Chapter Two: Here We Go Again

Part of me thinks that speeding along the highway is a good way to go, but Zoey tells me to go the speed limit to arrive at the hospital in one piece, and the rational part of me that still lingered in my subconscious agreed with her. As we drove, I couldn't help but think of Logan, and, despite our differences, knew that it would be worse for everyone if he wasn't around. I mean, he was a jerk, no doubt about it, but everyone needed a jerk in their lives, didn't they?

Satisfied when Lola and Dustin agreed with Zoey about the speed limit, I did my best to stay constantly at forty-five miles per hour. After about fifteen minutes of driving, we pull off the correct exit in the heart of Santa Monica, and gradually find our way to the massive hospital parking lot—a lot larger than PCA's. Pulling in close to the emergency entrance, and finding a parking space nearby, we quickly pile out of the car and I lock it automatically as we dash towards the entrance of the place, two glass doors waiting for us. Pushing our way inside, we go up to the front desk, Zoey taking the lead.

"Hi, we're here to see Logan Reese," she says promptly.

The woman gives Zoey a stern look. "Are you family?"

"Well..." Zoey begins.

"She's not, but I am—family," I reply, still wearing my sunglasses from the drive. "Logan Reese is my cousin."

The receptionist gives me a critical look. "And you are?" the woman asks.

"Sorry—where are you?" I ask her, reaching out and attempting to reach her hand in a desperate ploy to pretend that I was blind. "I lost my sight when I was just a little girl..."

"Oh," the woman says, immediately swayed.

"Logan's my cousin," I say, my tone filled with desperation. "And this," I say, indicating Lola with a general movement in her direction, "is my guardian. They," I say, motioning to Zoey and Dustin, "are doing a work study program on me for class. It is detrimental that they're kept with me, ma'am," I say, blatantly ignoring her nametag which read LAURA. "Please... Can we know where Logan is?"

Laura immediately looks humbled at this plight, and directly types information into her desktop computer. "Sure—it's room 125."

"Thank you," I say, reaching out for Lola and Zoey's hands, and they immediately grab onto me and pull me from the room. Once we are out of sight of the desk, I let them go and whip off my sunglasses, angling them upwards and into my nest of hair. "That was painless enough," I say, tossing my hair, and quickly making a grab for my sunglasses so as they didn't go flying off my head and across the room.

"Good going, saying that!" Dustin says, rushing ahead.

"Yeah, nice going," Zoey compliments, walking ahead to catch up with Dustin as he's ultimately sidetracked by an ice cream machine.

"How in the world did you come up with that lie so fast?" Lola asks as we begin walking after Zoey and Dustin.

I sigh, forcing a smile. "I could say I took a lot of improv classes, which I did, but it's more complicated than that..."

"How could it be complicated?"

I shake my head, not wanting to burden her with information about my past, although it was more than that, really. "Not important."

Lola pursed her lips. "Lacey, if we're going to be roommates and friends, we really shouldn't keep any secrets from each other."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Okay. Tell me a secret."

"I used to have a crush on Chase."

I stop Lola from walking. "What?" I demand.

She nods. "Yeah."

I shake my head. "Other people have to know that..."

"Just my friends, and you..."

I shake my head again, walking past her towards Logan's hospital room. "Yeah, unless you have an honest-to-god one, I'm not biting."

"Mark del Figgalo is the worst kisser at PCA!" she cries.

Immediately, I turn around. "Who in the what and where was I?!" I demand.

"Mark del Figgalo is Quinn's ex-boyfriend," Lola said quietly, her dark eyes looking around to make sure that nobody was listening. "Once, Quinn wouldn't stop laughing, so to cure her, I kissed Mark. It was the single worst experience of my life..."

I sigh. "Well, if that was the worst experience in your entire life, then you really don't want to hear this..."

Lola positions herself between me and the next hall over, so that I am unable to get past her to get to Logan's room. "Try me."

I roll my eyes. "You'll regret it."

She crosses her arms. "Somehow, I doubt that."

