Warning: Hold on to your hearts, lovers. Someone's must break.


We Fall Between

It's a little after midnight, but Payson can't sleep and so she walks through the moves of her floor routine in her bedroom. There isn't enough space to actually perform, but with eyes shut, arms cutting through the air, in her head she's going all out. A loud knock on the door breaks her focus and the mat and the music in her mind fade away.

"Payson, are you still awake?" Kim asks through the door.

"Yeah, mom," Payson calls back. "Come in."

The door slowly opens, inch by inch, and Kim enters, ready for bed, reading glasses on, wearing a robe. The nearby lamp sheds light on the worry lines and the way her lips tense.

"There's a girl outside," Kim whispers. Payson expresses her confusion without saying a word. "Look for yourself if you don't believe me."

Kim rushes to the window and parts the blinds just enough to see through. Sometimes her mom can be ridiculous. Her dad is probably asleep and Becca takes after him so she's in dreamland, hugging her Conrad Cooper autographed magazine. By default, Payson is the one who gets to entertain her mom's quirks.

It's dark, but Payson sees her mother's car in the driveway and a figure lingering at the grill, swaying and heaving what looks like a bottle to her lips. When she thinks she recognizes the girl, Payson feels the nausea curdling deep in her gut. No. Please no.

As if reading her fears, Kim asks, "Do you recognize her?"

No. The girl inspecting a nearby garden gnome like it's going to magically start a conversation with her cannot be Kelly Parker.

"It's freezing out," Kim says. "It'll be a disaster if she passes out in the driveway."

At least the alcohol will keep her warm, Payson thinks. Swallowing the sigh in her throat, Payson heads for the door. This feels too much like Texas except there's no Austin to help and it's below freezing out. "Go to bed, mom. I'll talk to her."

"Hang on, Pay," Kim says in her naturally maternal voice. "There's a strange drunk girl in front of our house. What do you mean you'll talk to her? You know that girl?"

Sometimes Payson really wishes she didn't, but she does.

"Just trust me," Payson says. And because Kim really does, she reminds Payson to grab a sweater before letting her go.

It's common knowledge in the gymnastics community that Kelly Parker has been on a downward spiral since Worlds. Payson and Kelly were roommates in Rio. Kelly would stay out all night, leaving Payson to cover for her and in the mornings, Austin and Faith (who met them in Rio for "moral support") would show up at the door with a passed out Kelly thrown over Austin's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Kelly never explained herself. Payson never asked.

There are rumors about Kelly showing up to a meet with Dallas, one of the highest ranked clubs in the nation, drunk. She could barely stand and Marty, confused and embarrassed, pulled her from the competition. Kelly was lucky to clinch bronze due to a tiebreaker and the other girl cried because she (and everyone) felt she deserved it more than Kelly, whose eyes were vacant the entire time in Rio.

Pulling her coat tight around her, Payson watches Kelly face the sky, arms out, giggling as she spins in circles, a shadow dancing in the dark. Her breath comes out in streaks, visible for only seconds at a time. When Kelly's legs cross and tangle beneath her, Payson runs over, as if to catch her, but isn't quick enough, left to watch Kelly fall back against the front of Kim's car, laughing at, to and with herself.

"Keeler!" Kelly shouts. "I knew this was your house! My memory so rocks!"

Her voice is loud and keyed up, but all her words run into each other like the train wreck she is. Payson never thought she'd miss Kelly Parker's carefully chosen, bitchy snaps. This Kelly Parker, filled with liquor and hollow laughs, goes straight in for a bear hug that Payson isn't ready for. The smell of vodka surrounds them like a slow, crawling fog. It attacks Payson's senses and makes her cringe.

"Kelly, what are you doing here?"

"Drink with me!" she orders. "Flex is an ass, don't even wanna deal with that and Joey's being a lil' bitch, sayin' he has training tomorrow. So do I, but you don't see me wooseing out! So glad I wouldn't let him make out with me. SO GLAD! Payson!"

Payson hushes her. "What made you think that I'd want to do that?"

"Because we're friends," Kelly says matter-of-factly. "Duh."

Grinding her feet into the slush-covered driveway, Payson feels the sympathy well up inside. Drunk or not, Kelly considers them friends and Payson feels the same. There is no way she'd leave a friend out in the cold, especially in this condition. "Kelly, did you drive?"

"No, Keeler, Santa Claus dropped me off on his way back to the North Pole," Kelly says sarcastically. Her gloved fingers cling to the flask in her fist and some of the liquid inside swishes with her exaggerated hand motions. "What? Are you questioning my driving skillzzz?"

"No. I'm questioning your sobriety." Payson says it like an angry parent and Kelly plays the role of the oblivious child. "Look, you can come inside, but only if you're quiet. Can you do that for me?" Kelly nods enthusiastically and Payson already knows they're doomed. "Give me your keys."

"Why?"

"Because you're so drunk you don't even see how stupid that question is," Payson explains, holding out her palm. "Keys."

"Wow, Commander Keeler. I bet Austin gets all hot, you taking that tone with him." Kelly hands them over and Payson curls her fingers around the plastic, severed Barbie head for a keychain. Eyes back on her dark house, Payson grabs Kelly's arm and her level of intoxication is clear when Kelly doesn't forcefully pull away or make a big fuss like she would if in her right mind. They go inside and a welcomed wave of heat greets them.

"Remember. Quiet," Payson whispers. She shrugs off her thick coat and hangs it neatly on the rack. Kelly tears hers off and lets it fall to the ground, assessing her surroundings.

"Exactly how I remember." Kelly walks to the fireplace that still has dying embers in it. Her gloved fingers trail along the mantel, around the little trinkets and framed photos.

"I didn't realize you memorized what my house looks like." Payson grabs Kelly's coat and drapes it over the back of the recliner.

"Not in a stalker way. Don't think you're so special," Kelly snaps. Payson flinches as the darkness creeps up around Kelly much like it did on those nights at camp when Kelly grew sick of pretending she wasn't breaking. "It's warm here. Not just temp-wise, but you feel something," Kelly continues. "You are the American Dream, aren't you?"

Worried and not knowing how to handle this, Payson outright asks, "Kelly, are you okay?"

"Fine. Imma not broken anymore," Kelly says with such sweet false conviction. She sits on the couch when she can't stand any longer and Payson sits with her. "That even sounds like b.s. to me."

"What happened?"

"I don't know." Kelly sighs. "Faith left. And Nicky…and my parents…forget it. Forget I said anything. This is just who I am now."

Payson holds back a snort, knowing how short a fuse Kelly has. The last thing they need is to cause a scene and wake up the whole house. "Well, you better have a nice, long talk with yourself because this isn't good. Your gymnastics is suffering because of the 'new you.'"

"I just don't have it down yet. I will, though. I have to." Kelly takes another gulp, not even hindered by the taste. "We thrive on pain. When we're happy we don't do extraordi-aweseome things. Like art. I'm sure van Gogh was in pain when he painted. I dunno if he was heartbroken or just plain depressed, but I guarantee he wasn't happy. Bottom line: brilliant doesn't come from happy. It comes from pain and I'm freaking there…"

Payson leans forward and stares off. After some pondering, she responds, "Kelly, van Gogh also walked out into a field and fired a revolver at his own chest."

