Disclaimer: 'Teen Wolf' isn't mine. Shocking, right? But it's true. If there are any similarities in content or dialogue, it has probably originated with the show.

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Chapter 2 – Dreams, Nightmares, and New Beginnings

"We shouldn't be doing this," Gwen trilled in a sing-song sort of voice. "We so should not be doing this." She bit her lip and peered out the window of the car at the trees as they zoomed past. All of the sudden she saw the blinking red and blue lights of a police car. Her heart leapt in her chest and she immediately sank down in her seat keeping her head ducked low so it was outside the range of the window lest a police officer glance in and see her. "Shit!"

Liv rolled her eyes and let out an amused snort before smacking Gwen lightly over the head. "Seriously, dude, you need to calm the hell down. You look like you're about to have a psychotic break."

"This is illegal," Gwen insisted, staring up at Liv with wide, slightly traumatized eyes. "You realize that this is illegal right?"

"Oh, please," Liv drawled out, lifting up a hand to wave theatrically at the cops as she passed them by. "It's only slightly illegal."

"There's no such thing as slightly illegal!" Gwen hissed. "There's 'legal' and there's 'not legal'. Stealing a car? I'm pretty sure that goes in the 'not legal' category!"

"How many times to I have to tell you!" Liv groaned, banging her hand against the steering wheel for emphasis. "It's Ryan's car—it's my mom's boyfriend's car. If he didn't want me to take it, he shouldn't have left the keys in such an obvious spot. They were just sitting there next to the door, asking to be taken."

"By the door?" Gwen demanded, raising her eyebrows pointedly. "You mean in that bowl on the table in the foyer whose specific purpose is the holding of keys?"

"That'd be the one, yup."

Gwen scrunched up her face into an expression of disbelief and let out a small snort. Almost immediately, Liv's eyes snapped up to the rearview mirror, glowering at Gwen's reflection. "You know what—no!" she exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger in Gwen's face. "No. I reject that judge-y expression. Ryan wants to be a man-whore gold-digger and break up my parents' marriage? Well, I want Ryan's car."

A low whine emanated from Gwen's mouth. She raised her head slightly, peeking out the window for any other law enforcement officers, but all she saw was the night and the trees. "We are so gonna get arrested."

"Ugh, stop being such a baby," Liv said with a roll of her eyes. "Seriously, you disappoint me sometimes, Gwen. If you just stopped being so scared of doing something wrong or getting in trouble, you would be such a badass. I mean you've already got a bit of an Angelina Jolie look going on with those cheekbones."

"Hey!" Gwen exclaimed, finally sitting up straight in her seat. "I am a badass. I'm a total badass."

Liv peered at Gwen out of the corner of her eyes with an expression that was more than slightly skeptical. "You're not a badass. You're student body president."

"That doesn't—!"

"I'll tell you what will make you slightly more of a badass, though," Liv barreled on, cutting off Gwen's attempts to protest. "Calming the hell down and going out with you spectacularly awesome best friend. Plus, everybody's gonna be there. Brett, Liam, Eric, Sean. I can guarantee fun. Do some bowling, flirt a bit with some lacrosse players, make out a bit with some lacrosse players….Play the field. Get it? Play the field."

"Yeah, Liv," Gwen said, rolling her eyes. "I got it. You are the master of the terrible pun. And I though you and Brett has a thing going on. Since when are you 'playing the field'?"

Liv let out a scoff and rolled her eyes before flipping her sandy blond hair over her shoulder. "What the hell do I look like? A monogamist? Please, Gwen, get your adorable little head out of your adorable little ass. Life is way too short to spend it one boy at a time. Tonight isn't about a boy. It's about boys. As a collective. Lots and lots of boys. Boys of whom you will be partaking." She snapped her fingers and pointed in Gwen's face, making sure the other girl was paying attention. "Same goes for tomorrow night. Brett's having a party, and you are going to me my date."

"I can't hang out tomorrow night," Gwen said with a small shake of her head. "I've already got plans."

"Oh my God," Liv whined, pounding a fist against the steering wheel in frustration. "If you tell me that you're studying or organizing another model UN debate, I swear to God I will scream."

"It's not that," Gwen mumbled evasively, folding her arms across her chest. Liv glanced at Gwen and widened her eyes a bit, her expression demanding a clear answer. Gwen let her eyes fall shut and exhaled loudly before finally giving up the information. The whole things felt like she was confessing to a crime, as ridiculous as that might sound. "Tomorrow I'm hanging out with Bethany. We're doing facials and stuff."