I groan. "Fine!" I grumble, crossing my arms. "My grandfather, John Spencer, wasn't always happy with his wife, my grandmother, Rosalita, because she had a lot of boyfriends—even after they were married."

"That's so mean!" Lola cries.

I scoff then, annoyed. "Hey, sometimes generational marriageable habits differ from modern-day ones!" I say stoutly. "Don't judge!"

"Sorry," Lola says quickly.

I shrug. "It's fine. So, anyhow, Grandpa John always considered seeing other women, but it never dawned on him to do so until he met Jacqueline Morris," I tell her.

"Oh, here we go..." Lola says.

I nod. "Exactly. Now, she was married already, but her husband was always away on business, and he had quite a few girlfriends, too. So, because they were on neighboring estates, Grandpa John and Jacqueline became really good friends..."

"I see where this is going..."

"You'd be right," I declare. "Then, one day, Jacqueline told Grandpa John that she was pregnant and so she decided to put the baby up for adoption, under her husband's strict orders, because they had other children already. He threatened her with divorce and that he would make sure that she never saw their other children again, so, naturally, it was the only conceivable route to go when it came right down to it. That child, the one Jacqueline was forced to give up, was adopted by the wealthy Reese family, and..."

"And that was Malcolm Reese, Logan's dad?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"So, you and Logan really are cousins?"

"'Fraid so," I reply.

"Wow."

"Wow is right..."

"So, who knows?"

"Well, Grandpa John, Jacqueline, Jacqueline's husband, and my Grandma Rosalita are all deceased. My dad and Malcolm found out in college when they were roommates and thought that they shared some similarities. After my grandmother died, my grandfather told them the truth. Malcolm Reese's family was so wealthy that he didn't sue for any of the fortune, and he and my dad became best friends soon after that with Dean Rivers. So, my dad knows, Malcolm knows, and I know," I tell her.

"But why did you call Mr. Reese 'Mr. Reese'?" she asks. "If you know..."

"He doesn't know that I know, and he hasn't told Logan either, which has made for some awkward moments..."

"How awkward?"

I scoff at that. "Let's see—I'm not altogether unappealing and Logan and I spent a fair amount of time together over the years."

"I thought you said you moved to France when you were eleven..."

"I did, but he and I did traveling over the years. I came back when I was thirteen and then again when I was fifteen."

"Did Logan ever go to France?" Lola wanted to know.

"Yeah. He came when we were fourteen and sixteen."

"When did your dad tell you that you were family?"

I smirk at the memory. "Well, he thought it was probably a good idea after he caught us kissing when we were sixteen," I reply.

"I thought you said you hated Logan," Lola said, looking utterly disgusted at the notion that I'd kissed Logan, rather than the obvious one that he and I, were, in fact, cousins.

"Well, for one thing, I thought Logan knew, until my father told me to the contrary after the aforementioned kiss," I say, sighing, feeling my shoulders automatically rolling. "Anyhow, Logan's the one who kissed me. My father caught me in the moment of shock before I shoved him away and hit him for touching me."

"But Logan didn't know..."

"Which I didn't figure out until later."

"So, please explain to me why Logan didn't know that you were cousins," Lola asked, stepping out of the way so that we could finish our walk to his hospital room—more like a penthouse suite, if he had his way.

"My dad and Malcolm pretty much always said that either Logan would freak out and go on a shopping spree or that he'd do something reckless or that he'd demand some of the family money... I don't know. I do know, however, that whenever Logan and I would chat on Skype last summer that Quinn would get suspicious of me, why I don't know..."

"Uh, because you're hot?" Lola says then, sticking me with an, 'Are you being completely crazy, right now?!' expression.

I scoff at her comment. "Uh, no," I say, brushing past her.

Lola promptly takes out her pocket mirror from her jean shorts pocket, pops it open, and holds it up in front of my face, reflecting me in its glass pane. "Come on, Lacey, really." She waved it in front of me. "Tell me what you see."

"A girl with black hair in a ponytail, and not much else..."

