A/N Love you guys for all your wonderful support! I reached 100 reviews. I never thought that I'd get that many. It's a huge number for me - so thank you massively! And also: I'm so sorry for the later than late update!

The Brigade

Seeing as I couldn't find my locker this morning, I just head straight to my next lesson, art, which is situated all the way on the second floor. There is a break of some sort between periods two and three, but five minutes is only long enough to get to your next lesson and get your books from your locker, not to meet up with your friends and preferably eat something.

The thought of all those stairs has me wishing for an elevator or at least the gift of flight. I haul my bag more securely onto my shoulder as I weave my way through the still over-packed corridor, swarming with students on their way to their next lessons, and I check my timetable one last time as I slowly make my way up the staircase up to the second floor. By the halfway mark, I'm feeling disturbingly out of breath, and I silently pray that no one I know i.e. Zach or Adam, will see me. As I emerge onto a mercifully empty landing-type area, the bell rings and I breathe a sigh of relief. I make my way towards the room clearly marked S22, with "Art Department" painted above the door in swirling blue letters. I peek through the window in the door quickly before going in, and spot a couple of people sat at large tables, while others loiter and gather up what they need. Smiling to myself at the thought of an hour and forty minutes of pure bliss, I open the door and walk in.

For the first time that day, nobody swivels round or stares at me, and I instantly relax, taking time to study the room. It extends over a huge expanse of space, a studio of sorts with two slanted ceilings meeting in the middle and two sets of four tall panelled glass windows on either side of the room, each with an added glass door opening out onto a roof-top balcony overlooking the sweeping school fields. Over at the far end of the room, I can see another entrance and in the corner, a computer area equipped with a giant printer. Closer towards me is a small zone with narrow tables in rows and sewing machines set out on top of them, baskets of fabric scraps placed to the side of the little working area. The room is already buzzing with the hum of the sewing machines and the scraping of chairs, the soft rustle of paper and card and even the sharp, almost tangy scent of turpentine reaches my nose.

I see a tall woman talking to a short blonde-haired girl by the drying racks, and I hurry towards them because that has to be the teacher, with her school-issued compulsory teacher lanyard haphazardly thrown around her neck. As I approach, I make out a very familiar pair of glasses on a very familiar face, and smile at Michaela as she glances towards me and gives a small happy wave. The serious look on the teacher's face diminishes as she spots me coming towards them, and she calls me over.

"Miss Morgan! Miss Cavanagh has just told me about you. Come here, please."

A little alarmed, I walk closer and stop a few feet away from her, and Michaela gives me a reassuring smile. The woman seems nice enough; she gives off an aura of eccentricity and wisdom, and I immediately like her. She impatiently brushes her grey-streaked copper hair out of her face as she gives me shrewd look through her thick-rimmed burgundy glasses.

"Miss Morgan," she says. "I am Ms. Garraway. You will be partnered with Miss Cavanagh this year – she made a very convincing case, but make note that I do not have favourites." She turns away abruptly, but not before I hear her say, "I only have better-liked students."

I stand there a little bemused as Michaela gives me a pleased look. She ushers me towards a large desk in the corner of the room, and when I get closer, I can just make out a small table hidden around a display screen. I let out a snort as I see it. The table is covered in a red-and-white gingham cloth and on it sits a spotty kettle and a box labelled "Fox's Assorted Biscuits." At least eight different patterned mugs litter the table top, and I raise my eyebrows at Michaela.

"Did choosing this table have anything to do with the fact that we had food supplies practically at arm's length? Is all of this really Ms. Garraway's?"

"Really, you have no faith in me at all," she smirks. I roll my eyes. "And yep, it's Garry's. She has about eight cups of tea a day – and that's just at school."

"… Garry?" I ask a little disbelievingly.

"She doesn't know we call her that, just so you know," she warns me.

"Alright," I laugh. "Hey, what was this about making a 'convincing case'"?

"Oh don't mind that, she likes to exaggerate. I just told her how you don't have any friends yet except from myself and Adam, so I want you to sit with me," she shrugs.

"Oh. Thanks." I smile at her, even though I'm a little embarrassed.

"Plus she likes me, so she wouldn't really mind anyway," she grins.

"Are you one of her, 'better-liked' students, Michaela Cavanagh?"

"Might be I am," she whispers, leaning forward and pretending to look around in fear.

"Okay, okay, you goofball."

"Goofball?"

I shrug innocently as I pull out the chair opposite from where she's sat, and watch her amusedly. She huffily pulls out a large charcoal set from her bag, as well as, after many seconds of furtive glancing around, an extra-large Little Miss Princess travel mug.

"And what exactly is that for?"

She just smiles winningly at me and shoots off to the tea-table, flicking the switch on the kettle as if she's done this plenty of times before. From the way the table is positioned, it's impossible to see her from Ms. Garraway's desk. She starts pouring freshly boiled water out the kettle and plops in a large English Breakfast Tea teabag, adding two sugar cubes, and hurrying back to her place while screwing the lid back on – all with the skill of a tea smuggling pro.