Liv immediately stuck her tongue out, physically gagging at the idea. "Ugh—gross," she exclaimed, cringing. "Why the hell would you ever agree to something like that? That sounds like the ninth circle of hell."

"You say that about everything," Gwen grumbled. "Dinner with your parents? Ninth circle of hell. Detention? Ninth circle of hell. Puppy parade? Ninth circle of hell. I like Bethany."

"Yeah, well you're not a great judge," Liv replied snappishly. "You like everybody. And Bethany Cartwell hates you."

Gwen's mouth dropped open, staring at Liv with a scandalized expression. "Wha—Bethany doesn't hate me! Why would she hate me? I'm a freaking delight!"

"Yes, you are," Liv explained, bobbing her head a bit as she spoke. "And that's why she hates you. You are just a little bit better than her at pretty much everything she cares about. You should have seen the look on her face after you beat her in that piano recital last month. She was definitely fantasizing about lighting you on fire. Mark my words, as soon as she gets the opportunity she will turn on you faster than you can say 'what a bitch'."

Frowning to herself and letting out a light harumph, Gwen stared out the window and watched the trees whizzing by. The headlights cast long, haunting shadows across the ground in front of her. Then, all of the sudden, she sat up straight in her seat. For a moment she could have sworn she saw something lying on the ground—a body, completely crumpled and bloodied. A body that looked a lot like her. Gwen threw herself forward, pressing her face against the glass to get a better look. But as soon as it had appeared, the image faded away into nothing. Nothing was there. Gwen sat back down in her seat and shook her head a bit. She really needed to get it together.

All of the sudden something collided with the side of her face and fell into her lap, making her jump. She reached down and picked up the small tube, inspecting it carefully in the dim light. "Berry-licious," she read out, wrinkling her nose a little bit.

"Put that on," Liv instructed. "Like I said, we are having fun tonight. I will not be satisfied unless some cute boy has that lip gloss smeared all over his face. That is the objective of this little excursion."

"Yeah, maybe for you," Gwen muttered, her voice slightly tinged with bitterness. "You're the fun, carefree, life of the party type. Me? I organize bake sales and model UN debates. I'm… I am student body president. Not the sexiest of titles."

"You're also on the pep squad," Liv reminded her. "You know what we do in pep squad? We wear tiny, brightly colored skirts. I'm pretty sure they conducted a poll vis-à-vis teenage boys and their attitudes towards tiny, brightly colored skirts. Turns out, all of them are in favor of those skirts."

"Yeah, but—"

"Oh my God!" Liv scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "When are you going to wakeup and realize that you are all kinds of hot. I can guarantee that at least one of those lacrosse players is into you. And not just in the 'I'd like to tap that' sort of way. I mean in the smitten kind of way. The 'I want to stay in my pajamas and watch Netflix with you' sort of way. You're just too wrapped up in your whole 'little miss perfect' routine with the grades and the extracurriculars to open your eyes an notice it."

"Really?" Gwen said through a skeptical snort. "And who exactly are you talking about?"

"I am not telling you that," Liv said, a sly smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. "You need to figure that one out on your own, and then do something about it. Otherwise how will you ever learn?"

Sighing heavily, Gwen flipped down visor in front of her so she could stare into that little mirror before applying the Berry-licious lip gloss as instructed. She rubbed her lips together and smacked them a bit before inspecting her appearance. One thing was for sure—it definitely made her lips more noticeable. Which, she supposed, was the objective. Liv did always say that boys were attracted to brightly colored objects.

"See," Liv smiled, smacking Gwen in the shoulder a bit. "Now look at that. Seriously, Gwen, you're just a little too uptight. Sometimes you need to get rid of that ponytail, shake your hair out, and live a little."

Then, as if to demonstrate, Liv cranked up the radio even higher and rolled down the windows. The pumping of the music and roar of the wind filled her ears. Liv stuck her and out the window, splaying out her fingers against as they whizzed down the road. A huge smile broke out across Gwen's face. Suddenly, she reached up and grabbed hold of the hair tie keeping her perfectly coiffed brown hair in that neat ponytail, ripping it out dramatically and tossing it out the window. Almost immediately, the wind blew violently through her hair, causing it to whip around and hit her in the face. It stung, but it was a nice sort of stinging feeling. It felt kind of like freedom.