There's no reply. If Payson were Kelly, she wouldn't know how to respond either.

Closing her eyes, Payson sighs. "Look, I know neither of us tried to keep in touch, you ended up here. Like you said, we're friends and as your friend I'm not saying you would shoot yourself, but what you're doing isn't healthy. Not to mention it's stupid and scary and you need to stop."

Holding her breath, Payson waits for the bitch fest, but it doesn't come. Turning to face her, Payson finds Kelly passed out. Her eyes are closed, head back, mouth open. Her fingers loosen around the flask, knees pulled to her chest and her head on the arm of the couch. Of course when Payson musters the nerve to make that speech, Kelly Parker isn't listening.

Sighing, Payson plucks the metal flask from Kelly's hand and screws the cap back on. She then stuffs it into the pocket of Kelly's coat. With the car keys dangling from her fingers, Payson goes to the coat closet to get a quilt, drapes it over Kelly and turns off the lamp. As expects, once Payson gets to the top of the stairs, Kim is waiting.

"Pay, you could have told me it was Kelly. I guess my eyes aren't what they used to be. She looked so different," Kim says. "I trusted you. Now it's your turn. Start explaining. First lying to me about inviting Kelly to the barbeque and now this?"

"It isn't easy to explain and we both need to be up early tomorrow," Payson says. She hates how her mom is blocking the entire walkway like a goalkeeper. Payson has no escape.

"Well then, the CliffsNotes version will do," she says. "I'm waiting, Payson."

"Kelly is going through a rough time," Payson says simply. "She needed someone to…she just needed someone and she came here."

"Do her parents know where she is? They must be worried sick."

"I don't know," Payson says honestly. Though Kelly never talks about her parents and judging by the state of the Parker mansion, Payson can make an educated guess. "From what I know, they aren't like you and dad. I wouldn't be surprised if they don't even know she's out."

Kim's lips turn down in a frown. "Does she have anyone else? An aunt or grandparents?"

"I don't know. She has Faith, but I'm assuming she's still out of the country."

"I worry about that one too. I hope she's eating right out there," Kim murmurs thoughtfully.

"And then there's Nixon…"

"He knows Kelly?"

"They were best friends…up until he started dating Kaylie and…kept it from Kelly."

Kim looks like she's trying to sort things out for herself, but doesn't have enough pieces to form a coherent picture. "I take back what I said earlier. I want to hear everything."

"Mom."

"Don't tell me Kelly had feelings for him."

Payson initial assumes her mom just wants to hear the gossip like their lives really have become a melodramatic teenage soap opera, but she is a little curious as to how Kim drew that conclusion. Slowly, Payson asks, "What makes you say that?"

"The Kelly Parker I know is strong, self-sufficient, driven," Kim says. "The only reason a girl would go from prepping for the Olympics to becoming the most gossiped about gymnast in Colorado, it has to be about a boy."

So maybe Kim can piece enough together all on her own.

"Kelly refuses to talk about it, but even I could tell there was more going on and I'm me," Payson says. "She broke down when she found out about him dating Kaylie, but that was last summer. I don't understand why she's still doing this to herself."

"Whoa, slow down there, Pay," Kim says, and it surprises Payson. "A broken heart is no walk in the park. Sometimes, depending on the person and the situation, it takes longer to heal than broken bones. Sometimes it never completely heals."

"I can't imagine…"

"One day you'll care so much about someone that just the idea of losing them could drive you to think some crazy things and actually losing them might drive you to do some crazy things."

"Sure, but not till after the Olympics."

"Of course." Kim laughs and lifts the bottle of aspirin in her hand. "Kelly is going to need these in the morning and lots of water. I'll put it on the end table for when she wakes up. You get to bed. Early day tomorrow."

"Thanks," Payson says. "Mom, what am I supposed to do? How do I help her?"

"I don't know what to tell you. Most times we like to think that we can fix things and change people, but the truth is that we can only be held accountable for ourselves. This is something Kelly needs to figure out and you can be a good friend and try to help her through it, but ultimately as out of control as she seems, Kelly is the only one who can change it."

Payson would much rather a detailed step-by-step guide, but just nods and says goodnight. Once Kim goes downstairs, Payson takes a few careful steps down and peeks into the living room. After setting down the water and aspirin, Kim doesn't hesitate to fix the quilt over Kelly, tucking the sides beneath her. Payson goes back to her room before Kim reaches the foot of the stairs, closes her door and climbs into bed.

The things Kim does out of her pure instinct to nurture has always amazed Payson. After turning out the light and settling down in bed, Payson reaches over for her phone on the nightstand. She's never actually called Nicky. Whenever the battery on Kaylie's cell dies, she'll steal her boyfriend's and use it to text her friends when they're planning something. That's the only reason she even has his number and now it's about to come in handy.

There's hesitation as Payson stops on Nicky's name in her contacts. Her ever-present vigilance prevails over her impulse and she spares a moment to think about Kaylie. Payson knows Kaylie still has leftover wounds from Carter and no matter how good (albeit clueless) of a boyfriend Nicky is, cheating is always going to be a possibility in Kaylie's mind. Every other girl freaks out over the idea of her boyfriend cheating on her with a random skank while Kaylie has to worry about him cheating on her with Kelly Parker, his once best friend.

Payson knows this text is asking to throw their seemingly stable lives into chaos yet again, but to turn the other cheek while Kelly continues to fall is unacceptable. If anyone can reach Kelly and get her out of this rut, it's Nicky. This is an emergency. Kaylie will understand. Slowly, Payson types out:

Kelly needs her best friend. She needs you.

Payson hits "send" and it's done. As Payson turns over, ready to try and sleep, her phone vibrates. She didn't expect him to text her back so soon, especially this late at night.

Nicky replies: She doesn't want me. Not anymore.

Payson feels for this guy, she really does. But if he has ever cared about Kelly then he needs to at least try. Payson texts back:

I didn't say she wants you or your help. I said she needs you.

He doesn't text her back for a while after that and Payson keeps looking at the clock. She's awake later than usual and that means she's going to be exhausted in the morning and Sasha isn't going to be happy. Right as she's about to drift asleep, her phone finally buzzes.

Ok.

The boy isn't very articulate via text, but Payson feels hopeful. It's a start.

In the morning, Payson sees the ring of keys with the beheaded Barbie next to her phone and knows last night actually happened. She's quick to get dressed and go downstairs. Like every morning she hears pots and pans clacking in the kitchen, where her mom is busy at the stove while Becca and Kelly sit at the kitchen table, engaged in conversation.

"…You just need to go for it," a tired Kelly Parker insists. She looks like crap, smeared makeup and knots in her hair. "You know you can do it on the tramp and in the pit, then you can definitely do it on floor. Just trust yourself, throw it. Then you'll be able to feel what you did right or wrong for the next time."

Becca nods. "Alright. I will."

"And if she breaks something you're picking up the medical bill." Payson barges in.

"Payson," Kim says warningly.

"I'd gladly take full responsibility, but it isn't happening," Kelly says. "Payson's just scared. Becks, when you break all of Payson's records and at a younger age, you reserve all rights to gloat and rub it in."

Becca nods surely. "You bet."

"Okay, girls, eat your breakfast," Kim says. Kelly grimaces at the sight and the smell, wrapping her hands around her mug of tea and forcing herself to take small sips. "Your father left early for a job interview. Kelly, Mr. K says hi."

