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"I know it may look like I was being like a bitch, but that's only because I was acting like a bitch." - Cady Heron, Mean Girls

Aly's POV

Yeah, remember how Beck was saying before that I start a fight with my mother right before we go to some important thing that isn't all that important?

Well, maybe that should have been directed towards Gwendolyn, who just recently bitched me out for no reason.

Seriously, she and Beck tampered with my blow dryer so that it'd shoot out baby powder and completely ruin my freshly washed hair, and then she has the nerve to go and call me a virgin who can't drive. Even though I am.

You just shouldn't say that to people, though.

But you know what I'm most pissed off about?

She insulted my hair.

Nobody insults my amazing blonde locks or threatens to dye them a hideous brunette color and get away with it.

Not even my own sister.

Especially my own sister.

So that's why Gwen and I didn't say a word to each other on the car ride there. We sat as far from each other as we could while my mother rambled on about the proper forks to use or some crap like that and Beck went back to text fighting with Jade. I think he thought that if he said anything else to us, it would just wazz us off even more.

Though I don't know what gives her any reason to be so friggin' mad.

Oh, and though it's probably obvious, let me just say that I took another shower to get all the powder off.

No thanks to the jerks I call my brother and sister.

Mostly my sister.

So yes, quite a lot of animosity towards Gwendolyn right now.

After a painfully long car ride, full of tension that Jane apparently didn't notice and Beck muttering, "Really? She's bringing that up?" every time Jadelyn sent him a text, we arrived at le country club full of snobs, douches and Botox abusing housewives.

This day is great.

When we got out of the car, Jane told us, "I'm going to find your father. His round of golf must be done by now. Go... mingle or something."

The 'or something' implies that she knew we wouldn't actually mingle, since it looked like we were the only three there who were under the age of thirty, and was just asking us to not start a riot.

At least that's what I think she was implying.

The three of us walked toward the building where we were assuming the luncheon thing was, with Beck between us, since I'm pretty sure that if Gwen and I got too close to each other, one of us would burst into flames.

I hope it'd be Gwen.

Once we got inside, I'm guessing Beck was tired of the furious silence between his sisters, because he put his phone in his pants pocket and said, "Will you two please just apologize and move on? The silent treatment is getting old."

I shrugged, looking in the other direction. "Gwen's the one who needs to apologize. And you. But mostly Gwen."

"I already said I was sorry, Aly. Gwen's sorry too, right Gwen?"

Gwen shook her head. "Not really."

"Well, you were."

"Only because you wouldn't go through with the dye thing."

Beck looked pretty frustrated, but it was that kind of calm, contained anger that he was so good at. "Okay, have it your way. Keep being mad at each other for no reason. I'm gonna go eat some kind of food I can't pronounce." And then he walked towards some sort of buffet table thing with fancy schmancy appetizers and left me alone with her.

Thanks, Beckett. As always, you're a big help.

No words were spoken between Gwen and I as we headed to the circular table with our name cards on them. Apparently you're not allowed to choose where you sit at those things. My parents were already there, chatting it up with some stuffy looking couple in a Armani suit and a tacky polyester pant suit.

I may not be Jane's number one fan, but at least she knows how to dress.

Unfortunately, Gwen and I were forced to sit next to each other and there would be no moving our place cards around. Jane went on about that for at least ten minutes in the car. So we shot each other a glare before we sat down, which went unnoticed by our parents, who were too busy kissing ass to even notice we had sat down.

About ten seconds later, I got a text. A text from Gwen. After reading it, I glared at her. "Really? You're going there?"

She just nodded with an angry scowl on her face. That was actually kid of refreshing, since she usually just pouts.

I let out a sharp scoff, angrily typing a response. "Okay, have it your way."

A few seconds after I sent the message, I sat my PearPhone down on my lap. Gwen's phone beeped, and she looked utterly offended by the text I sent her. "Oh my God, that was seven years ago! When are you going to let go of that?"

Beck came by right at that moment with a small plate of stuff to hold him over until the main course was served and sat down at his assigned seat, which was right next to me. At least I get to sit by one sibling that isn't an immature beast.

I know I should probably be madder at Beck too, since that little prank was actually his idea, but I guess I kind of had it coming from him. Considering I glued his phone to his face and all.

But Gwen? She had no reason to prank me and was WAY out of line. In multiple ways.

Speaking of Gwen, I got another text.

A really disturbing one.

