Author's Note: I hope to God no strange little symbols pop up in here…although they don't on the site, only on my backup. Grr…at any rate, um, please read and review and thanks to everyone that already has.

Oh, and on a side note- if you don't believe Tootie, check out Once Upon a Fractured Fairy Tale. It's highly recommended to have a full perspective of both sides. After all, if you're the judge, don't you need to hear every side of a story? ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own FOP…too bad, though. It'd get a lot of people off my back if I did.

Chapter Eleven: The Grass is Rarely Greener

Outside, she can hear the wind rustle the trees. If she focuses on that, maybe she can miraculously staunch the flow of tears, soaking her pillow with their tangy salt. It doesn't help that her pillow's shaped like a heart, either.

She's doing her best to sob silently, so her father can continue whatever transaction occurs beyond and ignore her. She doesn't know what else to feel right now, other than betrayal and loneliness. Terrible, horrible loneliness- even the boy she liked doesn't really like her…she's alone in a world of phonies, with fake smiles and even faker concerns.

Sighing heavily, she glances at the clock, but decides against calling him. Some things are best left to a night's sleep, and she still hasn't fully processed Tootie's words yet. Part of her, of course, doesn't want to.

All her life, she's rebuffed people because they weren't 'worthy'. She never had an actual reason for doing so to Tootie and Timmy, but there were standards one must adhere to, and from her birth, she'd been taught to be pretentious. Therefore, she hadn't given Timmy more than a moment's glance before and Tootie…is just a loser.

However, for a loser, she has to give her credit. For instance, she has to be the nastiest loser she's ever met, to make up that stuff about Timmy and try to wreck their utopia. Does she really think that'll work, sabotage? She's going up against the mistress here.

The phone rings, jerking her from her reverie. God, not another call from the desperate loser! Besides, the nasty voice adds, you don't need any more bad news.

No, it's not Tootie, as she'd prayed against, but her 'boyfriend'. Feeling an odd sense of déjà vu, she nearly drops the phone upon hearing his voice. Please be a lie…I'll do anything, just say Tootie's a lying bitch and this never happened…

"Trixie?" Timmy inquires, causing her to mentally slap a hand to her forehead. No, Timmy, it's the pope.

Biting her lip and struggling against the flood of tears threatening to envelope her, Trixie replies as coolly and as naturally as she can. Through experience, she's been taught to stifle her emotions- for example, that dreadful outburst before shouldn't have happened. She should have had more control, instead of letting Timmy hear her bemoan her misery.

"Hello, Timothy," Trixie replies, intrinsically sending frigidity. No one refers to him as such…not until her. Maybe that'll communicate to him just how upset she is. Then again, Timmy was never one to pick up on things, especially the blatant stuff.

"Huh?" He answers, as oblivious as she'd unfortunately predicted he'd be. "I'm Timmy."

Suppressing an extremely strong urge to scream, 'I know!', Trixie instead retorts, "I am aware of that. What do you want?"

There, that's cold enough. I wonder how long I'm going to have to keep this up before he notices something's up. Then again, he chased after me after all that time and still didn't figure out that I wasn't ready for him yet.

"There's something I have to tell you…" Timmy fidgets with the phone, she could tell. So, he decided to come clean- about a half hour too late. Damn…that meant Tootie was telling the truth…

"About how you kissed Tootie?" Trixie replies dully. "That you never really liked me to begin with?"

I know that's unfair, but right now, I don't care any more. I opened my heart to him, I told him about my mother, and this is how he repays me? Well, screw that!

Nevertheless, there's the possibility that he didn't want to kiss her. Maybe she connived him into doing so or something. A girl can pray, can't she? Especially when it means having a leg to stand on when I hunt down my dear mother.

She isn't going to visit Dimmsdale without a visit from me first. She can run, but she can't hide. Damn it, she gave birth to me and like it or not, she's going to hear from me.

But I'd prefer someone to have my back when I do it. Sure, I could confront her alone, but it's much easier to rebuff someone when they don't have support. I'd tell Veronica, but I'm not as close to her as everyone thinks I am. She's just like everyone else, pretending to be something she's not. In this case, it's me. (It's kind of creepy, though…)

Which leaves…Timmy. Have I really become so pathetic as to be dependent on him? How the high have fallen.

By retorting, Timmy jerks her out of her reverie. With a hint of astonishment, he replies, "What?!"

The shock of her reply has to be as effective as the shock of her downfall. Maybe they can reach some sort of agreement- launch Tootie over a cliff and they'll have a nice life. That is…if it doesn't hurt Timmy to throw her away like that. Frankly, right now, she doesn't know for certain.

Apparently, though, he'd vastly misjudged Tootie's tenacity and audacity. She could and would ruin Timmy's reputation, just to get her grubby little hands on him. God, that girl…no words exist sufficiently expressing Trixie's immense hatred for her. If she tried, she might end up going into animalistic howls.

Now all she has to wait for is the inevitable guilty confession, perhaps not even well thought out or caring, and the rest, or, rather, what's left of her heart can fall out of her chest and she can be at peace. No one can hurt her if there's nothing to hurt. That must be her motto from now on…just like her mother.

