chapter o2.

Skye Hamilton had been called a lot of things in life. Bitch, slut, slimy, etc. She wasn't exactly slimy, a bitch maybe. A slut when it called for it, but never slimy or lowly - definitely not.

Although currently, Skye was smitten.

Smitten for a certain dark haired, brooding and angsty delicacy known as Kemp Hurley. Lucky for her, he was standing right in front of her, searching for something or the other in the confines of the third floor library study hall in which earlier Skye had seen him with that good-for-nothing bimbo, Kristen.

Adjusting the SH broach on her chest and patting down the top of her head, following by twisting her chignon tighter, she approached him, all smiles. She flashed him her CrestWhite, Covergirl worthy grin and placed a hand on the oak table, a rumble erupted from the bumping together of her Tiffany&Co. bracelets.

"Skye, hey," he smiled at her and she nearly swooned. His dark, floppy curls had been cut shorter, no doubt for the new school year, and he was wearing a Ralph Lauren polo covered by a thin Jos A. Bank sweater (she'd accompanied her brother on a few shopping trips recently, she wasn't that creepy). His eyes were a dark gray that literally popped against his tanned skin and she could not deny that summer, obviously at one of his parents' beach homes, had done him well - just like how Skye wished to do him, mind her.

"How are you, Kemp?" She asked, popping his collar absentmindedly. He smiled at her without parting his lips and then stood straighter, his eyes wandering to a fallen iPhone 5 that was laying on the floor. The scent of alcohol lingered on him, but Skye didn't mind, she'd change all that and more once they were happily dating. She needed a plan first, but flirting was always an option.

"Great," he nodded, still smiling. He wasn't really a man of many words, unless he was around the comfort of his closer friends, like that whore Massie Block for instance or Alicia Rivera and her wandering hands. "And you?" He cleared his throat, his deep voice echoing across the walls of the study room.

"Fine, well I mean, I could be better," she batted her eyelashes and then looked up at Kemp through them. He liked women, lots of them, had hookers called in from various countries just to keep him happy, he'd fall prey to Skye though, and she was certain of it. There was no woman like her.

"Why's that?" He asked, bending down to grab the phone, he set it on the table and Skye let her eyes flit to the screensaver, it was a picture of Kristen, Massie and Alicia on the beach. She scoffed and Kemp took the phone and slid it in his pocket coolly, it was obviously Kristen's, who Skye was still surprised to find as Kemp's best friend; what was he doing with a virgin teetotaler like her?

Skye grabbed his collar delicately and scooted closer to him, they were only inches apart now and she could feel the heat emanating off of his tanned skin, "you still haven't kissed me," she stated, looking up at him.

Raising his dark brown eyebrows, taken aback from the sudden attention he leaned forward, composing himself, "you never asked." His response was casual, just how Skye had imagined and then in a moment she had pulled his face down to hers and kissed him, her hands making their way from his collar to his hair while his hands snaked around her waist.

The door to the study room opened and Kemp pulled away, Kristen Gregory was standing there with her pink lips in 'o' form, and she turned bright red at what she had just walked into.

"I'm sorry," she said, glued to the spot, "Kemp," she added, shooting a dirty look at Skye. "I-I came back for my phone because you were taking a while...but never mind, I'll see you later."

Skye smirked, this was even more perfect than she had planned. Kristen would tell Massie, she was probably on her way there at that instant, and then Massie would be enraged probably and want to take action, but oh, she couldn't. Not after Skye took those pictures on her phone because now she had Massie Block in the palm of her hand and Skye refused to rest until Massie and her friends were grovelling at her pedicured feet and begging for mercy.

"Now, where were we?"

Dylan hated the heat. Especially the kind that stuck to her and mussed up her already curly hair; it was like a clingy girlfriend and Dylan had had enough. The large bay windows of her bedroom were wide open, the hot breeze tickling her nose as her eyes pressed shut to keep out the prying sunlight. Her hair was splayed out around her and her hands were turned upwards as to dry her sweating palms. The afternoon had reached it's peak and she could hear her heartbeat in the silence of her room.

