A/N: This took forever to get exactly right. Please let me know what you think, con crit is greatly appreciated!

Episodes referenced are The Jeffersons, Scott Tenorman Must Die, Raisins and the newest episode, Le Petit Tourette.

Monday, September 5th

Claire's bedroom

3:25 pm

"Can you stop pacing? It's making me dizzy."

Claire tucked her white blonde bangs behind her ears and stared up at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling.

Massie ignored this and continued to pace, "How the hell did this happen? What does this Cartman kid have that I don't?"

Claire stared at her swollen, bloody cuticles as if they held the answer, "Authoritah."

Massie frowned; she wanted to shout out, "What the hell does that mean? Why can't everyone just go back to kissing my ass?" But that would mean losing control and Massie had vowed that she would never lose her cool, not after the humiliating incident in the OCD bomb shelter.

Claire, noticing the puzzled expression Massie's face continued, "He inherited a bunch of money from some old guy; I think his name was Mr. Jefferson or something. Anyways, he's the richest kid in Westchester and everyone does what he says because of the whole Scott Tenorman thing."

Massie's knees buckled and collapsed onto the pristine bed, like a melodramatic actress on a cheesy soap opera. Her brain buzzed with a million thoughts; last year she had being on the top of the heap, life had been hers for the taking. Now she was a has-been. But as usual; determination reared its stubborn head, bringing Massie back to her senses.

She had been in worse situations before; she had even managed to get back in OCD after being expelled. Of course, this was mainly Kristin's doing, but Massie glossed over that particular fact. Surely if she could manipulate Principal Burns, she would be able to handle whatever that Cartman kid threw at her.

Then it hit her. There seemed to be some form of tension between Cartman and Kyle. Maybe if she started hanging out with Kyle, it would piss him off even more. Kyle was the key to finding out everything about Cartman, Massie was sure that Cartman had some secret that she could humiliate him with. Massie checked her diamond encrusted Chanel watch; she had approximately fifteen minutes before the Pretty Committee would be here, just enough time to put her plan into motion.

"Kuh-laire, what's Kyle's AIM?"

"Uh," Claire ran her fingers through her stick straight hair, trying to remember.

Impatient, Massie reached into the lemon yellow decorative locker tucked into the corner. Immediately, she was attacked by mounds of old papers, half eaten Red Vines and CDs.

"Ew," Massie whipped a dirty sock at Claire's head and grabbed the OCD school directory, which balanced on a crumpled packet of half eaten Doritos.

"What's Kyle's last name?"

"Broflofki or Broflovski, I could never pronounce it."

Massie flipped through the glossy pages, praying to Gawd that the booklet had been updated since OCD had gone co-ed. Sure enough, under the Bs, Kyle Broflovski's cell phone number was listed.

Massie slipped her Razr out of the pocket of her dark wash True Religions and added the number to her contacts list, reminding herself that it was all about getting back at Cartman and had nothing to do with how ah-dorable he looked, even with that stupid green ushanka of his. Massie glanced down at her watch again; she had less than five minutes before the rest of the Pretty Committee was due to arrive.

Monday, September 5th

3:55 pm

The Limo

Alicia Rivera leaned back against the leather headrest of her family's limo, trying to fight the anxiety that seemed to be creeping up towards her chest. She didn't know why she was so nervous about meeting her best friend. No, that was a lie.

She knew why she was anxious; she just didn't want to admit it to herself. It was like a hyperactive hamster on speed running around on his wheel all night long. The vein in her temple began to throb as she recalled the sleepless nights she'd been having for the past two weeks, all because of that tantalizing offer Cartman had proposed.

"Just think about it," he had said casually. She had thought about it all right; it had been gnawing at her ever since that day.

Now she had to face Massie and finally figure out what she wanted. The crunch of tires on gravel indicated that she was only seconds from facing Massie and her infamous wrath. Lack of loyalty was number one on Massie's list of unforgiveable acts and the dread she felt weighing at the bottom of her stomach reminded Alicia of what happened the last time she had been called to the Block Estate mysteriously.

It was less than ten feet to Massie's room from the Block's lavish foyer and Alicia dragged her black patent leather Prada ballet flats against the delicate wood floor, determined to take as long as possible. As much as she tried to slow it down, it was inevitable that she would be staring at the high gloss finish on Massie's bedroom door. Alicia took a deep breath and reapplied her MAC Lipglass. She pushed open the door, tentative. Alicia knew that the next few minutes would determine her fate at OCD for the rest of the year.

Monday, September 5th

4:10 pm

Massie's Bedroom, aka the iPad

Massie's all white room still had the same splashes of purple; a fresh bunch of white tulips rested in a deep violet vase next to the iMac. But today it seemed different; there was a sense of cold starkness in the overly tidy room, reminding Alicia of a hospital.

Massie herself stood in front of the bay window that overlooked the driveway, the shadows created by the late afternoon sunshine making her appear even more intimidating than usual. She turned around and smiled a cold, empty smile that made the hair on the back of Alicia's neck stand up. She knows, thought Alicia, panic threatening to overwhelm her.