"Hello?! Your eyes are purple!" Lola cries.

I scoff again. "So?!"

"So?! That's extremely rare, isn't it?"

I roll them, and snap Lola's hand mirror shut, growing exasperated with her thoughts towards me and my subpar physical appearance. "Got them from my mom," I reply, brushing past her and making my way towards room 125. I step inside then, Lola at my heels, and Logan immediately sits up in bed.

"My dad send you?" he asks, looking confused.

"For goodness sake, Logan, sit back!" Quinn demands, narrowing her eyes at him in impatience, although I expect some of that had to be directed at me and my presence. "The doctor said no sudden movements."

He sighs impatiently and turns to the tallest guy in the room. "Michael, will you fix my pillows, please?" he asks.

Michael sighs in annoyance but quickly smacks Logan's pillows into a more upward position, where he could be more comfortable. "Happy now?" he says. "I had to cancel my date with Lisa tonight, you know..."

"Call her," Quinn says, smiling at Michael. "Have her come here. Looks like everyone else thought they had an invitation."

Clearly another jab at me, I decide to ignore it and make myself useful as Michael breezes past me and out of the room, phone to his ear. "I called your dad and he's coming," I say gently to Logan before picking up the empty ice bucket. "I know you're a big fan of ice so why don't I just re-fill this for you?"

"I'll do it," Quinn says, narrowing her eyes at me and stepping forward. "I know all about Logan's likes and dislikes."

"No need, it's fine, really," I say, smiling at her and spinning around, walking out of there and down the other end of the hall, where the ice station is.

"You certainly know your way around," Quinn says from behind me.

I sigh, not wanting a pity party, but deciding to be honest as I proceed to fill up the ice into Logan's room bucket. "My mother received her chemotherapy here," I tell her quietly from over my shoulder. "With my dad's job taking him out of the country so much, and with them not wanting me to miss a lot of school, and it being so convenient, I would tour the hospital in my spare time. After doing my homework, I would sit in Dr. Lincoln's office and read medical textbooks for fun. I even considered being an oncologist, except with children, because I wanted to make my mother well again. Didn't work, though," I say, finishing filling the bucket and picking it up. "She still passed away."

"I'm sorry about your mom," Quinn says, humility passing through her lips since the first time she'd met me the summer before, on my return to Malibu, after she had come to visit Logan from Seattle, and I remembered how stand-offish she had been. "Look, I'm sorry if I seemed at all rude before, Lacey, really. It's just..."

I smiled at her in understanding. "Hey, Logan is Logan. If you've known him for as long as I have, you know what I mean."

"I met him when I was thirteen, and we didn't get along for a while..."

"I was... I don't even remember," I confess. "Our dads are best friends, and since I lost my mom, my dad wanted my life to be as normal as possible. He wanted me to come back and live here as soon as PCA was open for girls, but I decided to stay in France with him—just couldn't let go of another parent, you know?"

Quinn nods, just beginning to put the pieces of the puzzle together, her jealousy seeming to fade away entirely. "I understand."

"I was at another really good school and I had friends there, so I just decided to wait until his assignment was over."

"So, you're really not into Logan?"

"Into Logan?! Wow," I say, laughing before I could stop myself. "I'm not into Logan—far from it, Quinn, really. I promise," I reply. "He and I are... Well, we're family. It's not like it'd be very appropriate, now would it?"

"Family?" Quinn asks, looking me over. "But..."

"You should see our dads," I joke. I take out my phone then and call up my dad's contact photo, and Quinn's eyes pop.

"That's your dad?!" she cries, shocked.

"Cross my heart," I reply, putting my phone back into my pocket and walking back towards Logan's room. "He would mainly just say goodbye to me and go hang out with Logan's dad before someone would inevitably call him and he'd be on his way."

"So, wait a minute..." Quinn says, running after me, her face shocked. "If your dad and Logan's dad look alike..." Quinn stops me from turning the final corner before Logan's room. "They're not... They're not brothers, are they?"

