(Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all. So don't sue me. Please.)

A Note from the Author: Gah. I've attempted to write this chapter so many times already. It's this weird writer's block I'm having, or maybe it's because I actually tried delving in to the Mind of Marissa Cooper. It's a creepy thing, people! I'm getting the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it. And I was really pushing to get some length to my chapters, so… oy. Please tell me what you think (and thanks for all the encouraging reviews)! Onwards…

Chapter Thirteen

"Coop!" Summer yelled. "Over here!"

Marissa immediately recognized her best friend's voice over the roar of the crowd. She pushed through the large mass of people milling around Harbour on the first day back to school, and made her way to the secluded corner where Summer was waiting.

"Hey Sum."

They hugged, and Summer stood back, admiring her friend's new haircut.

"Bangs, Coop? I mean, they're nice, they like, make you look younger, I guess. But… bangs?"

Marissa smiled briefly, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. Sometimes Summer was so clueless about these matters, and she couldn't very well tell her the whole truth yet. Bangs were just the beginning.

She had realized this when she had wracked her brain all summer for an answer. There should have been nothing standing in the way of her and Ryan getting back together. Nothing at all. She was smart, and pretty, and skinny, and nice to everyone. She had tried to be perfect, and she almost succeeded, if it weren't for the anorexia, the shoplifting, the suicide attempt, and the depression. Nevertheless, she was considered to be quite a catch.

It was just too bad he didn't see it that way.

This all began in an early morning, when she was curled up in a four poster bed at some five star hotel in Milan, having had no sleep that night, or even the previous night. She had just been dumped by Andrew (over the phone, no less), some guy she met in London, and she was plagued by familiar thoughts. Depressing thoughts. Her medication had been taken away by Julie, who was still painfully aware of what happened in Tijuana. There was no one Marissa could talk to, being that her friends across the ocean were still asleep due to the time difference, and simple English speech seemed to have eluded her newly appointed European therapist. She only had herself to rely on now, to figure out the facts.

First Luke. Then Ryan. Then Oliver. Then Andrew. It didn't seem to add up. They all seemed to be good prospects at first, all good-looking, pretty well-off, with complementing personalities. And they all satisfied her slightly varying tastes. The safe and secure blue-eyed blonde. The mysterious outsider with a past. The troubled and problematic youth. The lovable scoundrel with a sexy accent. Either way, though, her relationships with them always ended in the most painful way possible.

She didn't really know why everything always self-imploded. Either the guy would mess up by cheating on her or waving a gun at her or dumping her out of the blue, or she would mess up by not trusting him.

She just didn't understand. She'd seen how easy it was for Summer and Seth to have a meaningful and lasting relationship, even if sometimes Summer treated him like shit, and what great guys her old boyfriends could be on their own, but…?

And suddenly, Marissa was struck by this terrifying thought that seemed to have come out of nowhere: there must be something wrong with her.

It all made sense now. Seth and Summer, and everyone else… she was different from them. She was flawed in a way, broken, not quite right.

Maybe she suffered an unhappy repressive childhood, like Dr. Seymour said. Or maybe there was something wrong with her physically, like her hippocampus wasn't connected right (or something else that the doctor said – Marissa sort of tuned him out whenever he started to babble about anything remotely scientific). It didn't matter what the cause was, though. She had to be fixed somehow. Maybe if she changed, yes, if she was a different person, a better person, maybe, just maybe… she sighed hopefully. This would work. This had to work.

The very next day, Marissa found a reputable enough hairdresser, and set her plan into motion.

But Summer couldn't know about all of this. Not yet. Not when she wasn't entirely confident that her plan would work. Because if it didn't, Summer would just look at her with that sad look in her eyes, and sigh, "Oh Coop." Marissa knew that Summer wouldn't be able to understand this feeling of incredibly deep longing for another person, even though she had recently experienced a bad break-up herself.

Marissa didn't want her pity. She didn't want failure. She'd loved and lost too many times already, and Ryan was going to be the exception. She was sure of it.

Right now, though, she had to smile (albeit half-heartedly) and nod to whatever Summer was talking about, easily tuning her chatter out. Summer's talk about Prada could wait another day. Marissa had more pressing matters to think about… And speak (or think) of the devil! She spotted Ryan waving to Seth and Luke before splitting up with the group, heading left towards some hallway.

He was alone. Perfect.

She urgently interrupted Summer in mid-sentence, quickly muttering an "I'll talk to you later" before chasing Ryan down.

Marissa didn't have a moment to lose.

Summer, meanwhile, looked quizzically at the spot where her best friend was standing. Ah well. She had grown weary of gushing about Prada, or Louis Vuitton, or some other brand name, she couldn't really keep track of them. She suddenly noticed that it had grown strangely quiet around her. Wait… what time was it, anyway?

Shit! She was going to be late!

She quickly scanned her schedule, noting that she had English for first period. Oh, just great. One of her worst subjects, first thing, every other morning for the rest of the year. She stumbled into her classroom, and the teacher, Mrs. Wexler, glared at her.

"Ah. Summer. Glad to see you took time out of your busy schedule to join us. Would you like to take a seat?" She motioned to the only other empty seat in the classroom. Right next to Ryan.

Summer swore under her breath. She had forgotten about karma. And now it was coming back to bite her in the ass.