I shot a side-glance at her, eyebrow raised. "You want to lick me in the boob?"

"... Damn autocorrect."

"Wow," Beck muttered, observing both of us. "I never realized how annoying text fighting is when you're not part of it..."

Gwen looked past me as if I wasn't even there and at Beck's plate of horderves. "What's that mushy stuff?" she asked him.

"... I don't actually know. But from what I saw, you're supposed to eat it with crackers." Beck scooped some of the whatever up with one of those fancy ass crackers people have at luncheons or whatnot and popped it in his mouth. "Whatever it is, it's not bad."

"Can I have some?"

"Sure." Beck dipped another cracker into it and held it out to me. "Als, pass this to Gwen, will you?"

I had pulled out my phone at this point, looking at something or other. "I don't think I can. Considering I'm a complete fake, it'd probably go right through my hand."

Gwen huffed and reached across my PearPhone to grab the cracker. "You're the one at fault here. Not me."

As she shoved the appetizer in her oversized mouth, I scoffed and looked up from my phone at her. My parents and the guy and his tacky wife left long ago, probably to 'mingle' with the other crotchety old people that were there. "How the hell am I at fault in any of this? I'm the victim!"

"Oh, wow, so when you insult me, that's just fine and dandy, but when I insult you it's the end of the god damn world?"

"Who says 'fine and dandy' anymore? What are you, seventy nine?"

"You see?" Gwen practically screamed, looking at Beck as if asking him to take her side and protect her from big mean Allison Jane Oliver. "She gets away with saying stuff like that all the time, but I say something mean to her once and she starts acting like a little bit-"

"Gwen," Beck interrupted her, looking kind of fed up with her nonsense. Just hers. Because this shit is so not my fault. "It was just a short joke. You sort of did overreact."

Smugly smirking, I crossed my arms. "Haha."

"Allison. Considering you're older than she is, you could try to be a little more mature about this."

"Haha," Gwen quietly said, making my urge to smack her grow even more. "Beck's on my side!"

Beck took a bite of one of his big shrimp. "No, I'm not. If anything, I'm on Aly's side."

"... I'm sorry, what?" Gwen looked as if him mostly agreeing with me was a foreign concept to her. Probably because she's usually in the right. But not this time.

Haha.

"Come on, you know you were kind of harsh earlier." Beck tossed his shrimp tail onto his plate and picked up a new one.

"Bu-But Beck..." Gwen pulled her sickeningly cute, big blue eyes pouty face, as if that would instantly change his stance.

Luckily, it didn't. "Gwen, you're almost fifteen. That face isn't going to work forever."

Before he could take a bite of his gargantuan shrimp, Gwen, who looked absolutely appalled by his comment, reached over and smacked it out of his hand before sitting back down and crossing her arms.

Well then.

"... And now my big shrimp is on the floor," was all Beck could say before he picked the dirty seafood up and stuffed it in his napkin.

"No, no, no!" I heard my mother whisper-yelling from behind. "This is an absolute disaster!"

Oh Lord. What now.

"Jane, dear, calm down," my dad quietly told her in some attempt to calm her down. "We can easily fix this."

"No, we can't!" They both sat back down, Armani and Polyester nowhere in sight. "How could the caterers leave like that? And when the regular kitchen staff has the day off, no less! Just because their nine year old son got attacked by a miniature pony?" Jane rested her head in her hands. "That's the last time I hire a family business."

... What.

Seriously, I can't come up with anything witty to write in response to that.

So let's move on.

James looked at me and his other two children, one who was still huffing and pouting and one who was probably still sad about his soiled shrimp. And I guess something about Jane saying 'family business' gave him a stupid idea. "Beckett, Allison, Gwendolyn, get in the kitchen and finish preparing the dishes."

LOLwut.

"Um... The last time Gwen cooked, she gave herself and Beck food poisoning." The puny kick Gwen gave my shin couldn't get rid of my smirk.

"The food's already prepared, and the main courses are already finished. The waiters already have a handle on that. You kids would just have to take care of dessert." James pointed toward a set of swinging doors, which was most likely the doors that led to the kitchen.

When we didn't budge or even twitch, he just shrugged. "Fine. If you don't want to help your mother and I make sure this luncheon runs smoothly, you can go talk to Mr. Berkowitz over there." He gestured toward an wrinkly old man who was sitting by himself, shakily sipping some soup. "Just don't get him started on politics. You'll be there all day."