Kelly shrinks lower in her seat, too tired to make an effort to change her expression. Saving her from trying to respond, Payson hands Kelly's keys to her. "So how's your head?"

"Pounding," Kelly answers. "Mostly from feeling like a complete idiot."

"It isn't anything to be proud of, Kelly, but it's done. No sense in dwelling," Kim assures her. Kelly doesn't look too sure and as she passes behind her, Kim gently touches Kelly's shoulder. "I will say that next time you show up unannounced I'd rather you do it sober, but I am glad you're safe. Lord knows you could have chosen worse places to end up last night."

"Thank you for everything, Mrs. K," Kelly says sincerely. Payson has never seen Kelly look at someone the way she looks at Kim. With admiration and respect. Clearly suppressing how badly she wants to crawl into a dark, warm place and die, Kelly starts to stand. "I should probably go. I'm sure you all have a busy day."

"Hold it right there," Kim calls out. Sparing a moment to look to her daughters, Kim says, "Payson, Becca, finish up breakfast, get your things together and meet me in the driveway. I'm going to walk Kelly to her car and we're going to have a little chat."

Becca warns Kelly. "When she says 'little chat' she usually means long-winded lecture."

"And probably an anecdote from 'back in the day' to drive the message home," Payson adds.

"I deserve it so have at it, Mrs. K." Kelly sighs. "See you around, Keelers."

Kelly goes to the door, but pauses when she sees their corkboard of memos. She rips Sheila Baboyon's business card right off and walks back to the table, holding it out for Payson to see.

"Where did you get this?"

"Gift baskets on the hood of our car at the Rock," Payson explains. "Why? Do you know her?"

Maybe it's the hangover, her A-game momentarily stunted, but Kelly actually visibly hesitates before she says, "Payson, as your friend and someone who's dealt with this woman before, believe me when I tell you you're better off forgetting her. Gift baskets won't make up for the world of misery she brings with her. Go with a different manager. Burn this. Trust me, okay?"

Payson crushes the business card in her palm and shoots it into the trash. Kelly nods before walking to the door with Kim. Payson doesn't question Kelly's judgment when it comes to gymnastics. Especially since Kelly just called them friends and did so sober.

Tutor Girl. It isn't the worst nickname Emily has ever had.

She started tutoring when Marcus asked her to help Shane Oman with an English assignment. With the rumors that Shane can't read and skated through school on good looks and athletic ability, the entire class was shocked when he actually read the material and gave a decent presentation. A witness to a job well done, Marcus referred her to the tutoring center.

Being a high school tutor is voluntary as in Emily doesn't make money for help. Some schools treat tutoring like a paying job, but not Taft. It may be home to some of the richest kids in CO, but they don't have the budget to. The only reason Emily sticks with it is because it looks good on résumés and applications.

The tutoring center isn't long-term. If a student needs help with a particular assignment, they make an appointment and tutors are appointed. They can request a specific tutor, which is what Ike normally does. Emily has made him a personal project. She gives him the type of tutoring that deserves a paycheck. Though sometimes Emily thinks she takes it more seriously than Ike, other times he surprises her.

That morning, when Emily goes to meet him, Ike is already there and isn't alone. Mr. Red Beanie is with him. They're both from Laguna evident by the way they don't have unlimited closet options like characters on TV. Ike is in his classic green army jacket and Mr. Red Beanie in his doorman jacket. She probably shouldn't be surprised that they know each other.

"Hi," Emily says, finally making her presence known.

"Hey, Teach," Ike says. "Look. I'm on time!"

"For once," Emily says, drawing closer with her textbooks held tight against her chest. Tentatively, she asks, "What are you up to?"

Mr. Red Beanie shoves his sleeves back, showing off his leather bound wrists and the pen marks that stain his skin. He stands from his chair and shoves his hands into his pockets. Holding her stare, he walks in Emily's direction, dragging his feet. Physique-wise, he doesn't seem like much, but there's something so intimidating about his eyes. When there's less than an arm's length between them, Mr. Red Beanie walks right past her.

"Aw, Tutor Girl, I think he likes you."

Thoughts shattered, Emily turns to Ike who's sitting at the library table with his combat boots propped up on the edge. Ike laughs, turning his attention to the cash under his palm, wrapped up in a rubber band. He fans the bills, mostly fives and ones, across the table, doing basic addition in his head.

"What do you think you're doing?" Emily pushes Ike's feet off the table and sits down.

"Counting," Ike answers, even though it's pretty obvious.

"And you have friends who just randomly give you money like this?"

Sliding all the cash back into a neat little pile, Ike folds them over and wraps the rubber band around it. "Nothing for you to worry about."

The poignant scent of weed is all over Ike and his tattered backpack. He just completed a drug trade in the library. Their tutor spot is forever tainted.

"So who is that guy?"

"A friend," Ike says. "Yes, I have friends other than you and Lauren."

"It's more of an outreach program than a friendship, don't you think?" Emily says in her sweet voice. Shoving his money safely into the inside pocket of his backpack, Ike gives a fake laugh. "I think your friend is my neighbor. What's his name?"

"Roger C. Field, he goes by Rodge, cool dude. We hang, but he doesn't have a car or a license so I always have to drive into the Meadows to pick him up and I hate that place." Ike raises his brows. "You live there too? Yikes."

"I know, right," Emily murmurs embarrassedly. "As if living in Laguna alone isn't bad enough."

"Meadows is freaky! You know that big hole in the ground filled with green water, tires and decomposed body parts? It might have been a pool in a past life? Yeah, Rodge and I were hanging out back there and some random dude pulled a knife on me."

Emily's eyes widen. "What happened?"

"The guy was clearly on something, major base crazies, and desperate. We did a trade. An eighth and he wouldn't kill me," Ike explains. His gaze turns glassy as he rubs his fingertips alone his neckline, upset by the memory.

"Drugs saved your life," Emily whispers.

Ike nods. "Every day's a dog fight. I know I may not look like much, but I'm scrappy and resourceful. I can hang. What I lack is smarts, which is what you and Rodge have. Being scrappy and resourceful keeps me alive, but being smart gets you out."

"Don't count yourself out just yet," Emily says, "now let's see those practice questions."

Ike laughs nervously. "Funny thing…"

Emily sighs loudly. "You didn't do the practice questions, did you?"

"It's not like I didn't want to do them or didn't think about doing them, but OPERATION SOUL SKATER, Emily!" Ike shouts. Holding up his hands, Emily sees how they're stained with dirt, black beneath his fingernails. "I had to put some last minute additions and so I didn't have a chance to do the questions…"

"Ike, I don't want to hear your excuses," Emily says sharply. "Just…hurry. Do them now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Emily's itching to look over Ike's shoulder and watch him do every problem, but she's learned he doesn't work well that way. She needs to give him space, let him do his thing and go through it with him once he's done.

"Hello, commoners!" Lauren says in a strangely cheery voice. When he sees her, Ike immediately slams his pencil down, forgetting his practice problems entirely. "Your queen has come to save you all from death by boredom!"

"LoTan!"

"No." Emily gives him a stern look. "Back to work." Ike sulks as Emily turns to her blonde best friend. "Lo, you know that this is school and it's 6:30 in the morning, right?"