"Aren't you going to get a biscuit to go with that?" I suggest, trying not grin and failing.

She looks at me scathingly, rolling her eyes. "Oh, shush."

xxxxx

"What about her?" I ask, nodding towards a brown haired girl at the sewing machines.

"That's Tina Walters. She thinks nobody knows that she's the leading writer of the school's gossip page; obviously, she's clueless. I know. But she's harmless, really. Just don't get up to anything too scandalicious – the editions with the juicy stuff are always the ones that sell out fastest. And trust me, you don't want to be on the receiving end of this school's Bitch Brigade."

"Bitch Brigade?" I laugh. "Tell me more, please. And oh, I don't think we need to worry about that being a problem. But tell me: have you ever featured on this infamous page?"

"Of course not! What do you take me for?" she says, offended. At the sight of my raised eyebrows, she sighs dramatically. "No, I haven't. God, you don't trust anything I say."

"At least now I know you don't have any scandalicious stories of the past that I should be aware of," I grin.

She waves away my comment and ponders something for a minute, before leaning forward a little, beckoning for me to do the same. "Wanna know about the Bitch Brigade?" she whispers excitedly, like I'm in for a treat.

"Please, begin, Master."

"Alright, alright, tone it down a bit," she grumbles. "Let's start with the basics, okay? First of all we have Penelope D'Arcy: the leader of the Brigade. They call her… Penny." She says this as if it's something horrifically abnormal, and I stare at her confusedly before deciding to just accept it.

"Penny?" I repeat, with a shiver of hopefully what looks like disgust.

"Mhm. She's evil, I tell you. Just wait. She's hella rich, hella hot, and helluva bitch."

"Something tells me she's all mile-long legs and no brain."

"I wish," she mutters darkly. "She's got beauty and brains, that as well as being good at sport. Can it get any worse?"

I feel a spark of irrational dislike towards this Penelope 'Penny' D'Arcy, but can you blame me? She's one of those girls.

"What does she look like?" I ask apprehensively. "I need to be prepared – wouldn't want to run into her or anything, right?

"We can't satisfy her want of power and intimidation, Cam. I don't want to scare you or anything, you just need to know what you're dealing with if you come across her anytime soon."

"Okay."

"So. Long red hair. Stupid big green eyes. Pale skin. Tall but not all gangly. And her favourite accessory of the past few years: Mr. Zachary Asshole Goode."

I look up at her when I hear his name and I feel a flicker of quickly quelled interest. Of course the queen bee would be together with the king wasp – or whatever it's called. Could it get any more cliché? Next she'll be telling me they're one of those couples that seriously need to DTR.

"They've broken it off and got back together so many times even I want to know about it," she groans, looking like she's committing a crime by caring who's with who.

"One of those girls, and one of those couples. Of course," I sigh irritably.

"Yup," she says in a business-like tone. "Now, Bitches No. 2 and 3: Cara Ronin and Isabelle Ellis. Penelope's two wing-women. All you need to know about them is that they can't tell the difference between pea soup and cleansing mint scrub."

"And you know that how?" I ask bemusedly.

"Tried it," she shrugs. "Swapped the contents when they were doing gym and I was 'ill'."

"Trust you to do that," I sigh, shaking my head and restraining a laugh.

She smiles and shrugs again. "And there you have it, Cammie Morgan. The Bitch Brigade."

"So it only consists of three people?"

"Don't underestimate the power of three," she warns. "They can be lethal. Put Penelope's viciousness with the other two's nasty dumbness, and you have yourself a very effective and freshman-scaring trio of witches."

"Duly noted."

"Better be. Wouldn't want you to run afoul of them, and I've decided I like you so I'm not going to leave you to find out the hard way."

"I appreciate it," I say teasingly. She just grins at me and goes back to her charcoal portrait, which is looking more incredible by the second; my impressionist seascape pales in comparison. A comfortable working silence descends upon us and I feel infinitely grateful that I met her at the diner.

After around a quarter of an hour, the jar of water I'm using to clean my paintbrushes is getting so cloudy with paint that I finally have to acknowledge it. I've been studiously ignoring its slowly dirtying state, somehow feeling that if I did so, the cleaning fairies would come and clean it for me. But now I have to face the five meter walk to the sink to get some more water as its way too murky to use anymore. I push out my chair slowly and look towards the sink to make sure it's empty, grabbing the jar. Unluckily for me, however, it's not – a striking girl with jet black hair and perfect makeup is stood there, clearing her palette and brushes with what can only be turps – the strong odour drifts towards me, stinging my nose. She doesn't have a speck of paint on her skin, though, while I've got splodges all over my fingers and under my nails, and I'm pretty sure I got a streak of blue in my hair at some point too. I sit back down nervously and poke Michaela's hand, careful not to startle her so her drawing doesn't get messed up. I know better than anyone how annoying it can be when you're jolted out of that blissful drawing zone by an inconsiderate poker.