And that's when we made our way into the kitchen as fast as our Oliver legs

could take us.

James is smarter than I give him credit for.

Damn him.

/ /

"Okay, let's see..." Beck picked up some stapled paper, which I'm assuming had the menu printed out on it, and scanned through it. "It looks like it's just cake, pie and an ice cream bar. We're mostly just arranging stuff and getting the ice cream out of the freezer. That shouldn't be that hard."

"Why do our parents hate us?" I leaned against one of the chrome counters and crossed my arms. "For serious, why is it that whenever they plan crap like this, we always get drafted into doing the dirty work for them?"

As Gwen opened the door to the freezer, she let out a snort.

My head snapped in her direction so I could glare at her. "What was that?"

"Oh. Nothing." Gwen pulled out a tray of devils food cake, perfectly sliced and already on their perfect little plates. Then, more quietly, she added, "You complaining about every little thing is just an average thing, after all."

"Do you think I'm deaf or something?" Passing her, I grabbed a tray from the fridge too. "Seriously, it's like it'd kill you to shut up for once in your life." This tray had some gross looking pie instead of gut-wrenching cake.

I'm not one for dessert.

Beck looked up from the packet, eyebrows furrowed. "Do you two even remember what you're fighting about?"

"I'm sure Gwen doesn't, but I do." I sort of accidentally but not totally accidentally slammed the tray down and looked back at my sister. "I think I have the right to fight, considering she called me a whore and all."

Gwen, who sat her tray down with much more tenderness, oh isn't she fancy, gaped at me. "I never called you a whore! I would never do that!"

"Yeah, but, uh, you called me a fake whore. That's the worst kind of whore there is!"

"You know what?" Beck, looking more fed up than he has since we got here, handed me the packet and looked between the two of us. "You two need to settle this by yourselves. I'm going to find the thing we're supposed to wheel the tubs of ice cream in with. Try not to strangle each other while I'm gone." And with that, he walked through a side door, probably to look for a closet where the utensils and containers were.

Still a big help, bro.

Letting out a groan, I looked down at the menu. "Okay, we have to drizzle chocolate sauce on the chocolate cream pie right after we put a dollop of whipped cream on it. That shouldn't be too hard. Even you can do that."

After taking several types of ice cream and dessert toppings out of the kitchen's pantry, Gwen spun around, the oversized caterer's smock flowing as she turned. "You see, it's stuff like that that just pisses me off to no end!"

"... Dude, when did you start cussing so much? Am I the only one who's noticed that you've been cussing more lately?"

"... Th-That is not the point! You constantly ridicule me and say totally rude things and everybody just laughs and moves on, because being a complete jerk is supposedly your thing, but when I do it, it's blown completely out of proportion and everybody thinks I'm an awful person!" She spun around, grabbed a bottle of chocolate sauce, and started artistically pouring it on the cake slices that I already sprayed whipped cream on. "And I'm just sick of your attitude and you showing off how much hotter you are than me! I mean, have you looked at your outfit? You just love the fact that my boobs are so tiny, I could use two band-aids as a bra, don't you?"

"Oh, so now I'm a slut?" Dear readers, I was fuming at this point. "What's up with you today? Try flipping the bitch switch off, will you?"

Slamming her free hand down on the counter, she spun around, a deadly look in her eyes. "Allison, I swear to God, sometimes I just want to strangle yo-"

I guess she was too focused on thinking about strangling me, because she squeezed the bottle that was in her other hand.

And it was pointed at me.

So my face pretty much ended up being covered in chocolate sauce.

Gwen froze. After a few seconds of opening her mouth and letting out noises that weren't close to words, she nervously stuttered, "Oh G-God. Aly, I'm s-so sor-sor-soooaaah hahaha!"

She's laughing?

SHE'S LAUGHING.

And before I knew it, I had a can of whipped cream in my hands again and forcefully squirted it onto her nose, where it pretty much took over her entire face. "There. At least it matches your skin."

After wiping the white fluff away from her eyes, Gwen let out a huff, grabbed something else off the counter and then-

She threw sprinkles at me.

I just got sprinkle bombed.

"There." Gwen slammed the rainbow sprinkles container back on the stainless steel. "Now there's finally something about you that stands out. Besides the sweater puppies you always feel compelled to flaunt in everybody's faces."

OH IT IS ON IN A MANNER THAT IS SIMILAR TO DONKEY KONG.

Gwenny's going down.