"I told you!" Liv shouted over the noise. "This is living!"

Gwen laughed and stuck her hand out the window as well, enjoying the feeling of the wind as it coursed through her fingers. "Man," she said, shaking her head a bit. "What the hell would I do without you?"

"I don't know," Liv shouted back. "But you better find out soon!"

A frown tugged at the corners of Gwen's lips. Her head snapped around and she stared at Liv. The girl was singing along with the music. Gwen studied the girl carefully. She looked normal enough. Her sandy blonde hair was as unruly as ever, her blue eyes had their usual sardonic glint, and her sharply arched eyebrows gave her that perennial look of skepticism, but she was happy. Gwen could tell that she was happy. But for some reason, though, that happiness made Gwen anxious. She could feel the panic building up inside of her and for the life of her she wasn't sure why. All she knew was that something very, very bad was about to happen.

"What do you mean I better find out soon?" Gwen called out.

Liv looked over at Gwen and then shot her the patented Olivia Masterson smile. Gwen had often compared it to the painting of Mona Lisa. Liv smiled at you like she knew something you didn't. She smiled at you like she knew that you would never fully understand her. Usually that smile just made Gwen roll her eyes, but this time it filled her with fear. "Liv," she announced again. "Don't be coy. Save that for the lacrosse players. What do you mean I better find out soon?"

Letting out a light snort, Liv shook her head at Gwen in a way that was almost patronizing. "Don't you remember, Gwen?" she said with a shrug. "I'm dead."

There wasn't even an opportunity to process the words. As soon as the words left Liv's lips, they were replaced by the sound of a horn and the bright, white light of an 18-wheeler's headlights shone in her eyes. In that moment it felt like time stopped. The horn turned into a haunting scream that echoed in her ears. It was so loud, she felt as if they were about to start bleeding. Gwen clapped her hands over them to block out the sound, but it didn't stop the light from getting closer and closer.

As the truck approached, Liv didn't look scared. She didn't even move. Instead she just turned to face Gwen, that knowing smile still etched into the lines of her face. Gwen stared at her with wide, terrified eyes as the girl spoke one last word.

"Bye."

The light of the oncoming car grew brighter and brighter until it consumed Liv, leaving her staring at nothing but a wall of white. She couldn't see anything anymore, but she knew what was coming. Squeezing her eyes shut, she curled herself into a ball and waited.

Gwen woke with a start. That was the way she usually woke up these days. It wasn't the first time she had that dream. It had come to her at least three days a week every week since the accident. The rest of the nights she would just dream that she was falling, and the only thing below her was miles and miles of ocean. Those dreams were actually pretty boring—she knew how they were going to end—but that didn't mean she didn't get to enjoy that overwhelming sense of helplessness on the way down. Either way, though, her dreams always ended the same. As soon as impact came, whether it was from a car or from hitting the water, she would wake up to find herself thrashing violently in her bed.

SCREECH.

"Shit!"

The almost violent sound of the alarm clock filled the room, causing her to sit bolt upright in bed. Gwen clapped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, her face contorting into a pained grimace as she tried to block out the noise. It sounded like someone had planted their hand on a car horn and they were refusing to let go Her sleeping and waking states melded together in a sort of disorientation that made her spin into a panic. It made her pulse skyrocket and her head ache like someone had shoved an ice pick through her skull. She grappled around blindly for a few moments until she managed to hit the snooze button, letting out a sigh of relief as the shrill noise was abruptly cut short. Finally, her hand hit the appropriate button and the sound stopped, allowing her to actually think again.

Her heart pounding in her chest like a drum, Gwen threw herself up into the sitting position and gulped down air. Every morning it felt like she was drowning. No, that wasn't it. It was more like she was being crushed. Like somebody had placed a weight on her chest and she was completely unable to breathe in. It was the beginning of her morning routine. Wake up, untangle herself from the covers, wash away that thin layer of salt left behind by the panic sweats she had in the middle of the night, and get ready for the day. Another long, pointless day. But today was different. Today was going to be even longer and even more pointless than all those other days. Because today involved school. And people.

