A/N: The FINAL CHAPTER! Finally! You guys don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment - actually, you kinda do. But still. God, this is the first proper story I have finished in around three years. That's a long time, especially because I used to pride myself on finishing my stories quickly and efficiently. Now I have like 10 stories in the works. Oh well...

Nevertheless, it has been a pleasure sharing this story with you guys! Hopefully, there will be many more to come. After all, I tend to like the self-torture of publishing stuff when I already have a LONG waiting list.

Till next time,

D.L.D

~Courtney~

"Thank you for taking the time to listen!"

Applause surrounds me as I take a bow, grinning from ear to ear as I examine the crowd around me. Two weeks. In two weeks I have managed to gather a loyal fanbase, a group of people who would support me no matter what. With undying attention, with perfect loyalty, they watch and listen to everything I do, cheering me on from the sidelines as I amassed more and more followers and voters for my cause.

But, dear reader, you must be wondering why and how I managed to do this. You must be thinking about what happened before, with Heather and the binder and the person who keeps trying to ruin Wawanakwa. The snake of Wawanakwa, the one person who was keeping me and Heather away from our rightful positions. Well, dear reader, you will find out soon enough. All you need to know now, in this version of the present, is that I need to gain followers.

"Vote for Courtney!" Leshawna's voice carries over the rest, badges flying into the air. Eager hands all scramble for the badges, greedy and excited as they pin my face onto their shirts, grinning from ear to ear as they show each other their undying support for me.

With the threat of the snake, support was my only chance at beating them. Gaining followers, friends, would help me much more than just teaming up with Heather. Sure, Heather had a killer mind and wicked planning skills, but they were nothing without people to support me. People, the sheep of the world, were what kept people in power. If you could keep the sheep happy, distract them from everything else, then you could be their leader. No-one would question it.

The snake knew that. Heather knew that. I knew that. So now Heather and I must weaponize it. We both must use the time we're given to amass support and win the hearts of as many people as possible. Otherwise, the snake will win.

Around me, the ruckus hasn't died down. Clusters of students beam at me, clapping and cheering and waving posters as they called for my cause: our cause. 'Vote Courtney for Prom Queen! Make the queen of this school much different from the rest!' My mission was simple; my aims were relatable. And the masses ate it up, lapped it up like a cat with creamy milk, just as I had predicted. There was a reason why I've always been class president.

"You've got someone waiting for you," Gwen speaks to me, her voice little more than a murmur against the roaring crowd. Cautiously, her hand rests on my shoulder as she nods toward the back of the swarm. "She said something about discussing a plan."

Squinting, I try to focus on the back of the crowd. There, hidden beside the taller frame of Alejandro, right at the back, is Heather. My enemy. My ex-friend. I'm not sure what to call her, really. There are too many sides, too many complicated details, for us to ever have a straight forward relationship. Nevertheless, I can spot her there, frowning as she stares right back, her grey eyes piercing and hard as stone.

Beside her, Alejandro bristles. However, he appears impressed, his expression light and pleasant as he takes in the excitement of my followers. In direct contrast, Heather appears annoyed, pissed, her hands balled into tight fists. I know that look; I can spot it from a mile away.

"Tell her that I'll be ready to talk in five," I tell Gwen, grinning as I spot the not-so-hidden fury lighting up Heather's eyes. "I just need to talk to Bridgette about the next phase of 'Team Courtney."

Nodding, Gwen accepts my words and disappears from my side. Easily, her tiny frame is hidden within the towering bodies of the crowd, broad shoulders and more stocky bodies hiding her well. The only reason why I spot her, see that she has reached Heather, is because of Alejandro. When Gwen reaches them, he sends me a thumbs up and it is then that I know I can disperse the rowdy crowd.

With a quick signal from me, Geoff and DJ begin to clear out the area, telling people to call it a day and head off. Begrudgingly, they all do, taking their noise and banners and badges with them. All that is left is Heather, the quiet and the mess that I have to clean up - courtesy of planning a rally right near the school fountain. But it was worth it. This rally ended up showing good results, meaning that our plan of action was succeeding.

Releasing a sigh, I allow myself to take a break, stepping down from the fountain ledge. For the past two weeks, I've been working non-stop to ensure that this plan works. Overtime, sleepless nights and early starts have all been new additions to my daily routine. But it was worth it. With how high-risk this plan was, with everything that was at stake, I needed it to be flawless. There was no room for error, no room for mistake; it must be perfect.