"Half-brothers—they had the same dad," I tell her. "Logan's dad was adopted at birth by the Reese family. My grandfather—I guess Logan's grandfather, too—had an affair and so Malcolm Reese was born because of that affair. Then, Malcolm got adopted and he and my dad didn't meet until college. They were roommates with Dean Rivers so that's how I got a space at school so quickly. And that's why you may see me with Logan from time to time. So, it's not me you have to worry about, I promise."

"Then why did he kiss you?" Quinn demands.

I sighed, slightly annoyed that she knew about that. "At the time, I didn't know—we were sixteen, and the topic of conversation was awkward enough for my dad, especially after my mom died. So, my dad told me, but Malcolm won't tell Logan."

"Why won't Malcolm tell Logan?"

"He says that Logan isn't emotionally ready to handle something like that. He thinks Logan will freak out or something..."

Quinn sighs, nodding. "Well, I respect Malcolm's decision—he's a really nice guy. So, I won't bring it up."

"Thanks," I reply, "I appreciate it."

. . .

Zoey decides to go back to the condo with Chase, while Michael leaves shortly thereafter to attempt to salvage his date with Lisa. I offer to bring Dustin back with Lola and me, but he runs after Michael, likely hoping to catch a ride. Quinn tells us she's going to stay with Logan that night, as the doctor gave her permission, and Logan was going to leave the following day and be all set for school on Monday.

Zoey and Chase were going to stop by to bring them changes of clothes, while Lola and I offered to bring breakfast, which was eagerly accepted by Logan, but Quinn stated that she could take care of it, and we shared a second smile. Lola and I leave the hospital room and make our way back down the hall; peeking around the corner, a different receptionist is working, so we're able to slip out of there unscathed.

It is then that Malcolm charges forward from his luxury car immediately as Lola and I step outside into the bright sunlight. "Lacey!" Malcolm says, pulling me immediately into a hug. "Is Logan all right?"

"He's fine, Malcolm," I reply.

Malcom pulls back and regards Lola. "Um..."

"Don't worry, I know," Lola says, smiling at him. "And, don't worry, Mr. Reese, I'm keeping my mouth shut."

He sighs at that, running a hand through his expensive haircut. "All you kids are almost eighteen now—call me Malcolm."

"Thanks, Malcolm," Lola replies.

"Logan...?" he asks, turning back to me.

"He's been given permission to leave tomorrow," I inform him. "He'll be a little sore, but the worst is over. He's prescribed some antibiotics, so he'll be fine. He's got that beast of a car you bought him, so it's not like he's got to hurry to catch a bus every day."

Malcolm chuckles. "Right. Well, I'd better go in and see him now." He pulls me in, kissing my forehead briefly before stepping inside the hospital before turning around halfway. "Good seeing you, Lacey! You too, Lola!" he calls over his shoulder.

Lola raises her eyebrows at me briefly as the two of us continue our walk into the emergency section of the hospital parking lot. I unlock my car automatically and she slips into the passenger seat, and I pull out of the lot and back through the main streets of Santa Monica before heading back to the Pacific Coast Highway. Lola and I are silent for a time, but, of course, with two teenagers who have only known each other for less than two hours, there would prove to be so many unanswered questions.

"Should we have lunch?" I ask, halfway turning to Lola but still keeping my eyes firmly on the highway in front of us.

She nods. "Sure." When her phone buzzes a moment later, she takes it out, a smile crossing her face as she reads the message. A small giggle passes through her lips then as she automatically types a reply.

"Vince?" I ask her, nodding at her phone.

"Oh, yeah," she replies, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear and returning her phone to her pocket. "Just checking up on me."

"He back yet?"

"No, not yet. He was off touring at some East Coast college's, so he won't be back until tomorrow afternoon," she says softly.

"Trying to go to college in the same state?" I guess.

Lola nods. "I'm from New York originally, so of course it'd be nice for the both of us to go in my hometown."

"Have you met each other's parents?" I ask.