Groaning to herself, Gwen threw off the covers and clambered out of bed. She walked straight past the clothes Lydia had insisted on laying out for her before she went 'camping' and headed to her closet. Reaching in, she grabbed the first things that looked semi decent together and tossing them on her bed—a loose-fitting white tank top, a pair of ripped black skinny jeans, a hooded military jacket, and some blue combat boots. After a smudge of black eyeliner and a bit of mascara to set off her deep brown, standoffish-looking eyes, and she was ready to go. Her appearance pretty much said 'approach at your own risk', which was essentially what she was going for. Finally, she placed her headphones around her neck, grabbed her bag, and was about to sprint out the room, but something made her pause.

The outfit Lydia had picked out for her. A year ago she would have put those clothes on in an instant—a sleeveless blue button-down that tied at the front, a high-waisted floral print mini-skirt, and a pair of cute, Mary Jane heels. It was 'sweet'. It probably bore no vague similarity to what she was wearing in her last yearbook. But she wasn't that person anymore. For years she had tried to make herself perfect—the perfect grades, perfect clothes—she had been trying to make herself into the perfect daughter because them maybe—just maybe—her parents might want to stay a little bit longer. But she was done trying to be perfect. And she sure as hell wasn't 'sweet' anymore.

Gwen knew what Lydia was trying to do, though. The girl was trying to take care of her. And honestly Gwen was trying to take care of Lydia too, even though she wasn't quite sure how. She and Lydia had never been incredibly close as cousins—their families didn't really visit each that much—but they seemed to have a weird sort of bond now. They were both victims of the same brand of tragedy. Four months after Gwen lost Liv, Lydia lost Allison, her own best friend. Neither of them said the words out loud or talked about it at all really. Talking….it hurt too much. But every once and a while Gwen would see Lydia with this look on her face—one she knew was on her own face from time to time. When it came to moments like that, they would just sit next to each other. It wasn't much, but somehow it made everything just a little bit better. Having someone there who understood what you felt—it meant something.

Once she left her room, she noticed how exceptionally quiet the house was. "Hello?"

She was met with resounding silence. A frown tugged at the corner of her lips and she began to poke around. First she stuck her head down the stairs. "Aunt Natalie?"

Again, nothing. Gwen wandered down into the kitchen. She didn't find her aunt, but she did find a pot full of coffee, a plate full of scones, and a note:

Hi, girls! I had to get to work early to set everything up for the first day. Remember to have a good breakfast.

Love you both!

Smiling a bit, she grabbed a scone and shoved it in her mouth, holding it between her teeth as she walked back up the stairs. "'Ey! Lydia!" she called out, her words muffled by the scone. She grabbed hold of it and tore the rest of the scone away, chewing the large chunk left in her mouth. She walked up to Lydia's room and began banging on the door with her fist. "'Ey! It's time 'oo wake op!"

There was no response. Gwen swallowed down the scone and knocked at the door again. "Lydia?"

Slowly, she reached for the door handle and pushed the door open. It swung open with a light squeak to reveal a very empty room. The bed was still made—it hadn't been slept in at all. In each of the multiple calls that had been made over the weekend, Lydia had always insisted she would be getting back late Sunday night, but apparently the 'camping' with her friends was running a little behind schedule.

Gwen rolled her eyes as she pulled the door shut. There was a reason she kept mentally putting quotation marks around the word 'camping'. And that was because she was fully aware that Lydia was not, nor ever had any intention to 'camp', and it wasn't just because of Lydia's general avoidance of all things involving dirt. Mostly it was her friends. None of them seemed to be particularly adept at lying.

First there was Kira, the pretty Asian girl with an easy, nervous smile and impossibly shiny hair. Every time the topic was mentioned, she would widen her eyes a little bit when she used the word 'camping'. She might has well have been screaming 'this is a code word for another activity which we should not be doing'. Then there was Malia—the one with tan skin, wild brown hair, and the perpetual look of frustration on her face. When she heard the word 'camping' her eyebrows would draw together in momentary confusion, followed by a look of immediate realization, like the concept of a 'code word' was somehow new to her. Then there was Scott, the incredibly earnest one with the soulful, brown, puppy dog eyes. He was just way too serious about the whole thing. Nobody should seem that angsty about a vacation with their friends. Mostly, though, what gave it away was that hyperactive guy with smart, light brown eyes and an excess of moles. Stiles. He had a freaking map of Mexico sticking out of his backpack. Gwen didn't pretend to have the most glorious powers of deduction, but she was pretty sure they weren't going camping. They were going to Mexico. And whatever the reason they were going was, nobody was really up for sharing.

