LAGUARDIA AIRPORT
GATE 9
4:25 PM
DECEMBER 28, 2012

"Stay with me," Alicia ordered as she ducked around a fat, bald man. Dylan and Zara scurried to catch up with her, but Vail lagged behind. "I said catch up."

None of the parents had accompanied their children to the airport. Alex had driven them there in the Riveras' slick black stretch limo, dropped them off in front of the main enterance, and sped away, leaving the girls to their own devices.

Alicia scooped her Fendi carry-on into her arms and led them toward the stewardess. She collected all four of their tickets and held them out to her. The attendant, a tall, dark woman, tore the slips of paper in half, handed a piece of each one back to her, and smiled at the next passenger. "Let's go, girls," she instructed. Alicia linked arms with Dylan on one side and Zara on the other, leaving Vail to attach herself to the redhead, who for now was playing the role of Beta. "Why are we all so down?"

"I wish Massie was coming," Dylan muttered.

"Same." Zara widened her brown eyes.

Vail didn't say anything. Instead, she threw her Burberry traveling bag over one arm and marched up the steps leading to the small plane.

"We'll have to sit two-and-two," Alicia explained. "You guys can sit together." She raised her eyebrows toward Dylan and Zara. Once they'd settled in, she turned to Vail and pulled her into the nearest empty seat. "Spill."

Vail shrugged. "I haven't talked to my best friend in ages, and I miss her."

"Oh, you mean Massie!" Alicia cried. "Oh, sweetie..." She was all set to tell Vail Massie wasn't her best friend, but she was cut off by the icy edge in the girl's voice.

"I mean Maeve," she snapped, snatching her wrist away from the Latina's grasp. "And stawp acting like we're friends. We're nawt."

"Why?" She shot a death glare at the girl, but kept her cool.

"The only reason I chose to be part of the Pretty Commitee was because that girl Kuh-laire was part of the Witty Commitee, and I hate her. That doesn't make us friends, k?" With that off her chest, she was able to relax and pull out her iPhone.

"No. I'm your Alpha."

"Only until we get back." With that, Vail rolled her eyes and turned to look out the window at the rapidly disappearing ground. The buildings were beginning to look like doll-houses, the people like ants, and the automobiles like Matchbox cars.

Since Alicia couldn't see through the small glass hole that Vail was currently hogging, she looked down at her phone and put her best skill to use: acting like she didn't give a shit, even though she did.

BLOCK ESTATE
MASTER BEDROOM
4:46 PM
DECEMBER 28, 2012

"Can we go to France?" Massie pleaded, cuddling Bean closer to her chest.

Kendra giggled in surprise. "France?" she repeated. "Whatever for?"

"I dunno. Winter vacation?"

"No, sweetie. We went just this past summer."

"But that was... summer," she said lamely.

"I know." Kendra reached over to stroke the pug, but Massie pushed her away and stepped out of reach.

"I can't go to France, I can't go to L.A., I can't do anything." She rolled her eyes.

"You can get in touch with the common man," suggested her mother. "How about we all volunteer for a soup kitchen?" Her face brightened at her own genius.

"What... bu-" Massie's shocked blubbering was cut off by Kendra calling for William.

"Is something wrong?" he asked as he loped inside and gave his wife a quick hug.

"I just had the most magnificent idea, if I do say so myself."

"And what would that be?" William smiled affectionately.

"We're going to work for charity. As a family. It will be so exciting!" She twirled the emerald stud in her ear.

Massie stomped her foot angrily, almost dropping Bean, who barked loudly. "I can't believe you're making me work at a... shelter! You don't know who lives there! Scum and fleas and... poor people." She dropped her voice, as is the habit of any wealthy family who is discussing money, or lack of, as the case may be.

"Don't talk like that." William glared at his daughter as put an arm around his spouse, turning to talk to her. "I think that's an amazing idea. I'll call the nearest place." With that, he picked up his phone and searched for Westchester volunteer work.

"I can't believe you expect me to do this! I'm going to Skype the Pretty Commitee." With that, she turned heel and marched away.

"Wait! Massie..." Kendra begged. "Don't be like this."

"Am I an Adam Lambert song?"

"What?" her parents said at the same time. "No."

"Then whaddya want from me?"