"You should take a break, you know," Bridgette sighs, shaking her head as she passes me a fresh water bottle. Gratefully, I take it, smiling as I down the contents. All the while, she sits beside me, not at all bothered by the cold spray of the fountain's water. "Working non-stop isn't good for the brain."

"I know," I admit, refreshed from the water. I do need a rest. A break is the one thing I do need. But right now, in this current reality, I cannot afford to take a break. Heather and I need this plan to work. We need it to do well. If it doesn't... well, we can say goodbye to any trace of our old lives. My hand tightens around the half-full water bottle, "All of this work will be worth it. It will be."

"I don't doubt that," Bridgette chuckles, shaking her head. "But I worry about you. You're always working hard and hardly sleeping. That's not good. Plus..." She bites her lip, seeming to stop herself from saying anything. That captures me attention, makes me sit up straighter.

Secrets are things that Bridgette doesn't keep. Even if it is something harmful, something negative, Bridgette does not hesitate to share it. So when she omits the truth, avoids telling me something, I always notice. There's a stiffness she gains, a nervous edge that just won't go away. Plus, if Bridgette was keeping secrets, that meant something big was going on. Something huge and colossal, which might ruin this plan.

I raise a brow, "What's up Bridgette? What are you worried about?"

Silence greets me - pursed lips. Shameful, her gaze does not meet mine as she stares at her sandals, wiggling her toes. Oh yeah, Bridgette's keeping secrets. From the looks of it, she's keeping a pretty big one.

Rapidly, my mind cycles through all of the possibilities. Could it be about me? Could it be about Heather? Maybe it wasn't about anyone. Maybe it was about this whole campaign, this whole stunt I'm pulling, and how it is affecting me. Bridgette always did care about others a lot. Maybe the whole strain of this campaign is what has her so nervous and jumpy. Maybe this situation - how everything has changed - has her on edge.

Yet, as I wait for an answer, I feel as if that is far from the truth. There is just something about her, something about her silence, that makes me feel as if she is dying to share the truth with me. Like she will burst at any given second...

"Courtney," Bridgette suddenly looks up, her gaze popping up from her sandals. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Honest?" I echo, blinking at the unexpected question. Now this, a question, was not something I expected. With how this past fortnight has gone, I expected something new to be added to the list of 'how to fix Courtney'. Leshawna had a lot to tell me - a whole list of new expectations and demands; Gwen had slowly opened up more; Geoff had readily welcomed me back; DJ... we were working on it; and Duncan - well, he wanted nothing to do with this.

Everyone expected something from me. Each and every person in this school - even Heather.

"Yes, I want to be honest," Bridgette answers, nodding. Firm resolve was now in her eyes, filling her face with determination. "I want to talk with you about something. But you have to promise me that I can be honest with you."

"Ok," I nod, feeling slightly on edge from her admission. I gulp. "What do you want to talk about?"

"This whole campaign," She answers, confident, assured. "And why I think you need to talk to Duncan."

~Heather~

Being here was tough. Facing reality, more evidence of my now dead influence, was a tough pill to swallow today. Used to being the one with power, the one with influence, I wasn't used to following everyone else toward the spotlight. Being a sheep, a follower, was something that had long-left my system. Years ago, I had said goodbye to that part of myself - buried her alive - when I vowed to become a pretty and popular teen.

However, for the sake of the plan - for the future of my status in Wawanakwa - I decided to swallow my pride and attend one of Courtney's highly popular rallies. To assure that things were going well, I told myself, to make sure she was actually fulfilling her end of the plan.

So, with my heart pounding in my chest, and Alejandro tagging along, I forced myself to attend. Like a Freshman, like a young child, I had allowed everyone else to guide me to the rally. I hid among the common folk.

Surprisingly, when I got here, I found myself hidden within a large crowd, almost invisible, and all attention was drawn to Courtney as she stood there, megaphone in hand and purple signs up. Everyone looked at her with awe, pure rapture and loyalty, as she spewed her messages about togetherness and change and fairness. All of these were impossible to give; with order came the destruction of togetherness, change and fairness. Nevertheless, everyone believed her - part of me believed her - and that is when I realised Courtney's gift: public speaking.

Like all major politicians, Courtney has great public speaking skills. With the right words and a few prompts, she could transform a box into a bejeweled treasure chest. There was just a certain flair to her words, a skill that I lacked, and I couldn't help but feel awe toward it. Great amounts of awe and inspiration.

But, of course, I am not made to feel awe. So, it became envy, resentment, my fists tight as I scowled at Courtney - the reason for my lower status. Thanks to her, I was reduced to working behind the scenes for once, my image tattered and tarnished in the eyes of the student body.

