A/N: So I haven't updated in a bit, and I have no idea how the story goes because I wrote this a while ago. So, sorry if it sucks but thanks for the reviews(:

-Chapter 3-

"Okay, Felipe. Let's take a look at this diagram. Which one triangle looks similar to the other one?"

The foreign boy stared at his scuffled white Nikes and refused to talk.

"So, what do you think?" Ashley pressed on, and she gestured to the figures on the page. This was hopeless. Felipe never even tried to pay attention to what she was saying. She might as well have been talking to Glen.

"You wanna know what I think?" Felipe challenged, and somehow Ashley knew it wouldn't be the answer. "I think this is bullshit!" he yelled angrily, pushing away from the table and storming out of the classroom.

The brunette sighed and tried to ignore the criticizing stares from the other tutors, quietly closing the textbook. "Well that makes the two of us," she muttered under her breath.

Luckily for Ashley, the dismissal bell finally rang, and she sagged with relief. She just didn't know how she could handle two hours of tutoring these impossibly stubborn kids every Saturday morning.

Now she knew what her mother felt like.

Making her way to the dingy orange school bus, Ashley wasted no time in plugging in her iPod and getting lost in the world of blissful unawareness. She absently traced the tiny droplets of water that had caught on the ancient glass windows, and marveled at how much they looked like delicate little spiderwebs. Completely enveloped in her own little musings, Ashley never noticed Spencer was sitting next to her until she had lightly tapped her arm.

"Hey, do you want to buy some raffle tickets?" When Ashley made no attempt at a response, the blonde went on anyway. "We're trying to make enough money to get the Jeffersons a new burglar alarm, considering some guy broke into their house and stole the refrigerator."

The brunette glanced at Spencer then turned back to the fuzzy trees outside. "No."

Spencer examined the other girl carefully, not entirely puzzled by her indifference. "So, I saw you in there with Felipe, and I know it can be very difficult, but maybe you should try backing into it from somewhere else."

The cars outside sped past the bus, leaving little blurred lights between them. Ashley tried focusing on anything but Spencer, but she kept on persisting.

"Are you going to visit Aiden Dennison?" When the blonde saw Ashley's delicate jaw tighten, she said quietly, "That would be a no. You do know he got moved from the hospital to the new rehab place on Oak Street?"

That was the last straw for Ashley. Ripping off her headphones, she glared at Spencer. "Is this your idea of small talk or something? Because if it is, your social skills need some work. No one forced him to jump, okay?" she repeated for what seemed like the millionth time. Yet, she seemed to fool everyone but herself. And Spencer, for that matter.

"It's called peer pressure," she explained simply.

"And how do you know about that?" Ashley scorned, "Is it in that precious book of yours?"

With that, Spencer Carlin looked down to the Bible in her lap. For the longest time, she just sat there, and Ashley almost felt like she had gone too far. Then, in the quietest voice possible, she finally spoke. "Please don't pretend like you know me, okay?"

Ashley sighed, half with relief, and half with weariness. "But I do, Spencer, I do. We've had all the same classes in the same school since kindergarten. You're Spencer Carlin. You sit at lunch table 7. Which isn't exactly the reject table, but is definitely in self-exile territory," she continued without missing a beat, "You own exactly one sweater. You like to look at your feet when you walk. Oh and yeah, for fun, you like to tutor on weekends and hang out with the cool kids from 'Stars and Planets.'" Staring into Spencer's huge sapphire eyes, she smirked faintly. "Now how does that sound?"

Spencer just nodded, eyebrows raised. "Thoroughly predictable." She shrugged apathetically. "It's nothing I haven't heard before."

The young brunette frowned. "You don't care what people think about you?"

"No," she admitted simply, and with one last look at the other girl, went back to her own seat on the bus.

Sighing quietly, Ashley flipped her headphones back on, drowning back into her music. Her chocolate brown eyes however, remained fixed on the back of Spencer's honey blond hair for the rest of the trip home.

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"This year's spring musical is a story of hidden burning passions and blazing Tommy Guns." Mrs. Garber's eyes shone brightly as she continued. "Written by our very own Clay Gordon, with words and music by Spencer Carlin."

Clay beamed, not noticing the person who muttered, "Of course," under their breath.

But before Mrs. Garber could go on, loud footsteps and the sound of crutches on the hard wood floors filled the room. All heads turned to see a very reluctant and scowling Ashley.

"Ah, Ms. Davies, better late than never. Please join us?"

The young brunette nodded and ignored the eye-rolls that were directed at her. Spencer looked on, however, with no definable expression at all.

"Well then, let's see," Mrs. Garber continued, looking to her sheet. "Spencer will be our Alicia, a mysterious club singer. Patrick will be playing Dylan," the drama teacher broke off, old eyes scanning the crowd and landing on the slouching young brunette. "And Ms. Davies will read Olivia Thornton," she decided.

Ashley looked surprised let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Is this some kind of drama joke? Picking on the new kids?"

Mrs. Garber looked at her through the top of her ancient glasses. "We don't like to joke in here, Ms. Davies."

"I don't think you understand. I can't act for my life."

