After school, Mia and I drove over to my house to prepare for our mission. I lived alone (if you don't count the staff) in one of my family's many estates as both of my parents were preoccupied elsewhere in various corners of the world. Parking my Mercedes in the five-car garage, I extracted the keys from the ignition, locked the car, and punched in the security code to let ourselves in.

Mia and I walked in the east wing, past the parlor, family room, large dining room, library, office, small dining room, and finally the kitchen, where I opened the Meneghini fridge and pulled out two chilled Pellegrinos and a bowl of freshly washed strawberries for us. We left the kitchen and then headed upstairs to my personal office. The room was decorated in shades of pink with hickory brown wall paneling. I went to my desk and powered up my laptop. Mia sat down in the matching Chippendale chair opposite from my desk.

I went to Faceplace, the popular social networking site that I knew many Twin Branches students used. I logged in and did a search for "Autumn Brooks". A picture of a girl with brown hair like an Afghan hound, quirked-up eyebrows, and brown eyes behind black square-framed glasses glanced at the camera like she expected something from it. So this is what Kimi was talking about when she mentioned that Autumn without glasses was a good look for her, I realized.

"Mia, come check this out," I snickered. "Autumn was a thousand times uglier her freshman year."

"Really? I find that hard to believe," Mia began. Then she saw Autumn's picture. "I take that back." Her eyes grew wide. "Are those Poindexter glasses? Ew. Those are so beyond last season, it's not even funny."

I smirked. "It's really no surprise." Focusing back on the task at hand, I clicked on Autumn's "Friends" box. I noted that her "Best Friends" on Faceplace were this guy named Nick Brown, who seemed to be a hipster type like her, and… Wes. I seethed inwardly. It seemed like no matter what I did, Autumn and Wes's past relationship was constantly being shoved down my throat. Pissed, I forced myself to concentrate on my task yet again. I scrolled down her profile until I reached the posts dating to the 2012-2013 school year. Since Autumn was a sophomore now, whatever that had happened at Twin Branches had to have happened last year. I clicked past pseudo-hipster pictures of yearbooks and kittens until I noticed that some Twin Branches cheerleaders had posted things on Autumn's Faceplace. "So glad I'm in the art showcase, Maria's gonna be so jealous of the hot college guy I hooked up with! :)" a post read. I clicked on the comments. A red-haired cheerleader named Nicole Blackwell had commented "Lindsay's kinda upset that you didn't include her…" Interesting. I searched in Autumn's Faceplace friends for "Lindsay" and "no matches found" appeared on the screen. On a site like Faceplace, everyone was friends with everyone from school, even if you didn't know them that well. If you weren't, it meant that you had either a bad breakup with them… or you were enemies.

Now I had a name. Let's see if this Lindsay girl can shed any light on the matter, I mused.

"Let's go," I announced to Mia. "If we hurry, we can catch her at her cheerleading practice."

Mia and I drove over to Twin Branches in my father's Bentley. I didn't take my car since I didn't want Wes, who I suspected still kept tabs on his former school, to find out that I had been there. A good detective always covers her tracks, after all.

I parked in front of a yellow building that had the words "GO SQUIRRELS" emblazoned in green on it. Quickly, Mia and I left the car and locked it. I opened the blueprints of Twin Branches that I had on my phone (I have blueprints of all the schools in the surrounding area from the county's website. You never know when you have to prank a rival school, gather intel on an enemy… or find someone) and followed the path to the gymnasium. I had already deliberated my cover story on the drive over here. I then closed the app and placed my phone in my Hermès bag. No need to raise suspicion…

"Ready?" I looked at Mia, the corner of my mouth in a sideways smirk.

"Let's go," she replied. I pushed open the gym's double doors and surreptitiously took a seat on the bleachers.

"Alright, recruits! You may have heard that cheerleading at Twin Branches is a thing of the past! That the cheer squad is history!" A girl with light brown hair, olive skin, and light brown eyes snarled. "There was a time when this was true… when players took to the field without spirit, when our victories were met with deafening silence!" There's an oxymoron right there, I distractedly mused to myself. She continued on. "There has been no joy at Twin Branches! But that's all about to change!"

Then her serious, angry expression morphed into a smile. "Isn't that right, Paige?" She grinned at a slender girl with long, dark brown hair that covered one of her brown eyes.

While the girl—who I assumed to be the head cheerleader—prattled on, I took the opportunity to observe the room. There was a slew of what appeared to be freshmen, judging by the naïve awkwardness and hopefulness embedded in their expressions. I noted that one girl, a tan, slender, blue-eyed girl with thick honey-blonde hair was in a cheerleading uniform. She had a smug air of superiority to her, and I could guess that she expected to replace the current head cheerleader after she graduated.

I nudged Mia. "That's who we need to talk to," I whispered. Mia nodded in response.