"A little cooperation," Kendra told her daughter's retreating back shortly. Massie stopped short. She'd gotten so used to ruling her clique that she hadn't known her comebacks could be shot down. But there it was. And Kendra had something of her own to say. "Massie, are you a pyromaniac?" The Alpha knew better than to reply. But the tall, thin woman kept talking, so it didn't matter. "Because you're playing with fire." She finished with the deadliest voice she could muster and gave her husband a high-five.

Massie's eyes widened, but she maintaned some stitch of dignity and left with her head held high.

Now we know where she gets that gift from.

BLOCK ESTATE
MASSIE'S ROOM
5:02 PM
DECEMBER 28, 2012

Claire intercepted Massie as soon as she walked through the doorway. "Kristen wants to know; are we friends or not?"

Massie pushed past her and began logging onto her computer, pounding the keys as she entered her password. "Yes, Kuh-laire."

"Really?" she asked skeptically. "Cuz you're not acting like such a friend."

"Oh, grow up." She rolled her eyes and turned to face Claire.

"No! I'm trying to help, and this is what you act like?"

"Um, I don't think marching into my room and demanding, "Oh, are we friends?" is helping." When she quoted Claire, she made her voice high and pitchy in a mock imitation of the blonde.

"Stop. We can't argue."

"Oh, and why nawt? Cuz the amazing Alpha Kristen Gregory commanded it?"

"No. I just miss the way things used to be. Please, can we just get over this?"

Massie softened as she heard those words. She remembered saying the same exact thing to the ruler of the Ahnnabees, and Ahnna Pincher had swatted her away as though she were a pesky fly. For some reason, those memories filled her eyes with tears, which Claire noticed. She went in for a hug.

Awkwardly, Massie wrapped her arms around Claire Lyons, and for once, she held tight.

FLIGHT 382
FIRST-CLASS
5:14 PM
DECEMBER 28, 2012

Dylan stared outside, watching the flurries of snow cascade toward the ground. They were falling steadily, but not hard enough to delay or cancel the flight, for which she was eternally grateful. She didn't think she could wait another hour to see her family. "Aren't you excited?" she asked Zara, grinning.

"Definitely," the now-Delta replied, beaming back.

"Have you ever been to New Year's Yves?"

"Nuh-uh," Zara admitted, shaking her head. "But I can't wait."

"There's waiters and waitresses who walk around with the recipes for the food they carry scrawled on their catsuits. And cameras on tracks coast by you so they can capture the entire crowd. And..." She rambled on about the thousands of things Merri-Lee had at her party. "And Hermia, of course."

"Hermia? The Hermia?" Zara leaned in, as though it were a trade secret.

"Yeah, the Hermia."

"This is so amazing!"

Dylan smirked. Compliments once removed were still compliments. "Wait 'till you get there."

"This is going to be the best vacation ever!" Zara exclaimed.

Life: hahahahahaha not.

PINEWOOD APARTMENTS
KRISTEN'S ROOM
5:27 PM
DECEMBER 28, 2012

For a change, her dad was actually home. But that didn't mean Kristen wanted to spend time with him. The first thing he'd said when he walked in was, "Get me a drink."

Kristen had looked at him in shock to see if he meant it. When she realized he did, she'd ran into her room, where she'd locked herself in and proceeded to call her mother. That was where she was now. On the last ring, when Kristen was just about to hurl her phone across the room, someone picked up. "Hello, Cafe Salsa. This is Melanie speaking, how may I help you?"

"It's Kristen Gregory; can I talk to Marsha? She's my mother." There was a shuffling and a smash, then a voice.

"Kristen? You know you can't call on the restaurant's phone."

"This is an emergency. Dad's drunk."

"I'll be home as fast as I can get there."

In about an hour, the front door clicked open, and Marsha's voice rang out in panic. "Kristen?"

She rushed into the living room. "I'm here." In the blink of an eye, she saw her mother's tired, stressed face, and her father passed out in an armchair, and she felt terrible for causing so much trouble. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She gestured vaguely around. "This."

"It's not your fault." Marsha embraced her. "Let's go eat out, and when we get home, maybe he'll be awake. And if he's not, we'll call 911." And they tip-toed past him and out the door.