Well, it's Saturday! And believe it or not, I have in fact posted the next two chapters! (Look out your window, you may see a pig fly by). REALLY hope you enjoy them!

Mrs.Scott323: Ha, I get what you're saying. Actually, I'm kinda getting sick of Clarissa too - I just put emphasis on her those two chapters to show just how evil she really is. But you'll be happy to know that the story's main focuses from here on out will be on Luke, and more so later, the Dashwoods. Clarissa will still be poking her evil head in every now and then, but she won't be monopolizing any more chapters. ;)

Meghan rung her hair out into the sink, and pressed her hands on the ledge in front of the ladies' room mirror, leaning forward. She took a deep breath, trying to collect herself. Suddenly, she heard the door push open. She quickly turned away.

"Faye, I don't want to talk about it." she said.

When she didn't hear the door close, she closed her eyes and crossed her arms, walking to the wall.

"Are you sure?" came a voice that wasn't Faye's.

Meghan's eyes popped open.

"Who're you?" she asked, still facing the wall.

"I'm an old woman, who's very concerned." the stranger replied.

Meghan turned around to a sight that made her want to tremble. Someone dressed in a blue pastel suit, with pearl jewelry.

"May I come in?" she asked.

"...Yes."

The woman advanced, and held out her hand.

"My name is Jocelyn. What's your name?"

The wet girl took her hand.

"Meghan." she answered.

"Well, nice to meet you, Meghan." Jocelyn said with a warm smile.

Meghan's face softened as she smiled a little as well.

"Nice to meet you, too."

They let go, and the woman folded her hands in front, looking regal once again.

"So what brings you to England?" she asked.

Meghan looked up to answer.

"I won a scholarship."

A look came over Jocelyn that reminded Meghan of how her mother had reacted when she'd opened that letter.

"My! A scholarship? Congratulations! You must be a good student."

Meghan shifted her gaze.

"Actually, no, not really. I just wrote an essay."

"Oh, well, it must've been a great one, to be good enough to bring you here."

"I guess."

There was a pause. Meghan turned to lean on the ledge once more.

"I'll tell you one thing: you're a very mature young lady."

Meghan looked at Jocelyn again.

"What makes you say that?" she asked, confused.

"The way you handled that incident just now. You took what was dealt to you, and walked away with dignity."

Meghan kept looking, and she smiled again.

"Well, I'm glad you thought I handled it well."

"Oh, very much so." the woman replied. "But I must ask you - why didn't you yell at them when you had the chance? They certainly deserved it."

Meghan turned away, and thought for a moment.

"Because I didn't feel that I had too." she turned back to Lady Dashwood. "I'll go home, and I'll wash my hair and clothes, and I'll go to bed, and get up to come back to this school tomorrow morning. That's how I'll stand up for myself."

Jocelyn just stood there for a few moments, looking at the girl, in great admiration of what she'd just heard. She looked straight into her face, her eyes, her persona, and decided something in her mind. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Well, I'm very, very glad to hear that, Meghan." she said. She then turned to walk to the door, and opened it, looking at the girl with another warm smile. And no one said another word as she walked out. Really, there was nothing they could've said that would have fit better than the knowing, comforting silence.

Though Meghan's hair and clothes were a sticky mess, she came out of the school building in a joyful mood. She had spoken with THE Jocelyn Dashwood. Which wouldn't mean much to the great majority of American teenagers, but it meant the world to her.

Faye, however, was rather sour.

"Meghan, I do NOT understand you. You stood up to Clarissa once, when she merely insulted us in a hallway. But she can shovel potatoes into your book bag, move your locker down with the rats, have her minions cut up your clothes and put used gum in your shoes, trick you into sitting in molasses, and HUMILIATE you in front of LADY DASHWOOD - and you say nothing."

Emily, Bridget, and Samantha all felt the same way, though Ayaka, as usual, just kept on as a silent observer. Meghan wondered when that girl was ever finally going to say something. But to the ones who were talking, Meghan said this:

"It doesn't matter, you guys. It just doesn't matter."

"How can you say that?!" cried Samantha, aghast. "She needs to be stopped!"