"Dylan, at least put your underwear in the given drawers, I'd prefer if people didn't walk in and see your intimates." Nina Callas's voice was something Dylan had learned to ignore. Much like a scolding mother, Nina's stern tone pierced Dylan's ears in a way she rather disliked. "My god, pull your shorts up, I can see more of your panties!"

Dylan snorted at Nina's choice word (it wasn't like Dylan hadn't walked in on Nina and Kemp having a very heated moment) but silently yanked down the Batman boxers she was wearing, the rest of her body staying in the exact same position.

If she were to open her eyes and look around, she was sure the room would be exactly as it always was: her side messy with food wrappers, a pile of borrowed video games, wires for various electronics spread out for perfect tripping ground, and clothes thrown in a pattern that looked like someone had literally skipped around the room dotting the floor with shirts. Nina's side was always uncomfortably clean, as if Nina believed their housemother's motto that "a room is the window to a woman's true self", everything was in it's place and little sticky notes were placed in random areas reminding Nina to do things or leaving little motivational quotes. Nina even left Dylan little notices like, "GOOD LUCK ON YOUR TEST!" or "ALWAYS SMILE B/C YOU NEVER KNOW, SOMEONE MIGHT FALL IN LOVE WITH IT!" and other stupid and cheesy things that Chris or Derrick or Cam and especially Landon would laugh at for days and mimic in poor impersonations of teenage girls.

It was all very Kristen-wannabe like.

"Dylan Josephine Marvil, get the fuck up," Nina said in a low, threatening voice. Dylan could almost hear Nina's hands on her hips. Dylan just smirked slightly and turned away. "If you don't get up now, then I'm going to report you to the housemother and she's going to find all your alcohol and you're going to have to say goodbye to all your friends."

Ugh, really?

Sighing, Dylan got up, rubbed the side of her head and stared at her roommate.

"You are the most irritating female ever."

"Thank you, I'm expecting a certificate with that exact phrase on it, now clean up. Oh, and take a shower too. It looks like pixies just attacked your head." Nina turned around, picking up a stack of Vogues which she shelved into her infinite collection of Vogues, placed in numerical order on her side of the room, her black hair swished with its light weight and glistened from a summer of good care.

Nina only nearly missed the haphazardly covered pillow as it flew gracefully past her head.

"Dylan!"

"What exactly am I looking at?" Chris asked Landon. The paper before him was painted in a way that was too abstract to actually make anything out of. He looked up at Landon who smugly tightened the scarf around his neck...it was August.

"My summer art project; it's a woman bathing in South Africa." Chris snorted and then fell back into one of the plush couches in the Bentley dorms' West Wing common room. "Are you laughing? I paid a thousand dollars to have my housekeeper's daughter, who goes to RISD for your information, to paint this. Honestly Christopher, have some class..."

Landon's irritatingly stoic and proper voice droned on but Chris drowned him out, turning in his seat and staring out the window. He wondered what Olivia Ryan was doing right now, the uber hot and sweet girl who lived somewhere beyond the trees covering the Layton house.

He had to stop, she was just some girl and besides, Josh liked her.

"Are you listening to me?" Landon asked, seating himself beside Chris. He followed Chris's gaze and rolled his eyes, then proceeded to smirk,"thinking about Ms. Gregory are you?" Chris ignored Landon again, he had told the boys the previous year that he actually had a terrible crush on Kristen and was therefore bummed 24 hours a day because she had a boyfriend. It was the easiest way out of talking about the real problem.

It wasn't fair that Chris just couldn't get a free pass; his life was a glamorous mess too. How could Kemp just be allowed to drink it all away and Derrick could just hold up a middle finger and everyone just forgot? But no, Chris was Plovert, the guy who had all the answers and if he couldn't supply a reason to be unhappy then everyone would probably have a mental breakdown.

