Brightly-painted fingernails gripped at golden curls in such terror; the skin became red, strands of hair fell to the floor. "How could she do this?" Claire Lyons hissed, blue eyes wide with anger. "We confided in her! She promised not to tell our secrets! Just because she got called 'Teen Mom' and 'Mama Gregory' doesn't mean she can do this!"
"Claire, she's dead," Dylan Marvil whimpered, tears falling down her heavily made-up cheeks, "and this is all you can think about? She killed herself with a steak knife and you're complaining about our secrets getting out, what kind of friend-"
Claire's hand, white and pristine, covered in two rings, reached over and loudly slapped itself against Dylan's cheek. "Friends, we were not, Dylan," she snarled. "As she said, we were all a fucked-up group to begin with. Found it kind of odd she didn't have weird kinks- I mean, Massie was new in eighth grade and she knew where to head."
"That's because Massie was a freak since she was twelve and she could easily find freaks with her Freakdar," Dylan commented, "and Kristen was a breath of fresh air- she was normal!"
"That, darling, is why we made fun of her." Claire's smile slowly grew larger, distorting her features, giving her an almost Chesire Cat-like look. Dylan's skin crawled. "Her mistake turned her into one of us. She was the one who saved us-"
"No, she didn't."
"-the one who helped us along the way. And if anyone asks, we made fun of her, we kicked her out because of the sheer fact that she was the only normal one left." Claire sighed, twirling her hair around her index finger. Her other hand reached for her laptop. There were a few things she needed to say. "She couldn't get harmed by our reckless ways again, could she?"
Dylan blanched. "We can't just-just lie like this! It's only our secrets!"
"Only?" Claire's voice was silky smooth. "Dylly, do you want Daddy to find out where you disappear off to every night? Do you want him to find out that you practically live in the dirtiest part of town?" She lowered her tone, "Do you want him to know that you're not as straight as he believes?"
"W-what?" Dylan choked out. "There's nothing in those descriptions that says I'm gay. It only-" She shuddered as Claire's fingers ran up and down her freckly arm. "-only says that I..."
Claire's lips were inches from her ear. "We've only seen the cover page, my dear. Kristen's written a novel to take us down and I'm pretty sure somewhere in there is your famous hook-up with Carrie; that little slut- Kristen, I mean- was at that party. She would've written everything down."
Dylan opened her mouth to speak, but Claire continued, "And, Dill Pickle, I'm sure it mentions your cute little crush on me in there as well..."
"I don't!" protested Dylan although those denials were futile. Her face was pleasantly flushed, her gaze relaxed. Claire's presence made her feel loopy and happy and Claire knew it. "I honestly, really don-"
She was interrupted by soft pink lips pressing themselves against her own. For a mere five seconds, she was in paradise. Claire tasted like vanilla and Diet Coke; Dylan resisted the urge to pull her back for another more passionate kiss, that would do no good.
"You don't have to deny it," Claire whispered, "I understand the feeling. I can't get enough of you either." She pushed the red curls away from Dylan's neck, bracelets jingling together. Placing sweet kiss after sweet kiss against the pale skin, she murmured, "Please, let me do this. I'll just tell them all the real story, that Kristen was certifiably crazy. That way we won't have to hide in fear. People understand us, they won't make fun of us if they find out Kristen lied about it all. We just have to get our hands on that letter." The kisses moved upward, towards Dylan's waiting lips.
"I know who has it," Dylan muttered, "my mom told me."
Claire paused. "Who?"
"Miss Burns," replied Dylan. "She was close with the Gregorys and Marsha couldn't bare to read it- my mom had to explain to her that Kristen stabbed herself to death after she wrote the note."
Claire kissed her again. "Go get it," she whispered, "make sure that we don't become the LBRs of our school. We'll read it, you can stay for as long as you like and then we can do things far more interesting than this." She winked, brushing against the hem of Dylan's shirt.
Dylan's mouth formed a perfect 'o' and she nodded, leaving Claire's bedroom quickly and quietly. Claire watched her and as the door closed, she smirked, popping a mint in her mouth. "Like taking candy from a baby," she snickered. "Like I'd ever have feelings for Dylan. At least," she added quietly, "I'll be able to get her to do all the dirty work."
Her fingers quickly moved across her keyboard, smirk still in place, as she wrote the article for the school's newspaper- the one Dylan was so against- that explained everything. Well, it... fixed things better than it explained, but that didn't matter. As long as Claire and her group of friends weren't laughing stocks in a matter of days, everything was going to be perfect.
Kristen Gregory: Certifiably Crazy was the title.
Dylan's first thought was something along the lines of why the hell did I walk when I could have driven but her second occupied her mind more: The school itself looked terrifying after hours. She had never bothered to stay long once the bell rang at two fifty; she had other things to do, unlike Claire who needed to be a part of every club known to man. Or Massie... who had her own personal agenda no one really liked to talk about. Unless Claire needed to know something, no one bothered Massie with her after-school activities. They were entranced by her woven story of scandal, forbidden kisses and lust, but no one- not even nosy Alicia Rivera- bothered to ask.
The redhead swallowed, feeling her throat burn as she walked up to the school. Miss Burns' classroom light was on, the teacher nothing but a black speck from where Dylan was standing. Burns wasn't that bad of a teacher- she was young enough to be cool, hot enough for the boys to ogle her and understood enough of the teenage life to not yell if you didn't finish your homework. She was Dylan's favorite teacher.
Climbing the steps in the school, Dylan was surprised that the janitors hadn't stopped her before she got this far. They just seemed to be in a state of confusion, mopping and sweeping like everything was covered in a layer of dirt so thick it would never come off.
