Steve just looked at his car and he couldn't believe it. It had been in pristine condition when he had parked it that morning but after cutting class to head to the beach, he came out and saw the dent.

The one that marred the previously unblemished fender…oh man if Russ saw this he was going to kill his only son. Unless he returned him to the adoption agency….and exchanged him for more perfect son. He whipped out his cell phone to call one of his contacts in the music industry. He didn't know why but maybe one of them could give him a referral for a body shop to fix his Corvette. A woman for MC Bodily Bee Hammer Job picked up the phone and nearly hung up on him just as fast until he mentioned that he was Samantha Sanders' son. For some reason everyone in L.A. loved his mother to bitsy or rather the character she played on television.

Not the Mommy Dearest he dealt with when the cameras were turned off.

"Okay so you're sure he'll have it back in mint condition? Open until seven? Thanks…"

He clicked the phone up and lowered his shades back down over his eyes like the big shot that everyone knew him to be. Everyone looked up to him because he was the big man on campus, the biggest fish in the pond of West Beverly.

"Hey Steve…"

Recoiling at the familiar tinny voice, he turned to face David who sauntered up to him as if he didn't have a car in the world.

"What's up?"

Steve gritted his teeth and gestured to the imperfection in his pride and joy.

"Look what some jackass did to my car," he said, "I just had to soup it up yesterday to get it ready for the big race."

David furrowed his brow.

"What big race?"

Steve didn't feel like explaining it to the peon in front of him when he had better things to do. His dash to the beach had been ruined by some faceless wuss damaging his car and now he'd have to get it fixed. He still had to figure out where to come up with the cash because his plastic had been cut up by Russ after they lost the father and son golf tourney at the country club.

"I don't time for you now Silver," he said, "I got to get this car fixed and then I got some business to take care of."

David just stared at Steve.

"You know who did this to your car?"

Steve shook his head and then narrowed his eyes at David.

"No…do you?"

David shook his own head in response.

"I have no idea man," he said, "Why do you always look at me like I did it?"

Steve sighed.

"Because most of the time it's got your signature all over it," he said, "Remember how you forgot to set the parking brake when you drove me home from that party?"

David snarled his lip.

"Dude that was three years ago," he said, "Get over it already."

Steve looked at him, hurt in his blue eyes.

"I thought it was that other geek Scott was it? Oh yeah, the kid that shot himself right in front of you. Tough break man…"

David felt the familiar lump in his throat.

"Yeah man it was," he said, "He was like a brother to me until I became cool and he stayed a geek."

Steve nodded.

"You were totally right to stop hanging out with him," he said, "That guy had no class."

David felt a pang of guilt because he had to agree with Steve on that one. He'd played with Scott when they were kids but he had a rep to build and to keep up with the cool kids and Scott with his cowboy hat and his yen for country wailing just brought him down again. Scott had sensed the distance that grew between them like the Grand Canyon near the end but that didn't mean he had to shoot himself over it.

Like it was David's fault or something…no it wasn't and he told himself that every day and when Scott appeared in his dreams wearing that big hat to chastise him over something, he told that to him too.

"Yeah dude," he said, "See you later man…"

He walked away leaving Steve to figure out what to do with his dented car.

Donna slammed her locker. She'd had it up to here with David. Someone in her art class had told her that she'd seen the wannabe hip hop rapper harmonizing with some preppy chick outside of cheerleading practice.

If this got out…it'd make her the laughing stock of the school. She had to do something…no not that because she meant what she said about keeping her vow of chastity but she had to get David to stop cheating on her.

Kelly had little sympathy for her plight.

"Look Donna as long as you tease him, what do you expect him to do? He's a guy after all."

Donna shook her head rejecting Kelly's words.

"David's not like that," she said, "He's not like other guys. He's…David."

Kelly laughed without mirth.

"Donna…he's Mel Silver's son and you know what they say about apples and trees."

Her friend's face went blank.

"No…what do they say?"

Kelly sighed because she'd always known that when brains were passed out to Beverly Hill teenagers, Donna hadn't been out shopping. Even her own parents called her stupid all the time.

"Never mind…let's go hit the mall," Kelly said, "My mom feels guilty about passing out the other night when I was so terrified of the stalker that she loaned her plastic to me."

Donna nodded, biting her lip.

"Okay…I heard there are some sales at that cute little boutique with the backless dresses but I'm not going to enjoy myself."

Kelly just shrugged.

"Whatever…I have to buy some shoes," she said, "I don't want some other girls to get at them first."

Donna linked her arm in Kelly's and they both walked resolutely down the hallway.

Andrea watched them go and she just knew the rich bitches were going shopping again. Damn, she envied them but she had to hide it behind a cheerful smile even as it killed her. Well gave her ulcers anyway. She just knew that while they went on a shopping spree, she'd be working her butt off to put the Blaze to bed before grabbing a quick bite to eat before heading off to another night at the pole dancing club.

The shifts had increased because Sparkle one of the other dancers had to take off for a while and Andrea had filled in for her. She needed even more money because Grandma Rose had come up to her last week and had upped her share of the rent.

Her parents were maxed out and they felt it would build character if Andrea paid it herself so she went out and piled on more shifts. She had spent the wee hours of the morning at Grandma Rose's sewing machine stitching some more feathers on her costume to make it even prettier so she'd get more tip money.

She also had taken enough notes, filling four pads for the expose she planned to do on her undercover stint working there. It would win her the Pulitzer prize for sure and she'd be the first high school journalist to win that honor.

That led her to put some spring in her step as she headed off to work, putting the follies of the spoiled bratty rich behind her.