I can only apologise for the delay in this upload but I got totally side-tracked by the new Harry Potter release and I'm suck a geek for those movies...I saw it twice in the first 5 hours of release. Can anyone top that?

Anyway I got distracted from writing this and every time i sat down to write a bit more I forgot what I intended to put in this chapter and so I caught a little touch of writers block. Anyways it's finished now, I hope you enjoy it!

And I hope it's worth the wait...

Chapter 7

The house is bathed in eerie silence for the next week.

I rarely get the silent treatment from my father; I guess I'd prefer him to scream and shout, because that way at least my presence would be acknowledged in some way, rather than the stony silence that follows him around. The tension within these walls is thick enough to cut with a knife.

Each day following my recent grounding has been the same; get up, go to school, come home, do homework and go to bed. I rarely leave my room and seeing as Kayla hasn't been around I have reason to believe that I'm losing my voice due to lack of use.

Growing bored of lying on my bed brooding, I descend the stairs, checking to see if my dad is around. His car isn't in the driveway. Unsure whether I'm relieved that he's not around to glare at me or upset that he's left again without letting me know, I leave the house and enter the garage.

My little moped is parked against the far wall, its rusting pieces and eccentric paintjob resting in all their glory. I pull off my jumper, not willing to let it get dirty, and hang it on a hook by the door. I set about working on the scooter, relishing the opportunity to release some of my frustration as I replace the rusting pieces with new ones that I ordered weeks ago. I take it apart, repair it, repaint it, spend so long fiddling with it that it's late in the night by the time I'm finished. Unable to put it back together until the new paint has dried, I simple sit cross legged in the middle of the garage floor, staring into space while my mind loses itself I'm memories of me and my dad fixing up cars ever since I was five years old.

Unconsciously, tears begin to flow down my cheeks.

Ashley has been basically MIA since the two nights of partying we attended. I haven't even seen her in school, except fleeting glances of her chestnut hair disappearing into the swarms of students now and again.

I know she's avoiding me, me and Madison.

I guess she has a right to, the only brief encounter I've had with her was our first day back at school when she roughly shoved a magazine into my chest, splattered with pictures of her coupled with nasty remarks. There were tears gleaming in her eyes. Then she stalked off wordlessly and I haven't seen or heard from her since then.

A full week has passed.

My frustration at the brunette has only increased tenfold, and has now been joined by a slightly unwarranted anger. Was she trying to cut me out? Who the fuck does she think she is?

It's while brooding with thoughts such as these that I spot her, sitting alone at a table on the campus, eating lunch. I redirect my steps towards her, intent on having it out with her. Another figure overtakes me, heading in the same direction as me only at brisker pace. It takes me a second to recognise the tanned Latina, and another to notice the crumpled page in her clenched fist.

Madison stalks towards the oblivious brunette with purpose in her step and murder in her dark eyes.

Her abrupt stop before the smaller girl is quickly followed by a sharp slap across the cheek. By the time I've reached the pair, a large red handprint is visible on Ashley's right cheek.

The brunette girl looks startled; her eyes wide as they stare unblinkingly at Madison, her mouth slightly agape. She seems frozen for a minute before the pain of Madison's strike catches up with her and she winces, tenderly bringing a hand up to lightly touch the inflamed cheek.

"What the-"

"What the fuck are you playing at?" Madison shouts, flinging the crumpled page into Ashley's chest. Ashley stares stunned for a moment before unfurling the page and staring at it solidly. I watch her face dissolve.

"Shit…" She mumbles.

"The fuck?" Madison is shouting again. "You kiss my man, have them publish it in a fucking magazine and all you can say is 'shit'? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Madison is practically squaring up to the shorter girl now and I take the opportunity to pull her back slightly.

"Calm down Maddy," I mumble, wracking my brain for a way to sort this out. Ashley looks like she's about to cry.

"I will not calm the fuck down," Madison screams shrilly, "She's a backstabbing, two faced bitch who wiggles into our group and kisses my guy behind my back."

Then it hits me; I'm expected to side with Madison.

I mean, I always do when bitches piss the Latina off. She's my best friend. Of course I'd take her side on anything. But Ashley's…a kind of friend-like thing, isn't she? At least, we probably could be if I made the effort and she was a little less annoying.

