A/N: Hi all!

This is kind of a fun chapter… I had a blast writing it. I think Nessie is shaping up to be a really great friend. But, as she finds out here, humans have their downsides… the flu being one of them. Yuck. (Rideau hasn't got the Swine flu, in case you were wondering, just normal ol' Influenza. I had H1N1 early last month, and trust me when I say it is BALLS. If you can avoid getting it, please do try.)

DaffyMaiden, this one's for you… thanks for pointing out my Gossip Girl ripoff! I've always intended for Clara to be modeled after the characters on that show, and I think it's hilarious that at least one reader picked up on that right away, before she was even formally introduced. I'd just like to state, for the record, that I wrote this chapter about a month ago (maybe more), way in advance of last week's episode, which I have not actually seen. Total coincidence. But just to be safe, I've changed the chapter title and called it an homage to a great show. In case anybody is interested, I imagine Clara as two parts Serena, one part Blair and one part Chuck =) Imagine the possibilities.

As always, I'd love to hear your feedback. Let me know what you think!

Enjoy!

~Crit.

Chapter 11: Gossip Girls

A couple weeks later, Rideau was missing from their morning class. Renesmee felt a moment of sharp disappointment when she realized he wasn't going to show up… she'd come to truly enjoy their beginning of the week ritual of coffee, class and then more coffee. Plus, it had been her turn to pick up the first beverage of the morning, so now she was stuck with a dry cappuccino, which she knew she'd never be able to choke back… too much milk for her liking. In Renesmee's opinion, dairy had only one place, and that was in ice cream. Outside of sugary, chocolaty summer treats, milk was just plain gross. About ten minutes before lecture time, her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she opened it to find a text from Rideau: Have come down with consumption. Can't stop coughing. Remember me as a kind soul who perished bravely. She snickered to herself and sent him a feel-better message before turning back to her books.

Just when she was starting to enjoy having a bit of space to spread out, somebody tapped her on the shoulder, and Renesmee looked up to see one of her classmates, the girl with the blonde highlights that she'd noticed on her first day. She flashed Renesmee a huge smile full of straight, paper-white teeth and, with a slight tilt of the head, said, "Hi! Mind if I sit here?"

Renesmee, a bit surprised, nodded and said, "Please, go ahead," quickly moving her bag off the chair beside her. The girl sat down in a wave of soft, feminine perfume.

"I'm Clara," she said, extending her hand. Renesmee took it and shook.

"Ness," She said, wondering why this girl had chosen to sit next to her today instead of in her usual spot, where she had both sides of the desk to herself.

"Good to meet you, Ness," Clara replied in a cheerful voice. "Where's your friend today, the tall guy with the glasses? You two are usually in your own little bubble up here."

"Oh," Renesmee said dumbly, surprised that her new seatmate had even noticed her and Rideau and their friendly rapport, "He's home sick today."

"That's too bad," she said with a sympathetic look. She gestured to the extra coffee cup. "Guess you didn't know."

"No, I got the message a bit too late," Renesmee said with a shrug. "You wouldn't by any chance like a second-hand cappuccino, would you? I seem to have an extra…"

"Thanks! That's really sweet of you!" Clara took the green and white paper cup with enthusiasm, just as their professor walked to the front of the class and began the lecture.

Three hours later, as they were packing up, Clara turned to Renesmee again. "So, Ness, I've been watching you since the first day of class, and I have to ask… what are you?" Renesmee's blood ran cold, and she turned her head like a whip to stare at the other girl. Upon seeing her reaction, Clara chuckled. "Wow, it must be even better than I thought, with a response that dramatic. So, what is it? Royalty? Or just New York Royalty?" She shot her a needling, conspiratorial look. "You can tell me, I promise not to spread it around."

Renesmee thought for a moment that she wouldn't be able to catch her breath, but after a moment she recovered from the shock. "I… I'm not sure what you mean…" she said, and she meant it. Clara just raised an eyebrow.

"Look, maybe the other students here don't know couture when they see it, but I do. I've never seen you in an outfit that could possibly cost less than three grand. That bag," she said, pointing to Renesmee's purse, "is Chanel, and it doesn't even hit stores until December. And I saw those boots you're wearing on the runway at Fashion Week… they cost more than my tuition." A faint, triumphant smile passed over Clara's face. "So, what are you? A Vanderbilt, maybe, or a Kennedy or something?"

