Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! And, uh, I didn't intend for this to be a series, but, now that it is, it's not that bad, is it? (ducks rotten fruit) Or maybe it is.

This chapter is tied in with the sixth chapter of Once Upon a Fractured Fairy Tale. Although it is not necessary to read both in order to understand the situation, reading both will provide you a fuller understanding since you see both sides of the story. (Also, I'm not too proud of this, but this particular version includes a great deal of Tootie bashing).

Disclaimer: Even for the short duration in which the characters are referred/appear, I do not own them. This should be apparent by now.

Chapter Two: Bad Tidings

It was nearly two thirty, but that was all right. A girl like her could always be fashionably late. Besides, this was important business to take care of.

Four houses down from her new boyfriend's house was a little brat with pigtails and glasses. Trixie wrinkled her nose in distaste- the girl always made her want to retch, so hyper around Timmy and so dejected otherwise. She was totally bipolar.

Naturally, she knew the girl to be home. After all, did Tootie go anywhere? No. Did she socialize? No. Was she a complete and utter loser? Yes.

To the best of her knowledge, Vicky was off babysitting Chester, which she neither cared about nor thought it concerned her. It was just a random tidbit to know, a reason Tootie might venture out of her house just to have her heart broken. This ought to be fun.

Breezing out of her limo (the driver, after being paid off, had said nothing about the dump of a neighborhood they lived in or where he was dropping her off), Trixie Tang paused briefly, fixing her eyeliner, before ringing the doorbell. Unlike her so called "competition", she liked to look her best before she shattered people's dreams. It simply wouldn't do to look barbaric, uncivilized. (With that thought, she quickly made a mental note to take Timmy shopping for a better wardrobe).

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Tootie upstairs, eyeing her warily and idly playing with dolls. Dolls, how archaic. Honestly, who played with dolls when you could just buy the people and force them to act them out? Not that she did that either…anymore.

Splashing on the fakest smile she could muster (her jaw hurt doing it, from now on, her smiles were reserved for Timmy), she waved at her. The petite girl's eyes narrowed and she made no attempt to move from the room. Instead, she placed her doll (a replica of Timmy, how pathetic) to the side and shut the curtains. Hmph, well two could play at that game.

"Oh, Tootie?" Trixie called saccharinely, shuddering. Sugar, spice and everything nice were not employed in her creation. More like money, wealth, and power.

The shadow behind the curtain ignored her. Apparently, she had to offer a more valuable phrase than her pathetic name. All right, well, she was asking for it. No one had a right to ignore Trixie Tang when she was on her catbird seat.

"This is about Timmy, you know, your beloved." Biting back derisive laughter, she awaited her reaction. Oh, this ought to be promising. After all, she might be able to ignore her, but not Timmy. Timmy was her world, and she'd just stolen him out from under her.

Filing her nails, Trixie crossed the lawn and stood right beneath her window. There was a shuffling and Tootie undid the curtains, her eyes wide as she clutched them to her. Perfect- just like her.

"What about Timmy?" Tootie asked, guarded. Aw, wasn't that cute? She actually cared.

"I just wanted to let you know, the instant I place this button on his shirt, you can give up." Now where did I put the darn thing? Ah, wait, there it is. I won't show it to her right away, best to let her keep guessing.

I know she won't give up, but she'll recede into the sidelines, like she should. She isn't an important person, she never was. If she were, more people would know her last name and she wouldn't be such a nobody, a secondary character.

Tenderly, she fingered the plastic on the front. It still had his imprint on it; she could almost feel his chest behind it. She was sure he'd wear it proudly, as well he should…just not around her father.

She wasn't sure how her father would react to the news, probably be angry at her for keeping it from him in the first place. Then, there was the social disgrace to think about, how she'd chosen an ugly, bucktoothed loser for a boyfriend, and how he was practically poverty-stricken- middle class was, for them, the bottom of the barrel, beyond thought. She had a possibility of losing her standing if she went for this…but was Timmy worth it? Yes, he was worth everything.

"What button would that be?" Tootie replied, gritting her teeth.

Stupid, aren't you? Heh, all the better. You weren't worthy of Timmy, anyway. Now you won't have the burden of trying to prove your stupidity to him.

Timmy has enough stupidity to deal with, I'll be like a breath of fresh air to him. A bit in his ear, a bit on his face, and a bit in his mouth.

"The one that claims him as my property," She snapped back, growing impatient. How could she not know of the pin? It was legendary; there were even girls who wanted it. Then again, they just wanted attention, which they weren't going to get.

"He's not a trademark or a piece of merchandise. You can't own him," Tootie said obstinately.

"Says who, little girl?" Trixie sneered, folding her arms across her chest and holding the pin in front of her. "I can and will own him. Just because you don't have the beauty and brains to even try doesn't mean it's not hopeless for the girl of his dreams."

I am, after all, the girl of his dreams. You, the ugly braced brat, are the girl of his nightmares. As a matter of fact, you're giving me daymares by just standing there. I can still hear your shrill voice in my head, even when you're not speaking.

"I'm the same age as you," Tootie retorted, making her bristle. Duh! She knew that, who didn't? But she sure as heck didn't act like it.

"Perhaps biologically, but physically and mentally? You're still a little girl, playing with dolls. Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to my date with Timmy. Have fun with your doll, that's all you're going to have of him.

"Maybe if you're lucky, he'll give you a kiss!" Cackling, Trixie flung up the letter Timmy had written her and another note, one stating quite clearly she'd better butt out. Now her work here was done.

Smirking broadly, Trixie walked off her lawn and back to the limo. She wasn't going to bother walking to Timmy's house when she could be driven in style.

Now, it was off to her date. She'd taken care of all the obstacles in her way, hadn't she? No one else was that Timmy obsessed, right?