Madison begins mouthing off again and Ashley's desperate wide eyes turn to me, begging me to stand up for her too. But my mouth has a mind of its own; as if on autopilot it begins reinforcing Madison's insults, a stream of abuse against the small brunette tumbles from my mouth before I can stop it, because I've never said a word against the Latina and so I've become unsure as to how.

I barely recognise my own voice, barely register the words spilling from my tongue and mixing with Madison's. "…slut…whore…loser…waster…geek…wannabe…bitch…pathetic…user…" A whole string of profanities all directed at her.

Hurt flashes across Ashley's eyes and a lone tear trickles down her cheek as she crumples the page in her own fist, grabs her bag and turns wordlessly. She hurries away but not before I hear a small sob escape her.

My eyes turn to Madison who has a triumphant smile on her face. It fades as Aiden approaches. With an evil glare towards the tall boy she turns and leaves.

I hurry in the direction Ashley disappeared into.

The petite girl is found not long after in a deserted alleyway by the school where the bins are kept. She's slumped on the ground, her back against the brick wall and her knees pulled up against her chest, snivelling with the paper still balled up in her hand.

She hears my approaching footsteps and quickly whips her head around hastily wiping the tears from her eyes. She deflates when she sees that it was me who found her and slowly climbs to her feet.

"Go away, Spencer," she says in a thick voice, her head bowed low.

"I-I, no, I'm-"

"Don't you dare," she spits, her sadness replaced by anger in a split second. "Don't you dare apologise. You said what you did and you meant every word."

"I trusted you," she yells, her eyes boring directly into mine and I find myself unable to look away. "Call me crazy but I trusted you. And look what you did to me!" She waves the page in my face. It's a magazine article, the majority filled with photographs. I recognise Ashley's red dress, the one she was wearing on those nights out. "You turned me into…"she scans the article briefly, "A 'drunk, drugged diva'!" She eyes the paper in disgust. "Now everyone thinks I'm some kind of mess, when all I wanted was to fit in around here. This," she brandishes the crumpled article at me, "This in you, is your life. Not mine. I don't get drunk at clubs, or take drugs, or lose my virginity to random guys in grimy toilets," She's crying in earnest now, "Or get into drunken brawls, or don't come home for days, or smoke or…" she seems at a loss for what to say. Instead, she settles for a frustrated groan.

"I'm sorry if I used you to gain a little popularity," she picks her bag up from the floor, "But you we're using me too." She shoves the article into my hand.

"Enjoy your moment of fame," she states harshly.

And with that she's gone. And I'm left standing alone with the crumpled paper and a feeling of utter emptiness.

I feel suddenly lighter, as if a million tonne weight has been lifted from my chest and thrown directly at Spencer when I blew up at her.

I didn't stay in school after that. I walked home, as I had been doing the entire week, with more of a bounce in my step since I first got here.

Upon entering my house I immediately sprinted up the stairs and into my room, wrenching open my wardrobe and hauling any items of clothing that may have been influenced by either Spencer or Madison. Only a few of the 'new' tops remain, those lucky few being personal favourites of mine. I decided to keep most of the shorts and skirts, because this is California and it's too hot for jeans most of the time, but removed the skimpiest and flashiest ones.

Looking around my room, not all the frustration having left me yet, I begin to tear down the posters from my walls, the photos lying around and tossed into a pile, any little notes littering my mirror are binned. Coming to the conclusion that I'm going to start completely afresh, being neither the loner I was before nor the slut people think I am no, I begin moving the furniture out of my room, deciding that a redecoration is in order.

Having worked up quite a sweat doing that and realising how late it's got due to the darkening sky, I grab fresh underwear and an oversized t-shirt and shorts for bed and lock myself in the bathroom. The water is hot and clouds of steam billow from behind the shower curtain. The water almost scalds my skin but the heat feels good; soothing, cleansing.

I scour at my skin until all the fake tan had been removed and all that colours me now are the red marks left from consistent scrubbing. I step out of that shower a new person.

The morning arrived, bringing with it a warm sunshine and a rush of adrenaline on my behalf. I decide to go for a run, an outlet in which to quell the energy inside me. I jog down the road, my breaths releasing in short pants in sync with my footsteps.