Maybe that's why her mother decided to stop sending her letters. Communicating with her must have been too painful…so she moved on. Trixie wasn't part of her new life…

There settles an awkward silence- she holds the receiver away, pressing it into the pillow. If she had her druthers, he wouldn't be aware of the amount of pain he's causing her, but, as it is, she must bury her head in her hands and sob, chary to keep him from finding out entirely. Tears slide down her cheeks, but she ignores them. By now, she oughtn't be foolish enough to think someone's going to come along and wipe them away. It's bad enough she's doing, but to expect comfort is ludicrous.

"Trixie…" He breathes. "I didn't kiss Tootie- she kissed me."

Is that a lie or the truth? I can't tell any more. Please be the truth…please tell me you have no attraction to her and that you're mine, all mine. I know that sounds childish, but I'm a child, damn it! I'm sick of pretending I'm not.

I'm just sick of pretending I'm happy when I want to scream and sob. I'm sick of pasting on a smile, agreeing with everyone's suggestions for a perfect life, and thinking all my problems will go away with a cure-all. For some people, they call therapy the answer, pills, or whatever.

But there is no magic cure all. Nothing will make the pain go away like that. People have to realize it, if they weren't being too pig headed not to listen.

And the people you really need…they won't let you see them. They're not up to their par or they're just out of the realm of visiting. They want to keep you reined in for the next lecture.

Sighing heavily, she grasps the receiver again and waits for the rest. It takes a while for her hammering heart to slow down to an acceptable rate. Honestly, she hadn't known she'd possessed so much anger against society.

"And I did like you…"

Which implies you don't know. Gee, thanks, Timmy. At least I'm not old enough for this to be a one-night stand, although it comes pretty close. I wish I hadn't gotten my hopes up.

"I'm sorry I wasn't as attentive as I should have been when you were telling me about your mom…I have a really short attention span."

Which would explain your grades, now, wouldn't it? I'd love to rant and rave at you for doing this to me, but my quarrel's not with you but the situation. Besides…if I got rid of Tootie, there'd be no situation. At the moment, it grows more and more tempting.

"..and that's not the only reason. Thinking about the fact I kissed her back made me feel guilty, even though I still don't know why I did it."

Because she's a manipulative little brat and she wants whatever she can get, no matter how she gets it? Because she has no concept of ownership? Or just because she wants to make my life a living hell?

And if it's the last one…then I only have myself to blame. I could have treated her a lot better before, but I chose to ostracize her and abuse her. In the grand scheme of things, she's only treating me the way I treated her…almost like when we were five and I forced her to eat that animal treat.

"You know that I liked you to begin with, I wasn't pretending…"

Unable to focus, she drifts in and out of his dialogue. All her life, everything she's known is pretend. The rich have a vast tapestry of lies they must maintain, appearances that must be kept. Sometimes, money isn't as important as the lies you speak. If you can weave the greatest, you end up at the top.

Her trust has been misplaced, though. She thought Timmy liked only her, but it's clear by now he doesn't. Why else would he kiss her back, unless…

Here she returns to her previous idea, that Tootie forced him into kissing her back. Knowing Tootie, it might very well be the case, so she couldn't begrudge Timmy for silencing her. Anything to get that little brat off her lips, if that were her.

"I still like you, that isn't the problem now."

Oh, dear Lord…he does like Tootie too. What does that girl have? What panache that draws him to her like a moth to the fire? I'm pretty, I'm popular, I'm everything she's not…so why does he like her?

Could it be that I'm…jealous? Surely, with all the horror stories I've heard about Vicky, she must be suffering too, but I never really saw it that way before. I only saw her as competition, that's why I treated her so badly when we were younger. And now that she really is, I can't deal with it.

I want her to go away, because I think it'll make everything easier. I'm sure she thinks the same of me, but she probably has more reason to…

Oh, God…I think I see things her way now. Quick, Timmy, say something so I can stop feeling so…compassionate. Ugh.

"I feel guilty over Tootie, which makes me wonder if I like her too. By not telling you I wasn't being fair and…"

He's rambling again, but he's confirmed her suspicions as well. Dread settles in her stomach, accompanied with a sense of nausea. The thought of Timmy and Tootie renders her physically ill.

Trixie exhales sharply, the emotional strain oppressing her and growing every second. Repeatedly, she gazes at the clock. Never before has time grown so imperative- is it too late to meet Timmy again? Dare she risk it?

"Trixie?" Timmy calls, aware she hasn't said anything in the past ten minutes. In fact, she can't even hold the phone; her hands are slick with sweat. This world is too much for her right now, she'd love to escape it. No wonder the rich lie so much, it's better than the truth.

Instead of responding, she says nothing at all, merely glances at the lie her father perpetuated as her mother's picture. She has no real past, present, or future. She's adrift, unsure of her footing. And his voice won't stop…

Aware she must say something, Trixie swiftly picks up the phone and in a voice that is not hers, replies, "Timmy…I'll call you back tomorrow, okay? I have some things I have to take care of."

Timmy yammers something, but she fails to hear it. The words will come to her, though, since she has heard and understood it, but her conscious refuses to deal with it. She has too much on her plate.

Shoving the phone aside, casting the sheets away, Trixie rises and walks out of her bedroom. The time, according to all clocks around, is eleven oh five, but she ignores it. In fact, she ignores everyone else moving around her father and strolls up to him.

He gawks at her and folds his arms across his chest. "Trixie, it's an hour past your bedtime and-"

In a no nonsense tone, Trixie replies, "I want to see my mother."