She smiles. "Yeah, last summer. Vince actually tutored the kids with me in New York, and he stayed in my family's guest house over the summer. We came back here a few weeks before school started, and after my tutoring had ended, and that's when I met his family. Then, I went back home after staying with his family for a while, and we went on to do some college tours separately."

"Any particular reasoning behind the separation?"

She shakes her head at that. "No, it all depended upon what worked within our respective schedules," she explains. "I was allowed to tutor some extra kids at the end of the summer for some good money, so I stayed at home and auditioned at Julliard and NYU while I waited to come back here."

"Sounds like you enjoy productivity," I reply.

Lola laughs. "Yeah, I guess so."

We continue on the freeway in the next few minutes before getting off at the PCA exit, which ultimately leads us to the parking lot. I pull into the correct parking lot and find my assigned parking space for the second time that day. Lola and I get out of the car and make our way Zanaro's Trattoria, ready and waiting to dine on some Italian fare.

. . .

Lola and I did our best to wake up extra early the following day to get dressed for our auditions later that morning. Zoey had group texted us the night before, telling us that she would meet us in front of the Coffee Cart in half an hour. I pulled on a pair of jean shorts, a short-sleeved pink T-shirt with the words GOBAMA, NO DRAMA written across it, and a zip-up sweater in dark green. I slip on my black Converse sneakers next, my ankle socks going appropriately with the rest of my outfit. I grab my phone and use the PCA map app to figure out how far away the Coffee Cart is from our dorm room.

"Should we take our Jet-X's to the Coffee Cart?" I ask Lola.

Lola lowers the blouse she'd intended to wear that morning and turns to look at me; she is dressed in her typical skinny jeans and a pale-yellow camisole as she looks at me, shocked. "You have a Jet-X?"

I nod. "Sure do."

"But...you have a car..."

"This is just for on-campus only," I reply. "It's a rental, but I rode it around a lot yesterday and already told my dad, so technically, once the check gets put into the system and clears, it'll be mine—formally, that is."

"What color?" Lola asks.

"Hunter green," I reply, "my favorite."

Lola claps her hands. "Nice! Mine's purple," she tells me, finishing getting dressed and slipping into her open-toed sandals. "Ready to get some coffee?"

I laugh. "Well, in all honesty, I'll probably just get one of those frozen blended things everyone's going on about," I reply.

Lola laughs. "I think they're called a Frappuccino..." Her phone vibrates then, and she gets it out of her pants' pocket, inspecting it for a moment. "Zoey's just texted me—she'll be at the Coffee Cart any minute."

"Cool," I reply, unplugging my phone from its charger and pocketing it, ready for the day ahead —physically, anyway.

Lola and I head out of our dorm before making our way to the storage locker for senior students near the entrance of the building, where our Jet-X's are kept. We stand in the doorway area, and type in the password, therefore giving us access to the space before the doors open, and the lights immediately beam on, thus allowing us to see the entire room. We find our assigned section—and I notice that other large things are kept in here, including surf and snowboards, as well as some canoe-like boats. When we find our section, each pull out our sleek vehicles, navigating them out of the double doors of the locker area and Fulton Hall and out onto the quad. Turning the keys in the ignitions, we press the gas pedals and make our way around the other students walking around at this early hour, many of them lugging their belongings, just getting to PCA since their summer vacation ended.

When we reach the coffee cart on the other side of campus, Lola and park our Jet-X's in the other, massive bike rack kitty-corner from the cart and take off our helmets as a horn sounds from behind us. Turning, we can see Zoey driving up, her pink Jet-X glinting in the early morning sunlight as she navigates her way towards us. She parks on the opposite side of Lola's Jet-X and embraces Lola before hugging me as well.

"Morning," she says, looking at us both. "How's everything?"

"Pretty good," Lola replies. "I think the caffeine should help in keeping us awake in preparation for the audition."

"Sounds awesome," Zoey puts in. "You doing okay, Lacey?"

I nod. "Yeah, thanks," I reply. "How are you?"