Music blasts in my ears as I turn the volume up on my iPod, effectively diminishing any noise from elsewhere.

The exercise feels good. As does the quick shower that follows when I return home.

Feeling refreshed, I amble to school, enjoying the sunshine more as I become more acclimatised with the heat.

"And you never realised she was using you?" Clay asks, for the umpteenth time since I sat beside him and Chelsea.

"No!" I exclaim, sticking my fork angrily into a mound of fries and causing them to scatter off the plate and across the table.

Chelsea and Clay are an alarmingly perceptive couple, and immediately picked up on my sudden change of attitude, style and distance from Spencer and Madison. As soon as my tray hit the table the pair began bombarding me with questions about my new-found resolve.

"Those two," Chelsea eyed the blonde and the Latina across the lunch hall, "They're a pair of gold-diggers if I ever saw one."

I groan in frustration, allowing my head to sink into my hands. Why didn't I realise this before?

"Still I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did," Chelsea continues, stealing a fry off my plate and popping it in her mouth. She chews for a second before continuing, oblivious of the fact my head just snapped up so fast I nearly broke it. "I mean, they're the top of the pecking order in this school. People try to worm their way in with them all the time. They only ever last a few days, but you, you lasted weeks, I thought you may have finally broke them."

"Broke them?" I repeat in an incredulous tone, "Chelsea, the world thinks I'm in rehab because of them!"

"I'm not excusing what they did," the dark girl reasons, frowning at the pair in question across the room, "But I'm just saying that no-one has ever made it to school in the back of Spencer Carlin's car before…"

The girl trails off as the heavy footsteps of Aiden Dennison approached. He smiles awkwardly at the couple before turning his attention to me.

"Hey Ash," he slides into the seat next to me and snakes his arm around me, placing a small kiss on my cheek. My face falls into a frown.

"Aiden," I mumble quietly, "What are you doing?"

The smile falls off his face and he looks slightly confused for a moment.

"We're…I mean we…at the club…" he rambles, his eyes widening in desperation and the pink stain of embarrassment begins to coat his cheeks.

I sigh, knowing this was bound to come up at some point. "Aiden, what happened at the club…I was so drunk, and it was fun, but I can't. I'm so sorry…" I cringe at my own words and Aiden scoots away from me, his arm dropping from my waist and falling lifelessly to his side.

"So what? You just lead me on?" I can hear the hurt in his voice but I can't look into his eyes. "I can't believe I gave up Madison for this…"

"Gave her up? You didn't have her to start with," I argue back, annoyed that I'm suddenly the bad guy in all this. "She's out doing the same thing to you every night Aiden."

He stares angrily at me for a moment, before rising from his seat and storming off again.

I drop my head to my hands, wondering when life got so damn difficult.

"Did you just blow off Aiden Dennison?" Chelsea's voice is full of disbelief and shock. I raise my head to meet her wide eyed gaze.

"I guess?" I'm confused as to what she's getting at.

"But he's the most sought after guy in this school," she continues. Clay looks slightly put out. "I mean, girls throw themselves at him and he's all over you and you just reject him without a second thought?"

I shrug indifferently. Aiden never interested me in that way.

"Who's got your heart Ashley Davies?" Chelsea asks softly.

I don't reply as my eyes lock onto the tall blonde girl my brain is willing me to stay away from.

Still feeling dishevelled from my shouting match with Ashley yesterday (I say shouting match, I mean her shouting at me while I mumble feebly like a pathetic loser) I opt to get the bus today. The sun is shining brightly as I pull the front door closed behind me but its rays do little to penetrate my sombre mood, nor do they melt away the numbness I feel. It's silly really; I figure I'm only upset because no one has ever shouted at me before, not even my parents shout.

I sigh heavily, adjusting my school bag on my shoulder. Lifting my eyes up from watching my feet on the pavement I amble slowly towards the bus stop, my legs dragging uncharacteristically and I realise that if they keep this up then cheer practice later is going to be a bitch.

Her chestnut hair catches my eye immediately as she jogs down the road slightly ahead of me.

