A/N: I know you're all ready to kill me. I am so sorry I haven't posted in, like, over 3 months. I have taken on several new stories and this kinda got put on the backburner, plus I had a lot going on with the end of the school year...but I promise now I will try to post quicker. Thanks for your patience and keep reviewing!

Amy

"Turn around, honey," Mom orders with a flick of her ringed fingers. Her eyes are slightly narrowed and her cheeks are sucked in-the classic look she gets when she's about to criticize something.

Reluctantly, I twirl in a circle, the stuffy faux-velvet of the dress I'm modeling swishing around my ankles in an unappealing crunch.

Marie, my mom's personal assistant, nods slightly and scribbles something on her clipboard. "Nice, but not on her." Her violet eyes flick up and down my profile critically. "She needs something more...flimsy. Her bone structure can't handle heavy fabrics. She needs...oh, get that organza swing dress. I can just see her in that." Suddenly Marie's the manager and Mom's the assistant. I'd smile, but I'm in too much mental pain.

At the moment, I. Am. Not. Happy. At. All. My mom somehow managed to find an opening for me in her next fashion show-in about four months, go figure-and now I am being subjected to modeling every outfit she whisks out of the rattling costume stand. I've been draped in everything from gossamer to chenile, in colors spanning from misty grey to violent yellow. But the most humiliating part? Everything I put on looks hideous on me.

"Here we are," Mom reenters the room, carrying something whisper-thin under her arm. Marie turns to me, her grey-blonde hair slightly disheveled. "Hon, are you sure you want to do this?" Her eyes are searching.

I want to say "No, I don't," and get the heck out of here. I want to say, "I'd rather die than be a model," or maybe just run away. But my mother cuts in before I have a chance to do any of that.

"Of course she does," She says, unfolding her arms and setting a flouncy party dress on the nearby chaise. "It's so refreshing, Marie, I gotta tell you. I mean, my mom always refused to let me follow my dream, you know? She wanted me to be an environmental lawyer and chase after global warming and whatnot, and I doubt she really ever was OK with my fashion career. Which is why," Mom pats my shoulder affectionately, "I am so happy that Amy and I have the same interests. I can encourage her passion and give her advice." She turns to me. "Amy, honey, are you OK?"

I realize tears are swimming in my eyes. "Oh, I just, um, yawned," I say quickly, swiping at my eyelids. It's not fair! My mom thinks she's being the most supportive person in the world, but she's never even asked me what I want to do with my life. She just assumed I'd want to do what she does. The same way her mom did.

"All right, honey, let's get this on you," Marie hands me the dress and smiles. "Let's hope it works."

The dress, I will admit, is really pretty. It's a shimmery teal, with a short and flouncy skirt aided by thin petticoats. The top is fitted, with a decoration at the bust line and buttons down the stomach. Two thin straps tie at the base of the neck, and a small white flower is sewn to the hip.

"Well, try it on, sweetie," Marie says through clenched teeth. Immediately, I pull it over my head and turn to my mother, who gasps.

"It's beautiful," She breathes.

Dang it.

I turn to look in the mirror, and I have to admit I actually do look nice in it. The dress is just the right color for my skin, and makes my hair look even darker than usual. The dress fits my body perfectly, and the skirt just skims my kneecaps.

I look pretty.

"Oh, my baby girl," My mom starts blubbering, wiping her eyes with a tissue. "You look so grown up. It seems like just yesterday you were learning how to walk, and now-"

"Mo-oooom!" I groan, rolling my eyes. I hate it when she does this. Which is not that often, seeing as she's criticizing my posture or commenting on my choice of nail polish color - "big things" like that. But at the same time, I can't help feeling a little pleased.

Then Marie ruins it. "So should we write her down for this one?" She pulls the dress at my waist, frowning absentmindedly.

Mom doesn't even flinch. "Of course. This is the dress for her. Two weeks from now, the world will see Meagan Rose Archer-Wong's own daughter wear her latest and greatest Gigi creation!" She waves her arms melodramatically, her eyes fixed on something in middle distance. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Suddenly, my cell phone lying on the chaise goes off. I move to answer it, but Marie picks it up before I can. Her beady eyes scan the screen, and my heart stops as she says, "Someone named Evan is texting you, asking where you are." Her caterpillar eyebrows meet over her eyes in a confused expression.

I suck in my breath and glance at my watch. Shoot. I was supposed to be at skating lessons five minutes ago. We were going to practice until 6 before going to book club at Diana's house. Of course, I hadn't planned on dress-up taking this long. Or my mother's snoopy assistant looking at my text messages.

"Oh, I was supposed to meet Evan at the library to study for our History test," I babble, firing off the same excuse I've been spoon-feeding my mother ever since skating lessons got started. "I'm really, really late," I continue, already untying my dress. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, but Amy, honey, remember to meet me at Diana's house for book club afterwards!" Mom calls as I run upstairs and pull on some jeans and a sweater.

"Got it!" I grab my bike out of the garage and take off towards the ice rink at breakneck speed. I swerve to avoid joggers, cars, and dogs, and don't slow down until the familiar sight of the Eva Bergeson Memorial Ice Center comes into view. As I push through the front door, a group of tall, limber-looking girls passes by me, laughing and slinging the skates over their shoulders. With a stab of envy, I wish I could joing them. But for now, secret lessons is all I've got.

