A/N—okay, I know that another author just made a story like this, but she's
my best friend—I'm not copying her! We both just had the idea for the same
story but she (grumble) posted first. Lol, it's kind of funny! Great minds
think alike? Yah, that's it! Oh well, just read!
"I tried to call you last night," I assure her. "C'mon, Taylor, you know I didn't just blow you off. I'm busy. Besides, whenever you expect me to call, it's like, right after school. I'm usually doing homework or fending off the new neighbor kids. Cut me a little slack, alright?"
"Yeah, sure," Taylor scoffs at the other end of the phone, "like it's MY fault that the time zones are so screwy. You were the one that moved, not me. It's your problem if there's a three hour time dif in Cali, not mine."
I roll my eyes, grateful that she couldn't see my face. These little conversations we have every night aren't very enjoyable anymore. She's always blaming me for moving away from Virginia, when it's not my fault that my dad got a job change, it's his stupid bosses'.
"Hey, Paige, are you there or what? Paige?"
"Oh, um, sorry," I apologize, picking the seams loose at the end of my sock in boredom. "So...how are things at our school?"
"You mean MY school. You go to a new school, remember?" she snaps. "Anyways, everybody's, like, forgotten you or something. Even that what's- his-name you had a crush on doesn't remember you. It's kinda sad. I'm the only one who talks about you now."
"Stop rubbing it in," I say crossly. "You're not being all that nice. Look, I gotta go," I lied, "my mom wants the cell phone."
"Aw, alright," Taylor grumbles, as if she really just can't wait to get off the phone like me. "Too bad. Call me tomorrow, seriously. I don't care if your mom wants you to go do homework, live with it. I mean, she's not even your real mom."
"You know what, Taylor? Good-BYE." I slam down the phone and feel partially satisfied by the loud banging noise that it makes. God, she can be such a little bitch sometimes! It's already hard enough to be moving from everything I ever knew, but seriously, I don't need her bugging me.
She's right, though, I know it. My parents are my adoptive parents, but that doesn't mean I love them any less then I would love my real ones. That's the problem, though. My parents died when I was a baby, I never knew them. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if they hadn't died...but I don't really care. All I know is their names: Sam Matthews and Patty Halliwell. I kept my father's last name, I don't know why. Maybe since it makes me feel as if...I dunno, maybe I can find him someday.
"Honey," my mom calls from the kitchen when she hears me come down the stairs. "You all ready for your first day at your new school tomorrow?"
I fake a smile. "Of course, mom," I respond cheerily. "But I still don't know anything about the school, like my schedule, the kids, the teachers...the name of the place..."
"It's called Tackatum Middle School," she explains. "And don't worry about the schedule. Apparently there's a program in the school board called 'mentoring' that has an older kid take you around to your classes for the first week or two. She's a ninth grader, only two years older than you."
"Oh, great," I laugh, "now I'm gonna be treated like a total baby. Who's 'mentoring' me tomorrow? Any piercing? Tattoos? C'mon, mom, I can handle myself."
"Let me see." My mom starts leafing through a file that she keeps for all my old schools and the one I'm at now. "Her name is...Phoebe Halliwell."
"That's the same name as..." I shake my head, not wanting to upset my mother by mentioning my birth mom. Not that she'd get really mad, but I can tell that she doesn't appreciate it. "Well, I guess I'll meet her tomorrow outside the school gates. Got any idea what she looks like?"
"Sure, here's a picture of her. Cute, isn't she? Maybe you guys could hang out a lot! I'll take pictures!" She slid a photograph across the table, handing it to me.
At first all I can do was gawk at the girl into photograph. When I look at her, I see my eyes, my smile. I shudder in shock, immediately shoving the photo back into the file. That girl looks like my clone with longer black hair than mine.
"What?" my mom questions me. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I insist, picking up some of the binders I'm taking to school tomorrow. "I'm going up to my room to get a jump on things, you know? Don't want to be disorganized or anything."
"Do you need the picture of Phoebe to recognize her?"
I almost laugh. Couldn't she see we were basically fraternal twins? I could just look in the mirror to see who it was, she had my face!
"No, thank you," I stifle back a snicker. "That's okay, I'll manage."
"Alright."
I go back upstairs and stare at the wall. This life totally sucks. Ever since I'd moved here I'd been mauled by the neighbor's eight kids at least a dozen times, tripped off the porch steps in front of the hottie across the street named Martin, and trespassed at the park by accident. Everybody thinks I'm this terrible rebel criminal, but it seemed to amuse Martin, so it can't be all bad.