"I believe you can."

After a long, awkward stare down, Ashley muttered, "Well it's your play," and sighed in defeat.

She could feel Clay scowling at her, watching as his whole play would fall apart, but she ignored him.

As if she had a choice.

"Alright then, people, let's run through Act 1 Scene 5," Mrs. Garber announced authoritatively, clapping her hands. On cue, the students of the drama club stood up and started rearranging the chairs to form a huge circle. The room suddenly transformed in a matter of seconds, and Ashley felt like she was watching ants working on their anthill. Halfheartedly, she dragged her own chair as far away from the circle as possible. When she joined them, Mrs. Garber finally nodded at the boy sitting across from her.

Patrick, a light-haired senior with cute boyish features, flipped through the script and cleared his throat. "When did you know, Olivia?" he read dramatically.

Ashley looked at Patrick's eager expression and sighed. "Know what," she said mustering up no emotion whatsoever.

"That we were in love."

Ashley groaned to herself. "Love? Uh… baby believe me, you don't want to fall in love with a girl like me."

"It's too late, Olivia, I'm crazy about you. I'm breathing it, drinking it all in, aren't you?"

"Uh… yeah, I don't—I don't know what I'm drinking, but if this is love… pour me another glass?" The cheesy words came out of Ashley's mouth more as a question than a statement.

Mrs. Garber scrutinized the teenager intently. "Ms. Davies, are you trying to be bad at this?"

"No." The young brunette let out a tired smirk. "It really just comes naturally."

Above all the laughter and another glare from Clay, Mrs. Garber squinted at Ashley and sighed. "Alright then, Ms. Davies," she said briskly, and looked out to everyone in the circle. "Make sure to practice your lines everyday, and I'll see you all next week."

Before those words even made it past Mrs. Garber's lips, Ashley jumped out of her chair and made it out the door pretty fast for someone on crutches. Grabbing a seat on the outdoor bench, she laid her crutches down and breathed the fresh air in deeply. Her mother had said this punishment would giver her the experience of a lifetime. But as fair as Ashley was concerned, all this was giving her is a major headache.

She frowned and focused her attention on the drifting cotton clouds above her, wondering how she could ever endure another two months of this. She shut her eyes tighter as she heard footsteps and distant conversations grow closer and closer. A shadow slowly fell over her face. But even without opening her eyes, she knew exactly who it was.

"Would it kill you to try?"

The skeptical look on the blonde's face grew stronger as she took a seat next to the brunette.

"Yes," Ashley deadpanned, "and I'm too young to die."

The wind tickled Ashley's cheeks and made the leaves shuffle quietly. Through heavy-lidded eyes, she watched the blonde girl nod and turn away from her, thin strands of golden hair flying up and greeting her slightly freckled face gently.

"Ok," Spencer started, letting out a small breath, "so you don't care about classes or graduating, but you like school because you're popular and you'll never be on top again."

Ashley shrugged and blinked lazily. "That's thoroughly predictable," she said, quoting the blonde's earlier words.

"Well your act only works on an audience," Spencer murmured quietly, heading to her car.

Confused at her words, Ashley watched her leave and checked her own cell phone. It was fifteen minutes after she was supposed to be picked up. Knowing Glen, he had probably flaked on her again. She bit her lip, weighing her options. She sighed and got on her feet again, quickly limping to Spencer's car just as she was backing out.

The blonde stopped abruptly and rolled her window down, cocking a suspicious eyebrow. "Yes?"

"You, uh, feeling Christian?"

Spencer hid a smile and rolled her eyes. "Get in, Davies."

Ashley didn't need to be told twice. Bor the second time today, she found herself gazing out the window and wondering what she was going to do with her life. She quickly shrugged the uneasiness off and glanced sideways at Spencer, who seemed to be too caught up in driving safely than to start a conversation.

Ashley awkwardly ran her fingers through her thick chestnut curls. "So. Thanks for giving me a ride."

The young blonde just nodded. "Forty-two," she reminded herself.

"Forty-two? What does that mean?"

"Forty-two is to befriend someone I don't like," Spencer clarified. "It's a to-do list that I have for the rest of my life."

"What, like getting a new personality?" Ashley muttered under her breath.

The blond girl pretended to ignore the comment and went on. "Like spend a year in the Peace Corps, make a medical discovery, be at two places at once, get a tattoo…" she trailed off and looked out of the window distantly.

"What's number one?"

Spencer stayed quiet for a while, and focused on the road. "Well I'd tell you," she finally said, "but then I'd have to kill you." Her bright cobalt eyes twinkled lightly, and she grinned.

Ashley snorted good-naturedly, but her smile quickly fell from her face as she caught a glimpse of Glen and her other friends at the local gas station. Slouching in her seat, she leaned forward and kept out of sight until they had passed. Spencer just shook her head, looking on with slight amusement.

Sometimes, she wished that Ashley could see that she didn't need those jerks she called her friends. Sometimes, she wished that people weren't so shallow and judging when it came to looks and little things that shouldn't even matter.

But unfortunately, as both girls would eventually find out, the world did not work that way.

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