"As you know, today is the big day. Can you blame me for being a little excited?" she asks. "Plus, I was going to work on my English project here while you try to teach Ike things, but I'm thinking a Starbucks run instead." Lauren points at Emily. "Grande white mocha." She then turns to Ike, "And…what do you get again?"

"Whole milk venti hot chocolate, no whip, no foam and a touch of caramel sauce." Ike makes ordering at Starbucks sound like an art form.

"Yeah," the blonde slowly says, "you'll drink whatever I get for you and like it."

Ike grins. "That works too."

"Dude, math!" Emily taps a finger against his forgotten worksheets. Ike lowers his head and picks up his pencil, going back to work. Emily relaxes. "Thanks Lo. I'll pay you back later."

"It's on me," Lauren assures her. "Like Ike ever pays me back for Starbucks runs. It's cool. Just watch my books."

"Did you bring your laptop to school?"

"Well, I have to do something in study hall and I prefer online shopping." Lauren winks. The scary thing is she isn't joking. The cute leather sandals on her feet were bought online when she should have been studying for midterms. "I'll be back. Keep crackin' that whip, Em."

"Oh, she will." Ike is seconds away from stabbing himself with his pencil, hanging his head over his sheets of nonsensical equations.

Once Lauren leaves, Emily brings out Lauren's laptop in a zebra-print hard case. She knows Lauren's password and couldn't be more proud and relieved that Lauren finally deleted all traces of Carter Anderson out of it. That's one true sign of moving on.

Emily brings up Google and enters Damon's name in the search engine. She sits there for some time, debating if she really wants to know or not. Eventually she goes with the former and mercilessly searches through the latest news and gossips sites. All she finds is disappointment. Perez is just as in the dark as she is.

A little sound distracts both Emily and even Ike. She sees a familiar name inviting her chat.

TrueBlonde: EMILY KMETKO!

TrueBlonde: I was signing a bunch of papers and things and noticed that my initials are JB. Jonas Brothers! Justin Biebs! Jacob Black!

Oh, Jody Bishop. Emily can almost hear the blonde's naturally bubbly yet sophisticatedly drawling voice in her head. Fingers poised on the keys, Emily types a reply.

Me: Jack Black?

TrueBlonde: Sexiest fat dude alive? So my favorite. :P

Me: Glad I could help, Miss President. :)

TrueBlonde: Student Body President, thank you very much.

Me: Oh, I'm sorry, Miss STUDENT BODY President.

TrueBlonde: Better. I'm probably the only person left on earth that appreciates all caps. ;)

They talk online like this all the time and if they can't hang out face-to-face it's nice that they can update each other through Google Chat. Jody is waiting to hear from Stanford or Berkley, looking to move north, but also applied to UCLA, the school she always saw herself going to ever since her first Bruins game, and UC Irvine, but only as a backup. She's going to travel for the summer. Jody seems to have everything figured out and Emily couldn't be happier for her.

After exchange thoughts on the latest episodes of their favorite shows, Emily asks what she always tells herself not to ask, but ends up asking anyways.

Me: So Jo…

Enter.

Me: Any news about Damon?

She hits enter again and waits, nervous.

They've talked about Damon before. Unlike Lauren or Payson, Jody doesn't immediately scold her for still thinking about him and doesn't tell her to move on. Jody understands because she knows Damon and what he's really like. She also knows what a sudden breakup feels like. Jody understands and she's just as worried about Damon as Emily is.

TrueBlonde: Sorry, Em. I haven't heard anything. Razor doesn't have a clue either.

Emily's heart sinks, but she knows it was a longshot anyways.

TrueBlonde: Don't worry about it. Damon knows how to take care of himself. I'll bet he's on some deserted island, working on whatever he's working on, chasing muses. The ushe.

Emily remembers when she used to be his muse.

Me: I guess.

Me: So does this mean Razor and you are on speaking terms again?

TrueBlonde: He's hard to ignore if you haven't noticed.

Emily always knew it was just a matter of time before Jody and Razor gravitated back to one another. They're one of those couples that take the on-again, off-again relationship status to a whole other literal level.

TrueBlonde: Gotta jet, Em. Prez duties call. Have a good day, girl. ;)

Me: You too, JB.

Sometimes Emily lets this fantasy creep up on her, where she forgets school and her home situation and goes back to Newport to joins forces with Razor and Jody and find Damon. It's called a fantasy because it won't ever come true. Emily blames all the Nancy Drew and Boxcar Children she read as a child.

"Alright," Ike says. "Done."

After signing out, Emily closes the laptop and pushes it aside. Ike slides his worksheets to her and Emily looks them over.

"Wrong…wrong…and wrong," Emily says. "You did get this right, though." Moving her chair closer to him, Emily points out his mistakes. "Right here you need to remember that zero divided by any real number except zero is zero. Dividing by zero is impossible so these are undefined and when you divide fractions, the quotient of two fractions is the first fraction multiplied by the reciprocal of the second fraction."

"Quotient?"

"Yeah, quotient," Emily says. "The result of division, the answer, the, um, how many times one quantity is contained in another. Next I should give you a test on algebraic terms."

"No thank you. Quotient. Got it."

Emily looks back to the worksheets. "The rest of looks great."

"Thanks," Ike says, tucking his pencil behind his ear. "You know, I really meant what I said. I'd bet a million dollars that you're the one who'll get out of here."

As weird as Ike can be and as weird as it is that he's hanging out with Lauren, Emily thinks he's okay. She smiles and shyly thanks him for the compliment.

"I'm back and with your orders or at least close to what you ordered," Lauren says. Despite the no eating or drinking signs posted all around the library, Lauren still walks over with a tray and three cups. "Are my favorite nerds ready for a break?"

"Sure," Emily relents, "but I have another set of practice problems for you and I want the ones you got wrong corrected by tomorrow."

"You drive a tight bargain, Miss Kmetko, but you got it," Ike says. "Now where's my hot chocolate?"

"Here," Lauren hands it over to him, "and a white mocha for my Kemmy-Ko."

Emily smiles and takes her coffee. Lauren sits beside her and Emily notices the phone number scrawled onto the cup along with "Josh" and a winking face. Emily leans forward and taps the little note, looking to Lauren expectantly. "Cute," Emily says.

"Too bad he wasn't," Lauren says with a cruel laugh. Ike almost snorts hot chocolate, erupting in hacking coughs and Emily shakes her head, leaning back in her seat and sipping her coffee.

The three hang out for a while longer and Lauren shows them her project she half-assed at best, written in a cute, curly font rather than the standard Times New Roman. The first warning bell rings and they head for homeroom. Lauren and Ike are in the same one and Emily's is two doors down so they walk together.

"Bye, Em," Lauren says. "See you first period."

"Economics in the morning. I can't contain my excitement," Emily says dully. She may be decent with numbers, but Economics is far from her favorite subject; at least she has Lauren there to suffer through it with her. Lauren waves and Ike nods before they continue on their way and Emily goes into English class.

Mr. Marcus Simon (who insists the kids call him by his first name), lover of all things Charles Dickens, is easily the youngest teacher at Taft, along with being the coolest. If Taft were the setting of a Lifetime movie, Marcus would be the teacher you'd expect to be having an illicit romance with at least three of the female students or maybe even a male student. In reality, Marcus is just really passionate about literature and it shows.