Eventually I slip into a very early sleep, dreaming of clones...so many clones...they were everywhere. Martin was there. "Paige," he kept saying, "which one is you? I don't know which one will trip off the steps." I'd blush and trip on the porch step, which would come from beneath me out of nowhere. He'd laugh...always laughing...why wouldn't it stop?
In the morning I wake up drenched in sweat, only to find that it was already light outside. I jump up and stare at the alarm clock: 6:45am. Damn it! I'm late!
"Mom!" I scream down the stairs, pulling on my socks, toast in my mouth and backpack slung over one of my shoulders. "Why didn't you wake me up?! I'm totally late, it's time for school in, like, a half hour, and I'm not ready!"
"Honey, calm down. It only takes a five minute drive," she reassures me. "You have plenty of time. Don't worry. It's all under control."
"Yeah, yeah," I repeat, jittery. "Okay then, let's go already! That mentor person of mine's gonna get so totally angry with me!" I swallow the remains of the toast and manage to tie my shoes, backpack finally adjusted. "Come ON."
My mom rolls her eyes, grabbing her keys and opening the front door. "Alright, Paige," she sighs. "You're gonna be lucky if you haven't waken up the whole neighborhood by now. Speaking of which, where's that boy you—"
"SHHH!" I demand, looking out through the window. Martin's running out the door in his jeans and brown shirt, his book bag swaying carelessly at his legs. The sun cracks through the maple tree and shines on his brown hair, and I feel like I'm melting...then I realize that my mom is gawking at me quite questionably.
"What?" I ask her, annoyed. "I just think that you're being too loud. I mean, we don't want those little kids next door to wake up yet, do we?"
She smiles this I'm-your-mother-don't-try-to-fool-me grin and I flinch. I HATE it when she does that, it makes me want to scream! What does SHE know about the guys I like? Besides, here, I have this clean, new state. No one knows me, so I have a good chance of getting through to Martin. He doesn't know my faults, and I'm prepared to hide them at all costs.
Suddenly he looks up at me hovering at the front steps and smiles. "Hey, Paige!" he calls out. "You going to school?"
I nod, then realize how stupid that is. He's all the way across the street—he can't see me! "Uh, yeah!" I call back. "First day! See ya there!"
"Oh, good luck!" he opens the back door to his mom's car and I feel like shrieking with happiness as he drives away. So hot, so hot, so hot...
It takes a little less time to get to school then I thought it would. It turns out I got there before my clone—excuse me, "mentor"—showed up. I take the opportunity while standing at the gate to survey the school. It looks normal enough, I guess. Some of it looks as if it's been renewed. Half the walls are made of stone, like medieval times or something, only with a lot of graffiti. The rest is a bright red brick, like the kinds you see on a thank-you note to a teacher. Yuck.
"Hey, you!" shouts a voice coming up the side walk. I turn to find the voice, but can't.
"Are you Paige Matthews?"
Ah, my clone. Here she is in the flesh. She looks a lot more like me in real life then she did in the photo, which really freaks me out. She seems to notice it, too; I can see her approaching me hesitantly, know who I am but at the same time feeling a little baffled about our similarity.
I grin and wave at her. "Yeah. You're Phoebe Halliwell, right?" She nods, and I nod back, acting cool. "Nice to meet you. So...I guess you're gonna show me around the school? No offense or anything, but I think I know which ways to go—"
Phoebe snorts. "Try explaining THAT to the school's vice principal. SHE signed me up for this in the first place." She sees my hurt look and quickly adds, "But I think we're gonna have fun, don't you?"
"Mm-hm," I reply.
Now that she's closer, I see that she's wearing dark make-up. A lot of it. Come to think of it, she's all dressed in black, too. 'Great, my mentor's a gothic-punk,' I think as I see the plastic chains hanging from her jeans. 'At least she's nice enough.'
"So, I have your schedule right here." Phoebe fumbles around her pockets. "Now, where did I put it? Give me a sec...Ah!" I cringe as she pulls out a tattered, crumpled piece of paper. She holds it up to the sun and stares at it as if that'll fix the illegibility. "Well, I think your first class is PE. It could be physics, though...Nope, PE. Mrs. Costa is the sevvie PE teacher."
"'Sevvie?'" I question incredulously.
"Oh, you know. Slang for seventh graders. I remember when they used to throw wads of paper at us when I was a sevvie...and then there were the horrors of Sevvie Bop Day." She shuddered.