"Chase tried to keep me up half the night talking about how worried he is for Logan and his accident," she says, a gentle annoyance behind her tone as we cross the quad and go up to the coffee cart. "I think this should help my headache..." She goes up to the proprietor of the place and says politely, "An iced coffee with vanilla syrup, please," and smiles at the man—he looks like a senior of Asian descent.

"Coming right up, Zoey," he says. "What size can I get for you?"

"A medium, please," she replies.

"Hi," the guy says, turning to Lola. "Still with Vince?"

Lola rolls her eyes at him. "Yes," she says, annoyed. "And I'll have a medium iced chai latte, please," she says.

"No problem, Lola," the man says, with a hint of disappointment in his voice before he turns to me. "And for you...?"

"I'm Lacey, nice to meet you," I say, smiling at him before taking a cursory glance at the menu above me. "I'll have a medium vanilla crème Frappuccino, please."

"Coming right up, Lacey," he says, going over to his ice chest and filling up various medium cups with syrup, ice, and everything else one would think you needed to make a blended drink in this day and age.

"That's Calvin," Lola mutters to me as we move aside so that he can service more customers, who have gathered behind us.

"He's had a thing for Lola, like, forever," Zoey tells me.

I laugh. "Somehow, I got that."

Lola groans at that. "Ugh, just don't remind me about it constantly, like Logan does," and checks her phone. "Oh! It's Vince!" she cries, answering the call. "Hi, baby!" she says, stepping away from us.

"Funny that Calvin has a thing for Lola," Zoey muses.

"Why?" I ask.

"Well, Vince—Lola's boyfriend—used to be this pro-sports, loud-mouthed bully that cheated on a test," she tells me quietly. "Chase ended up catching him and reported it to the teacher, and, thankfully, Vince didn't delete the pictures off his cell phone before Chase turned him in. You'd think that would've been the end of it..."

"I'm guessing it wasn't?" I guess.

Zoey shakes her head. "Not by a long-shot—Vince was angry about it and got in trouble, so he beat up Chase, Michael, Logan, and Mark because of it. Then, Vince got expelled."

"How do you go from a jerk to someone that Lola's into?" I ask, looking up at Lola, who is laughing at something Vince has said.

Zoey sighs. "Love is strange," she replies, "and Dean Rivers mentioned that Vince got some halfway-decent therapy, so that's something."

"Zoey!" Calvin calls from behind us. "I have your drinks."

Zoey puts her hand out as I step forward to pay for mine. "I've got this," she says and steps away from me and up to the coffee cart, taking the lanyard from around her neck and handing it over to Calvin to scan. "Thanks so much," she says, once the purchase has gone through and her lanyard is returned to her and takes the to-go tray of our drinks and moves to stand beside me. "Here you go," she says, handing over my drink with a flourish.

"Thank you," I say, taking my drink and sipping it as Lola begins wrapping up her phone call with Vince.

"Okay, I love you, too. I'll see you in a few. Bye!" She hangs up before turning and returning to our sides. "Thanks, Zo!" she says, taking her drink.

"The theater is just down that way—about two or three minutes away," Zoey explains to me. "If our Jet-X's are locked securely, we can leave them here until lunch."

"And we can go try out the new sandwich shop in the new co-ed lounge!" Lola suggests with enthusiasm. "It's called Triple S, because they serve soups, sandwiches, and salads."

"Sounds great!" Zoey says.

I nodded. "Count me in," I reply.

We sip our drinks and turn around the bend of the next building just ahead and, in the distance, see a small crowd gathering around the entrance of the theater. It is close to eight-thirty, so we still have plenty of time, I think to myself as we all three step closer. Lola and Zoey wave to Vince and Chase respectively, and we both move to join them. Michael and who I assume is Lisa approach soon thereafter and I find I am surrounded by peers.

"Sorry I had to rush out so fast yesterday," Michael says, shaking my hand. "I just had to make sure my Little Lisa wasn't alone that night."

"Please, I can survive alone," Lisa says with a laugh as she turned to me. "Logan's told me a lot about you, Lacey—good to finally meet you and put a face to the stories."