"Emily Kmetko, present and on time as always," Marcus says, adding a little check next to her name on his class attendance list. Seeing Marcus, his dark-hair neatly styled, wearing a vintage vest, Emily unzips her backpack and pulls out a book. "You finished it? Already?"

"Bookworm." Emily raises her hand. "Guilty."

"Guilty as well," Marcus says, holding up his hand, imitating Emily. "What did you think?"

"I have no clue why it's your favorite book."

Marcus laughs as if he'd been expecting it. "Great Expectations is timeless. It's considered by some to be Dickens' greatest work. You didn't think his description was haunting? The dry humor? And those characters? Orphan Pip, Emily Kmetko."

"I mean, it had its moments, for sure, but sometimes it felt, well, boring and I had to keep reminding myself what the actual plot was and the fact that there actually was a plot..." When Emily sees the look on Marcus' face, she winces. "Sorry."

"No. Rule number one of Book Club is to never talk about Book Club."

Emily laughs. "You mean Fight Club?"

"Also a fantastic book, by the way," Marcus says. "No, rule one: always talk about books. Rule two is never apologize for liking or disliking a book. Your opinion is your opinion even if it's dissing your favorite teacher's favorite book."

"I'll keep that in mind," Emily says. "Thanks again for book loan."

"Any time. I'd rather you actually come to Book Club meetings so you can discuss some of this with the group, but I know you tutor at lunch. Well, as always, you're welcomed to join us and I am forever your human library."

Emily turns away and starts walking to the back of the classroom.

"Shameless, much?" Alison asks. "I spy someone hot for teacher."

Emily ignores her. Knowing Lauren and Ike and "Operation Soul Skater" Alison will get what she deserves soon enough. The second bell rings and everyone goes quiet for the morning announcements.

"It looks like everyone's here," Marcus says aloud, addressing the entire class. "Except…Roger?" He looks up from his roaster and out at the rows of mostly occupied desks. "No Roger? Can't say I'm surprised…oh, well. Looks like the usual gang is here."

Emily thinks back to the last couple of months, now that the name clicks in her head. Marcus calls out "Roger Fields" every morning without fail. It's obvious Mr. Red Beanie doesn't care to show up to homeroom, but Marcus still asks and evidentially still has hope. Emily can't decide whether that speaks more about Marcus as a person or this Rodge guy.

At lunch the dividing line between Royal and Reject is glaringly obvious.

Kaylie eats lunch with Maeve. They're more than halfway through the school year and Emily and Lauren have never complained so Kaylie figures they're cool with it. It isn't like Kaylie needs their permission. It shouldn't be as big a deal as people make it. At Taft, where you sit in the cafeteria defines your status. The Royals have their designated area, the Rejects theirs (near the garbage) and everyone else is just gray area between.

In truth, lunch is more about socialization than nutrition. The cafeteria food is disgusting. Most of the time the daily special is mush, drowning in oil, with chunks of mystery meat. The "vegetables" are straight from the can and the French fries are soggy, soaked with grease. Kaylie stopped trying to buy lunch the first week of freshman year.

"Maeve, you have to eat something," Max urges her.

"My blood sugar dipped a bit between classes and so I had a little something earlier. I'm fine now. You go ahead, sweetie." Though Max is staring at Maeve like he doesn't believe a word of it, she pays him no attention, tapping her finger against the screen of her iPhone.

"Okay," Max says. "More for me." He dives his fork through the mush that's supposedly to be beef stew. "Yum. Maeve, you don't know what you're missing."

Kaylie laughs. "Max, I doubt you even know what you're eating."

Maeve joins in, glancing between her friend to her left and her boyfriend across from her. "Sorry, Maxi, point for Kaylie-cakes."

Max pretends to be upset and Maeve winks at him. Leaving Maeve and Max to eyefuck, Kaylie stares down at her phone in her lap beneath the table, texting Nicky, of course.

"So Shane is a fuck up," Max says. "He got busted by his parents and they are pissed, two poorly hidden pipes away from military school. We don't have a place for the party anymore."

In an attempt to make this year memorable, the senior Royals have taken it upon themselves to hold a party every weekend until the end of the year, counting down to graduation. No house means no place to party, a definitely a wrench in the well-oiled Royal machine.

"Max!" Maeve hisses, slamming her palms against the table. "What do we say? If you want a pet you need to keep a leash on him. Us losing a place to party, definitely off the leash."

"Max, didn't you say your mom's out of town?" Kaylie asks.

"No way. If my grandpa found out I threw a party at the apartment he pays for, forget graduating, I'd have to run away to Canada. Why don't we just have it at the creek?"

Maeve groans again. "Because last time I stepped in an anthill and looked like I had leprosy. I'm so done with that place. Plus, I heard Ephram and Annie were out there, getting friendly in his car, and a cop pulled up. See, they were just having underage sex. Can you imagine if a cop pulled up to a creek party with half a trunk of kegs?"

"Then we pay 'em off," Shane Oman says, filling the space at Max's side. Though Shane isn't the greatest at math, he knows the numbers game and how to play it. When Lauren's popularity plummeted, Shane went where the numbers went, now doing Maeve's biddings.

"You." Maeve points at Shane. "Fix this."

"What do you think I've been doing all morning? I've been calling everyone I can think of. So far I've got a guy with a friend who has an empty house, but it's in Denver."

"I don't like that." Max says. "It's too far. We don't want anyone stupidly trying to drive back to Boulder from there."

Shane appears annoyed. "Dude, that's lame."

"Dude, it's called being safe."

While Max and Shane debate, a public service announcement verses typical teenage oblivion, Maeve peeks over at Kaylie and how she's caught up texting. Maeve leans in until her chin rests on Kaylie's shoulder. "Kaylie Cruz, you shady lady. Sexting under the table instead of brainstorming." Kaylie is pulled away from Nicky telling her about the history exam he just took. "Tell me you've taken the next step."

"Maeve." Kaylie huffs. "Not exactly a caf conversation."

Having given up trying to eat his tray of cafeteria food and convince Shane of anything he doesn't believe, Max finds the girl's conversation much more interesting. "Wait, you two haven't done it yet?"

Embarrassed, Kaylie shrugs away from Maeve who giggles. "Guys, seriously. This is far from appropriate to talk about, especially right now, especially here. What's with everyone and making my personal life topic of conversation?"

"He is my cousin," Max reminds her. "I could talk to him if you want…"

A blush creeps up along Kaylie's cheeks and Maeve tilts her chin back with a laugh. She wraps her thin, nearly skeletal arm around Kaylie and pulls her mortified friend even closer, practically cuddling her. "Max," Maeve says, "you're embarrassing her."

"You started it," Max childishly shoots back. Before the humiliation can continue, a boy with feathered brown hair comes up behind Shane and Max, sticking his face between their shoulders. "Hey, Glen, what's up?"

"I just saw the latest pics on your blog, bro," Glen says. "That party looked sick. Sucks I had to miss it. That chick looked like a fun time."

"What party? Why didn't I know about it? And most importantly, what chick besides me is featured on your blog, babe?" Maeve asks. She uses her nice voice, which obviously means she's the slightest bit (or a lot) threatened. Kaylie lets her phone rest in her lap, finally interested in what her friends are talking about.