I gawked at her. "Sevvie Bop Day?" I stutter. I don't know what it is, but it doesn't sound too good.
"Don't worry. It was the first Friday we got back from summer vacation, it's over now. All that happens is the ninth and eighth graders bopping the sevvies on the head, no biggie. What sucks, though, is the faculty found out about it this year and banned it, so I didn't get to bop any sevvies. I got bopped when I was your age! It's not fair..." she grumbled. "Well, I guess I'm not comforting you, am I? You'll be fine. No sweat."
"Right." By this time we've gotten to the school. The front of the school, luckily, is made of those bricks too bright for my eyes instead of the nasty graffiti.
I see boys walk past, surveying me. I blush. At my old school, nobody noticed me. They must be pretty desperate to check me out of all people.
"Yo, Piper!" Phoebe called out to one of the cars. The car rolled down the window and I see a college girl with light brown hair. "Pick me up after school, okay? I don't wanna take that smelly old bus again!"
Piper rolls her eyes. "Yeah, sure, my queen," she laughs. "Who's your new friend?" She gestures towards me.
"Oh, this is Paige. Paige Matthews. She's new to the school today, I'm mentoring her." Phoebe turns to me. "That's my big sis, Piper. She can be REALLY scary and neurotic at times, so ignore her if you feel so inclined—as I do constantly."
Piper made a fake growl, parking her car in the carpool lane. "Maybe Paige will be your first 'normal' friend, huh?" She flashed me a grin. "Keep her in line for me, okay?"
I nod, wishing that I had a sister to tease like that.
Piper starts rolling up her window. "See ya at the Kiss & Ride, then!"
Phoebe rolls her eyes. "WHY does she ALWAYS have to make fun of me? The other kids could HEAR..."
"Kiss & Ride? What's that?"
"You know, where the loser kids get picked up and dropped off. It's considered weird or something if you take the Kiss & Ride. Luckily it hasn't quite damaged my rep yet, but with PIPER on my tail, you never can guess what'll happen."
"At my old school we called it carpool," I tell her, wondering what her 'rep' is all about but too afraid to ask at this point. "Kiss & Ride seems a little harsh. Humiliating, even. Dang, my mom's picking me up today!" I bite my nail in fear. Now what? My first day and I'm gonna be a geek without a rep like Phoebe's to protect me!
"Well, you're okay if Piper picks you up. She's really popular here, everybody remembers her. You could call your mom and tell her that you wanna do homework at my place, if you want. My other sister, Prue, can help you with the new courses you're taking."
"Oh, thanks," I gush gratefully. "You've saved my life!"
"No prob." Phoebe pats me on the back, then we stop in front of a door labeled "Gymnasium" in blue writing. Several girls come running out, almost smacking the door in our face.
"Hey, watch it!" Phoebe yells, holding up her fist. "Ugh, stupid sevvie preps," she mutters once their out of earshot. "Never hang with them. Anyways, this is the gym. I'll meet you here to take you to your next class. If you need me, I'll be in room 202, biology—right there across the hallway. Good luck!"
"Thanks, Phoebe!"
"Call me Pheebs, everyone else does," she laughs.
"You mean 'Freebie,' right? You think you're gonna rub off you nasty attitude on this poor, impressionable sevvie? I don't think so." A blonde girl in a revealing pink tank and a flowered miniskirt comes up from the crowd and smiles at me. I can see right away that she's two faced and that all the other seventh and eighth graders behind her are her followers. "What's your name?" she asks me sweetly.
"Pai—"
Phoebe claps a hand over my mouth. "Don't speak to the highness," she mocks the girl. "She's too good for people like us."
"Oh, you think you've already claimed this one? Nuh-uh. She's mine. All the cute girls with popularity potential go to ME, they shouldn't be wasted on a punk-rebel-wannabe like Freebie." She flips her hair, turning to me again and smiling. "Now, what was your name?"
I look desperately up at Phoebe for a little support, but she's glaring at the intruder. I turn to the other sevvies behind her, but find that they look mind-controlled, wearing that same eerie smile as their leader.
"My name is Paige Matthews," I stutter, "and PHOEBE is showing me around the school today. I am NOT property, got it? I am an independent human being and I refuse to choose between leaders. Now I have to go to gym. Good- BYE."
All the followers look on in shock as I turn my back to them and proceed into the doors to gym. Now I just have to find the locker room, and...