Renesmee felt herself blushing, and she looked down at the books she was shoving into her bag. "I'm not anything," she said quickly. "My parents… they've got money. That's all." She stood to leave, and Clara followed her like a shadow.

"Hey, you're not embarrassed, are you?" Renesmee didn't respond; the truth was, she was embarrassed, hugely so. Clara grabbed her arm and stopped her. By this point, almost everybody had left the lecture hall, and her voice echoed slightly in the cavernous space as she said, "It's not a bad thing to have money, you know… to have nice things."

Renesmee looked at the girl's face: there was no trace of suspicion there. Her evidently obvious wealth hadn't set any alarm bells ringing in this young woman's head… it had only made her intensely curious. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. "No, it's okay," she said with a sheepish smile, "I just made the mistake of thinking I was blending in. Sorry if I acted weird just now."

Clara shook her head. "No worries. I didn't mean to spook you… I've just got an eye for clothes, it's hard for me not to notice when somebody constantly looks like they've just walked off the runway. I thought I'd introduce myself… I guess I sometimes come on a little strong."

"We all do sometimes," Renesmee said with her friendliest smile. She took a moment to survey the other's girl's outfit, seeing as that seemed to be the main focus of their conversation. Well-tailored, expensive fabrics, a grid of mirrored and flipped 'C's on her bag, bright crimson on the soles of her shoes. "So," she said with a hint of sarcasm, "What are you?"

Clara laughed, a low, throaty noise. It was the laugh of a much older woman than she appeared to be. "Socialite Spawn," she said with a wave of her hand. "Nothing too special, just your usual silver spoon stuff."

"I see," said Renesmee, even though she really wasn't sure she did. "So you grew up here, in the city?"

"Born and raised," Clara replied. "And you didn't." It wasn't a question, but Renesmee shook her head anyway. "I can tell. You've got that locked-away-in-a-tower look to you. No offense."

Renesmee tried to decide if she should be amused of affronted; she settled on the former. "It wasn't exactly a tower," she said with a small smile. "My, uh, roommate calls it a compound, and that kind of caught on. Now we all call it that."

Clara caught on the word 'Roommate'. "You share a place? What, did the folks cut you off or something?"

"No… more like they decided I should have supervision. They're sort of… overprotective."

"Interesting." Clara did, in fact, look interested. "Most rich kids get to do what they like, when they like." She gestured to herself as proof. "I just happened to get it out of my system in my early teens."

Renesmee wasn't sure exactly what 'it' referred to, but she was pretty sure she hadn't ever had it in her system in the first place. She found herself becoming more and more intrigued by Clara, who had obviously had a much different upbringing than her own. "So, what about you? Do you live alone?" They were walking along one of the paths that led off campus now, and Renesmee looked around them at the other students. She had to admit, now that it was brought to her attention, that she was much better dressed than most of the people there. She and Clara looked like they matched, in their expensive and well-tailored coats and boots. She couldn't help but feel a shallow little thrill at the thought that people might look at her and think she was a fashionable, pretty girl like Clara.

Clara shook her head. "I'm not sure you could really put it that way… I live there," She said, and pointed at the sky in front of them. Specifically, she pointed at a tall, stately building that soared high up into the blue. Renesmee had to squint to look at it, because the sun was so bright.

"Is that a hotel?" She said incredulously. Clara rolled her eyes.

"Yeah… my dad owns it. I'm in one of the suites… her has the penthouse, of course. So I guess you could say I still live with my parents."

Renesmee chuckled. "I'd say that's a bit of an over-simplification." She checked her watch. "I've got a couple hours between now and my next class… Rideau and I usually hang out on Mondays, but I guess today I'll just go home for a bit."

Clara shrugged. "You could," She said, "If you need to. Or, since I've got some time to burn too, we could go grab a bite." Renesmee was surprised but pleased at the invitation.

"Okay," she said, even though she didn't really feel like facing a restaurant. She did feel like finding out more about this new girl. Maybe she could be another new friend. A girl friend… someone she could talk to about girl things. "That would be nice."

"Perfect. I know a great place." And Clara steered them purposefully in the direction of wherever it was they were going for lunch.