"I hope that's a compliment," I reply with a smile as I shake her hand in the next moment when my anxiety finally disappears. "Thank you, Lisa. The feeling's mutual."

"Heard any rumors about the play?" Zoey asks Chase. "Chase actually wrote a show in our eighth-grade year."

"Honestly, Zo, you must know that it was all just a ploy on Chase's part to try and get a stage kiss with you," Michael puts in, and Lisa smacks him gently.

"Michael!" she cries out.

"Somehow, I figured that out," Zoey replies, smirking at Chase.

"That was until Logan stepped on my toes," Chase mutters. "But what I do know is this, and it's the first clue, and it's only given to a handful of people, and we're allowed to tell a minimum of five and a maximum of ten people, and we're six, so our group is perfect."

"Tell us!" Lola cries.

"Wait!" Quinn calls from afar as she runs into our area, with Logan at her heels. "I forced him into this, believe me..."

"Quinn thinks our relationship needs more...artsy stuff," Logan says.

"Should you be out of the hospital so soon?" Zoey asks.

"Yeah—you were banged up pretty bad..." Chase puts in.

Logan shakes his head at their concern. "No, I'm fine. Besides, I think conditioning for this will be a good idea."

Quinn makes a face. "Baby, it's auditioning."

"What is?" Logan asks.

"No, baby. The word isn't conditioning, it's auditioning," Quinn tells him, a pained expression on her face.

"Oh, yeah, right. That." He laughs, throwing an arm around Quinn. "Come on, Chase, give us the clue!" he shouts.

I roll my eyes. "Here we go again," I mutter.

"Okay!" Chase says. "It's a classic literature book," he continues. "Classic lit book with a female author..."

"Jane Austen!" I cry out.

Chase smiles at me, nodding. "Right! That's the first part of the clue," he says. "But it's a modern musical adaptation."

"Well, it has to be Pride and Prejudice," Quinn says.

Chase nods. "Right. It's called Prideful Prejudice."

"Hey," says a voice, and Zoey looks up, looking visibly shaken at the person its connected to, and I find myself wondering why. "What's going on everyone?"

"Hey," Chase says, smiling in a friendly manner. "Good to see you, man—I'm so glad you're doing this."

Turning around then, I see a drop-dead gorgeous specimen—blonde hair, perfect lips, sparkling blue eyes... This had to be—

"Sorry, I don't believe we've met," he says, putting out his perfectly tanned hand with equally perfect trimmed fingernails. "James Garrett."

"Lacey Spencer," I reply, shaking his hand.

"Lacey!" comes an almost-shouting voice from somewhere behind me and, when I finally turn, I see him.

"Hey, Lance," I say, when suddenly his arms are around me and he's kissing me like there's no tomorrow. "Lance!" I cry, attempting to wriggle out of his grip and failing.

"Lance, what are you doing here?!" Zoey demands.

"And why are you kissing Lacey?!" Lola yelled.

"You guys know Lance, too?" I demand, managing to get out of his grip.

Zoey sighs, crossing her arms immediately at the thought of knowing Lance. "Yeah. We went out sophomore year for a month or two..."

"Ancient history," Lance says, putting a rather possessive arm around me which makes my skin crawl as he looks at all my new friends. "I see you're fitting in with the in-crowd, Lacey; not that I'd expect anything less."

"How do you know Lance?" Lola asks.

"Well, our dads are best friends, which you knew..." I say lamely.

"Well, the real story is that I was in Africa with her last summer," Lance tells them all quickly, and I try and fail to plaster a smile on my lips. "She was so impressed at how I was with all those poor little orphans that she told me so."

"Did you?" Zoey asks.

"I might've mentioned it," I say quietly.

"Well, anyhow, I asked her out. It's our six-week anniversary."

"You said you weren't seeing anyone," Lola puts in.

"Actually, she said in France," Zoey put in, pursing her lips and regarding Lance with a suspicious look. "I've got my eye on you," she says as the theater doors open, and she walks in, pulling Chase after her.