We waited until the head cheerleader finished talking and began watching a freshman's tryout routine. Mia and I then causally walked up to the blonde girl. Even if she wasn't Lindsay, she would probably know where Lindsay was.

"Hi, we're interns for Amy Astley," I began. I had a feeling, just from looking at her, that she was one of those über-pretentious girls who wouldn't give you the time of day unless you could offer her one or all of the three F's: Fame, Fortune, and Fashion. "We've been scouting the schools around the area, searching for 'real-life' teen models for a future shoot we have planned."

The blonde girl examined Mia and I, noting my black Hervé Léger dress, Cartier watch, and coordinating Giuseppe Zanotti heels and Mia's white Rodarte dress, black bomber Elizabeth and James jacket, and Jimmy Choo heels. She gave us a nod. I continued.

"We feel that you have the look a select publication like ours requires for our models," I started, twisting my tone to sound both elite and discerning yet welcoming with promises of rewards of the epicurean variety.

Mia looked the blonde girl dead in the eye. "I suggest we see if you are worthy of this position elsewhere." She eyed the sweaty, struggling freshmen in the center of the room with disdain. "We have a table at Chez Coeur and we are willing to discuss it there." She raised an eyebrow at the blonde girl. "Will you be joining us?"

Wait for it… three… two… one… go. I rolled my shoulders back and Mia and I began to depart the gymnasium, which was now blaring an eardrum-shattering hip-hop song as the freshmen nervously followed the head cheerleader in a dance routine. I refrained from snickering at them with moderate difficulty. As we left the gym, I knew that the blonde girl would be following us. And I was right. Her weakness was her vanity. She was a slave to it and she could not control her desire to be pretty.

While I was able to take pride in my appearance at times, I could always see my faults, always present in the periphery of my mind. I was all too aware of them. They were the deceptions of my life that coated my soul under a seemingly indestructible layer of human flesh, my metaphorical bubble-wrap. I was aware, and I could conceal them while so many of my rivals could not. I had learned after messing up to the point where it wasn't even an option anymore.

I snapped out of my thoughts and unlocked the Bentley. Mia rode shotgun (of course), and the blonde girl sat in the back. Luck had been on my side as she wasn't aware of traditional model booking protocol and she had fallen for the ruse, just like a ravenous fish at the end of a hook.

Mia turned around so that she was facing the blonde girl. She acted like she was typing notes into her iPhone. "What is your name?"

"Lindsay Vale," she replied, her blue eyes sparkling with what I read as maliciousness, apathy, blind conceit… and typical Jersey Shore-cast level stupidity. She might have a few tricks up her sleeve, but due to her emotions, she was bound to get caught.

Target acquired.

"Lindsay Vale," I began. "That name sounds familiar." I pretended to ponder the thought as I backed out of my parking space.

I knew I had to bring up the topic of Autumn, but I had to do so in a way that wouldn't ruffle her. If I did so, it was game over.

I straightened my thoughts out, focusing on my goals and intentions. Then, in a second, the solution came to me.

"Lindsay," I started. "To see if you have the right essence that our models require, we will require you to answer some questions." Our subterfuge wasn't over just yet.

"Take notes," I directed Mia, being careful not to mention our names.

"Question one," I mused. "What has been the greatest setback of your life?"

I could see her hesitation, the wheels in her head turning as she pondered whether or not to divulge the answer. I gave her seven more seconds, counting silently in my head, before I spoke again.

"This is the one time in your life where honesty will be the best policy," I insinuated.

"I… I guess when I lost out on an internship last summer," Lindsay admitted.

"Care to elaborate?" I replied, making it pretty blatant that she didn't have a choice.

"I was competing for an internship with Nikolai Tyrell. I had pai— I mean, taken some excellent photos of nature, and was going to win." Her eyes flashed with fury. "Then that hipster loser, Autumn, came out of nowhere and snatched the internship right out of my hands."

"I see," I continued, mulling this piece of information over. "Would you consider this Autumn person to be your greatest deterrent?"'

"Yes," Lindsay snapped angrily. "She also took photos of me that made me look like the joke of the whole school. Even worse, when I tried to make her pay, she sicced her goody-goody friend Zoe on me and got me suspended."

A suspicious look came over her face. "Why do you need to know this?" Lindsay asked.

I didn't answer her until I had reached a corner of a gas station parking lot. I parked the car and turned to face the vindictive cheerleader.

I removed my Versace sunglasses.

"Lindsay, we're not actually recruiters for Teen Vogue." I gave one of my smiles, the kind my enemies likened to a hissing cobra about to strike. "We're from Autumn's new school."

Lindsay's eyes widened in shock.

"And we are sick of her ruining our school for us," Mia added. "We figured that others from her former school would feel the same way."

"So, the question is… will you join us?" I flashed my cobra smile at her again.