First thing is first! A big, big thank you to OregonMissy who left me the most heart-warming review I think I have ever had in my life. I was meant to update another story tonight but after I saw your review I just really wanted to update this one! ;)

There were also a few questions from cliquechic that I wanted to field before I went on, so I'm going to answer them after this chapter, because I feel like this chapter answers a lot of them. Because there are a lot of parts to this story, I feel like sometimes there are going to be questions that won't be answered until later on; I'll try and answer as many as I see fit but sometimes, I'm going to leave them and in that case, you can just assume that's something that's going to be dealt with later.

Still, if you have any questions, just ask!

xxo, Cheryl


Olivia tripped on her patent red Louboutin wedges, managing to pull herself up at the last minute by catching onto an elegantly carved granite bench. Her phone wasn't so lucky. It skittered across the floor tiles, echoing loudly in the small enclosed space, and came to a holt at the other end of the room with the screen up.

"Today is just not my day," Olivia grumbled, hauling herself up to her full (and impressive) height to collect the battered technology.

Kori, she texted as quick as she could, on my way to accept now.

go get em tiger! xoxo

She rolled her eyes at the almost immediate response and began to survey herself in the only full-length mirror the first floor girl's bathroom provided. Olivia had chosen this location carefully, and for good reason—no one ever used this bathroom. It was secluded from the rest of the school's hot spots, located at the end of a long hallway populated by mostly guy's lockers, and only had two mirrors.

"Jesus Christ," Olivia hissed to herself. She'd left class early, feigning a headache—the sort of fraudulent behaviour she'd never actually committed before—just for this. If she was going to face Massie and take this job as consult, she would have to look absolutely perfect, and right now, the girl staring back at her in her reflection looked far from perfect.

No time like the present, she told herself, and bent at the waist to begin adjusting the bottom of her skinny jeans—why did they have to bunch around her calves so unflatteringly? She didn't miss the irony in the circumstances; the old Olivia Ryan, if there were such a girl, didn't even own a pair of skinny jeans, let alone spend time lamenting that they could make her thighs look so good and her calves look so fleshy.

"You okay?"

Olivia's head snapped up.

Dylan Marvil stood in the doorway, a wry smile painted across her face as she watched Olivia diligently correct her appearance. She gestured towards Olivia's brand-new-but-they-look-vintage skinnies. "I hate it when mine do that too, but I try not to blame the pants. It's not their fault they come with a design flaw."

Olivia feigned a smile and crossed to the larger mirror that hung above the bathroom counter. "I'm a little nervous," she admitted, brushing perfect, 'casual' curls that had taken an hour to manufacture back from her face. Immediately, Olivia cursed herself. Did I just admit to Dylan freaking Marvil that I'm nervous?

"Don't worry about it," Dylan assured her, reaching into her Balenciaga and pulling out a small makeup pouch. "Mass has that effect on everyone."

"Even you?"

Dylan's bright green eyes dulled suddenly under the horrendous fluorescent lighting. "Especially me," she muttered gravely, before her Crest white smile returned full force. "But don't worry about it—she's not so bad once you get to know her."

"If I get to know her."

"Oh, you'll get to know her. The question is if you really want to?"

Dylan picked a light, plum-colored Yves Saint Laurent lip gloss from her bag and held it out to Olivia, her face a perfect cocktail of pity and intrigue—as if Olivia were some kid's poor quality finger painting and Dylan was trying to figure out what it wasmeant to be. "Here," she said, waving the gloss about. The stacks of bracelets she wore tinkled musically with her movement. "That bubblegum pink you're wearing is all wrong for you... Whoever advised that had poor taste."

Kori's face flashed in Olivia's mind, her lips slicked with the same shade of bubblegum pink—a shade of bubblegum pink that corresponded so perfectly with hair that would make Blake Lively cry and doe-like chocolate brown eyes.

It was true, she admitted to herself, taking the proffered gloss with a grateful smile. What worked for Kori wouldn't necessarily work for Olivia Ryan. As she slicked the luxurious cosmetic over her lips, cautious not to over-do it, she watched Dylan from the corner of her eye.

Dylan Marvil was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful girls Olivia had ever seen—and there was certainly no shortage of beautiful girls in Westchester, New York—but she eyed her own reflection with dissatisfaction, pulling at strands of perfectly-coiffed hair.