"Freebie," girl glares, "that one's mine."
"She's no one's," Phoebe corrects. "She's herself, which I think is the best to be."
"I tried to call you last night," I assure her. "C'mon, Taylor, you know I didn't just blow you off. I'm busy. Besides, whenever you expect me to call, it's like, right after school. I'm usually doing homework or fending off the new neighbor kids. Cut me a little slack, alright?"
"Yeah, sure," Taylor scoffs at the other end of the phone, "like it's MY fault that the time zones are so screwy. You were the one that moved, not me. It's your problem if there's a three hour time dif in Cali, not mine."
I roll my eyes, grateful that she couldn't see my face. These little conversations we have every night aren't very enjoyable anymore. She's always blaming me for moving away from Virginia, when it's not my fault that my dad got a job change, it's his stupid bosses'.
"Hey, Paige, are you there or what? Paige?"
"Oh, um, sorry," I apologize, picking the seams loose at the end of my sock in boredom. "So...how are things at our school?"
"You mean MY school. You go to a new school, remember?" she snaps. "Anyways, everybody's, like, forgotten you or something. Even that what's- his-name you had a crush on doesn't remember you. It's kinda sad. I'm the only one who talks about you now."
"Stop rubbing it in," I say crossly. "You're not being all that nice. Look, I gotta go," I lied, "my mom wants the cell phone."
"Aw, alright," Taylor grumbles, as if she really just can't wait to get off the phone like me. "Too bad. Call me tomorrow, seriously. I don't care if your mom wants you to go do homework, live with it. I mean, she's not even your real mom."
"You know what, Taylor? Good-BYE." I slam down the phone and feel partially satisfied by the loud banging noise that it makes. God, she can be such a little bitch sometimes! It's already hard enough to be moving from everything I ever knew, but seriously, I don't need her bugging me.
She's right, though, I know it. My parents are my adoptive parents, but that doesn't mean I love them any less then I would love my real ones. That's the problem, though. My parents died when I was a baby, I never knew them. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if they hadn't died...but I don't really care. All I know is their names: Sam Matthews and Patty Halliwell. I kept my father's last name, I don't know why. Maybe since it makes me feel as if...I dunno, maybe I can find him someday.
"Honey," my mom calls from the kitchen when she hears me come down the stairs. "You all ready for your first day at your new school tomorrow?"
I fake a smile. "Of course, mom," I respond cheerily. "But I still don't know anything about the school, like my schedule, the kids, the teachers...the name of the place..."
"It's called Tackatum Middle School," she explains. "And don't worry about the schedule. Apparently there's a program in the school board called 'mentoring' that has an older kid take you around to your classes for the first week or two. She's a ninth grader, only two years older than you."
"Oh, great," I laugh, "now I'm gonna be treated like a total baby. Who's 'mentoring' me tomorrow? Any piercing? Tattoos? C'mon, mom, I can handle myself."
"Let me see." My mom starts leafing through a file that she keeps for all my old schools and the one I'm at now. "Her name is...Phoebe Halliwell."
"That's the same name as..." I shake my head, not wanting to upset my mother by mentioning my birth mom. Not that she'd get really mad, but I can tell that she doesn't appreciate it. "Well, I guess I'll meet her tomorrow outside the school gates. Got any idea what she looks like?"
"Sure, here's a picture of her. Cute, isn't she? Maybe you guys could hang out a lot! I'll take pictures!" She slid a photograph across the table, handing it to me.
At first all I can do was gawk at the girl into photograph. When I look at her, I see my eyes, my smile. I shudder in shock, immediately shoving the photo back into the file. That girl looks like my clone with longer black hair than mine.
"What?" my mom questions me. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I insist, picking up some of the binders I'm taking to school tomorrow. "I'm going up to my room to get a jump on things, you know? Don't want to be disorganized or anything."
"Do you need the picture of Phoebe to recognize her?"
I almost laugh. Couldn't she see we were basically fraternal twins? I could just look in the mirror to see who it was, she had my face!
"No, thank you," I stifle back a snicker. "That's okay, I'll manage."
"Alright."
I go back upstairs and stare at the wall. This life totally sucks. Ever since I'd moved here I'd been mauled by the neighbor's eight kids at least a dozen times, tripped off the porch steps in front of the hottie across the street named Martin, and trespassed at the park by accident. Everybody thinks I'm this terrible rebel criminal, but it seemed to amuse Martin, so it can't be all bad.
