Okay. Here is Summer's very own chapter. Sorry it's pretty short. And the Chicago Lindsay has no relation to the Lindsay from the actual show. Also? The Fashion Club is from "Daria." I wasn't sure if that would make sense. If not...disregard it. All right. I hope you enjoy. Please read and review! ;)

xoxo

Chapter 29: I Remember California

Seth was back; Kirsten had called to tell her. Somehow, she thought as she sat in her new chemistry class in her hideous new private school uniform, that made things worse. When she had first heard she had nearly cried; Kirsten had sounded so excited and it was infectious. But now all she could think about was him shacked up with Anna for months and months while she worried about him—while everyone worried about him—and all she could feel was hatred. She drew her name in bubble letters on the cover of her notebook, avoiding looking around her at all of the weird Chicago private school randoms who she had, thus far, successfully avoided communicating with.

"As I'm sure everyone has noticed..." her teacher, a short, pathetic-looking woman in an unflattering cardigan, spoke up loudly, and Summer winced, hoping to fend off a public introduction by sending mental hate rays. She knew what was coming. "...we have a new student!" Ms. Landry sounded way too excited. "Summer, why don't you stand up and tell us a bit about yourself?" Summer shook her head, smiling tightly.

"That's okay."

"Oh. All right." The teacher smiled uncomfortably and Summer immediately realized that she was presenting herself as one of those strange kids who never talked to anyone and ate lunch alone in the bathroom. She would never find a Cohen replacement this way. She leapt from her chair.

"I'm Summer Roberts. I just moved here from Newport Beach. I like...shopping and...going to the beach?" She was suddenly at a loss for words, feeling shallow and small standing in front of twenty sets of judgmental eyes.

"Lovely," Ms. Landry said. "Welcome to our class, Miss Roberts."

"Thank you," she mumbled, sliding back into her seat. She sat staring into her lap for the remainder of the class period, and when the bell rang she quickly grabbed her stuff and realized that she actually didn't want to be in any hurry—she had lunch next period and this school had a closed campus, meaning that she either had to go down the aforementioned bathroom-floor path or face a cafeteria full of strangers. She took a deep breath and entered the large lunchroom, instinctively looking for a familiar face and feeling intensely disappointed when she didn't find one. She sauntered over to a cluster of vending machines, trying to kill time so she could observe the weird Chicago kids and find a suitable place to sit. When she decided that conspicuously glancing over her shoulder while she slowly, slowly slid her dollar into the slot and slowly, slowly pushed a button for a bottle of Evian was undoubtedly creepy, she abandoned her mission to make friends and opted for the bathroom floor. She was about to make a break for it when she felt a tap on her shoulder. There was a girl behind her—borderline cool, she summed up just by looking at her, not terribly pretty or well-adjusted, probably knew a fair amount of people but wasn't outstandingly popular.

"Hi, I'm Lindsay. We have chemistry together. Summer, right?"

"Oh. Yeah, hey." Truth be told, Summer wouldn't have recognized this girl from chemistry if her life depended on it, but she put on the smile that she usually employed at Newport gatherings full of strangers.

"Do you want to sit with us?" She gestured to a table of mousy-looking girls and Summer quickly scanned around the cafeteria again. These girls definitely weren't the Fashion Club, but there were lamer groups of people than them. She nodded slightly.

"Sure." She followed the girl to the table and gingerly sat down with her. She was greeted with a chorus of hellos to which she offered a small wave. "Thanks for letting me sit here." She hated this. Summer Roberts of Orange County never would have had to express gratitude for finding a lunch table. People would pay her to sit with them.

"She's from California," Lindsay explained loudly, and this information sparked some interest.

"Like LA?" one of them asked.

"Newport Beach."

"Do you know anyone famous?"

"Uh, no, not really. I saw Angelina Jolie at Fred Segal once," she offered.

"Do you surf?" another asked.

"Ew. No. I don't really like going in the ocean." She was losing them, she saw it. She had no celebrity ties or stereotypical western interests and they were becoming bored with her.

"Why'd you leave?" She knew that this was her chance to reel them back in, to begin her climb up the Alexander Lawrence High School social ladder. Her mind raced and she attempted to buy some time.

"What?" she feigned poor hearing in order to work on her answer.

"Why did you move here? Why did you leave California?" She looked around at the girls, each one of them halfheartedly focused on her, and she knew what she had to do. It was insulting to Kirsten and Sandy, insulting to anyone who cared about Seth, really, and it was particularly insulting to Seth. But she decided that she didn't give a damn about insulting Cohen and rationalized that Kirsten and Sandy would never find out that she had done this. She made her eyes large and sad, let out a little sigh.

"My boyfriend."

"He lives here?" She shook her head mournfully, eyes scanning over the line of girls for effectiveness.

"He died."