girl's reactions and anticipating the next move. For example; Karma needed constant validation about her importance and her existence. Pining after Liam Booker would at least put her on the radar, and, if she managed to snag him, it would be like being on the cover of TMZ. A big deal. Karma had always been desperate for the spotlight. Even in third grade, when she'd thrown a tantrum about not being Mrs. Clause in the Christmas play.
Unfortunately, Amy all too well that this wouldn't be an unsurprising move for her best friend.

"But we also don't know if he isn't a douche. The signs point to yes,"

Karma sighed, deflating slightly. Amy reached out and rubbed her back, humouring her, "There, there, Karms. We'll find you a boy eventually."

And there it was. The Ripple Booker. Amy hadn't thought much more of it. But things happened a little too fast for her liking since that point; suddenly, they were lesbians, and suddenly, it was all for Booker, and suddenly, Amy was flailing like a fish out of water.

Emotionally, that is.

She'd never been a "move fast" kind of person. Amy liked slow and sure, she liked to feel things out before she did them; and the idea of being impulsive gave her mild to moderate anxiety. She was finicky. She was focused on everything that could go wrong; in every situation, her concerns would lie with how she (or those she was around; specifically Karma) could get seriously injured. Her first encounter with this was when she was maybe in second grade, and her best friend had the idea to go sledding, choosing just the exact hill behind her house where it was a bit too close to the road for Amy's comfort. At first, Karma had tried coaxing her up from the top of the hill, but Amy had stubbornly stayed rooted at the bottom, insisting that she would be there to catch Karma if she started getting too close to the street. Her friend eventually gave up, and they agreed to that sentiment for a few rides down the hill. Amy wasn't having much fun. After a while, Karma noticed that; and she offered to do the same for Amy while she took her turns on the hill. She was sceptical of Karma's reliability, but, conceded to the idea after a short reluctance.

Luckily, Karma caught her every time.

In the grand scheme of it, Karma knew it was the fault of a lot of people. Including herself. But, first and foremost, she blamed Shane; although, she knew, at the bottom of it all; it would have happened anyway. But he just sped up the process. The catalyst, so to speak.

The Shane moment lived in infamy; not just in the hearts and minds of Hester High, but for the course of, probably, the rest of Karma's life. And all because he was craving some lesbian energy. He outed them without doing his research- but, this is where it gets rich.

"Maybe we should just... go with it?" Karma suggested later on, when the two of them were away from the crowd. A crease formed between her best friend's brow, and her mouth opened slightly. "But... why?"

Karma shrugged- as if she didn't know what compelled her to want to "just go with it". When in reality, this unclear pool of a situation was slowly starting to calm, and she was starting to see the picture under the surface.

"Well, he nominated us for prom queens. That would be pretty cool." Pretty cool? They'd be, like, the hottest news since Brangelina. Except lesbians. And, hopefully, they weren't expected to adopt kids any time soon.

The blonde didn't seem so convinced.

"Yeah, but," Amy sighed, "Karma, we aren't lesbians. That's just ridiculous."

She had a point. But it was a small point. It was an easily breakable point. "So?" She counters, coyly sneaking one hand into Amy's, "Nobody knows that but us,"

"And when they expect us to kiss?" Amy raises a brow, but didn't drop their hands. Karma scoffed, "Easy. People fake that for movies all the time,"
She may just have to go home and Google techniques to pass off a believable fake-kiss in public. But she'd worry about that after.

"I dunno," Amy mumbles, looking over her shoulder, back at Shane's house down the street. Karma could practically see the gears turning in the blonde's head, weighing the pro's and con's. She was really a thinker; she'd always been. Thinker, planner, back-up planner, and analyser. Karma always told her she should get a job for the CIA, or FBI, or something. This would be met with a playful jab in the arm.
But, that's why they worked so well together. Karma was an action girl. She went with her gut feeling first, and thought about it later. They balanced each other out.

After a few long pauses passed without an answer, with Amy still looking at the house, at the ground- Karma leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek. Amy snapped her head upwards in surprise, and Karma shrugged, beaming, "See? How hard was that?"

With her free hand, Amy pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing again, "You really want to be girlfriends?"

"I really think we should try being girlfriends,"

Amy dropped her hand and shrugged, "Sure, okay," She says, clearly pressing to be a little bit chipper, for Karma's sake. Karma doesn't even care if it's pressed; it didn't have to be a long ruse. And she knew she could count on Amy to give it a go. She could see it in the way Amy's eyes glowed, despite the unimpressed twist of her mouth.

"Thank you!" Karma squealed, throwing her arms around her best friend in a tight hug. She felt it in her gut; this was when things would start to change for them. They wouldn't be invisible anymore. And- both of them- she knew, deserved better than that.

And, boy, did she ever call it.

Karma found herself in a hospital bed eight- or was it nine- ten?- months later. Her bones felt like they were ready crack if she moved- but she was heavy from the pain killers. Lifting her head felt like an immense effort. Her memories- specifically of the night- or was it already nights?- before were fragmented, like the pieces of a puzzle, and she was trying to piece together how it happened.
On her arm, she could make out all of the stitches- there would be a large, ugly scar wear the doctor had to pull out all of the bone chips to always remind her. Maybe, she supposed, she was pressing on the gas just a bit hard, right when the road turned a bit sharp.
And when she woke up somebody was unclipping her seatbelt and pulling her from the window of her flipped car.

That, was on replay. She was partially grateful that she was so medicated that she couldn't quite comprehend what it all meant- or to focus too hard on anything that happened before that. Yet, she was all too aware that that blissful ignorance couldn't last- and she dreaded when she had to face her parents completely sober.
They'd kill her.