The delicate tip tap of heels began to grow in volume and the door was shoved open by an impatient Dylan. The sound of rubber squeaking meant that Kristin was right behind. Sure enough, a sweaty, red faced Kristin collapsed on Massie's now rumpled Calvin Klein bed spread.

"Where's Claire?" asked Dylan curious.

"I'm right here," Claire's high pitched voice came from behind Massie's life sized mannequin.

"What's this all about Massie?" Alicia asked, hoping that the irritation in her tone would cover up the fear that she was sure was ahb-vious.

"I have brought you all here today to discuss a very serious matter," Massie's face was grim and she stood like a general, towering over all of them in a pair of black Dior boots.

With her hands clasped behind her back, Massie began pacing again, looking each girl sternly in the eye.

"That disgusting specimen of a human being known as Eric Cartman has decided to screw with the Pretty Committee."

Claire raised her eyebrows, impressed. Massie sure seemed to have an extensive vocabulary for someone who claimed that her hobby was shopping.

"The key to getting the scoop on Cartman is to seduce his friends, of course. Claire, you take Kenny. Kristin, try to pry information out of Stan. Alicia, we are going to have to use the DJ booth."

"What about me?" Dylan whined.

"Fine," Massie sighed in exasperation, "Work with Claire. Whatever."

"What about Kyle?" Claire asked.

Massie could feel a blush working its way up her face. "Uh, I have it taken care of."

Alicia let out a small bark of laughter. When she saw the fire in Massie's amber eyes, she quickly changed her laugh to a coughing fit. She heard Dylan and Kristin whispering amongst themselves and wondered if she could leave now. Massie was in the corner, texting with an intensity that Alicia had never seen before.

"Uh, Mass?"

"What?" snapped Massie, annoyed with the interruption.

"Never mind," said Alicia quietly, pretending to look at the pictures on red corkboard hanging above the modern glass desk. Massie breathed a sigh of relief and Alicia noticed that the tension in her shoulders had disappeared. With the wave of a well manicured hand, she dismissed them and closed the door behind her.

Monday, September 5th

Cartman's Bedroom

4:30 pm

Stan Marsh checked his cell phone for what felt like the 100th time. The screen remained unchanging, with the words "No new messages!' in the lower left corner. If he could, he would rip that cheerful exclamation point off the pixilated yellow envelope and hurl his phone against the wall with as much force as possible. It was something he would do too, if he hadn't been lying upside down. A lone tear made its way out of the corner of his red rimmed eye and disappeared into his thick eyelashes that were the envy of many a girl back in South Park. If Wendy were here, she'd kiss him on the cheek and sit by his side, her hand clasped protectively around his, the way a mom would. Wendy always knew how to comfort him when he was down.

"Dude, are you still hung up on that hippie skank?"

"She's not a hippie skank," Stan said, his usual upbeat voice sounding monotone and dreary.

"Geez, Stan, why not add a little black eyeliner and emo angst, I'm sure the Goths here will accept you for who you are," Cartman smirked. Stan didn't respond; instead he stared up at the ceiling in a dazed, stoned sort of way.

"Shut the fuck up, lard butt." Kyle didn't even bother turning around to address Cartman; he furrowed his brow in concentration, all of his energy focused on the video game he was playing with Kenny.

"Lard butt? At least I'm not a filthy Jew."

Kyle didn't rise to the bait; instead he reached for his scratched Nokia, which lay on Cartman's bed, beeping.

"Huh," he said quietly, scanning through his received messages.

"What?" Kenny's muffled voice could barely be heard over the deafening, overly chirpy tune that marked the end of the game.

"I got the weirdest text message from that Massie chick."

Kenny dropped the controller on the scratchy carpet and snatched the phone from Kyle's hands, reading eagerly.

"I didn't know you could read," Cartman quipped.

"Fuck you," Kenny responded, flipping him off, as usual.

"I didn't think you swung that way, Kenny."

"You do, I'm sure your cousin could tell us all about it."

Cartman felt his cheeks grow hot and it seemed as though the blood in his veins would boil over. His heart pumped a frenzied beat; he clenched his fingers into tight balls at his sides and his double chin wobbled grotesquely, "SHUT THE HELL UP, KENNEH! YOU POOR PIECE OF CRAP!"

The room was silent, the air filled with words unsaid; Cartman could feel the penetrating gazes of Stan, Kyle and Kenny pierce through his red coat and through to the small black object that was his heart.

"Wow, that's hot," Kenny's words try and fail to fill the awkward void between the four boys, "Damn, dude, why did you say anything? That Massie was pretty cute." Kyle suspected that Kenny would say that his grandmother was foxy in order to break the stifling atmosphere.

"When you say that, it reeks of something perverted." In one smooth motion, Kyle grabbed his cell phone back from Kenny and shoved him onto the bed, where he crashed landed onto a bunch of goose down pillows.

Scrolling through the message, he felt his palms grow slick with sweat and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Massie: Heard that u r a great hacker. I've got a project 4 u. Meet me at Slice of Heaven pizza shop 7pm. Come alone. Laytah ;)

Kyle: ok

He blamed his hormones for lack of an intelligent response.