so i tell myself that i'll be strong,
dreaming when they're gone
'cause they're calling, calling, calling me home
you show the lights that stop me

The day became a stressful blur for Olivia, filled with nothing but AP classes and whispers in the hallways as she and Kristen trekked from class to class. She'd thought that changing schools would be easy – after all, she'd topped all of her classes back home – but she'd never even heard half of the theories presented in her Physics class, and her interpretation of Evening Alone in the Bunyah's in English Literature had been shot down as being "stilted, obvious, and vague".

For the first time in her life, Olivia was relieved to hear the Lunch bell ring, and couldn't work fast enough to escape. Kristen noted her determination to leave – not that she blamed her, Professor Davidson had been way harsh – and fixed her with a sympathetic look. "Don't worry," she said, leading her out into the hallway.

Olivia had expected to be crushed by an onslaught of students, but they moved out of Kristen's way as she walked, clearing a path – it was almost as if Kristen were Moses himself, parting the Red Sea.

Kristen continued, oblivious to the miracle happening all around her. "Davidson has, like, a superiority complex. She's like that with everyone."

"She wasn't like that with you," Olivia pointed out, without even pausing to think about it. She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth, and Kristen's encouraging smile faltered before setting into a grim line.

"Yeah," she muttered darkly, "because my mom's El Presidente."

Olivia couldn't think of an appropriate response and so, followed quietly throughout the labyrinth of corridors, trying to avoid eye contact with any of the students or teachers she passed. She could see the judgement in their eyes – see it in the set of their faces. Each one of them was wondering who she was; where did she come from? and why was Kristen wasting her time on a new kid?

"Good morning, Werewolves, and welcome back to another exciting year at Westchester Academy."

The noise in the hall quietened.

"You're hot!" someone called, and there was the sound of scattered laughter – as if this was a joke that had once been funny, but been overused and become stale. Olivia's suspicion was confirmed when Kristen rolled her eyes. She paused, crossing to a locker that was covered in graffiti, magnets and stickers – one of the few that was in this section of the hall – and began to fiddle with the lock as the P.A. system boomed out a musical, lilting voice.

"Here's hoping this is a year to be remembered – for all the right reasons. Today's top story is, of course, the new students' debut; the date has been set, and it looks like some of you will need to hustle if you want to have a gown in time – the ball is next weekend. Little tip to all of the fresh meat: don't wear red. That's my thing. If you're interested in a spot on the planning committee – "

"That's Alicia," Kristen explained, throwing her books into her locker with little care or consideration. "She does announcements around this time every day – like an unofficial school anchorwoman, or something. You'll meet her later. Don't worry," she added, glancing over her shoulder and noticing how red Olivia's cheeks were.

Kristen was big on telling people not to worry, Olivia noted, chewing her lip in her nervousness. Only thing was, she was worried. Incredibly worried.

"Don't worry, she's totally cool. You don't have to worry about a thing, so long as you stay away from Josh."

"Josh?" Olivia ran through her mental list of Westchester Academy's A-list (as provided by a very thorough Kori Geddman), but couldn't remember any mention of a 'Josh'.

"Josh Hotz." Kristen explained, slamming her locker shut and stepping back into the fray. Olivia followed obediently, hastening her step as much as she could in her ridiculously high heels in order to keep up. "Josh was asked to leave the school about... God, two years ago... He was going to some all-boys school in the city, until he got sick of it."

Olivia's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Didn't he get kicked out?"

"Asked to leave," Kristen emphasized. "If you're wondering why he's back, you need only look out the window," Kristen said, pointing to one of the many floor-to-ceiling windows interspersed amongst the lockers.

Olivia glanced toward the nearest – a construction site lay beyond, some distance from the school's main building.

"The Gregory Institute of Scientific Endeavour," Kristen intoned, rolling her eyes. "Kindly paid for by the Hotz family of Westchester, New York..."