"No kidding," Lola says, pulling Vince after her.

"Twenty-four, seven, Rivers," Michael proclaims, taking Lisa's hand and walking with her into the theater.

"I'll never sleep," Logan practically spits.

"I'll sleep with one eye open," Quinn says, allowing Logan to put an arm around her as they head into the theater.

James smiles. "Welcome to PCA," he says, his tone awkward and slightly uncomfortable as he moves to follow Quinn and Logan.

I sigh and shake my head. "Welcome indeed," I say, feeling like I'm suffocating under Lance's arm as we head inside together.

We each take some of the theater-style chairs and wait for something to happen, all the while Barry and Joan make their way around, checking sound and lighting for various exercises they said that they were going to do with us, while we're instructed to take hand-outs placed at an angle on a wooden stool. The paper is a bright orange color, yet it feels heavy in my hands, so I know they spend good money on paper products. Barry and Joan then head into the sound booth for a final check-over, when suddenly, the door opens behind us.

"Chase, look," Zoey says quietly, putting a hand on his arm and nodding in the direction of the theater doors.

"Who is that?" I ask, nodding at the girl with the dark hair who had just entered the room and looks very sure of herself.

"That's...well..." Chase begins, but the girl snaps her head in our direction at the sound of his voice and grins, waving.

"Hi, Chase!" she says, running up to us all. "Oh, Zoey!" she says, looking down at their hands, clasped. "Oh, you two are finally together! That's so nice!"

I raise my eyebrows at this turn of events, especially when everyone around me mutually groans slightly and covers their faces with their hands, except Lance, who has the decency to look confused, and James, who is carefully studying the bright orange hand-out we've all been provided with. "Hi," I say.

"Hi!" the girl says, putting out her hand. "Rebecca. Rebecca Martin."

I shake her hand, amid Zoey's look of disgust. "So, you're Rebecca?" I say, hoping that my voice sounds casual.

"Yeah, that's me," she replies sweetly, turning to look at Zoey and Chase. "And may I just say, from the bottom of my heart, how sorry I am for taking your balloon and blackmailing you with your secrets?"

Zoey fixes Rebecca with an annoyed and tempestuous look. "And for telling me to stay away from Chase?" she demands.

"Of course," Rebecca says, giving her a sympathetic smile. "You see, the thing is, my family was going through a long, messy divorce," she explains, biting her shiny, pink lip-gloss covered lip as she explains her situation, her voice shaking a little for good measure. "I guess you could say I was feeling threatened; it happened just after Chase and I got to PCA two years ago, and it went on and on and so I just lashed out. I know it's not an excuse, but it is what it is. And the straw that broke the camel's back was when I was blackmailing you..."

"Which you got expelled for!" Lola fires at her.

"Hey," Vince says as he gently takes Lola's hand, "forgiveness. For all you know, she's reformed herself, just like I did."

I lean back in my chair, calmly observing the situation. "Well, I hope things are looking up for you now, Rebecca," I say, inwardly groaning as I watch Lance lean back, his motions matching mine, like a dance.

He keeps his arm firmly around my shoulders. "Yeah, Rebecca—I mean, if my dad let you back in here, you can't be all bad, right?"

Zoey, Chase, Lola, Vince, Quinn, Logan, Michael, Lisa all turn simultaneously to look at Vince and look aghast at his words. I do the same—sure, I wanted these people to like me, but they hadn't proved to be unabashedly annoying at the best of times. I wanted to smack him for taking Rebecca's side in this; sure, he and I were technically dating—mainly because it's what my father wanted, and there was no way I was going to let him down—but still.

"Yeah," I say, keeping my tone strictly non-committal as I turned back to Rebecca with a tight smile. "Best of luck with everything."

"Thank you!" she crows, turning, taking an orange handout, and mercifully crossing the room, away from us.

"Civil," Zoey says quietly to me.

"Hey, I don't want a war, but I am on your side," I say back.

She nods. "Well, we're all adults here," she replies. "As long as you're on my side in the situation, I guess it's all I can ask for."