"Here, I'll show you," Shane volunteers, blind to the tension. He pulls his laptop out of his backpack and pulls up the screen. Maeve glares at Max like she already knows he did something wrong and the young photographer isn't doing much to look less guilty. "Ba-da-boom. Check it, ladies."

Reaching across the table, Maeve takes the laptop and sets it in the empty space in front of her. Kaylie huddles closer and they look at the collection of photos. From what they see, Max really does have talent. He knows how to utilize lighting just right, capturing people from angles that make them look best. He sells the life that everyone wishes they had.

The photographed people are probably just a bunch of ordinary teens, some older, hanging out at someone's house; however, with the low lighting and the elite ambiance, they seem more like celebrities at an exclusive party. If Max can make normal folks look this cool, there's no telling what he can do with actual models.

"I see a bunch of dudes, playing pool and drinking," Maeve says, bored. "Where's the chick?"

"Scroll down."

The next batch of pictures catches Kaylie's attention. There are a series of moment-to-moment snapshots of a guy doing body shots off a girl. He's shirtless and African American with nearly nonexistent hair and muscles atop muscles. A thick silver chain hangs around his neck. The girl, practically unconscious, is Kelly Parker.

"How degrading," Maeve spits. She turns the laptop around for everyone else at the table to see. "It's girls like this where you shouldn't be surprised that they aren't virgins. What a stupid tramp. Way to set women back a hundred years."

"Hmm." Glen scratches his chin. "Maeve, what do you want to be when you grow up again?"

Shane and Glen share a laugh while Max tries not to join in.

"No. Don't try to compare me to Miss Two Seconds Away from Herpes!" Maeve motions to the laptop as evidence. Kaylie shifts, still staring at the pictures. "FYI, Glen, Victoria's Secret Angels are sexy and classy. Kelly Parker letting some male stripper suck her naval is not."

"Wait," Kaylie says. "You remember Kelly Parker from when she went to school here?"

"Try a more personal level, through your boyfriend," Maeve explains. To Kaylie, this new info comes as a surprise. "Max and I have been together for almost three years now. My first Russo family gathering and she was there. Gag. But it's okay now. Nicky moved on to you and Kelly Parker has apparently down on to this."

"They were never actually dating," Max offers sympathetically.

"I know," Kaylie assures him. "So was Nicky with you at this party?"

"Nicky isn't the party type if you haven't noticed." Max laughs at the mental image. "I know the guy who threw the party. He owns a print shop in Denver and he develops some of my work. He invited me and I guess someone there invited Kelly."

"More like slutty." Maeve snorts. "Kaylie Cruz, you have no clue how relieved I am that Nicky finally upped his taste level and dropped the dead, bitch weight. Now he's actually acceptable to be seen with in public."

Shane scowls. "I can't believe you guys hang with that loser now."

"Hey, that loser happens to be my boyfriend," Kaylie says.

"And he nearly broke my nose," Shane reminds her. Brushing off the bitterness, Shane stares at the pictures of Kelly and whistles. "Damn, that's the chick Lauren use to torture? Time away from Taft has been good to her. What I'd give to take a shot off of that…"

"Shane, keep that shit to yourself. Moving on." Maeve shuts the laptop. "Now that Nicky lost the nerd glasses and picked up this hottie," she playfully nudges Kaylie, "Kay has totally quadrupled his popularity value."

"Plus, it's our senior year and community service is required. Think of it as an Adopt a Dork Program," Max jokes. He shows no guilt over pretending he didn't know Nicky during his time at Taft. "Anyways, yeah, those pictures have gotten so many hits this morning alone. I'm thinking blackmail."

Maeve laughs. "I've trained you well."

"I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet and until then, I can trust you won't tell Nicky, right?" Max asks. "I mean, it'll just upset him and the last thing any of us want is him running back to her. Kaylie, you agree that a Kelly Parker-free life is a happy one, right?"

"Right."

"So you'll keep this between us?"

"Max, he's going to find out sooner or later, especially if Slutty Parker ends up on the front cover of trashy gossip mags," Maeve says. "I don't appreciate you asking Kaylie to lie to her boyfriend."

"I'm not asking her to lie to anyone!" Max argues. "I'm asking her not to say anything to him. My main concern here is Nicky and we all know how he gets when it comes to her…"

He'd been clearly addressing Maeve, but Kaylie answers with a, "yeah, I know."

Maeve lights with renewed interest. "What has Slutty said to you? If she pulled out her scare tactics on my bestie we're driving to Denver and finally giving the bitch what she deserves."

Shane playfully elbows Nicky. "Make sure you get good pics of them trying."

Max lifts his camera from his lap and takes their picture. "Plotting stage."

"Max, you could at least warn us," Maeve says, tossing her hair about. "I'm not photo-ready."

"It's practice for when the paparazzi are following you around," Kaylie teases. "Plus, I don't think I've ever seen you not photo-ready."

"Thank you, m'dear," Maeve says. "And know I'm serious. If Kelly Parker or anyone for that matter tries to mess with you I've got your back, Kaylie Cruz."

"Aw, thanks, May."

"Cute," Shane says. "Now kiss."

Kaylie and Maeve both roll their eyes. Suddenly there's a deadly scream from the other end of the long cafeteria table and it draws everyone's attention. It's Alison.

Lauren will tell you that she's been making a conscious effort to be a better person, but when someone like Alison DiLaurentis pushes her, Lauren is going to push back. That's one thing about her that hasn't changed and probably won't ever.

"Okay." Emily hugs her binder to her chest as they walk towards the cafeteria. "The moment we've all been waiting for. I woke up extra early and Ike did math in the morning for this. I'm ready to be impressed, ashamed and maybe a little proud, but guilty for feeling proud."

"And we plan on forcing you to feel every one of those emotions," Ike says.

The cafeteria is not a place they visit frequently. Ike's designated tutoring sessions usually take place during lunch so they're usually in the library. Today they enter uncharted territory. They snag the table across the one Kaylie and the Royals are at, trying to be as stealthy.

Right on schedule, Alison is by the food bar, waiting near the door of the kitchen. For extra cash, the Royals get specially prepared meals, avoiding the greasy mystery meats the line usually serves up. One of the work-study girls, the pincushion Ike mentioned, hands Alison a tray with a wrap on it. She slips her the money and is on her way over to the Royal table. Strangely enough, Lauren isn't watching Alison as intently as she should.

"Em, be real with me. Does that bug you?" Lauren nods to where Kaylie is with Maeve.

"No," Emily answers, soft and unsure.

"Liar!" Lauren says with an ah-hah! "Now, try again and I want total honesty, Emily Kmetko."

"So it bugs me," Emily says exasperatedly, "but it isn't like I can just say, 'hey, Kay, your friends make me feel weird and out of place. Stop hanging out with them.' Especially with last summer and Payson's gymnastics camp friends…"

"Yeah, but Payson's gymnastics friends are summer friends and Payson wouldn't parade them in front of us like someone."

"Lo, you know she doesn't do it on purpose," Emily says, her voice small and whiny. Lauren presses her lips together to form a straight, tense line. "So she likes hanging out with Maeve Benson. There isn't much we can do about that."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Shhh." Ike silences the girl chatter. "The stage is set."