To play fair and because he was curious, Chris spoke anyway, "What do you think of Griffin?"

"In the simplest of terms dear Plovert, and speaking with a phrase overused by our beloved Derrick himself: he is a bag of dicks." Chris grinned and shrugged. Griffin Hastings was kind of cool in a very typical way, he had that authentic bad-boy persona (but he was anything but bad) about him. Griffin hated practically everyone and still managed to care a lot about Kristen and his grades, and yet he spent most of his time smoking different herbs and listening to rock music. It actually wasn't surprising that the chain smoking, R&B listening boy snagged the paper-pushing, studious, popular girl with a slight rebellious streak - wasn't that the kind of cliche shit they had in all the movies?

Sometimes Chris thought about it, Griffin was pretty safe in a sense. All his cards were out on the table. He wasn't so much bad as he was a teenage boy. He liked Drake and J. Cole and played a lot of shitty music on his guitar. Maybe that's what Kristen liked, that no matter what, Griffin was always the same. He didn't really like to party all that much either. In fact, he was a hell of a lot safer than dating Kemp or Derrick or Cam, even himself and Josh were a lot more fucked up than Griffin. Griffin even came with zero baggage.

Chris wasn't a pansy but he sure as hell thought it wasn't fair that Griffin could get a girlfriend when he certainly could not. He wanted one of those high school relationships that you remembered years later, with one of those reminiscent smiles on your face.

He sighed again,"Well, I'm going for a walk, you wanna come?" He knew the answer before he even asked.

"Of course not." Chris just shrugged and walked away, but not before shooting one last glance out the window.

"Josh," Oliva whined, pulling at his J Crew Henley, he rolled his brown eyes and then turned to her, mussing up his hair with his hand, a steely look in his eyes.

"I refuse to drive you into town to meet some sleaze, Liv. Besides, the drive is like three fucking hours and I am not sitting my ass in Derrick's asshole SUV for three fucking hours just to go to some club and then drive back for another three fucking hours."

Olivia sighed and tucked a flaxen lock of hair behind her ear, tugging at her ponytail and then gathered her hair up again, putting it all to the side. Josh had always found her to be extremely gorgeous, everyone always had. She just didn't get it though. She didn't understand that he didn't want to take her to meet some sketchy Upper East Side prep who couldn't even get into GPA (well Josh didn't even know if the kid had applied, but whatever) not because of the drive - in reality he could have and probably would have, driven her for hours if the chance had ever arisen - but because he was kind of into her, more than kind of if he was being honest.

"Nikki, can you please tell him?" Nikki who was still lying in Josh's room, flipping through GQ and smoking yet another cigarette simply grunted. Josh knew that Nikki probably cared little to nothing for Olivia and found his infatuation for her to be rather ridiculous, but after convincing Josh to rent out a hotel room at the most expensive hotel in all of Connecticut just for a stupid party that Nikki thought would be fun, she owed him.

"It's a bad idea, Oralia," she mumbled, dragging the cigarette from her lips and letting a trail of smoke follow. It was kind of hot watching Nikki smoke, in a weird, twisted way. Josh blamed Cam for that thought. Cam always rambled on that Nikki Dalton smoking was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen and never quite shut up about it.

"Olivia," Josh shot back, Nikki didn't even look up. Olivia on the other hand hadn't noticed, and instead was staring at Josh with her deep, navy blue eyes with desperation and hope. She tilted her head and her pale blonde hair toppled to the side.

Josh should say no.

Olivia wasn't dumb enough to not realize that he would do anything for her.

He couldn't let her just push him around like that, if he did then he'd be stuck in the friendzone for the next fifty years and grow old and bitter while she settled down with some douchebag and had four kids-

"Josh?"

He looked up at the ceiling, just knowing he'd regret it, "fine, just this once."

She smiled brightly at him and lunged, enveloping him in a hug that smelled like her jasmine perfume and her strawberry shampoo, both extremely intoxicating and equally mind numbing. Nikki snorted at Josh and shook her head.