"She has a way with words," Alejandro admitted, his voice a low murmur as he whispered to me. Part of him was amused at my envy, glad. No doubt he was happy that not all of me had been destroyed by my fall. "You chose well in your ally, Heather."

"Yep," I agree bitterly, smirking as I met his green eyes. I poke his shoulder. "That's why I'd rather work with her than you."

"Still as hurtful as ever," Alejandro laughed, shaking his head. A small grin formed on his lips as he winked at me. "Nunca cambies."

Brief, a small smile threatens to flicker onto my face. He hasn't changed much either; what happened in the past didn't change him like I thought. But still, it is a dangerous thought to have - a dangerous feeling. So I bury it, rolling my eyes as I tuned Alejandro out and tried to focus on the rally. However, all the words turned to mush in my brain and I ended up feeling antsy, impatient, as I stood at the back of the crowd, watching everything like a nervous wallflower.

Now that I had confirmed that everything was going well, I didn't want to be here; I didn't want to be reminded of my own failures. So, like a disruptive kid, I attracted the attention of the nearest victim: Gwen.

"Hey!" I hissed at her, drawing the attention of quite a few people nearby. Not like I cared though. Right now I just wanted to do something - see something - that made me feel like I still had a use. A purpose.

In the past two weeks, all I have done is flit around the shadows of this school. With my public image ruined - and the snake on high alert for my reappearance - it was too risky for me to start a new campaign. Heather running for Prom Queen would just be a giant flop; everyone would suspect that I was up to no good and no-one would help me to get that far. So, if I wanted to succeed, I had work in the shadows. I had to act like a spy - someone rarely seen or heard of.

But I'm not used to just sitting on the sidelines. Even in the past, when I had to plot and scheme much more than now, I still found ways to make myself active, useful. Stealing diaries, gathering intel, talking to other students: I always made sure I was doing something. Just something.

Right now, Courtney has me waiting. Waiting in the sidelines, waiting in the shadows, plotting and scheming for my return but ultimately doing nothing to aid it.

All because of my ruined social image...

"What do you want, Heather?" Gwen scowls, raising a brow as she approached me and Alejandro. Thunderous, annoyed, she does nothing to hide her contempt for me. Not that I blame her - the hatred goes both ways.

"I need to talk to Courtney," I say, not bothering to dish out pleasantries. There'd be no point to it anyway. No-one likes me and now that I am no longer queen bee, no-one has to act like they do. All they have to do is tolerate me; just like how all I have to do is tolerate them.

"What about?" Gwen asks, skeptical as ever. Again, something I can't blame her for. The last time I spoke to Courtney alone, I had turned her against Gwen. My words and careful crafting resulted in the straight A student spiraling out of control.

Words were a dangerous weapon for me to have. Trusting me with words was a dangerous thing to do. Like Courtney, I was gifted in the art of speaking. Public speaking, not as much, but privately - between two parties - I could turn blades of grass into pieces of fine gold. That's why I was trusted with becoming the next queen bee. That's why so many people had grown to fear my ability and skill. If you gave me the right words, the right time, I could turn the whole world against itself piece by piece.

"Obviously, the plan," I huff at Gwen, rolling my eyes. How slow can this girl be? A sharp nudge from Alejandro sets me back on track, his own brow raised at my sudden hostility. Ignoring him, I sigh and shake my head. "Just tell her I'm waiting, ok? It's really important."

"Alright," Gwen says, nodding at me. Agitated, however also compliant, she sighs. "I get it. I'll go tell her now."

After that, she's gone, disappearing into the busy fray of Courtney's followers. Small and slight, it takes barely any effort for her to disappear. Effortless. Easy. Years ago, I had wished to have that ability, to be able to slip between the general population undetected. Somehow, along the way between then and now, that desire warped into the last thing I wanted. Right now, I need to noticed. I need to feel like I am seen. Vital.

Biting my lip, I try not to appear as agitated as I feel. Rather horribly, it fails, my posture stiff and awkward as I wait there beside Alejandro. My counter. My complete opposite. Born to be in the middle of the room, he was always at home in crowded environments like these. Feeling uncomfortable, stifled, was a sensation that was foreign to him. People loved him, were naturally drawn to him, and so he was used to the spotlight. The glory.

