Yes, I know, I'm terrible. Again, it took me FOREVER to update, and the only pathetic excuse I have is that I was BUSY. I'm truly sorry. This chapter...ehhh...not sure what I think. I decided to try something new and experiment with other characters' POV. I know its very choppy, but in order to have it play out like I want it to, it has to be that way. At least for now. If you hate it, tell me.

I know this chapter is pretty much filler again. But like i said, i was experimenting, and if i did my job right, I should leave you with a few questions. Next chapter gets down to business.

*****REVIEW PLEASE!!!! i only got 3-4 reviews last chapter and it made me very sad. so review, pretty please with a cherry on top? :)*****

xoxo regina george.

CHELSEA S POV:

Click. I unlocked the disgusting stall door, laden with graffiti of various initials and cruel insults. Obviously, I don t wear my gloves in the bathroom, so I had to cover my hand with the inside of my thermal and stretch it up towards the lock so I could side it across. Ew.

I padded over to the second to last sink on the right, as always, and turned on the faucet with a paper towel. For a little while, I just watched the hot water stream down into the drain, thinking.

It had been a week since I d first talked to Miss Pillsbury, a week since I'd told her what was going on. She was real nice, and I hoped she'd meant it when she said she wouldn't tell any of the other teachers. I didn't need any more people knowing and complicating everything by trying to understand when they couldn't. I thought that Miss Pillsbury was gonna be one of those teachers that just complicate things by bringing me to the center of attention. But now, after she had told me her story, I could tell that she may be different. The thing was, even though I had told her a lot, I still hadn't told her everything. I wasn t sure if I should tell her everything. Was it even any of her business? Something inside told me that even if it wasn't, keeping it in wasn't gonna help me much.

I had thought over the past week about how to tell her, and the more I thought about it, the more nervous I got. I avoided her. Like I said, she was real nice, so I knew she wouldn't push it too far and contact Principal Figgins or something stupid like that. But I was still nervous. People who hear stories like mine tend to....overreact. Miss Pillsbury seemed like a pretty calm person, so I eventually figured that just telling her flat-out would be the best thing.

My thoughts drifted away, and I remembered that the water was still running. Assuming that I probably wasted enough water to fill a swimming pool, I pumped out some soap and started the grueling ordeal that was washing my hands. It took all the willpower and mental strength I had, but after eight minutes and five cycles of scrubbing, (front to back, then in between fingers and under nails, in that order) I stopped.

Someone, a junior I guessed, came in, and instead of abruptly turning off the water and pretending to walk out and down the hall, only to come back once she exited the bathroom, I left and kept walking back to class.

It still boggles my mind today as to how I was able to do it.

EMMA s POV/ Will (kinda):

Emma was feeling very proud of herself. She had really progressed during such a short amount of time. She had completely ditched the plastic gloves, and she only had to wipe down the doorknob of her office 3 times a day: once when she arrived at school, once at lunch, and a final time as she went home for the day. Granted, she still drowned her hands in Purell after every handshake and even the idea of milk made her want to vomit, but she was moving forward. She hoped that Chelsea could say the same as well.

Poor Will, he still had no idea what was going on. These changes in Emma's behavior floored him.

A couple days ago, he and Emma were on a coffee date when she spotted a old friend.

"Oh my goodness! Will, I think I see my roommate from college! Her name's Mandy. Gosh, I haven't seen her in forever! You don't mind if I go say hi to her really quick, do you?"

"Of course not, Em, go ahead." As Emma got up, he turned around to see who Mandy was. She was about the same height as Emma, but she had a very different style. She wore dark wash jeans with black heels, a light yellow babydoll top, and had her pin straight brown hair done up in a tight ponytail. She was pretty, just like a lot of girls were. But Emma was more than pretty.

Red curls bouncing, Emma trotted over to Mandy and quietly called out her name.

Mandy looked genuinely surprised. "Oh my God! Is that you, Emma? Where the hell have you been? It's so great to see you! What are you doing here?"

Emma giggled as she recalled her friend's typical incessant questioning. Next, she did something that utterly flabbergasted Will and Mandy alike. After a second of hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Mandy in a friendly embrace. She caught her roommate completely off guard; her eyes widened as her mind registered what happened and told her to hug Emma back.

Again, Will just sat there, agape.

Unless it was him or someone in her immediate family, Emma did NOT hug. Ever.

Emma remembered how she noticed Will's astonishment as she walked back to their table, and she felt even more guilty than before. She felt bad keeping this from him, she really did, she just needed more time. More time to see if was a load of wasted energy.

Refocusing back to her work, she sighed and resumed clicking through her emails and sorting various files. A few moments later, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Emma responded mechanically.

"Miss Pillsbury?" Emma looked up from her computer screen to give her eyes a rest and see who was standing in the doorway. Judging from the distinct, quiet vocal timbre that she heard, she could guess who it was.

"Hi, Chelsea. How s everything going?"

"I'm alright, you?"

"I'm great, thanks. Do you want to talk?" Emma was pleasantly surprised to see Chelsea. After a week had gone by, she wasn't so sure when the girl would step in her office again. She was glad she hadn't scared her off, or made her think that the whole "team" concept was a bunch of B.S.

Maybe we're getting somewhere.

"It smells good in here." Chelsea smirked. "Very clean."

Emma smiled proudly, but internally she wondered what all this small talk was about. "Thank you. I tidied up a bit this morning."

Chelsea's smirk dissipated, which the guidance counselor figured meant that she remembered why she'd come. "Oh, and yeah. I do want to talk."

"Have a seat, honey. "

CHELSEA:

I went over to pull out the chair near Miss Pillsbury's desk some more, and as I glanced down, I saw something that I was all too familiar with. Something I hadn't noticed last time.

Oh God. Speak of the devil.

"Do you vacuum like that too?" I asked.

It was obvious that I confused her. "Oh, well, I didn't vacuum in here. It was one of the janitors, although, now that I think about it, I'm not too sure how good of a job they did. But, what do you mean by 'like that' ?"

I hesitated a bit. "Um...like making alternating dark and white stripes."

"Oh, that's funny, I've never actually noticed that before." I could tell she really didn't give a damn, but it was nice of her to try.

Well, she'll definitely give a damn in a minute.

Miss Pillsbury shifted in her seat and folded her hands on top of her desk as I sat down.

"Now, what would you like to talk about?"

Oh God.

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