For a moment it was worth it.

"So, I'll meet you in the parking lot Friday at 5?" Josh could have kicked himself, but he was sure Nikki or one of the guys would do it for him.

There were several things Massie Block could do in this situation.

First and foremost, she could kill herself. Everyone would cry over the loss and there would be a big parade and a painting of her hung up in Layton. There would even be a pomp and circumstance funeral, a bigger event than Kim K's wedding. People would fast for days and her parents would bawl and lament over their perfect daughter. Harvard would send a representative to bring her acceptance letter to the funeral and let everyone know how disappointed they'd be without having such an exceptional student studying with them.

The problem was, Massie Block loved herself far too much to actually do away with herself, and besides, the world needed a little light after all.

The second thing she could do was somehow slip Skye into a car, knock her out and turn on the gas - carbon monoxide poisoning was a common thing. Or maybe there could be an accident with Skye's tea...then Massie could easily hire someone to dispose the body in the nearest cemetery, no one would suspect a thing.

Shaking her silky, chestnut tresses, and finger combing them away from her face, Massie decided that those two ideas weren't any good.

Currently she was sitting with her hands gripped at the edge of her Queen bed, mutinously staring across the room at the mirror on Kristen's side. Damn, she looked good, even in this terrible predicament. Sighing, she kicked off her Louboutin, suede pumps and reclined on her bed.

What to do?

A quick rap at the door had Massie shoot up, she tied her hair up with one quick flip and then, in her most collected and cool voice she spoke, "Come in."

Someone fiddled with the door and Massie rolled her amber eyes, idiot. Finally with one click the door was pushed open and standing in it's wake was Derrick Harrington. Brother of the most evil creature on the planet.

He stood there for a second surveying his surroundings, his button-up rolled to his elbows to obviously show off his toned arms. His hair was tousled and messy as if a girl had just run her hands through it - not that Massie would have been surprised if a girl had. His eyes glinted with blatant mischief and finally his caramel eyes met hers and a wolfish grin spread across his good-looking features.

"I've been looking for you," he said conversationally, trekking across the mess of a room. Kristen's side was immaculately clean while Massie's shoes were scattered on the floor with a Burberry Porsum trench coat and several other intimates that Massie hoped Derrick would overlook - he had the gall to smirk when he saw them.

"Why?" Her voice became kind of hoarse at this, her eyes widening. Had Skye told Derrick about it? She swallowed thickly and Derrick walked closer, his eyes trained on the brunette on the bed as if he had come to assassinate her - Beautiful Girl Murdered by Crazy Big Man on Campus, the headlines would read. Or was that too long? His Armani cologne was engulfing her, relaxing her before his inevitable kill.

"Nothing, I got bored." She let out a deep breath when he collapsed next to her on the bed and reached for her gem encrusted remote, flipping on the television. "ESPN? Or actually I think there's a game with Spain and Portugal. Why do you look like that? You're acting like I came in to execute you."

Massie cracked a smile and then pushed his Diesel covered legs off of her bed, "No, you just caught me off guard." She leaned back onto her pillows staring at the TV and trying and failing at ignoring the close distance between herself and Derrick. If Skye were here she'd have a field day. That lowly bitch.

Massie wondered if Derrick knew that he lived with a crazy person or if in fact he was crazy too.

She'd known him for years, from diapers to pads to birth control - he'd been there through it all. Maybe he was just good at hiding his crazy, everyone was, right? Even Massie, however perfect she was, had a few things she knew she had to keep to herself.

"Massie Block, off guard? I came at a good time then, didn't I?" He winked at Massie and she felt shivers cascade down her spine.

Did he remember? Of course he didn't...it was late and they were drunk and the coat closet was easy to forget. Except she hadn't forgotten. She hadn't forgotten the way he had kissed her, pushed her up against the mint green walls and told her that he had feelings for her. She had reciprocated of course, she was drunk. There was no way in hell that Skye had gotten wind of it...but somehow she had.