As I glance at him, I can't help but wonder if he would cope well if the roles were reversed between us. Me - a girl who has constantly shifted in and out of the spotlight - and him - someone who has always been in the spotlight. How well would he cope in my shoes? How well could he live my life? Probably... not at all. My life isn't an easy one to lead; if anything, my life is what holds me prisoner these days.

If only I could start it fresh...

"You know, you can relax," Alejandro breaks the stillness between us, his green eyes catching mine. Instantly, I feel my jaw tighten. My veins warm. "No-one's out to get you."

"Of course you would say that," I scoff, turning away from him. All of my life, I've had someone out to get me. Whether it be the obnoxious pricks I dealt with in middle school, or even my own little shit of a brother, I've always had someone out there making my life tough. Luck was never on my side; everything was always out to get me. The sooner people saw that - realised that - the sooner they would understand me.

"But it's the truth," Alejandro says. Carefully, he places both hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. Directly. "I used to want that. But not anymore."

"Then what do you want?" I ask, raising a brow.

For once in my life, I'm not sure what angle he's trying to play here. There is nothing to gain, there is nothing to use. Right now, I am useless - just as worthless as I was all those years ago. Yet Alejandro is being... nice to me. In a weird sorta way, he is being nice - the sort of nice that I had only seen behind closed doors. When we weren't so intent on stabbing each other in the back. I don't know how to feel about that. What to think.

So many years have passed since then. So much time and so many moments have slipped between our fingers. So why would he choose now? Why now, after I have vowed to cut him out of my life forever, is he trying so hard to stay?

"I want us to be happy," He admits quietly, both of his hands sliding down from my shoulders to lock with mine. A small grin, "Together."

A ghost of smile forms at his words, the sensation of his hand laced with mine. But only the ghost. And unfortunately, ghosts can't do much in the living world - their influence on the living died along with them.

"It's too late for that," I sigh, gently removing my hand from his. "That ship sailed and sunk long ago."

~Courtney~

Half an hour and a few streets away, I find myself sitting across from Heather in a coffee shop. Just the two of us, drinks set on the table, music filling the background, Heather and I sit there, waiting to begin our talk.

Obviously, something is bugging Heather. Almost tangible, her frustration and agitation floats around her, like ominous clouds warning of a storm to come. As we ordered our drinks and found a table, she had an odd stiffness to her gait. An edge that had been missing when I spotted her and Alejandro at the rally - another odd thing. Even when I had been around Heather a lot, she rarely invited Alejandro to tag along with us. But today he was there. Today, they had both had an odd edge to them.

Carefully, I looked around the coffee shop, keeping an eye out for the bright strawberry blonde hair of the school's spymaster. Izzy - my old connection and ally - was a wild one these days. Ever since Anne-Maria came to power, she's only been interested in self-preservation rather than helping her old connections. As a result, she'd have no issue with throwing me under the bus. I was a steadily growing threat to Anne-Maria's empire, after all.

Frowning, I take a long sip of my frappucino. Yes, Izzy was a dangerous person these days. Lots of people who I would have considered allies - friends - were not as trustworthy as they'd once been. Over the past few weeks, everything changed; Heather's dethroning had shaken everything up. Now, in the future, I could understand why she tried so hard to maintain the status quo: her being the big evil kept the order.

Silently, Heather takes a small sip from her drink - some kind of coffee blend. I didn't really pay attention when she rattled it off to the barista. Nevertheless, I did notice how she clung onto her cup with tight knuckles, the tension within her visible.

For a good ten minutes, we sit there. For a good while, nothing happens. We just sit there, two teenagers, sipping at our coffees and listening to the low hum of the music in the air. Voices fill the silence, mostly quiet and ambient. The whir of the coffee machine clunks away in the background. Under normal circumstances, this would just be another afternoon spent in a coffee shop. Just two friends, drinking coffee and hanging out.

Reality is far from normal. Heather and I are not friends. We are not two normal girls sipping away at coffee after a long school day. In fact, this interaction would barely count as hanging out. None of us are even bothering to talk.

"Spill it," Heather suddenly snaps, her stony eyes fixed on me. Her hand is still tight around the cup, but she is more attentive. More alert. "What's on your mind?"

"My mind?" I nearly choke on my drink, entirely surprised by her blunt and straight-forward approach. But then, after a second, I remember that Heather was always the sort to cut through the bullshit. With her, you could only tell her the truth; she didn't accept bullshit.

"Yes, your mind," Heather rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she sighed to herself.