Where they were going, it turned out, was a very upscale French restaurant. Renesmee was suddenly very glad she'd bothered to put herself together nicely that morning, because everybody in the place seemed to be dressed impeccably in designer labels. She again felt a surge of pleasure at being able to pass as one of these young high society ladies, but it was coupled with a sense of impending dread that she'd give herself away with some horrible social faux pas. She shook the thought away. She was Edward Cullen's daughter… nobody had better manners than her dad, at least when he wasn't too mad about something to remember to use them. She'd just have to keep in mind how he acted in public, and she'd be fine.

Most of the menu was comprised of horrid-sounding things: tiny birds, quail eggs, basically everything with a disgusting texture or origin. Renesmee ordered the soup of the day. Liquids were about all she could handle at this place. She noted that Clara noticed her miniscule selection, but the other girl didn't comment.

"So," Clara said when the waiter departed after taking their orders, "That man you're always with… Rideau, was it?" Renesmee nodded. "Are you two an item?" She almost spat her mouthful of water across the table into Clara's face. What an unexpectedly forward thing to ask! Why did everyone think she was interested in Rideau?

"No," she said, recovering nicely. "We're just friends." Clara's grin took on a razor-sharp edge.

"Are you sure about that? He looks like he wants to be."

Renesmee shook her head. "Positive. He's nice, but I'm not… well, he's just not the type for me."

That garnered a knowing look. "Ah," said Clara, "There's somebody else."

Renesmee could feel herself blushing. "No, no… it's not like that… there isn't anybody, really."

"But you'd like for there to be."

She found herself shrugging. "Maybe." Clara gave a triumphant little laugh.

"Aha. Who is it? Anybody I might know?"

Renesmee snorted. "I doubt it. He's… well, it's sort of awkward. You remember the roommate I mentioned?"

Clara's pale eyebrows leapt into her hairline. "Your chaperone? That is awkward." She snickered. "What would Mummy and Daddy think?" Renesmee couldn't help but shudder at that.

"Let's not even go there. I can imagine several scenarios… none of them particularly pleasant."

"At least your parents care who you date. My mother just assumes my relationships will fail right from the start. She'd stopped even bothering to ask the names of the guys I see. And my dad only wants to know their last names… so he can gloat about how he has more money than their fathers." She seemed to lose herself as she rambled on, and then suddenly focused on Renesmee again with a guilty look. "Sorry… overshare."

"It's cool," Renesmee said with a sympathetic smile. "I don't mind swapping crazy family stories. I've got a few stored up." Clara grinned.

"I'm glad I introduced myself to you today," She said suddenly. "I've been wanting to, but you've always got a boy-shield next to you. I hope you don't think I'm being weird… It's just that the people I get to meet… well, they're interesting, but they're not smart, or interested in the same things I'm interested in. I just wanted to meet someone cool, who can actually understand what I'm talking about when I go all brainiac, and who doesn't let the fact that I have money get in the way of getting to know me."

Renesmee was, again, surprised by Clara. She'd sort of pegged the girl as a fashion-plate without much substance, and here she was expressing an interest to meet with somebody on a common intellectual level. She could relate, she supposed. Although she'd never lacked for smart, stimulating people around her, she certainly wanted to find a friend her own age (Mentally, at least), with common interests. Maybe she and Clara would work out well as friends.

"I definitely know how you feel," she said with a smile.

oooOOOooo

Renesmee looked up from the massive textbook she'd been reading at the sound of her phone ringing. She'd been home from school for about an hour, and was relaxing on her bed, catching up on some work. Jacob was in the other room, and her family usually called her on the landline… it must be one of her friends! She rolled over and reached towards her phone, which was still buzzing away on her night table. 'Rideau Linley' came up on the display. She grinned and hit the answer button.

"Hey Sicko," she said cheerfully.

"Hey yourself." Rideau's voice was raspy, and about an octave lower than normal.

"Wow, you sound terrible," she said bluntly. Rideau chuckled from the other end of the line, but his laughter soon devolved into a coughing fit. Renesmee flinched. "Ouch… sorry, I'll try not to be funny."

When he'd caught his breath again, he asked her how class had been. Renesmee told him what they'd discussed with regards to the readings, and gave him the chapters they had to know for the following week.

"The oddest thing happened to me today," he said when she had finished. "I was on the couch, miserable, and there was a knock at my door. Turns out somebody had phoned the local Deli and they'd given them my name and address, along with an order for an obscene amount of Chicken Soup. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Renesmee laughed. "Nope," she lied. She'd sent the soup herself, and Rideau clearly knew it, but she'd play along. "Must've been the soup fairy."