A group of criminal masterminds they were not. Or maybe they just didn't think she was paying attention. Usually when she had her headphones on, people would assume she was dead to the world and not paying the slightest bit of attention. Apparently her look of general apathy was a fairly useful detective tool. People say all kinds of things when they think you're not listening.

Not that Gwen really cared what they were doing. They could be getting drunk, watching some Mexican wrestling, buying diet pills that had been banned by the FDA—she really didn't give a shit about any of it. What she did give a shit about was the fact that Lydia was her ride. The bus was unacceptable. There were other people on the bus. She and 'other people' weren't exactly on the best of terms at the moment.

Grumbling to herself, she pulled her phone out of her purse and punched in Lydia's number. It rang and rang until it got to the voicemail message. Gwen immediately hung up and dialed the number again, pressing it to her ear and raising her eyebrows expectantly. After about four rings she finally heard the click of someone picking up. "What?!" a tired, frustrated voice said snappishly.

"Whoa," Gwen said, rocking back on her heels a bit. "Somebody woke up on wrong side of the bed this morning. Or did you sleep at all?"

A sigh emanated from the other side of the phone. "Gwen," Lydia said in a softer voice, now that she had fully realized who she was talking to. "What's going on?"

"I figured I should be asking you that question," Gwen shot back. "Where are you?"

"I'm a bit busy right now," Lydia replied, dodging the question. She seemed distracted for some reason. There was the sound of urgent conversation in the background, and Gwen couldn't quite make out the words. Lydia let out a frustrated sigh. "Hold on a second."

All of the sudden, the sound became more muffled, like Lydia had covered the receiver with her hand. Gwen jutted out her chin in frustration and waited impatiently for Lydia to pick up again. She had just begun humming the 'Jeopardy' theme when she heard the line pick up again. "Okay," Lydia's frazzled voice said. "What's up?"

"School," Gwen replied, shrugging a bit. "You know, the place we as minors are obligated to go between the approximate hours of 8:00am and 4:00pm? The place we're supposed to be in—" she pulled her phone away from her ear for a moment to check the time "—in twenty minutes."

"Right," Lydia groaned to herself. "I was supposed to drive you. I'm sorry, Gwen, I can't make it."

"But—"

"Look," Lydia barreled on, "can you just take the bus for today? I got held up."

"Somebody pulled a gun on you!" Gwen said through a theatrical gasp.

The pause that followed the question was a little longer than necessary, but eventually Lydia let out a frustrated sigh. Gwen could almost picture her clapping her hand to her forehead and shaking her head in either amusement or disappointment. "Seriously, Gwen?" Lydia groaned. "Held up in the sense that I'm running late, not in the sense that I was mugged. Stop intentionally misinterpreting things! It's annoying."

"Yeah," Gwen replied, bobbing her head a bit. "The fact that it's annoying is kind of the point."

"Ugh, why do I tolerate you?"

"For the same reason I tolerate you," the girl shot back. "Kin altruism."

"What—we're advancing our genetic code by looking out for each other?" Lydia scoffed. "That's what you're saying? How very Darwinian of you. "

"Well I was going to say that it was because we were both fundamentally awesome, but that sounded a bit douchey."

A snort forced its way out of Lydia's nose and she sighed a bit, usually an indicator of her rolling her eyes heavily. "Look, I'm sorry I'm not there, but you're just going to have to take the bus with all the other little freshmen."

"But there are other people on the bus," Gwen whined childishly, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "You know how I feel about other people."

"That their loud, stupid, and pointless," Lydia drawled out. "Which is yet another reason why you should take the bus. You need to make some new friends. Beacon Hills is a big school. There's got to be at least one person there who's quiet, moderately intelligent, and worth your time."

Gwen blew out a long breath and plodded back down the stairs in the direction of the door. "Yeah, I'm not so sure about that," she muttered bitterly. "Like 98.4% of people are complete idiots."

"Just because they can't keep up with you doesn't mean they're idiots," Lydia murmured back.

"I know," Gwen mumbled. "But it does mean that they're predictable. And just so you know, 'predictable' is a euphemism for 'boring'." Then, all of the sudden, Gwen came to an abrupt stop. She had been standing in the foyer, glancing at her appearance one more time in the mirror at the front door, when her eyes were drawn down a bit. There it was again—the key bowl. And in that key bowl was a set of car keys. Gwen looked back up at the mirror and bit her lip, watching a mischievous smile pull at the corners of her lips.