All I can do is look at her, bemused. One moment she is trapped in her thoughts, clearly bothered by something. The next she is angry and authoritative, barking orders and delivering snarky remarks left, right and centre. I'm not used to this anymore. This Heather, this version of Heather, is one I have not seen in ages. Many, many weeks ago, she had lost that spark, that old authoritative bark, that made her such a formidable enemy.

Relief - somehow - punches through my system. For once I am glad that I am on her good side. Something must have really upset her.

"We need Duncan on our side," I let the words out slowly, like a steady exhale, trying to school my features into a calm mask. In reality, my heart is doing crazy palpitations in my chest, panicking at just the thought of Heather's reaction.

Duncan - the only ace we truly had to play - was a tricky factor. With how our plan works, involving him would be just as much as a risk as it would be a benefit. Heather's plan for prom, for defeating the snake, required us to be stealthy and prepared and cautious. Involving Duncan, with his wild ways and rebellious approach to rules, could very well throw it all askew. But then, Duncan's unpredictability (and surprisingly sharp mind) could be just what we need to tip the scales in our favour...

Knowing Heather, though, she wouldn't want to risk that. Heather liked to have a blueprint, a mainframe, to follow. Sure, she was highly adaptable and could change her plans in a matter of seconds, but she couldn't account for people like Duncan. Heather... hated Duncan.

"Duncan?" Heather echoed. For second, she appeared confused. The next, she frowned, her expression darkening as her grip tightened on her coffee cup. "Why? Wouldn't that meathead just mess up our plan?"

Not a lie. Duncan could - probably would - bulldoze our plans entirely. But what he had to offer could very well benefit us. I didn't want to believe it when Bridgette suggested the idea to me earlier. For once, I actually agreed with Duncan when he said that he would opt out of helping my campaign. Right now, we didn't have a lot of trust between us; it was awkward between us. I wanted to reduce that feeling.

But... we did need him. As much as I don't want to admit it, we do need Duncan's help.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," I sigh, shaking my head. To steel myself, I take another sip of my drink, allowing the sweet caramel to calm my racing heart. "But Duncan's useful. He can actually help boost the votes."

"How?" Heather demanded more than asked. Plastic crunches under her hand and I have to gently remove her coffee cup from her, afraid that she'd spill it all over us both. She's so tightly wound up, it's like she could burst at any second.

"Let's just say that he can get us support from Chris," I say slowly, calmly, once more. Carefully, I place her drink halfway between us. "Are you ready to be the big bad again, Heather?"

Something I say stirs her - makes her wake up. In a second, her glower is replaced with a dark grin, something like a laugh building in her throat.

"I thought you'd never ask," She chuckles, picking her drink back up. She takes a long sip. "Where do I sign up?"

~Heather~

"This is it," I breathe, feeling the best I have in... well, months.

A week came and went in the blink of an eye. Between prep for our big finale, and the anticipation of graduation and Prom, time had managed to pass in quick, simple intervals. Days were spent checking things off the list, the plan being adjusted once Duncan became involved. None of us rested. None of us had a chance to even attempt to take a break. Too much had to be done, on too fine a schedule, and so we worked. We worked hard.

True to Courtney's words, Duncan had proven to be useful. Despite his more unlikable aspects - such as his need to constantly counter my suggestions - he was useful. Somehow, he had managed to rope our principal into our plans - not that Chris was too hard to convince. The sicko always jumped at the opportunity to publicly embarrass his students. That's why so many of us got away with crap that most normal schools wouldn't tolerate; our principal enjoyed watching all the drama unfold.

Nevertheless, even with Duncan's valuable additions, I still didn't feel too assured. I couldn't. Not when I was working on my biggest scheme to date, lacking someone who was usually involved in such big things: Alejandro.

Ever since Courtney's rally, I haven't spoken to him. If anything, I avoided him. Whenever we caught each other's gaze, whenever I thought that I heard his voice, I scurried away in the opposite direction. It wasn't that I didn't want to face him. It wasn't that I hated him. None of those things apply to me anymore - I don't think they ever did. But even so, that doesn't mean that I can stand to be around him right now. Not with the guilt swimming around my system.

Usually, Alejandro was someone I could rely on. Usually, I would entangle him within my own problems, trapping us together in the sticky web my life often created. Usually, I would have told him about all of this. This time, I didn't.

Deciding to stick to my promise, my vow, I felt it was best to just avoid him. If I didn't see Alejandro, then I wouldn't risk involving him. More importantly, he couldn't ambush me with another one of those deep, unexpected confessions. Recently, they had just grown in frequency; they had much more power and sway over my softening heart. And, for both of our sake, I can't let that happen. I can't let him get trapped in my complicated life once more.