"Ashley!" I call out, waving my hand in the air in an attempt to capture her attention. I feel the need to apologise, simply because I'm popular and right now it seems as if she's the only person who doesn't like me and that's bad for my rep. Yeah, and it's not because she simply hates you.

She doesn't hear, instead she pushed the ear bud of her iPod further into her ear and continues down the road. I stand at the bus stop and watch her go; momentarily awed by the way her body moves and wonder why I never noticed the way she moved before…

Frankly, the bus journey is rather dull. I spend the majority of the ride with my earphones in and the volume up full. A snotty middle aged man glares at me the entire time, no doubt because he can also hear the music blasting into my ears. I have yet to conjugate a plausible reason behind why all the songs I chose to listen to on this particular morning are all wholly depressing.

I jump off a stop early, as usual, and enter Starbucks, as usual. I flirt a little with the barista, as usual, but only order one coffee this morning, figuring Madison can get her own bloody coffee because my bad mood is entirely her fault.

How, you say?

I have no idea, but I feel the need to blame someone other than myself. I'll self-destruct otherwise.

I walk the rest of the distance to school sipping coffee and occasionally pulling my phone out of my pocket. At this hour I'd normally be having a conversation with Madison or maybe Ashley over texts, and while I know no messages are coming from either of them, it's comforting to check once in a while. I disguise this from myself by checking the time as well before returning the phone to my pocket.

School passes in an annoyingly uneventful block of time and fail to speak to Ashley the entire day. Madison makes small talk from time to time but my answers are monosyllabic, my mind too preoccupied to become engaged in conversation with her. I do spot the brunette at lunch however, her chocolate eyes glued to me until she notices me noticing her and she quickly switches her attention to the dark girl conversing with her; Chelsea Lewis. She's nice enough, I don't know her that well though.

And suddenly a scheme starts unfolding in my mind, and I never realised I was that desperate but apparently a week of not talking to Ashley Davies will turn you absolutely crazy. I realise with a start that it's the type of scheme to get you reacquainted with a ex-lover –befriend their friends, regain their attention…it's practically stalking –but then I remember the fuzzy image of our lips connecting at that club, and though it was only brief while I slipped a pill onto her tongue I knew full well at the time that I wanted to, and that I initiated that kiss. I then realise with a stab of panic that my feelings for Ashley may delve a little further than platonic.

Still, I begin to set my scheme into motion, smiling friendly at Chelsea as she passes in the hall, because I'd rather have Ashley as a friend even if I do have a slight crush on her. I enter the English classroom and sit down, eyes immediately seeking the brunette plaguing my thoughts. Ashley sits two seats in front of me and one to the left, giving me a perfect view of her as she retrieves her books from her bag.

It seems in recent light of my new revelation I notice things about Ashley that I never realised before; like how cute she looks in her glasses and the way she pushes them further up her nose. Or the way she rhythmically taps her fingers against the desk to a beat locked inside her head.

"…Miss Carlin, your attention please?" The teacher remarks from the front of the room in his oily voice and I scowl at him as he continues the lesson. "And so you will all be paired up-no, I will choose your partners-and give a presentation and essay on Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliette'. The topic can be entirely your own but you must include evidence, that is quotations, and explanations on each point you make…"

I forget to listen to the rest of him speech, his droning voice driving me to insanity. I sigh heavily, resting my head in my hands with a muffled groan. I hate Shakespeare. And I'm shit at Literature. I'm going to need one hell of a good partner to pull me though this.

"…Carlin and Ashley Davies…"

I jerk my head upwards in surprise.

I watch Ashley's shoulders slump downwards but my own heart beat begins to race.

As the rest of the class moves around to sit with their designated partners I hesitantly rise from my seat and apprehensively approach the brunette.

She stares blankly as my for a moment as I hover awkwardly above her.

"Well, sit."

I'm taken aback by her bluntness but immediately pull a chair over from the neighbouring table and sink into it, scuffing it across the ground until I'm a reasonable distance from her while inclining my chair to an angle so I'm not fully facing her.

"Please tell me this god-awful partnership will be redeemed by the fact that you're outstanding at writing essays," she says in a dead voice full of annoyance and desperation.

"Nope."

She sighs, casting her eyes skywards whilst emitting a loud and irritated huff.

"Fate obviously hates me…"

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