They look over and see Alison. Her hair is extra curly today, falling in tendrils around her face. She talks with her hands, elbows pressed into the table at the sides of her lunch tray. Emily has a book open in her lap, eyes down, reading to herself while Lauren sits on the edge of her seat, sick with anticipation. Ike is next to her, spazzing more than usual.

"Get ready for the fireworks," Lauren says excitedly.

While someone talks excitedly to her, Alison lifts her Caesar wrap for a bite. She inspects it for a moment, seeing the shredded romaine lettuce nestled in the flour tortilla, sticking out through the one open end. After weighing it in her hands, she goes to take a bite. Her teeth sink in, but she pauses, finding it a little too crunchy and a little strange.

Alison pulls back with a chunk in her mouth and once she does, a mixture of dead crickets, maggots and earthworms spill out from the middle of the wrap. Alison's unnaturally tanned face turns a ghostly shade. She drops the wrap and spits it out before letting out the loudest, skin-crawling scream. The entire cafeteria goes quiet, eyes turning in her direction.

Tears start to bubble at the brim of her eyes and she grabs the nearest bottle of water, filling her mouth and spitting it back onto the plate, not even caring how unattractive that is. With nearby napkins, Alison cleans off her tongue, whimpering and shaking from side to side.

No makes a sound, except Ike and Lauren who openly celebrate. Ike jumps out of his seat and slams his hands down against the table like a monkey in a zoo. Lauren can't believe it actually worked! When she can't take the laughter shaking her chest, Lauren leans into Emily.

"Looks like Alison didn't like today's special!" Ike sings in a bad opera-type voice.

"What a shame," Lauren says. "I hear a daily dose of crickets is good for the skin."

"Don't forget the maggots and worms," Ike reminds her. "I hear they're tangy."

"Operation Soul Skater," Emily says, connecting the dots. "The lunch scene where they put earthworms in the X-Blandz guy's sandwich. Wow, that's a new level of amazingly awful."

"Amazingly awful but genius…?" Ike says hopefully.

Emily holds out as long as possible, but ends up smiling. "Amazingly awful, but pretty genius."

"Just when you think you can't learn anything from Disney Channel movies," Lauren muses.

"Yeah, but the 90s was a different universe completely."

"Team Soul Skaters for the win."

Lauren holds up her hand and Ike looks like a puppy about to be rewarded with a treat. He claims his high-five and both reveling in a job well done. Alison stands, eyes dark with rage, a bull at a crowded bullring. She marches over, heels assaulting the waxed floor.

"You!" Alison shouts. Her anger overcomes her ability to be articulate. She points a finger at Lauren who doesn't even try to fake innocence. Her plan was a success and she isn't going to hide from that, though like hell she's going to verbally admit to anything.

"Me," Lauren says. "To what do I owe this pleasure, DiLaurentis?"

"You and your disgusting faggot tried to poison me!"

"I am not a fag!"

"We had nothing to do with this," Lauren cuts in, cool as always. "Just because we laughed doesn't mean we should set a trial date. Now why don't you run along and finish your lunch?"

"You think you're so big and bad. You're nothing," Alison says snidely. "At least, not anymore."

"What did you just say to me?"

"Lo," Emily says quietly from her left. "Remember what we talked about? Choosing battles."

"Yeah, listen to Orphan Annie over here," Alison says. "Oh, wait, Orphan Annie didn't have a bodaciously slutty, Laguna loser mom. Orphan Annie was better off."

Under normal circumstances, Lauren would be the first to playfully tease Momma Kmetko and her less than wholesome ways and her less than stylish fashion choices, but Alison took it too far. The look on Emily's face is devastating. Lauren's hands curl into fists and suddenly this isn't as funny anymore.

"Leave my friends out of this," Lauren hisses. That protective instinct she's built when it comes to Emily takes over. "If you have a complaint about your lunch, take it up with someone else because I didn't have anything to do with it and I sure as hell don't care. Bye-Bye, Ali."

Alison stands across the table, calculating. She bounces on her feet and puts on a deceptive smile. "Okay. I'll go, but I want to leave you with something to remember me by…" She turns away long enough to peer over at the next table and grabs a random person's carton of milk. Before she could even think to shield her face or move away, Lauren feels the cold, thick milk slam her in the face. Drops even splash onto Ike and Emily on either side of her.

"Bitch, you did not just Model Behavior me!" Lauren feels her Mr. Hyde trying to claw to the surface, provoked by disrespect. Alison committed a crime worthy of a face-to-face confrontation. When Lauren leaves the table, Emily doesn't even try to stop her. Alison has her back to her, addressing her table of friends who all laugh and clap. Lauren doesn't take the time to search for Kaylie's reaction. She's too busy with a handful of Alison's hair, yanking as hard as she can, taking a whole chunk of extensions with her.

"The fuck!"

"Like you don't deserve it!" Lauren shoves her hard. Alison stumbles back, but then is propelled forward, fueled by her own anger, getting in Lauren's face. With the back and forth pranks going on for months, it was bound to come down to this.

"You're a crazy bitch," Alison spits. "No wonder you don't have any cool friends."

"Oh, my God!" Lauren laughs maniacally. "Do you really think I give a damn about 'cool' anymore? I have friends. You're the one living a fake ass life with your fake ass friends to match your fake ass family and your fake ass face!"

Verbal attacks aren't enough anymore. Alison shoves Lauren so hard she almost falls on her ass. Luckily, she catches herself and retaliates. Hair is yanked in every direction, screams so shrill they make onlookers wince, slaps cross faces and nails that leave red marks. Their fellow students are on their feet and cheering for unexpected girl on girl violence. It isn't long before faculty members rush in and intervene, sending both the blondes to the principal's office.

Lauren and Alison wait side by side outside Mr. Matsui's office. Alison sits straight, purse in her lap, knees together, staring at the ceiling. Lauren occupies the seat next to her, one ankle tucked behind the other, arms crossed, eyes roaming. This is definitely not how they planned Operation Soul Skaters to end.

"Just great." Alison reaches for the bottle of water in her purse, taking a swig and spitting it out in the nearby trashcan. It's a wonder that she hasn't barfed yet; only the slightest bit impressive. "This is going on my permanent record for sure."

"Can you, like, not talk?" Lauren snaps. Sweetly, she adds, "Thanks, hon."

Alison curls her fingers around the water bottle until the plastic crackles. "What did I ever do to you besides try and be your friend?"

"Oh, how about telling Kaylie about Carter and AJ last summer? Pictures included," Lauren says. Her hair is still wet from the milk, now starting to dry and stiffen. It makes the situation that much more uncomfortable. "I was going to break the news to her myself, do it gently, but no. She hears about it from you the minute she's back on U.S. soil. You started this."

"Only because you randomly went bitch mode on me when I thought we were getting along fabulously! I told Kaylie the truth and it doesn't seem to matter anyways. You gave up your popularity for her and she chose a new bestie. You can't really blame Maeve. She has more charm in her little finger than you do in your giant ass."

"Why are you still talking, again?"

"I can't help, but wonder what makes Lauren Tanner tick. A bit of critique, hon, the next time you execute a scheme it's probably best not to break out in celebration right there. Gloating has always been your downfall. Just like with the laxatives at my party last summer."

"You still can't prove it was me."