Eventually I slip into a very early sleep, dreaming of clones...so many clones...they were everywhere. Martin was there. "Paige," he kept saying, "which one is you? I don't know which one will trip off the steps." I'd blush and trip on the porch step, which would come from beneath me out of nowhere. He'd laugh...always laughing...why wouldn't it stop?
In the morning I wake up drenched in sweat, only to find that it was already light outside. I jump up and stare at the alarm clock: 6:45am. Damn it! I'm late!
"Mom!" I scream down the stairs, pulling on my socks, toast in my mouth and backpack slung over one of my shoulders. "Why didn't you wake me up?! I'm totally late, it's time for school in, like, a half hour, and I'm not ready!"
"Honey, calm down. It only takes a five minute drive," she reassures me. "You have plenty of time. Don't worry. It's all under control."
"Yeah, yeah," I repeat, jittery. "Okay then, let's go already! That mentor person of mine's gonna get so totally angry with me!" I swallow the remains of the toast and manage to tie my shoes, backpack finally adjusted. "Come ON."
My mom rolls her eyes, grabbing her keys and opening the front door. "Alright, Paige," she sighs. "You're gonna be lucky if you haven't waken up the whole neighborhood by now. Speaking of which, where's that boy you—"
"SHHH!" I demand, looking out through the window. Martin's running out the door in his jeans and brown shirt, his book bag swaying carelessly at his legs. The sun cracks through the maple tree and shines on his brown hair, and I feel like I'm melting...then I realize that my mom is gawking at me quite questionably.
"What?" I ask her, annoyed. "I just think that you're being too loud. I mean, we don't want those little kids next door to wake up yet, do we?"
She smiles this I'm-your-mother-don't-try-to-fool-me grin and I flinch. I HATE it when she does that, it makes me want to scream! What does SHE know about the guys I like? Besides, here, I have this clean, new state. No one knows me, so I have a good chance of getting through to Martin. He doesn't know my faults, and I'm prepared to hide them at all costs.
Suddenly he looks up at me hovering at the front steps and smiles. "Hey, Paige!" he calls out. "You going to school?"
I nod, then realize how stupid that is. He's all the way across the street—he can't see me! "Uh, yeah!" I call back. "First day! See ya there!"
"Oh, good luck!" he opens the back door to his mom's car and I feel like shrieking with happiness as he drives away. So hot, so hot, so hot...
It takes a little less time to get to school then I thought it would. It turns out I got there before my clone—excuse me, "mentor"—showed up. I take the opportunity while standing at the gate to survey the school. It looks normal enough, I guess. Some of it looks as if it's been renewed. Half the walls are made of stone, like medieval times or something, only with a lot of graffiti. The rest is a bright red brick, like the kinds you see on a thank-you note to a teacher. Yuck.
"Hey, you!" shouts a voice coming up the side walk. I turn to find the voice, but can't.
"Are you Paige Matthews?"
Ah, my clone. Here she is in the flesh. She looks a lot more like me in real life then she did in the photo, which really freaks me out. She seems to notice it, too; I can see her approaching me hesitantly, know who I am but at the same time feeling a little baffled about our similarity.
I grin and wave at her. "Yeah. You're Phoebe Halliwell, right?" She nods, and I nod back, acting cool. "Nice to meet you. So...I guess you're gonna show me around the school? No offense or anything, but I think I know which ways to go—"
Phoebe snorts. "Try explaining THAT to the school's vice principal. SHE signed me up for this in the first place." She sees my hurt look and quickly adds, "But I think we're gonna have fun, don't you?"
"Mm-hm," I reply.
Now that she's closer, I see that she's wearing dark make-up. A lot of it. Come to think of it, she's all dressed in black, too. 'Great, my mentor's a gothic-punk,' I think as I see the plastic chains hanging from her jeans. 'At least she's nice enough.'
"So, I have your schedule right here." Phoebe fumbles around her pockets. "Now, where did I put it? Give me a sec...Ah!" I cringe as she pulls out a tattered, crumpled piece of paper. She holds it up to the sun and stares at it as if that'll fix the illegibility. "Well, I think your first class is PE. It could be physics, though...Nope, PE. Mrs. Costa is the sevvie PE teacher."
"'Sevvie?'" I question incredulously.
"Oh, you know. Slang for seventh graders. I remember when they used to throw wads of paper at us when I was a sevvie...and then there were the horrors of Sevvie Bop Day." She shuddered.