Sighing, I glance at my reflection, smoothing out the red fabric of my dress. Red - the scarlet woman - was the colour I chose today. Power, confidence, attraction: these three things were the pinnacle of being a queen, a leader and an icon. Red would be the only option for a night as momentous as this. Red was the only colour befitting someone as glamorous as me.

Tonight, I had decided to reflect the true member of royalty I was. Long raven hair styled into an elegant chignon, makeup slapped on and a pair of stylish heels to match - all that was missing was the stereotypical prom date, the eye-candy that would sit on my arm just as he did the year previous. Not that he was necessary. No. But his absence was noted tonight as I got into my car and drove to the venue, hoping that everyone was already in place.

Now I am here, waiting backstage for the big reveal, my heart racing with nerves as I critiqued myself in a small mirror. Carefully, I wipe away a slight smudge near my lip - crimson from my crimson lipstick. Red is now smudged on my finger, blurring into an unnatural blush on my skin.

"Ok, Chris says we'll start in ten," Courtney arrives, her heavy heels clomping against the boards of the backstage floor. In her hands were the taupe skirts of her dress, bundled and swaying as she took each step.

At her arrival, I turn away from the mirror, stunned that she had actually taken my advice for tonight. Like I had suggested, her mocha hair was curled and crimped into a half up-do, with a string of pearls scattered within it. On her neck was her mother's pearl necklace - something she had confessed to be of great sentimental value - and she wore lace gloves with her dress. Then, most surprising, were the pair of heels on her feet - a pair I'd told her to buy.

Honestly, I didn't expect Courtney to follow my advice. Sure, she was a stickler for rules and perfection, but she hated the idea of me being right. But tonight, for once, she has listened. For once, Courtney didn't actually look so... basic.

"That's good news," I finally say, promptly turning back to the mirror. In an attempt to busy myself, I pull out my eyeliner and see if I can touch up my wings. "And everyone else is in place?"

"Yes," Courtney responded, coming to join me by the mirror. Gently, she smooths out the silky material of her dress, spreading glitter about floor. But I don't bring that up. Instead I try to focus on how to stop my hand from shaking, ruining the smooth look of my eyeliner.

Silence settles between us - what should be a peaceful silence. However, I can't see it as such when Courtney continues to fidget beside me, her gloved hands twisting and turning as she bit into her lip. A classic sign of nerves. A classic clue as to a secret to confess. Nothing new to me; nothing I haven't dealt with before. But even so, seeing that look tonight, agitates me greatly. It stirs something in my blood.

"What else?" I sigh, putting down my eyeliner and raising a brow at Courtney. Instantly, she straightens, sensing my annoyance.

"Well..." She begins, biting into her lip once more. Both of her hands fumble as she tries to collect her words. "Alejandro wanted to- "

"No," I don't give her the chance to finish. Not even a little. "Not a chance."

"But he- "

"I said no," I command, placing both hands down on the small mirror ledge. This is the one thing I won't relent on. This is the one thing I will never change. Not ever.

Alejandro will never be involved in my life again; I won't let him get tangled in my web once more. He didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve... me. Me ruining his life, me making things complicated, me always having the last laugh - he didn't need all that. All of those things, everything I do, would just serve to make his life more difficult. He was someone born for the spotlight, someone people loved. Someone like that shouldn't be dragged down by someone like me.

In the past, I thought it was the opposite. I thought that I, someone who had to fight tooth and nail to get what she has, was much better than a naturally popular person. I thought that I had much more to offer than he ever could. Much more worth.

Oh how the tables have turned...

"Why can't he help?" Courtney asked - rather firmly - as she placed two hands on her hips. Stern, direct, I knew that she wasn't bullshitting around with this. She meant business. "If I can make things up with Duncan for this, then you can make peace with Alejandro."

"It's not that simple," I grit out, trying to restrain the growing annoyance in my veins. Everyone always thinks that it's about our rivalry. Everyone always thinks that it's because we've tried time and again to get the upper-hand over each other. But it's not that simple. At first it was; at first it was just the small things, the meaningless things. But now it was something a lot more than that. Now it was complicated.

"Yes it is," Courtney argues, folding her arms over her chest.

"No, it's not!" I snap, tired of going back and forth. Why can't she just leave it as it is? Why is she digging it back up? "I don't want Alejandro involved. I don't want him to get tangled into my life again."

"Well it's too late for that now," Courtney states, firmly, triumphantly. Sniffing, she sticks her nose into the air. "Much too late."

