Sam sat on her bed, contemplating what to do next. This new anger cleared her mind, allowed her to think without the pathetic priorities society had placed on her. She wondered why Austin had snapped at her like that. Usually he was so supportive and kind. Suddenly, Sam realized the root of the problem. Shelby. That mindless little featherhead had always been in her way. She had blocked Sam from Austin, from having a normal social life, everything. "That girl has got to go," she said to herself. Maybe with Shelby out of the way, Austin would return to his normal self. Sam got out a piece of paper and pencil and started jotting down ideas for Shelby's demise.


Shelby admired herself in her new mirror, specially imported from Norway, as were all of her "stylish" belongings, along with her water. She smirked as she recalled her friends' faces when told that her uber-fashoinable furniture was from a foreign country. Those miserable little copycats only did whatever she did. Shelby suspected that if she threw herself off a cliff (but who would want to do that, with her looks and charm) they would gladly follow her. There was a whisper of air behind her and Shelby turned around, looking at her room with suspicion. Who would dare disturb her? She quickly found the culprit, a half-open window. Shelby wondered when she had opened it, but shrugged, blaming her poor memory on the nail polish fumes. As she closed it, a voice whispered behind her, "Now you will pay."
"Sam! Do you remember Shelby from high school?" Austin said incredulously. He and Sam were at their favorite coffee shop. It had been a week since their little fight and Sam hadn't mentioned destiny even once since.

"Yes… unfortunately. Why?" Sam replied.

"She died yesterday afternoon. In her own room, can you believe that? The maids didn't even hear anything. They found out when one of her friends called. It seems Shelby neglected to make her hourly report to the rest of her posse and they got suspicious. They don't even know how she died – it could be suicide, anything!"

"Well, Shelby doesn't seem to be the suicidal type. She's got, or had, a perfect life and lots of friends." Sam said carefully. "I hope they find out what happened soon, or her little friends might decide to join her."

"Sam, don't joke about things like that. It's not funny. I know you hated Shelby after that 'diner-girl' incident, but she'd been decent enough to me. Her posse may have been annoying, but they couldn't help it."

"What do you mean? I thought you hated her after what she did. I thought you cared about me! We were meant for each other, Austin," Sam sobbed. "Shelby… well, she wanted to change that. She tried to steal you from me. Shelby couldn't stand the idea that you liked any girl who wasn't her."

"Damn it, Sam! I thought we were done with this destiny and fate crap. Are you turning into a hippie or something?" Austin yelled, outraged.

"Austin! How can you call me a hippie! That – that is just – not true!" Sam wailed. People were turning around in their seats to see what the commotion was about. The shop owner came over to the table, where Austin was red with fury and Sam looked like she was going to drown in her tears. He cleared his throat, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Ah, excuse me? If this argument is going to continue, would you please finish it outside and off my property? You're disturbing the customers," he pleaded.

"Fine," Austin snarled. "I was just leaving." He stormed off, leaving Sam bewildered and miserable at the table. I thought he would be happy now, now that Shelby's gone. Now he's even angrier than before. How am I supposed to fix this?


Note: All death threats or other reviews of that nature will be forwarded to my Complaints Department, where they will inevitably gather dust and rot. I would apologize to all of the poor souls who are devoted to insert story category , but I don't feel like it. I do not own anything I write about.

Author note: Wow… longest chapter so far. Oo… I really need to get more psychotic… where's my alternate personality when I need her? Oh, yes, and before I forget, Rosemary Parkinsons, if you're reading this, I hope you're not offended that I used your story title. It just seemed to - fit.