Bwahahaa, this one was interesting to write. Every story needs a good 'ol girl fight, you know? So here it is, ladies and gents. Aww, I have to write the ending now... it's sort of saddening, really. I can only hope that the sequel is better than this one. Anywho, I'll let you get to reading now!

- Chapter 11: Blood Red Nails -

I was shocked at how utterly clean the bathrooms were. Not to sound weird or anything, but gnarly bathrooms totally gross me out. I sat down on the plush bench and pulled out my phone, checking to see what time it was and sort through all of the texts that I'd just received in the past five minutes. I was so absorbed in seeing "gr8 prezzie!" and "u lucky grrl!" that I hardly noticed the sound of stiletto heels on tile walking past me. Glancing up from my phone ever so slightly, I caught a quick glimpse of Missy staring vainly at herself in the mirror and fixing her seven layers of God awful ugly make up.

She was watching me.

I pretended not to notice, when in reality my gaze was locked on her from what I could see out of the tops of my eyelashes. Missy looked pretty mad—not mad-because-my-purse-handle-snapped, but hey-you-you-took-my-boyfriend-and-I-hate-your-guts times twenty. I was so scared that I averted my gaze back down to my phone and went back to my idle texting. Jesus, how many people have number? I don think I've ever—

Slap.

I stared up at Missy in utter shock. My hand flew to my left cheek, which was tender from the blow of Missy's manicured fingers. The scene seemed odd to me, as if nothing fit. Here in front of me was the personified devil wearing some quadruple digit designer dress and half of Tiffany's on her neck, while I was just Melanie, humble and plain, barely scraping by on my own.

"What was that for?" I whispered.

"For ruining my best friend and pissing me off."

"Best friend?" I was mortified. "Jazmine is so not your best friend. And just how did I 'ruin' her?"

She clicked her tongue. "Uh, hello? Me and Jaz used to have so much fun together, and then you started hanging out with her. I mean, ew, have you seen the things she does now? Uncool things like shopping for food and going to arcades. It's like, horrible."

"Uncool things?" I couldn't help but laugh, "Missy, those are normal things for people to do. Only airheads like you insist on wasting time and money and pointless things like shopping and photo shoots. Plus, I've been hanging out with her since sixth grade. You hardly moved to this town four years ago, so don't pull that crap."

Missy knew that I'd won this war. There was no way she could pull her head out from under the water this time, not with money or bribes or anything. Nothing would make me crumble at her mercy.

She glared at me. "What'd you have to do to get that guy? Sleep with him?"

Without any thought, I punched her in the stomach. That was the lowest of lows, the cheapest of jabs. Now she was truly insulting my intelligence and integrity. I watched her squeal and clutch at her size two stomach, acting like I'd shot her or something. Once she'd finally regained her head, Missy swiped at my left cheek again, sending me flying off the bench and onto the floor.

I'm not sure how long I lied there on the cold tile. As she huffed out of the bathroom, I glanced at her hands. Missy's blood red nails caught my eye before she turned out of sight. Slowly, I sat up and placed my chin on my knees, my arms crossing my shins. She hates me for bringing Criss. For being Jazmine's friend. For being the center of attention, if only for a few moments. For living. It was people like her that made me sit back and value all the things that I do to keep my sanity from ever turning into something like her.

Enough was enough. I rolled up like a dancer to get onto my feet and slowly dragged my lifeless limbs across the glossy floor, keeping my eyes down on the ground, to make my way towards the door. Clutching Criss's hoodie close around me, I gloomily walked to the side of the stage, keeping away from people as much as I could. After a scan of the area, I found Criss standing up on the stage, taking pictures with a group of girls and their dates. Criss glanced over at me, his face suddenly turning into shock. As soon as the group left his side, he ran over to me, his eyes studying my left cheek intently.

"Mel, what happened?!" He asked, tracing a line on my cheek. His touch stung slightly, and I

cringed when he showed me his blood tipped index finger. My blood.

"Oh, nothing." I said, looking sideways. "A little argument."

"A little argument? You better come up with a better lie than that."

"Alright, but let's go. I'm done with tonight."

Criss escorted me by the base of my back through the now crowed club over to the door. I kept my face turned to the left so that I could hide my battle wounds in his mass of hair. On our way out, a few people came up to us and thanked us for coming and putting on a great show. Criss did all the talking quickly, which was good because I wanted nothing more than to leave and go home. For some reason, I felt as if that bathroom episode sucked out all my energy and happiness. Suddenly, my mood changed from happy-to-party to melancholy and exhausted. Even though I knew in my right mind that I won the battle, I couldn't force out the feelings of defeat. Never in my life had I ever been bullied and tormented so personally. Never.

"You want to make up a more convincing lie now?" Criss asked me lightheartedly as we stepped out into the cool evening air, our arms linked together.

"Heh," I started, forcing a laugh, "I'll tell the truth this time, honest."

He nodded and led the way while I composed my thoughts.

"It all started with this girl named Missy. She's the town's little rich brat with way too much attitude for one person. Anywho, rich girls band together, and so when she moved to this town four years ago, she befriended Jazmine, who was one of my friends at the time. I had no problem with Jazmine hanging out with Missy, so long as I wasn't there. They did all those things that girls with their fathers' money would do.

I hated being pampered and living the rich life while with Jaz, and she knew it. So we instead did normal things together, like hang out at bookstores to meet authors and go to state fairs and buy snow cones from the little ice cream shack by the grocery store. Jaz and I loved doing things like this; it's what really kept her rooted. Missy, however, hated that Jazmine and I had such a close bond and that we chose to do petty things for our enjoyment, rather than get daily spa treatments and go shoe shopping in the high end stores.

But what could I do? I didn't mind that she hated me. It was something I could live with, because I wanted nothing to do with her, anyways. We avoided each other at all costs."

"But if the two of you stayed away from each other, then why did she suddenly take it out on you?" Criss asked, concern clear in his voice.

"Because," I whispered, "The spotlight wasn't on her. Missy was horrified that the lowly Melanie was getting the attention that she craved so much. And so she confronted me in the bathroom and decided to slash at my face with her killer claws."

Criss was silent for a moment. His staring at the ground made me a little uneasy, as if he was putting together a mental puzzle of thoughts. Then, something clicked because he looked at me with a dreadful expression.

"You were getting the attention," he began, "Because you brought me."

I thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Oh my God, Mel, this is all my fault. I'm so sorry!"

"No, no," I pleaded, trying to lighten the mood. "It's not your fault. Hey, wanna hear something funny?"

"Tell me."

"Missy wanted to know if I had to sleep with you to get you to come to the party."

Under the stars, we both howled with laughter, momentarily forgetting all the pain.