"Never mind that," Dylan whispered, "I have to get that novel or whatever. Then Claire will like me more."
She knocked hesitantly on Burns' door. "Hello?" she called. "Miss Burns?"
The teacher in question appeared, eyes red and puffy, face pale. She had been Kristen's godmother- Marsha Gregory's best friend back in the day, even if she was a few years younger. Dylan's heart panged. It must be terrible to find out your child committed suicide. She even felt bad that it was her fault... If she hadn't been so taken by Claire, would Kristen have still been here? If she could've gotten to Massie and Alicia- both in their own worlds- and agreed to stop teasing her, would Kristen still be alive?
"Dyl- Miss Marvil?" Burns croaked. "What are you doing here? It's almost nine on a Friday. Shouldn't you be out with your friends?" Her tone turned steely at the word 'friends.' She had known Kristen was part of the same group Dylan was in, which meant she knew they caused this.
Gulping, Dylan decided to turn on the charm. Her eyes watered, her lower lip quivered. "We're devastated, Miss Burns," she whimpered. "Claire's gone practically crazy for the night, she's certain Kristen didn't kill herself and that she somehow is still alive, laughing at all of us for believing her joke. Alicia... all she does is cry. And Massie doesn't even pick up her phone. The last time I saw her she just kept saying that this couldn't have happened to someone so happy. And me? Kristen was my best friend! I miss her so much." To be convincing, she let a few tears drop and watched in a sick satisfaction as Burns softened, eating up her entire lie.
"Oh, Dylan," she cooed. "I understand how you feel. Kristen was my goddaughter. I loved her like my own! I always said to Marsha, you know when I finally settle down and have my own children, I'd like them to be just like Kristen- smart, loyal, friendly... I'd do anything to see her again one more time, to figure out what exactly happened to make her like this. She was depressed, did you know? Marsha told me they put her on antidepressants. I think it was the pregnancy scare she had, I thought she'd get past that..."
Like I care.
Dylan sniffled, eyes searching the room frantically. And there- on the desk- was a packet. It looked like one of the review packets they did frequently in Miss Burns class, but there was something different about it. Towards the bottom, written in blood red ink was Kristen's signature. That had to be it.
"Do you think," Dylan asked, tears falling more rapidly, "do you think you could get me a tissue? I-"
Burns silently walked across to the other side of the room without even dare questioning why Dylan couldn't get her own tissue. While her back was turned, Dylan quickly grabbed Kristen's novel, stuffed it in her bag and zipped it up, waiting for that tissue so she could wipe this horrid tears off her face.
Why would she cry over someone as pathetic as Kristen Gregory? The bitch deserved to be dead. If she weren't already, Dylan would have killed her. No one- and I mean no one- spills Dylan Marvil's secrets to the world.
"Is everyone here?"
"Why don't you take roll call, Lyons," a male voice drawled.
"Shut it, Hurley, I'm not in the mood to play games," Claire hissed.
Kemp chuckled. "I've always loved a good game."
"Then play one with your step-sister, I'm sure she'd love it."
It was silent.
"Now that everyone shut up, can you all just get to my house? Now. Pick up the people I haven't called. This is serious. We're going to stay in my house until we're done and I don't know when the fuck that is."
"What's the big event?" Alicia questioned. "I have to go-"
"I don't care if you have to meet the Queen," interrupted Claire. "Dylan got Kristen's entire book about our lives. It's in my hands as we speak. Get your asses over here if you want to see if she really wrote down all your secrets."
The line went dead.
Claire smirked at the group of teens around her, marveling over their eager eyes and bated breaths. Everyone was accounted for. Alicia was seated in her usual red beanbag chair- the one she had claimed hers in sixth grade that Claire hadn't the heart to get rid of- brown eyes wide, shaking slightly. Claire couldn't tell what this shaking was from: The white papers in her hand... or something else?
Dylan was as far away from Claire as possible, something the alpha was extremely pleased about. She didn't want Dylan any closer than necessary after today's events. She brushed her teeth about four times and showered for an hour, scrubbing off any of the redhead's gay germs. An alpha's gotta do what an alpha's got to do and she was just happy she had this before anyone could read it.
Massie was sitting on Cam's lap which was completely normal, his hands hidden from view. Claire grimaced. She really didn't need to know that Massie was probably getting some right at this moment in front of her... even if it was as normal as her sitting on Cam's lap. The best part, however, was the fact that while Cam had this forehead pressed against her shoulder, she was making eyes at Derrick, who looked like he couldn't be bothered with anyone but her at the moment.
The rest of the boys were lounged about, either staring at Massie or Alicia, or texting on their phones (Kemp) and being unnecessarily quiet.
"Okay." Claire cleared her throat. "Let's get this show on the road. I'll stop when I get tired, give it to someone else. If you don't particularly care about what I'm reading, you can go get snacks or something, but you have to come back. This is crucial to our popularity. I know most of your secrets now that Kristen's goodbye note is in the paper. I could easily do what she was planning on if you don't cooperate."
She smoothed out the paper in front of her.
To Whom This May Concern,
If you're reading this, I'm dead. Obviously.
Beneath this page is the story of your A-List: where they go, what they do, who they do. Their real personalities, their real after-school activities. The truth.
If you have this in your possession, once you are finished, please hand it off to someone else so they can get the pleasure of becoming disgusted with the people they thought were gods. Or you could embarrass them publicly, like I was. Maybe then they'll understand to never take someone's secret and show it off. Especially when their secrets are ten times worse than someone else's.
Now, I'm sure you're intrigued by the descriptions of each one... and you do know who they are if you read carefully. The Queen Bee is easy, the rest... not so much. So sit back, relax, and turn the page. There you'll find the answers.