It wasn't Massie's fault though, she was vulnerable and piss-drunk and needed a place to hide.

Derrick had come up to her, smelling like heaven and Scotch and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone (showing a little preview of his tanned chest) - he knew that drove her crazy. He'd whispered that she looked nice in her dress, smiled at her in that charming way and she'd gone weak at the knees, she was also drunk.

He hadn't called her hot though, he'd called her beautiful and in moments she'd grabbed his tie and was pulling him into the nearest enclosed space, her lips on his and her hands running through that bloody, soft, mess of hair, like she'd always wanted to. It had made it all he more exciting because Danny was outside, looking for her, searching for her - her Danny. But there she was, hauled up in a 4 by 4 pressed against Derrick Harrington and his bloody sculpted chest, her legs hooked around his waist, and his lips were on her neck, his hands at her hips and she had never felt so thrilled before. There was electricity - but Massie had long since concluded that that could happen with any boy if given the right amount of alcohol intake, his top two buttons open, if his hair was messy enough and all of this had to be/happen within a close distance of a coat closet.

She had also been very drunk.

"I hate this channel," Massie snapped quickly, Derrick turned his head and shrugged.

"Sucks."

He didn't remember a thing. Fucking bastard.

"Seriously, Derrick," she chided, keeping those horrid memories at bay as she pursed her Lancome coated lips. She grabbed for the remote but he simply placed it on the nightstand. The only way she could get it now was climb over him and that was not happening.

"Seriously, Block," he said sternly, throwing an arm around her. She stiffened. It wasn't right of her to be laying in bed with Derrick Harrington watching soccer like it was no big deal. Not when she had already spent too much time with him. On other circumstances she knew it would be fine, Derrick was a childhood friend, a close friend, a confidante. Danny wouldn't mind, but Massie minded.

"I don't want to watch this," she got up and walked around the bed to get the remote. Her DKNY, electric blue shirtdress fluttered in the wind from the open bay window and her fingers curled around the remote (she marveled for a moment at her gold matte, OPI nail polish). Derrick grabbed her arm though, and she fell back into the plush bed, the pillows falling onto her like an avalanche - a representation of the way her life was currently falling apart all because of Skye Hamilton.

"No you don't," he smirked at her and held her bangle covered wrist, which clattered at his touch, and then pried the remote from her hands. She stared, wide-eyed at him, his lips were right there, and he licked them quickly as he worked on ripping the remote from her hand (fucking erotic as hell). Her fingers slackened and the remote fell, hitting her square on the head. So much for posh, Ms. Block. Derrick laughed, shaking the bed with his laughter and took the remote, leaning over Massie, his brown eyelashes close enough for her to count and the light splash of freckles on his nose that you wouldn't be able to see from even a foot away, were visible. "Nice try," he whispered.

A splotch of red crept its way up Massie's pale, swan neck and she thought in that split-second of what it would be like to kiss Derrick Harrington while she was sober.

A silly thought.

"Massie!" The door flew open and the color drained from Massie's face, she sat up, almost knocking into Derrick and smoothed her hair down, the headband on her head sparkling in the dimming sunlight. She tried her best to ignore the fact that Derrick's arm was slung around her again, and his focus was back on the TV as if there was nothing to phase him.

Kristen stood in the doorway and picked up a few of the scattered remnants of Massie's things, flinging them on to her side. Alicia followed behind her, braiding her long hair and behind her was a girl who looked out of place among Massie's glamorous things.

Her bitch-mode turned on almost immediately, and she narrowed her amber eyes at the fresh meat that Alicia and Kristen had dared to bring into her sanctuary. The overpowering scent of Derrick's cologne was making her lightheaded, and not in a bad way, this was really not the time for her friends' ignorant antics.

"This is-" Derrick whipped his head around and sat up, removing his hand away from Massie's neck.

"Allie?"