Olivia's jaw dropped at she eyed the building. The main foundation had been laid, and a number of sandstone walls had been erected already. Though only the shell of a building, it was already easy to see that it would be a remarkable addition to the school.

It was obvious that the elder of the Gregory women was easy to bribe, but Olivia hadn't truly understood how grand that scale was until this moment. "Wow."

"I take it you noticed the books in her personal library, too?" Kristen began walking again. She waited for Olivia's nod before she continued. "Kimber Altoona. Sophomore... Someone from the Art faculty caught her having sex with her boyfriend in the girl's bathrooms. Lucky for her, it all coincided with a literature auction at Sotheby's that my mother was particularly interested in."

With a huff and a slight flounce in her step, Kristen turned a sharp left. She sauntered through the cafeteria doorway with Olivia on her heels and joined the end of the queue.

An awkward silence fell over the pair. Olivia turned her attentions to shoving her books into her ridiculously large, slouchy handbag (primarily because no one else in the entire room seemed to be holding a book). Kristen turned to a nearby stainless steel counter to check her reflection.

"So, you're like, some genius." She muttered, patting gently under her eye with a turquoise-painted finger.

Olivia blanched. "No," she protested, shaking her head. "I mean – I – "

"Don't even worry about it," Kristen laughed, shaking her head. "I get it. It's not cool to be literate anymore, let alone smart. It's whatever."

Before they could fall back into their silence, Olivia tried to explain. "It's not that," she sighed, looking away. "I don't seem to be doing very well in any of my classes here. Not that I mind – I mean, I didn't want school to rule my life anymore but – "

"At the same time, you've always measured yourself by your academic superiority?" Kristen finished. She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Yeah. Been there, done that."

Alicia Rivera cackled - a cackle worth of Kristen Gregory, in fact - watching Kristen's stilted interactions with the newbie from across the cafeteria. "I can't believe Kristen got buddy duty."

She'd rushed (well, achieved a brisk walk, at best) across the school as soon as she had finished her announcements and now sat at the usual table. Of course, she'd had to forgo food in order to beat Kristen and her 'buddy', but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

Only two others were already sitting at the table – Claire Lyons, the perennial It girl, and Dylan Marvil.

Claire glanced up from her Blackberry, her pale blue eyes falling upon the unlikely pair. "She looks nice," she said.

"She looks like she just came from a YSL photo shoot," Dylan added, tilting her head to one side. Luxurious red waves fell over her shoulder, framing her baby face. "I love those shoes."

A disenchanted scoff escaped Alicia – of course she would be stuck with these two when the new girl arrived. It wasn't that they were 'nice' girls – Alicia had yet to see any evidence of them being 'nice' to anyone. They were both so wrapped up in their own little worlds, that it never occurred to either of them to be cruel to anyone. "I think I saw those in last month's Elle."

"Maybe," Dylan murmured. "They're pretty classic..." She trailed off, noticing as Derrick Harrington entered through the cafeteria doors.

I shouldn't be looking, she thought to herself, watching as he crossed to the queue of people and joined Kristen and the newbie in conversation. I shouldn't be looking, she repeated as Derrick eyed Kristen's companion with open appreciation. He's Massie's... hands off, private property, I shouldn't be looking...

"Mass is going to shit Frisbee's," Alicia remarked; her eyes trained on Derrick as well, watching him flirt with Kristen's newcomer.

Claire sighed, tossing her Blackberry onto the table with reckless disregard for the technology. Her agent was hounding her about some pilot script he'd sent her – something about five young girls moving to L.A. to follow their dream of becoming an international pop group – and apparently, was unable to recall the meaning of the words not interested.

"Derrick and Massie aren't dating anymore," Claire pointed out. "Massie should get over it."

She realised the irony in her words as soon as she'd said them. Get over it?

Massie Block didn't 'get over' anything.

Lyrics from:
"Lights", by Ellie Goulding
used with thanks.