Evan is waiting for me, still wearing her costume from Spice n' Ice rehearsal. She looks spectacular, all decked out in her black and purple glitter ensemble. It looks way more fashionable than half the outfits my mom stuffed me in today.

"Sorry I'm late," I gasp as I pull on my skates and follow Evan out onto the ice. "My mom was going all super-fashion-diva on me and I got stuck in a bit of a clothing debacle, so I had to speed all the way here, and-"

"Amy, relax, it's fine," Evan says, grinning as we do a lap to warm up. "Practice went overtime, anyways, so you're right on time." As we glide around a sharp turn, she switches to coach mode. "All right, so I think you were a little sloppy on those Salchow jumps last time, so we'll work on those a lot more. Also, I think we should review basic lutzs before going into the more advanced ones."

An hour later, I'm sweating my butt off, to use the common phrase. We've jumped, spun, dipped, swung, and slid until the ice is covered in shreads and shavings. Evan is grinning from ear to ear, though, so I must have done OK.

"Awesome job, Amy, you're really improving," Evan says as she drains the last of her energy drink. "Seriously, you should think about signing up for classes."

"I've told you-" I start, but Evan cuts me off. "I know about your mom and everything, but if you want to take this more seriously, there are a ton of figure skating clubs and classes here that you can sign up for. My mom could probably pull a few strings to get you in mid-season, or..."

"Thanks," I say slowly, refusing to meet Evan's eyes. "But I don't know if I can just yet." I feel awful for making Evan waste all her time, teaching me to skate while I hide from my problems, but I don't know any other way to handle it.

Not yet, anyway.

"Oh, did you hear?" Evan asks as we head to the locker rooms to change. "Kate heard Alberta and Trixie talking to McKayla in the bathroom the other day...something about Diana. I think it means the revenge is still on." Obviously, Alberta is serious about getting back at Diana for showing her up at Evan's party last week. SO far, nothing's happened, but you can never tell with Alberta.

"So that means McKayla still hates us?" I ask lightly as I peel off my damp mittens. I know, of course, that she does, but I still don't know why. I mean, we've never done anything to her per se, if you don't count Diana and McKayla's argument at the beginning of the year.

"Yeah, I guess," Evan replies, shaking off her sweaty leggings and stuffing them in her backpack. "But, on the upside, Kate said McKayla didn't sound too happy about Alberta's ideas. Maybe she's not so hot on the popular crowd anymore after all."

I doubted this very much, especially since McKayla had called Diana a loser two days previous. But you never know, I thought, as we headed to Diana's house. The year was changing. Maybe we were too.

"So did you do the assigned reading?" Evan asks as we park our bikes and come through the front door. "I didn't understand the whole thing about Jo and Professor Bhaer, because I always thought she would end up with..."

Evan's frozen suddenly, her eyes transfixed on something just past the entryway. I turn and follow her gaze, and my stomach turns to stone.

My mother is waiting for us, hands on hips, her fingers wrapped around something small and shiny.

My cell phone. I've kept, for some idiot reason, all of our plans on there, all of our secret ice skating meetings.

"Hi, Mom," I say quietly, my voice trembling. "What's up?"

My mother doesn't say anything, simply holds out my phone for me to see. SKATING LESSONS W/ EVAN, 2:15 glows at me in an incriminatory way. I glance at Evan, who's glaring at the floor. We've been found out.

"You left this on the couch. Marie found it. How was your tutoring lesson?" Mom asks. Her voice is so full of fury it's lower than I've ever heard.

"Mom, please, listen," I begin, but Mom cuts me off.

"Amy Elizabeth Archer, how could you lie to me like this?" she explodes. tears gleam in her eyes. "How dare you sneak around behind my back - and drag Evan into this too!"

"Mrs. Archer, please, listen," Evan pipes up earnestly. I notice the other moms and daughters have come into the hall to listen. I'm too ashamed to look at them either. "Amy really wants to be a figure skater, and she's really good. I was just telling her that she should enroll in lessons."

"That's sweet, Evan, but it was thoughtless of her to waste your time giving her private lessons. Besides, Amy, you want a career in fashion, anyway. This whole charade was pointless."

Suddenly it's all too much - the look on my mother's face, the way Evan refuses to meet my eyes, the inquisitory gazes from the other girls - and I burst into tears.

"You never asked me what I wanted!" I know I'm screaming, but I don't care. "You always assumed I would do what you expected me to do! You claim you're nothing like your mother, but you ARE! You're just the same! Why can't you let me be myself?"

The last shrill syllable rings in the hallway. My mom looks like she's been slapped hard in the face. Evan's left the room. The rest of the mothers look torn. I know they're waiting for their stupid meeting to start, so they can talk about stupid Little Women and drink their stupid tea and read their stupid handouts. But I guess that's it for me. Mom will probably pull me out of book club, and I sure won't be able to set foot on the ice ever again.

So what? I don't want to be part of book club anyway.

A/N: So here it is. It's not very good, I just finished it now. I promise more chapters will come soon - and hopefully quicker. Also, as a reader participation thing, I am asking anyone to submit ideas for Alberta's revenge on Diana ;). Please PM me if you have any suggestions. It's kind of a competition, so if I choose you, I'll favorite you as an author and mention you as part of this story! Thanks!