CLAIRE LYONS (OMEGA OF THE PRETTY COMMITTEE)
STEREOTYPE: "THE SWEET ONE"
DEFINITION: THE PERSON IN A GROUP OF FRIENDS WHO IS ALWAYS REFERRED TO AND THOUGHT OF AS THE POLITE, KIND, UNDERSTANDING, AND INNOCENT ONE

First off, I hate when people think I can't do anything wrong: can't break the rules, can't take risks, can't even say "no."

I'll tell you all about the situation I'm in right now, and you can judge for yourself whether or not I'm so 'sweet.'

{*_*_*}

My story begins on a warm summer day. The sky is blue and cloudless, and the sun is shining full-force down on the lush green grass, which for once has actually gotten enough rain.

Doesn't this just sound perfect? Just another day for 'sweet Claire Lyons' to run free, and twirl around and around, her arms outstretched by her sides as she grins brilliantly?

(That's what I thought too.)

So I pick up the limited-edition Louis Vuitton beach tote Massie bought for me and head outside into the fresh air, planning to just sit down outside and enjoy a few rays of sun.

(They laughed because I wouldn't even wear a bikini; they had no idea I sunbathe topless.)

So I'm lying there, half-naked in the Block's backyard, when I hear a rustle behind me. "Mass?"

"No." The voice is rough, masculine, and for a second I think it's my boyfriend.

"Cam?"

"No."

I sit up in my lawn chair, wrapping my arms around my chest. "May I help you?"

"You can, in fact, Miss Lyons." And before I can even turn around, this man picks me up, gags me, and carries me out to a car.

{*_*_*}

As he sets me gently on a bed, I realize I must be a sight: my blond hair splayed out over the pillow, my cornflower-blue eyes wide, my skin pale, still half-naked, a piece of cloth still stuffed in my mouth.

And maybe, just maybe, I'm a little turned on.

(I'm sure you're finally realizing I'm not innocent; let's cross that one off the list.)

Then I catch a glimpse of the boy who stands above me. He's easily 5'10, with extremely tan skin and messy brown hair. Dark, dark brown eyes search my body.

More than a little turned on.

He's not gentle as he rips off my denim shorts to expose my bikini bottoms. "You're very pretty, Miss Lyons," he whispers in a deep Spanish accent, kissing my belly.

In one sudden movement, he grasps my wrists and forces them above my head, pinning them there with one large hand.

(I'm sure you know what happens next.)

{*_*_*}

At some point, I wake up. The sky outside the window is dark, and the man who kidnapped me is sound asleep next to me, breathing steadily.

(Why doesn't she leave, you're thinking.)

That's because I know this man. I know this man who kidnapped me.

And I love him.

But he's not my boyfriend.

{*_*_*}

The next day, school starts again, full of noise and chatter and teens of all ages.

As the most popular seniors, the Pretty Committee and I get right of way everywhere. We laugh and tease, grinning to each other about the inside jokes only we share.

"So, Claire, how's it going with Cam?" questions Alicia.

"Oh, it's great." I smile sunnily. "Just fabulous."

"That's great," Massie says sincerely. "I'm glad you guys are so happy together."

{*_*_*}

A week ago, I was the loving, caring girlfriend, the supportive, loyal best friend, and the perfect Omega.

Now, I'm cheating on Cameron Fisher with Josh Hotz, I'm betraying Alicia Rivera by doing it, and I'm sure I'd be kicked out of the Pretty Committee if they knew.

But they don't.

I guess it just goes to show that I'm not the flawless beauty everyone thinks I am.

But I'll never admit to doing any of this.

Having the best of both worlds (naughty and nice) is way better.

I know for a fact this one really doesn't make sense. So please tell me if you like it, because otherwise I'm going to assume it was horrible and you hated it (but tell me if that's the case too).

But as I said, I know this one is confusing, but I think it at least gets the message across.

Please, please, tell me what you think.

Heart ya,
Joy

P.S. I think it can still be rated T, right?