"Well, the soup fairy is very generous. I'll have to pay her back."

"No need… she's got plenty of soup to go around. You'd just embarrass her if you tried."

She could almost hear his smile in his voice. "Well, I just thought you might like to know that the soup helped… I think I'm going to live, after all."

"Damn… and I've already put the deposit down on the hearse. I can't get that back, you know!" Rideau had another fit of laughter and coughing.

"So, what else happened today?" He asked her when he'd pulled through it.

Renesmee remembered her lunch with Clara. "You know that girl in our morning class with the blonde hair, the one with the macBook? Well, she sat with me today in class, and we introduced ourselves."

"Really?" Rideau paused, thinking. "She sits near the middle, usually, with her stuff spread everywhere, right?" Renesmee giggled.

"Yup. That's her. Anyway, she's actually a pretty interesting character… she's like a socialite or something, her dad owns four hotels."

"Wow. That's more hotels than I own." Renesmee rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, it was cool. She's nice."

"Don't tell me you're ditching me for a new seat buddy," Rideau joked.

"Never!" Renesmee scoffed, laying the drama on thick. "Don't even say it!"

After another laughter-inspired coughing fit, Rideau sighed reluctantly. "I should get off the phone… you're on a roll with the jokes, and it's killing my lungs."

"I can try to be boring," she offered.

"Naw… my throat hurts anyway. I'll call you tomorrow, though, and let you know if I'm gonna make it to campus… we can grab the coffee we missed today."

"Okay… rest up!"

"I will. Bye."

"Bye." Renesmee clicked the end button on her phone and set it down with a smile. It felt really good to have people in her life besides her family and Jacob. Not that they weren't her favorite people in the universe, but they were sometimes a little close. Their relationships with her were a little too vital. That must be why people had regular friends… to have people in their lives to whom they didn't owe anything, and who didn't owe anything to them, for the simple purpose of spending time together and enjoying each other's company. She'd never really had that. The closest she'd come had been her friendship with Jacob, and even there, it hadn't been that easy. They had always had an intense bond with each other, as if their lives were tied together invisibly yet unyieldingly. And now, with her feelings, she felt an even more desperate pull towards her lifelong friend. Renesmee was finding it truly difficult to just take it easy and have fun with somebody for whom she cared so deeply.

Just thinking about him tied her stomach in tight, unpleasant knots. Renesmee flopped back against the pillows. What was she going to do about Jacob? She couldn't tell him, that was for sure, and she couldn't go on like this, not telling him… she'd go nuts. She was pretty much certain that he had no idea what was going on, and that he didn't think about her the way she thought about him. Did he even think of her as a girl at all? The more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed. He probably saw her as a kid, even in her new, more grown up clothing. And she acted like it, too, goofing around, being so physical with him, like she had when she was younger.

She thought back to her mother's objection to her and Jacob on their runs, her riding on the giant wolf's back like a jockey. Her mother was right. It wasn't appropriate. If a man and woman of a certain age were to be friends, there couldn't be that sort of contact… it was gauche, it wasn't respectable behavior.

She'd just have to start acting more like an adult around Jacob. That way, he'd see her as one, and maybe return her affections. And if not… then it would at least be a bit easier to be without him, having already removed a part of their closeness.

There was a knock at her door. Before she could stop and think about it, Renesmee turned towards the sound and shouted, "Come in!"

Jacob's huge frame appeared in the doorway a second later, and her heart gave a bizarre little twist. He saw her sitting on the bed, practically buried in schoolwork, gave a little smirk, and then flopped onto the bed beside her, the springs groaning in response to the sudden, extra weight. Renesmee gave a loud squeak as her books bounced across the mattress, her papers scattering.

"Aw, Jake… I had a system going!" She complained, closing her books and gathering them into a pile.

Jacob drew his legs up onto the bed and sat crosslegged, leaning his elbows on his knees. "You work too hard," he said, "It's boring, and it's unhealthy. Come play PS3." He was in gray track pants and a white undershirt, and Renesmee was keenly aware of the closeness of his body, the extra exposure of his warm skin. She sighed.

"I really have to study, Jake."

He grabbed her by the crook of her elbow and shook her gently, like a child pestering an older sibling. "Come on… I'm really bored. And as my best friend, you have an obligation—nay, a duty—to entertain me."