Massie Block did not like the sound of that.

Layne Abeley stared out the window of her dorm, rubbing her temples. She wasn't exactly sure what she had gotten herself into in the past few hours but she was ready to pack up and go home for the summer - again. The actual school year hadn't even started yet. More than anything she wanted to be back in Africa, actually doing something worthwhile. Boarding school was like the ninth circle of hell.

"Another year, another shit ton of brain cells lost listening to all these idiots and smelling all that secondhand weed." She said loudly (maybe not all of it was secondhand), Claire was sitting beside her on the window seat, staring dreamily out the window, her notepad on her lap, the breeze slapping against her face. She reminded Layne of one of those imps in Greek mythology who lured in Gods.

Layne rolled her eyes, only Claire could ever be seen as some kind of beautiful, woodland creature while she stared looking blankly out a window. If it were Layne people would say she looked like an ape cowering in the jungle - not that she minded, she loved apes.

"What did the stars say about this year?" Claire asked her best friend, her lofty voice floating calmly around the white room - which was fitting since both girls were pretty much crazy.

"Nothing special, something about meeting new people. I did however, excitingly, meet Hermia this summer."

Claire raised her eyebrows and turned to Layne, "you mean your idol?"

"I hope you're not mocking me, Claire, because if you ever met one of your favorite artists I'm sure I'd never hear the end of it." Claire smiled at Layne and shrugged, her blonde hair reflecting the sunlight from outside.

"Probably, but maybe not for the same reasons."

"Why's that?" Layne pulled her legs closer to her, the patterned skirt she was wearing fell to the side.

"Well, they're all dead." Layne laughed, sometimes Claire was a riot.

Layne picked up her bowl of baby tomatoes and popped some into her mouth, wondering whether or not her day was eventful enough to torment Claire about. Claire was the kind of person you didn't really want to disturb and Layne was always really disruptive - they worked that way. Sometimes though, Layne didn't want to burden Claire with useless stuff, it was nice that she was so peaceful.

"You'll never guess what happened today," Claire raised a single blonde brow, "I met that jackass, Derrick Harrington in the library and he had the guts to ask me to help him with his summer work - which he hadn't even started until today! I hate all of them, they're the worst and I have no clue how they even got into this school...oh wait I do, their parents' money."

Claire smiled at her friend and Layne knew that she was keeping her thoughts to herself because Layne herself, just like Claire, had a lot of money to their names but at least they had actually passed the aptitude tests and met all the requirements, but who knew about Harrington's lot?

"He seems nice."

"Please, Claire, don't humor me. Apparently now I'm his tutor and I don't even know how I got involved with that!"

"Maybe because you slept with Cameron Fisher? Aren't they best friends...?" Layne rolled her eyes and waved away Claire's remark. Cam Fisher was a different story, one Layne didn't want to get into - but how could you refrain from being seduced by someone like him? He had jet black hair and jaded eyes and his whole thing he had going just made you want to jump his bones and Layne was human after all. Layne snorted, "You never know Layne, you might realize he's not that bad."

Which was exactly what Layne feared.

a/n: sorry for the wait and thanks so much for all of your reviews! (also again, i apologize for spelling and grammar errors because i kind of haven't edited it yet...)

i've had a pretty clear view of where this story is going but it's so hard to put it to words. i have like six million rough drafts but i've kind of cut and pasted. you may not be able to see a lot of the characterizations now but the next chapter will really get into things. another note, claire doesn't really seem too lofty and flowery in this chapter and that's because she's with layne and you'll see her pov soon. i'll be doing all the characters' povs but some more than others. also, just because there are certain relationships/dynamics going on here, don't get discouraged because everyone will have a ton of different things going on and the possibilities for pairings are endless (trust me, like i said i have it all planned out). in these chapters you may think someone's going to end up with someone else, but you'd be surprised.

BYE! i hope you guys are enjoying your summer.

again: a lot of this is inspired by private and gossip girl.