"Do I really need proof? As if you didn't beat around the Twitter bush and badly."

Lauren doesn't respond, mostly because she sees her dad walking towards her. He's in a suit like always, so very neat and tidy from the wave of his hair down to the shine of his shoes. Lauren does her best to avoiding his face because she can already feel the anger. Suddenly, it becomes a good thing Alison is next to her. It makes Steve hold his tongue. Once Jessica DiLaurentis shows up, the secretary tells them they can go into Matsui's office.

It isn't a surprise that Lauren has been to see Mr. Matsui too many times to count. Only once before has Steve ever been called in and that time involved Morgan Webster and a bottle of shampoo infused with Nair. That incident was reason for suspension or even expulsion, but Steve got her out of it with a generous donation to the school. This time, a little fight in the cafeteria shouldn't be that big of a deal.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Matsui," Lauren says politely. "I'm hoping we can make this quick. I wouldn't want to miss any more of English. It is, after all, my favorite class and academics are very important to me."

Mr. Matsui isn't one bit swayed. "Just take a seat, Miss Tanner. Your usually will do."

Her facade dims as Lauren falls into her seat on the left. Steve sits next to her while Alison and her mom take the two empty seats to the right. From there is the strenuous task of explaining what happened, their sides of the story and what eyewitness lunch monitors have to say about it. No one can prove anything that happened with the Cesar wrap, but so many saw Alison throw the milk at Lauren and just as many saw Lauren administer the first slap.

"So I've come to a decision," Mr. Matsui says. "Obviously, your actions in no way exemplify what's expected of Taft and will not go by unpunished."

"Let me guess," Lauren says. "Detention?"

"Already added to your current detention time, I believe you'll be in there two years after graduation, Miss Tanner," he says. "From this day forward both of you are suspended from any and all extra curricular activities for the next two months." Both their faces drop. "Lauren, that means no cheerleading. No practices, no games. I don't want you near the field or gym."

"No," Lauren says, nearly standing up from her seat. "But the Colorado Classic is in April. There's no telling what the squad will do without me and not to mention it'll be impossible to jump in days before the competition!"

"Well, you should have thought of that before," Mr. Matsui says. "And for you, Alison, that means no more Student Life, which is a shame because I hear you almost singlehandedly organized Valentines Day dance this year. I'm sorry to say the rest of the planning committee will just have to execute in your absences."

"Those monkeys couldn't even screw in a light bulb without me!"

"Ali," her mom growls. Mrs. DiLaurentis is professional in her charcoal gray suit and ironed-straight dirty blonde hair. Her voice is unsympathetic.

"My decision is final and that's not all," Mr. Matsui goes on, "since you two apparently have all this energy I figure you need to put it to positive and productive use. For the rest of the year, you'll be lending a hand to the arts. Alison, you'll be helping out our drama club with the spring play and Lauren, you'll be with the yearbook staff."

"Gross," Lauren says without shame.

"Double Gross," Alison says. "Quality time with the art freaks? Why don't you just kill me?"

"I completely agree with Principal Matsui's decision," Mrs. DiLaurentis says. "You're doing it."

"I couldn't say it better myself," Steve agrees.

"I'm glad we all agree. And, girls, if I hear from any of your superiors, be it another student or a club adviser that you aren't pulling your weight then your suspension from the cheerleading squad and the SLPC will be prolonged. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Alison says. Lauren bites her tongue, holding back what she really wants to say.

"Good. I hope this experience teaches the both of you to think before you act. I look forward to seeing you start tomorrow, second half of lunch. Alison, drama club meets in the auditorium and Lauren, yearbook is in the newsroom. Now, you're free to go, take the rest of the day off and learn a little self-respect, ladies."

Once they leave Mr. Matsui's office, Alison starts walking towards Lauren, ready to have it out a second time, but her mom grabs her by the arm and pulls her to the exit. Lauren watches her go, feeling the start of a smug smile, but then she catches her father's face. Steve's expression cuts deep. She's in so much trouble.

"Hey, Lo!" Kaylie walks over, ignoring the tension. "Hi, Mr. Tanner. Do you think I could talk to Lauren for a second before you go? It's really, really important and it won't take long."

"Kaylie, shouldn't you be in class?" Steve tries to hold back his anger in front of Kaylie and Lauren hasn't been happier to see her old friend.

"Study hall," Kaylie answers. "Please?"

Lauren looks over at Steve with big, innocent eyes. "Please, daddy?"

"Fine." He gives in. "I need to get back to work. Straight home, Lauren. Not a single stop, no detours. We'll talk about this tonight when I get home."

Both thank him and after giving Kaylie a nod and completely ignoring his daughter (probably to keep from exploding) Steve makes his way to the door. Breathing a loud sigh, Lauren goes in the opposite direction, towards her locker, and Kaylie follows.

"So," Kaylie starts, "what was that in the caf today?"

"Oh, so you care?"

"Yes, I care, Lauren."

"Really? Because you seemed just a little preoccupied."

Ignoring the implication, Kaylie asks, "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Besides the fact that I am officially suspended from cheerleading and forced to play yearbook staff slave, I guess it's better than getting suspended or expelled."

Kaylie's face shatters. "But the Classic! Taft has dominated the competition every year since the Darby Conrad golden era! What does Matsui expect us to do without our captain?"

"I know! When she graduated I promised Dar we'd protect that winning streak. Matsui knows this! If we don't bring home a win it gives him reason to cut our funding for next year. Our senior year," Lauren explains, heatedly. "It looks like you need to step up, co-captain."

"We're so screwed."

Once they reach Lauren's locker, the blonde turns the dial of her lock very slowly, trying to figure out what to say next. "Listen, Kay, I'm sorry for giving you a hard time at the barbeque. It was stupid and though I did it in the bitchiest way possible, I really meant what I said about the jeans being between us friends, but apparently I have a way of making everything I say sound like it's purely about me."

"You aren't alone," Kaylie confesses. "I just really want things to go well with Nicky…"

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Lauren says cheerily, trying to show her enthusiasm and support. "You have the boy on a pink, bedazzled string."

"Sometimes I don't know how true that is…"

"Kaylie, Nicky is yours. With traffic, it's almost an hour from Denver to here. Most guys would drive over an hour for sex, but only a good handful would just to see you. He drives just to see you. Kay, if you don't know how lucky you are I should slap you right now."

"I think you've done enough of that for one day," Kaylie says, with a smile. "I should probably get back before Ms. Roy realizes it doesn't take this long to deliver a note to the office. I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Besides the end of life as I know it, I'm fine," Lauren says. "So all is forgiven, right?"

"Right," Kaylie says. She pulls Lauren away from her locker and into a hug. "You could have at least warned me you were planning something. Then I would have been watching for Alison's reaction instead of just having to hear her scream shatter my eardrums."

Lauren laughs. "O.M.G. Why does everyone assume I'm behind the cricket wrap?"

The dark-haired girl leans back enough to give Lauren a knowing look and the blonde just laughs, pulling Kaylie into another hug. Lauren wishes she could make this moment last forever because when her dad gets home tonight, she has to prepare for yet another battle.

...


Authors' Note: And KP makes her début and it is a tragic, sloppy one. What do you think? Extras should be on our Livejournal some time this week. Don't forget to check that out!

Review.

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