"Are you going to take the consult position?" Dylan asked, still staring herself down in the mirror.

Olivia replaced the cap on the lip gloss and handed it back with another meagre smile. "I think so," she replied.

"Good. There's not really anybody else. I mean, last year—"

She came to a sudden stop, lifting her skinny arm to check the time on her watch. "We should go. You have a formal announcement to make."

Alicia watched Dylan approach, with New Girl in tow.

She's not even that pretty, she thought darkly to herself, but even in own head she could hear the falseness of that statement. Olivia Ryan was a straight-up ten—the kind of girl that belonged on the Victoria's Secret runway, instead of in a high school cafeteria—and everyone had noticed it by now. Heads turned to watch as the two girls approached the infamous eighteenth table, including the head of one Josh Hotz.

"Josh!" she hissed, kicking him under the table.

He leant to rub his shin and eyed her with unmasked disdain. "Seriously, Leesh?"

"Stop looking," she hissed again. Jealousy seeped through her as he turned to look once more, blatantly ignoring her wishes; worse, he seemed to like the view.

Alicia leaned towards Claire and gestured towards the scene. "Can you believe this? This is embarrassing."

"Why?" Claire asked innocently as she tied her long blonde mane into a messy topknot, preparing herself for lunch. She opened up the tiny bento box before her and sniffed delicately at the sushi selection spread out before her—her latest dieting obsession, a la the Hollywood trends.

"Because they're not looking at you?" Kristen added, not even looking up from the Psychology textbook she was poring over with current study buddy Chris Plovert.

Chris laughed.

At her.

Alicia's eyes darkened with malice. For once, she chose to shut her mouth and turned back to her phone. Her fingers—topped by blood red talons—flew across the keypad as she typed, desperate to find some dirt on the New Girl. Surely she had to know someone in Boston?

At the head of the table sat Massie, watching Derek from the corner of her eye as had become her habit. He sat next to Cam Fisher, chatting enthusiastically—though thankfully not about New Girl—and spinning a slightly dirty soccer ball in his hands.

"Massie?"

Massie moved slowly, gracing Dylan's guest with a speculative look. "Yes?"

Olivia stepped forward. "I've decided that I would love to be your consult."

"Like there was ever any doubt," Massie replied, gesturing towards the empty seat beside her. "Why don't you sit down and we'll get started? We have a lot to do between now and next weekend."

Olivia took the seat—at Massie's right hand side, ironically enough—and sent off another text.

In.

A few minutes later, a brief vibration signalled the arrival of another text. She waited for Massie to pause in the middle of her explanations and let her eyes fall to the phone sitting on her knees under the table.

commence phase 1. counting on u. x

QUESTION TIME!

(1). Why are they ganging up on Olivia?*

The answer to this is something I had to think about pretty hard. From the start, I knew that the Pretty Committee wouldn't welcome Olivia—they never did in Lisi Harrison's books and they certainly wouldn't in my version of events—but the psychology as to why is sometimes hard to place. My first thought is that the PC doesn't like change. They've been friends for a very long time, they've become comfortable with the dynamic, and they all have their own insecurities so welcoming someone new into the fold will inevitably change the way they interact with each other and their importance and role within the group. They reacted the same way to Claire in the original Clique book, didn't they? They made Claire's life a living hell for no reason in particular, other than that she was new and easily pushed around (or so they thought at the time...)

I then applied this to my version of their story and realised that mine went further than that. These girls would be particularly defensive after letting Kori into their group and suffering through all that drama, wouldn't they? I certainly thought so.

It's not that any of them is mean, per se—well, other than Alicia but that's sort of to be expected, isn't it?—but more a case of hazing. To my mind, they'd be putting any newcomers to the test. After all, in this chapter we see that none of them really have any anger towards Olivia, just doubts.

This story is an AU story. The characters have a lot of the same traits and appearances as Lisi Harrison's characters, but I'm placing them in a different scene and a different circumstance and experimenting with their reactions. Obviously, there are going to be a lot of things that you take from the original books and go, "that's not right!" but I ask that you please be patient. It's all going to make sense soon, I promise!

* Sorry to say that I assumed you meant Olivia. If you actually meant Alicia then my revised answer is: I didn't know it came across that way, and I hope it didn't, but at no point did I intend for them to gang up on Alicia. If anything, Alicia is the one who would gang up on everyone else! ;)