"Well," Meghan told her, "one of these days, Clarissa is going to fall on her face, and the whole world will be there to laugh their heads off. You just have to let things run their course."

"Fine for you, Meghan. But I, for one, am tired of waiting. Clarissa needs to be punished."

Meanwhile, the subject of the girls' conversation was walking with her cronies a short distance behind. Jocelyn had left after lunch, as she usually did, to be home for high tea. But she hadn't left before promising Clarissa a swift punishment for what she'd done, which would be dealt as soon as it was thought up. But the blonde girl really didn't care, however, because she had still gotten to see Meghan drenched in the drink of the day. Whatever petty, miniscule punishment she'd recieve would be worth it.

Needless to say, she had a huge, devilish grin on her face as she walked out of the Jasperstone gates to wait for her chauffeur. While she waited, she entertained herself and her friends by throwing her usual insults at anyone within the general area - until she caught sight of Lucas Brenshire, walking in her direction. Her devilish grin turned to one of ditsy, sugary sweetness.

He must be coming to ask if I'll have him as my escort again, for the next ball. Clarissa thought to herself.

"Luke, darling!" she squealed as he approached her. "I had a wonderful time last Sat - " she stopped. Luke had gone right on walking.

Puzzled as to why she had been overlooked, Clarissa turned around - to see him walk right up to...

"Meghan!"

The sticky girl turned, to see the boy she'd met before standing right in front of her. She smiled, stunned to see him, while Faye's mouth hung open with her friends' in disbelief.

"Uh, hi."

"Hello." he said, smiling right back at her. "My friend Ian told me why you haven't called."

Suddenly, someone shrieked. They all turned to see Little Miss Payne, shaking with fury. They saw her stomp off, in a rage, back through the school gates.

Luke chuckled, turning back to Meghan, only to see that her smile had faded.

"Wait." he said. "You didn't think that...her and I...you know...did you?" he asked her.

Meghan looked down.

"Well, that's certainly what it looked like." she said.

"I don't like her. I like someone else." he stated earnestly.

Meghan looked back up at him.

"Who?"

He smiled again.

"Well, she has wonderful, wet brown hair, a sweet, gentle voice, and an amazing smile." he told her. "And every time I see her, she makes feel happier, because she's something real in a world of lavish illusion."

Meghan smiled a misty smile without thinking, looking into Luke's deep brown eyes, as the station wagon pulled up right beside her. Faye opened the door to the backseat.

"Meghan." she said.

Meghan turned to Faye for a second, and then turned back to Luke.

"I - I have to go." she told him. And there he stood, watching her as she climbed into the car that would take her away. Then he turned to walk, back down to the school his great-great-great-great grandfather had founded, trying to think of where he'd go from here.

Meghan was back at the Winthrop residence, in the dainty sitting room, doing homework and thinking.

Jocelyn Dashwood was Henry's mother. That meant she had to have been there when he and Aunt Libby were in love. And seeing as Clarissa had shouted her last name at the top of her lungs, Meghan knew she was on Jocelyn's radar.

She couldn't believe it. She'd been here a little over a week, and already, her existence was known to Daphne's grandmother. Meghan knew she had to have been right that night in the bedroom, by saying that the time had come. Things were starting to happen.

Why, then, did Meghan feel so nervous?

Because that's how she felt. Nervous.

And then, there was Luke. Luke. His name sounded so wonderful. And he himself was sweet and sincere. Even the skeptical Faye was beginning to change her mind.

"Did you see that smirk on his face when he saw Clarissa storm off?" she had said, amazed. "Unbelievable."

It was unbelievable. For someone who sat at the top of the social ladder to take notice someone who was being smashed underneath it, and think that person to be his equal.

"Meghan?" Emma called.

"Yeah?"

"Would you be a dearie and go out and get the mail fer me?"

"Okay." she said, walking to the door. She opened it to go out to the mailbox, but was stopped in her tracks.

Meghan bent down to pick up a small bouquet of flowers - pink daisies, to be exact, with a small card attached. She took the card out of its little envelope, and held it in the sun to read.

Meghan -

Maybe this will help to prove it to you...

I meant what I said.

-L.B.