Okay, so it has been a ridiculously obnoxious time since I updated. I am without excuse—it's summer vacation, so it's not like I'm busy. But I am terribly sorry, my lovely reviewers/favoriters. I haven't forgotten about you and I pray that you haven't forgotten about me. A few thanks, to: TheGoofyCat, , InLoveWitThe50s, and KailynandTatum251 for their delightful and beautifully-crafted reviews. And, now, without further adieu, I present to you Chapter Two. (That was unnecessary—enjoy!)

Aimee slouched down in her chair, staring straight ahead, her face emotionless. She could feel Josie's eyes burning into the side of her face, but would not let it show. Though her features were expressionless, inside, Aimee was smirking widely.

Of course she knew about Josie and Ace; her brother was ridiculously drunk last night when he came home. He told her everything. After his car noisily clunked into the driveway, waking her up, she decided to take an excursion into his room and make sure that he had a damn good reason for interrupting her sleep.

"Whoa," he said when he walked into his dark room to find her shadowy figure sitting primly on the bed. "How'd you get in here?"

"Where've you been?" she asked coolly, ignoring his question.

He laughed.

She crossed her arms. "It was Josie, wasn't it?"

He laughed harder.

"Listen," she said, standing up. "I know what you're up to. And if Sloane finds out, she will not be pleased."

"Like I care," he said with abandon. "Let her find out. She's frickin' hot when she's mad." He fell onto the bed in a tumult of new laughter.

"Tell me, dear brother of mine," Aimee said slowly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "How far did she let you go?" She grinned expectantly.

He grinned hugely.

"Yeah?" said Aimee, interpreting. She had her answers. "Nice."

Scheming, Aimee left her brother on the bed, where he soon passed out into a drunken slumber and walked back into her room, her mind brimming with new plans.

Now, Aimee slouched in the foldable brown desk chair and stared at the blank chalkboard, thinking of how and when she would use her new power over Josie.

A long billow of grayish white smoke furled upward and out of the window of the girl's bathroom stall. Joanie Foster sat with her legs crossed, propped up on the stall door, reclining against the toilet seat and enjoying a Camel. Joanie sighed, bored, and fished a cheap paperback novel out of her backpack.

Suddenly, somebody slammed open the bathroom door and Joanie's ears perk up a little. She made sure that her feet could not be seen as she waited for whoever had just entered to announce herself as either friend or foe. Angry, hushed voices come from the direction of the sink, and quietly, Joanie sat up a little bit, listening.

The heated whispers split into two separate voices.

"—I know he's lying—"

"You think he's seeing someone?"

"Of course! Carolyn, are you stupid?" A frustrated sigh.

"Who, then?"

"If I knew, don't you think that I'd be out for vengeance instead of in here with you?"

The door slammed open again and the conversation was quickly silenced. Footsteps on the tile floor. Joanie was listening intently now, enthralled. She'd caught the name Carolyn, and she put two and two together—Carolyn was a member of the Tarts; the other one must be also.

The third voice joins the conversation in a harsh, quieted voice. "Are you both out of your minds?" snapped the voice. It sounded immensely familiar to her. "Anyone could be in here."

Walking along the row of stalls, the body of the third voice checked each one, ducking her head underneath. Luckily for Joanie, she didn't see her feet—or maybe it was lucky for her, because the third voice happened to be Aimee. Of course, Joanie didn't know this.

"I know who it is," Aimee gloats.

"Who?" Carolyn and the other Tart (Judy) perk up.
The third voice chuckled. "Why should I tell you?"

"I've got to know," Judy said desperately. "I—I love him."

Aimee laughed cruelly. "What do I get if I tell you?"

Silence.

"Fine," said Judy.

"Whatever," said Carolyn.

"Josie." The name slips out of Joanie's mouth like poison.

Joanie, sitting stock-still on the toilet seat, froze, listening hard. Her lips were clamped around the silently smoldering cigarette. Joanie heard the slam of something hard onto what sounded like the counter in front of the bathroom mirror.

"That little—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said the voice of the informant. "You cannot start something."

"What! That little tease is playing my man, and you're saying I can't start something? Well, if you think that I'm just gonna let this slide, you have got another think coming—"

"Oh, shut your mouth, you tart. You look like a trout," said the informant cruelly. "You know damn right well that you're no match for Josie—let alone Sloane."
Joanie could almost hear the smirk now in Judy's voice.

"But Sloane hates Ace! If she found out that Josie was seeing him, she'd kill Josie herself," Judy stated matter-of-factly.

"You listen here, lady," said Aimee—though Joanie was still none the wiser of her identity—in a fearsome snarl. "Sloane will defend us Dolls until the day that she dies, and if you start messing around with her, you're as good as dead. You hear me?"

Joanie sat up a little further now. She was almost certain that she'd heard the third voice say 'us Dolls', but surely whoever it was wasn't a Doll—she couldn't be. Focusing on her voice, Joanie tried to figure out who it was.

There was silence then, and Joanie hushed her breathing. She heard shuffling, and the bathroom door opening and closing, and then silence again, but still wasn't convinced that the place was empty.

Then she heard a sigh, and the sound of the sink running. Opening the stall, Joanie stalked out confidently, and without making a sound, she came up just behind the girl at the sink so that when Aimee looked up, she could see Joanie in the mirror.

"Got a little secret, have we?" Joanie asked Aimee quietly. Aimee stiffened. She had seen Joanie, but wasn't close to giving her the satisfaction of knowing how terrified she was.

"None of your business," replied Aimee shortly, darting around Joanie for the paper towel dispenser.

"Oh, I think it is my business." Joanie crossed her arms over her chest. "And I think Sloane would be interested…"

"I know she'd be interested, fool. But nobody's going to tell her because if they do, I'll just have to tell her about last summer by the creek with a certain Mister Hogan…"

"Hey. That was the week that Ace kicked him out, remember?"

"That won't matter to Sloane. And you know it."
Joanie did know it. "Fine," she said, leveling with Aimee. "But you had best watch yourself."

"You're telling me to watch myself?" Aimee said snidely. "Girl, I know more about you than anyone. Did you forget all those times last year during fifth period?" Aimee dried her hands on the brown industrial paper towel and discarded it, heading toward the door. "Not a word," she added, punctuating each word venemously.

Joanie nodded and looked down at her shoes. She longed to run right to Sloane and tell her about this—she'd never liked Aimee much, though she had cried on her shoulder a few times. But, oh, Joanie thought to herself, this would almost immediately make Joanie Sloane's favorite. Joanie slumped, leaning on the bathroom counter. Her mind was still swimming as she pouted, and she tried to organize the information.

So, this was what she knew: Josie was sneaking around with Ace, Carolyn's boyfriend. Aimee, Ace's sister, had found out, and told Carolyn. But, neither Carolyn nor Joanie—the only two other than Aimee and Josie who knew about it—could tell Sloane, each for fear of receiving bodily harm.