Anger prickles in my veins, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you'll see," Courtney chuckles, sending me a simple grin. "You'll thank me for it later."

~Courtney~

Heather's pissed at me - I can sense it. Like a red-hot laser, her eyes glare at me with deep suspicion, but I won't say anything. Not yet. I promised Alejandro - everyone involved - that I would not tell her anything. Heather will have to figure it out on her own.

Releasing my own sigh, I examine my reflection in the small mirror. Tonight, I actually look stunning. Just like when we had gone clubbing - and all of the girls had helped me get ready - I feel like a piece of the former me has returned. A piece of glamour that had been buried beneath all of the stress and anguish. Carefully, I run a hand through my hair. Lacing the pearls within my hair had actually been a good idea. For once, Heather was actually right.

At that thought, I turned to glance at her. Still simmering with frustration, she glowers as she pouts in her little corner. So many thoughts and plans and predictions passed through her mind. So many accurate truths that I didn't realise were true. Heather was much wiser than she appeared; Heather knew a lot more about this world than I gave her credit for. I should have listened to her more...

Muted cheers emanate from beyond backstage, most of them sounding close to the stage. Above them, Chris' voice echoed, too muffled for me to make out exactly what he says. When he stops, thunderous claps and whooping calls could be heard, all of them vigorous and clear. Chris told me that cheering meant five minutes until our cue to go onstage. Five more minutes and then I could walk onstage, claiming my rightful glory and splendour. Just five more measly minutes.

Biting my lip, I fidget with my hands to keep myself busy. Who knew that my Senior year would pan out like this? Who would've thought that I would be here, teamed with Heather, ready to take down someone who I had always perceived as an insignificant nobody? Definitely not past me.

In these past few months, so much had changed. I had changed. I didn't have the same friends I once did. I didn't do some of the things I used to. I... don't care as much about what people think of me. But, most of all, my perceptions of others had changed. No longer did I see Izzy as some loose-canon who had no logic behind her actions. No longer did I have this black and white image of Duncan. No longer did I see Heather as a frozen ice-queen.

So much changed. So many things, so many people, changed. Now I was slowly starting up from the beginning, reshaping my perceptions, reforming once close bonds. Tonight had reminded me of that. Tonight, when I had arrived at Prom, surprised to bump into Duncan of all people, slipped his number once more and a promise to go out on a date. To start things new. Even Gwen was different tonight. She'd actually come, with a group of friends, laughing and smiling for the first time in ages.

Everyone was different; everyone was light. Tonight was a night of change, and Heather and I were going to be the figureheads for it.

Music began to play from the stage - the signal for just two minutes left. By now the snake would be grinning from the audience, ecstatic that their puppet had won first place. Grinning, beaming, they would watch as Chris handed the winning couple their crowns, congratulating them on becoming prom royalty - high school royalty. Little did they know that in two minutes their entire plan would unravel at the seams.

Ready, I head to one of the wings, prepared to make my onstage debut. Heather follows, replacing her sulk with a chipper grin, taking a final examination of her crimson nails. Cool, confident, certain - she's the epitome of someone who should be prom queen. A perfect example of what a popular girl should be. But even with her confidence, her facade, I can sense the nerves. The agitation. All of it radiates from her in waves.

"We're going to do great," I grin, taking Heather's hand in mind. Smiling softly, warmly, I offer her my support. "We've both worked hard for this and it's been everything we've ever wanted. We both deserve this."

Nodding, Heather returns my grin. Just slightly, her hand tightens against mine.

"Yeah," She agreed. Something lights in her eyes. "We deserve this."

Suddenly, there's an uproar. Someone screams, Chris erupts into laughter and the crowd gasps. Our cue. The moment we walk onstage - together and victorious over the snake and her puppet. Our moment of high school glory.

"Now, let's welcome The real nominated queens: Heather and Courtney!"

Together, Heather and I stroll onstage, met by the wide eyes and open mouths of the unsuspecting audience. Everyone is silent; everyone is still. Stunned, shocked, they all watch as we both accept the crown from Chris, lifting it into the air between us. Sharing the power and glory together. Right beside us, Anne-Maria growls, a snarl fixed onto her face as Chef holds her over his shoulder, restraining her from any attempts to grab the crown.

Then, slowly, someone claps. Then someone else. Then there's a booming voice cheering, summoning other deep bellows across the hall. Soon, there's a thousand voices and hands clapping and cheering, a few feet stomping in celebration and Heather and I beam. My heart swells with pride.