I gawked at her. "Sevvie Bop Day?" I stutter. I don't know what it is, but it doesn't sound too good.
"Don't worry. It was the first Friday we got back from summer vacation, it's over now. All that happens is the ninth and eighth graders bopping the sevvies on the head, no biggie. What sucks, though, is the faculty found out about it this year and banned it, so I didn't get to bop any sevvies. I got bopped when I was your age! It's not fair..." she grumbled. "Well, I guess I'm not comforting you, am I? You'll be fine. No sweat."
"Right." By this time we've gotten to the school. The front of the school, luckily, is made of those bricks too bright for my eyes instead of the nasty graffiti.
I see boys walk past, surveying me. I blush. At my old school, nobody noticed me. They must be pretty desperate to check me out of all people.
"Yo, Piper!" Phoebe called out to one of the cars. The car rolled down the window and I see a college girl with light brown hair. "Pick me up after school, okay? I don't wanna take that smelly old bus again!"
Piper rolls her eyes. "Yeah, sure, my queen," she laughs. "Who's your new friend?" She gestures towards me.
"Oh, this is Paige. Paige Matthews. She's new to the school today, I'm mentoring her." Phoebe turns to me. "That's my big sis, Piper. She can be REALLY scary and neurotic at times, so ignore her if you feel so inclined—as I do constantly."
Piper made a fake growl, parking her car in the carpool lane. "Maybe Paige will be your first 'normal' friend, huh?" She flashed me a grin. "Keep her in line for me, okay?"
I nod, wishing that I had a sister to tease like that.
Piper starts rolling up her window. "See ya at the Kiss & Ride, then!"
Phoebe rolls her eyes. "WHY does she ALWAYS have to make fun of me? The other kids could HEAR..."
"Kiss & Ride? What's that?"
"You know, where the loser kids get picked up and dropped off. It's considered weird or something if you take the Kiss & Ride. Luckily it hasn't quite damaged my rep yet, but with PIPER on my tail, you never can guess what'll happen."
"At my old school we called it carpool," I tell her, wondering what her 'rep' is all about but too afraid to ask at this point. "Kiss & Ride seems a little harsh. Humiliating, even. Dang, my mom's picking me up today!" I bite my nail in fear. Now what? My first day and I'm gonna be a geek without a rep like Phoebe's to protect me!
"Well, you're okay if Piper picks you up. She's really popular here, everybody remembers her. You could call your mom and tell her that you wanna do homework at my place, if you want. My other sister, Prue, can help you with the new courses you're taking."
"Oh, thanks," I gush gratefully. "You've saved my life!"
"No prob." Phoebe pats me on the back, then we stop in front of a door labeled "Gymnasium" in blue writing. Several girls come running out, almost smacking the door in our face.
"Hey, watch it!" Phoebe yells, holding up her fist. "Ugh, stupid sevvie preps," she mutters once their out of earshot. "Never hang with them. Anyways, this is the gym. I'll meet you here to take you to your next class. If you need me, I'll be in room 202, biology—right there across the hallway. Good luck!"
"Thanks, Phoebe!"
"Call me Pheebs, everyone else does," she laughs.
"You mean 'Freebie,' right? You think you're gonna rub off you nasty attitude on this poor, impressionable sevvie? I don't think so." A blonde girl in a revealing pink tank and a flowered miniskirt comes up from the crowd and smiles at me. I can see right away that she's two faced and that all the other seventh and eighth graders behind her are her followers. "What's your name?" she asks me sweetly.
"Pai—"
Phoebe claps a hand over my mouth. "Don't speak to the highness," she mocks the girl. "She's too good for people like us."
"Oh, you think you've already claimed this one? Nuh-uh. She's mine. All the cute girls with popularity potential go to ME, they shouldn't be wasted on a punk-rebel-wannabe like Freebie." She flips her hair, turning to me again and smiling. "Now, what was your name?"
I look desperately up at Phoebe for a little support, but she's glaring at the intruder. I turn to the other sevvies behind her, but find that they look mind-controlled, wearing that same eerie smile as their leader.
"My name is Paige Matthews," I stutter, "and PHOEBE is showing me around the school today. I am NOT property, got it? I am an independent human being and I refuse to choose between leaders. Now I have to go to gym. Good- BYE."
All the followers look on in shock as I turn my back to them and proceed into the doors to gym. Now I just have to find the locker room, and...
"Freebie," girl glares, "that one's mine."
"She's no one's," Phoebe corrects. "She's herself, which I think is the best to be."