As casually as she could, Renesmee twisted her arm out of his grip and stood up, putting a much-too-small stretch of charged air between them. Her skin felt cold and unpleasant at the absence of his touch. "You're a terrible influence, you know," she said with narrowed eyes, scooping her books up and taking them to her desk, leaving them there in a pile. She couldn't refuse him anything, but she could at least agree to his demands without giving into to the urge to feel his skin against her own. It felt like a violation, giving how she felt and the fact that Jacob didn't know. "Okay," she said with an overly-dramatic sigh, "I guess I can take a few minutes break to kick your butt."

"In your dreams, Small Fry!" Renesmee was glad that Jacob had leapt up and started for the door, because at the mention of dreaming she felt her cheeks go warm. He bounded down the hall and into his own room, and Renesmee followed, a playful grin glued precisely to her face. She was convinced that she could handle a video game, even if she was playing it beside the most handsome, attractive, muscled-bound…

No. PS3, then studying. No time for dirty thoughts.

Jacob already had the game loaded on his big screen. Renesmee almost sat beside him on the end of his bed, then thought better of it and plopped herself down on the carpet, her back resting against the footboard. If Jacob found that odd, he didn't mention it. He pressed the start button and their characters loaded in split screen, army men with huge guns. The epic video game music surged, and they began unceremoniously shooting at each other. After about ten minutes of running, shooting and stalking, it became abundantly clear that Renesmee was going to lose, and badly.

"You're mine, Nessie!" Jacob yelled as he cornered her player. Renesmee's fingers tightened instinctively at that innocent statement, and there was a crunching sound and the plastic controller snapped in two in her hands. Her character was slaughtered on-screen without fighting back, and she tossed the mangled controller on the floor, in frustration. "Whoa," Jacob said as he caught sight of the broken plastic.

"Sorry," Renesmee said, a bit embarrassed and angry with herself, "I guess I just got into it." Jacob just laughed. It really wasn't that big of a deal… they had both broken video game controllers before. The things weren't created for the super-strong.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he said, mussing her hair playfully. Renesmee pulled away in irritation. How was she supposed to avoid touching him if he kept touching her? "Hey, don't worry about it!" Jacob said, misunderstanding her reaction. "I'll just pull out the extra…"

"I don't want to play anymore, Jacob," she said, letting a bit too much of her frustration seep into her tone. When she looked up, Jacob's face was full of confusion and hurt. She shook her head and closed her eyes. "Sorry… I'm just in kind of a bad mood, okay?"

Jacob was quiet for a minute, and then he said, "Okay, Nessie," and moments later she heard the television click off.

It didn't make sense… she'd had such a good day, and then as soon as she'd started spending time with the one person she most wanted to see, things began to go downhill. Now, she was tense and upset, and she couldn't shake the feeling or explain exactly why. And she certainly couldn't talk to Jacob about it.

She couldn't talk to anybody about it.

Renesmee risked a quick pat to Jacob's shoulder as she stood and started from the room. "Look, I'm sorry… I promise to be nicer and more cheerful tomorrow. For now, I should probably just finish my work and get some rest."

Jacob looked like he didn't believe a word she was saying. "Nessie, if there's something wrong… you can tell me."

She shook her head. "Nothing's wrong," she lied. "I'm just a bit cranky. Girl stuff. You know." That worked… Jacob now looked scared, rather than suspicious.

"Okay, well, I'll just let you… um, feel better, then." He said, actually backing away a little. That made Renesmee smile. Jacob was sometimes so easy to peg.

"Ok. I'll be in my room… have a good night," she said. Jacob echoed her goodnight wishes as she walked away, and she had the urge to look back at him over her shoulder. One more look at him, and she knew her willpower would crumble, and she wouldn't be able to leave.

So she didn't look back.

In the Next Chapter:

He knew he was pushing his luck, but she seemed to be comfortable with the same physical closeness they used to have, and he couldn't help but relish in it. "Yeah. That's always good," he agreed. Renesmee blinked up at him, propping herself up on one elbow to look into his face.

"I want us to always be friends, okay?" She said, and her cheerful expression faltered. "Even if… if something happens that one of us doesn't want to happen. I… I just always want us to be best friends." Jacob felt his heart drop clear out of his chest. This was it…