"Lydia?" she drawled out in a sickly sweet tone. "Beautiful, clever, wonderful Lydia…."

"Yes?" Lydia queried, her tone thick with suspicion and confusion.

Gwen screwed her face up into a hopeful expression and said a silent prayer before posing her next question. "Can I borrow your car?"

"Sure."

"Really?" Gwen demanded, blinking surprise.

"No, not really!" Lydia hissed back, making Gwen nod to herself. That was more in line with the reaction she had expected. "Why the hell would you think I'd let you borrow my car?"

"I dunno," Gwen mumbled almost incomprehensibly. "Solidarity?"

"Well you're not borrowing my car!" Lydia shot back.

"That's fair, that's fair," Gwen mused, a false casualness coloring her tone. "Oh, hey, Lydia?" she said brightly. "Tell me, what's the weather like in Mexico these days?"

The silence on Lydia's end was deafening. Gwen pursed her lips a bit and looked up at the ceiling, waiting for a response to her counter-move. It took a while and a very un-Lydia-like grunt before Gwen got her response. "If there is a single scratch on my car, I will not hesitate to end you."

Gwen pumped her fist in victory. "Love you!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Lydia growled. "I love you too you little freaking con artist."

"Technically I'm a blackmailer."

"And you must be so proud of yourself," Lydia grumbled back.

Gwen opened her mouth to supply another witty retort, but before she could a giant crashing noise interrupted her, making both the girls gasp. "What the hell is that?" Gwen demanded abruptly. "Are you okay—what's going on?"

"I—it's fine," Lydia stammered out, distracted by whatever was going on in the other room. "Everything's fine. Just go to school and….and be normal. Or a close to normal as you can be."

"Lyd—"

"I'll have Stiles or Scott check in on you to make sure you're doing okay," Lydia said, rushing Gwen off the phone. "And for the love of God, do not wear the combat boots! You're going to classes, not storming the beach at Normandy."

"Wha—combat boots? Lyd—"

All she was left with was a resounding click and an aggressive quiet. What the hell were Lydia and her friends into? She had never really been the easiest person to read, but these days it was on a whole new level. Lydia was type of person it was easy to worry about and hard to take care of, mostly because she never actually opened up and talked about anything. Like ever. And especially because Gwen was pretty sure Lydia was actively hiding something from her. There were lots of hushed conversations over the phone and periods of time where she would just disappear for long stretches of time and show up looking absolutely exhausted. And now she had gone to Mexico. But that was something she could think about later. For now she had more immediate problems.

Shaking her head a bit, Gwen reoriented her thoughts and looked evenly at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was wild and tangled, her clothes were rumpled, and she had this forlorn and vaguely pissed off look in her eye. She had tried to get rid of that look, but it was just her sort of default expression now. All in all, she was going to make a terrible first impression. Good. Maybe that meant people would leave her the hell alone. Maybe she would finally be able to get a little peace and quiet. No drama, no pain, just…..just existing. That's all she wanted.

Reaching down, she grabbed the car keys out of that small bowl and turned in the direction of the door, but before she opened it she caught one last glance of her reflection. Pausing for a moment, she made eye contact with herself one last time. Her jaw twitched slightly as her face morphed into an expression of determination.

"Okay, Gwen. Let's do this."

Okay, I hope this turned out alright. I'm trying to at least kind of integrate Gwen into the second episode of the show. It's kind of hard to demonstrate while she's still in the dark about all the supernatural stuff going on, but her first day of school happens during the second episode.

Also, sorry for no Liam yet. He's getting introduced to the story gradually as Gwen's past is revealed. I wanted the big focus of this chapter to be kind of introducing Liv and what she meant to Gwen. Liv was a bit of a 'wild child', but in a weird way she kept Gwen (who used to be kind of neurotic) grounded by forcing her to live her life instead of just being a spectator in it. I also wanted to demonstrate a little Lydia/Gwen time. They're kind of going to be like sisters. They'll love each other and take care of each other while simultaneously annoying the hell out of each other.

And guess who we meet in the next chapter? MASON! That's who. And a couple of other people too, but I'm super excited for Mason.

Please review/comment. Love you guys!

CHARACTERS:

Gwen Gilroy – Ella Purnell

Olivia 'Liv' Masterson – Liana Liberato