"Looks like we caught her red-handed," Heather whispered, nodding toward the back of the crowd. Following her nod, I catch what she was talking about. Hidden right toward the back, shrouded in the shadows was the snake: Izzy. Seething, agitated, she wore a large scowl as everyone else began to applaud, an equally pissed Scarlett standing beside her.

"Oh yeah, she's definitely pissed," I agree, sending a small wave to our enemy. Steam appears to burst from her ears. Heather and I laugh.

Together we are a formidable force. Together we are glorious.

~Heather~

Prom has ended now. All of the music has died and the lights were turned on, casting bright yellow about the once dim place. Some people still skate about the hall, slipping and sliding gracefully about the space in pairs, showing off tricks. Others coast about the outskirts, skates in hand and shoes on instead. I was one of those types, leaning against the wall as I let out a heavy breath, my skates abandoned on the floor beside me.

This year's theme was no a bad idea. A roller-rink prom was no a bad idea. However, with my luck, I wouldn't last five minutes out there. Skating was never something I was particularly gifted at, especially due to my lack of self-belief and balance.

Usually, after events of high stress and pressure like this, I tended to grab a smoke. To release tension - I lied to myself - to make sure I can actually celebrate. But today I didn't do that ritual. Tonight I had changed it, recognised my true reason for needing a smoke break: back then, I was never truly happy. Satisfied.

Yes, I did have everything I desired: Nice clothes, tons of friends, all of the adoration and envy that could fuel an entire power-station. In my earlier years, these events were much more significant, much more important, in the showcase of how much power and status I had. Socially, it was what kept me in power for so long; it kept my position solid and certain, batting away all of my contenders. Like they even stood a chance.

But, back then, I had lacked a lot. I lacked the more important things - the things I really should have had. For years I lived without true friends, support, love. All those things that make a healthy person, a functioning person, had been severely deficient in my life. Briefly, it would flicker and appear; instantly, I would stomp it back to death, fearing that it would make me soft. Weak. Hardened hearts do not do well with kindness.

So that was why I always smoked. After being in an atmosphere surrounded by friends and fun and fancy, I was reminded of what I was missing. Continuously, I was reminded of the one thing I could never have.

Now, it is here. Now I no longer lack the necessary kindness and respect that people need. That's why, when I saw the cigarette stashed in my purse, I tossed it away, disgusted at the idea of even bringing it with me. Maybe that's why I'm here now, biting my lip as I hesitate, itching to pick up my skates and try - just try - to be normal. To put myself out there, vulnerable, uncertain and exposed. Watching as everyone else laughed.

"Buenas noches, chica," Alejandro stops beside me, grinning. He nods toward my abandoned skates, raising a brow. "Aren't you going to join in?"

"As if," I scoff, tossing my head in the opposite direction to his gaze. I'm meant to be avoiding him, keeping him out. That meant making conversation short and brief. "It's totally childish to skate around like that."

"Don't tell me," He laughs, the sound deep and rumbling. A charming grin settles on his face. "That the infamous Heather is scared of roller-skating."

I punch Alejandro's arm, "I am not!"

Red-hot shame threatens to appear on my face. Hot, heated shame that would take ages to go away. Betraying me, it forms a blush on my cheeks, very visible in the intense glare of the lights. Damn you, Chris. Damn you.

"Then you won't mind proving me wrong," He teases, holding a hand out for me to take. Smug - he's enjoying this right now. Seeing me like this, embarrassed and indignant, always made him smug and happy. He raises a brow. "Right?"

Yes. Right. If I wasn't scared of roller-skates, of embarrassing myself, then I would prove him wrong and skate around the hall. I would put on these skates, get up with perfect balance, and wipe that smug grin off his stupid, handsome face. I would. Just to prove him wrong. And he knows that - he knows that I don't like him being right - and he is using that against me. He's using my own habits against me.

"I hate you," I grumble, taking off my heels. One pops off, the other follows, then I am lacing up my skates, preparing to stand.

At first, I end up wobbling as I come to a stand, feeling unstable on the four-wheeled shoes. As I try to balance, I can spot Alejandro holding in a laugh, finding it hilarious that I'm actually attempting to prove him wrong. Part of me wants to punch him for it. Really hard. But another part, another softer part, feels different. She actually wants to laugh along with him.

"Give me your hand," I mutter, holding mine out for him to take. If I was going to do this, then at least he could ensure that I won't fall down. If not, I can always drag him down with me.

"Of course," He nods and then we are gone, skating round the hall. One step closer, I guess, to finding a way back to normal.