"Hey, who's that?" I ask, pointing discreetly towards the girl at the sink as Michaela glances up at me.

She blinks dazedly a few times and then follows the direction of my finger. "Oh, her? That's Macey McHenry."

I'm unable to tell by her tone if this is a good thing or a bad thing, so I nudge her again.

"Well, who is she? Not an unmentioned member of the Bitch Brigade, I hope?"

"Huh. Well, she used to be."

"What do you mean? Are you allowed to just leave the Brigade? I'd have thought there was some unbreakable vow of commitment and an initiation ceremony."

"There probably is, to be honest," she says. "But no. She's… alright, I guess. She's never done anything to me directly, but I know she used to be quite the horror. Something happened between her and Penelope during junior year, though, and she left that little group. She became friends with Bex Baxter and Liz Sutton, and she changed a lot."

"By which you mean…?"

"I don't know, really. I think she just realised how shallow she'd been, and what a bitch she'd been as well. All three of them are complete opposites, but at the same time they're not. Bex is nothing short of badass, Liz is the biggest genius since Einstein, and Macey's smart and pretty sassy. You'd think they'd all hate each other – apart from Liz, I don't think she has a hating bone in her body – but they get along better than anything and everyone loves them. Even I like them, which is really saying something," she adds, laughing. I recognise Macey McHenry's friends' names, remembering the two girls in chemistry and the paper aeroplane Zach threw the blonde one.

"So basically… I don't need to run in the opposite direction if she talks to me?"

"Nope." She smiles at me as she turns back to her work and I get up to refill my mucky jar.

I approach the sink a tiny bit cautiously and stand next to her. She turns to look at me interestedly almost immediately, but surprisingly enough, doesn't say anything, choosing to just give me a warm smile instead. I stand there awkwardly for a second before I proceed to empty my jar, pouring out the water. The dirty water splashes up and flecks my face, and I quickly wipe it away, looking furtively sideways to check if Macey saw. She did.

She gives a soft snort and I blush a little, embarrassedly filling my jar before turning to her properly. "Uh, I didn't get any on you, did I?"

"No, you're alright," she smirks.

"Um, good. Okay. I'm Cammie, by the way."

"Macey. You're the new girl, aren't you?" she questions.

"Yup. Seems like that's the name people have given me round here."

"Don't worry – it'll blow over. We just don't get many newcomers in Roseville. In fact, I'm pretty sure the last new person was me."

"You haven't lived here all your life?" I ask, surprised.

"No," she laughs. "Is it that hard to believe? I came here in my junior year. So trust me when I say, it'll blow over soon. All those stares and whispers is kinda annoying, isn't it?"

"You got that right," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Hey, you should come sit with us at lunch. Me and my friends, I mean. I definitely think they'll like you."

"I… uh… sure, thanks," I say, flattered. I really hope Michaela won't mind, but Macey seems nice. And I do need to make friends.

"Great," she smiles. "Meet you outside here in a bit."

"Yeah," I sup press a happy smile as she turns away to go to her table at the far end of the room.

"What was that about?" Michaela asks me as I sit back down.

"I was talking to Macey. She asked me to go to lunch with her and I thought I would," I say, before catching sight of Michaela's slightly crestfallen expression and feeling instantly guilty. "If that's okay with you?" I ask worriedly.

She quickly smiles and I can't detect any falseness about it, but she still seems a little disappointed.

"Of course it is, Cam. You don't have to ask me. I'll introduce you to my friends another time, and I think Adam already knows you," she chuckles.

"Thanks." I pretend to blow her a kiss and she laughs.

"Don't thank me, seriously." She rolls her eyes at me, a trademark Michaela move.

"Sorry, sorry."

"Don't get too excited about the lunch though – you've probably seen dog food that looks nicer."

"Well, there go my fantasies of a five star cuisine," I sigh.

"What can I say? Maybe they've changed it up a bit this year, though I doubt it."

"But I'm hungry," I whine.

"Just gotta deal with it, hon."

I huff and turn back to my painting, my stomach grumbling. Maybe I can smuggle one of those biscuits...

A/N Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it. We finally hear about Penelope, and meet Macey. We'll soon be meeting the others and Penelope in the flesh. I can't wait to see what you think of Penelope. Sorry for the lack of maleness in this chappie, but oh well. And I'm definitely going to try for more regular updates, as it'll be easier to write the more exciting chapters (namely, if they include either Zach or Adam). But no promises! I do have a life outside fanfiction so if I don't update for a while, don't worry your awesome selves that I've forgotten - I just haven't had time. And please, please, please, don't just review 'update'. It makes me super stressed and also feels like you don't appreciate the chapter/story - I know I need to update. I'm sorry! I'm not targeting anyone, this is purely general.

ANYWAY: if you liked this chapter, comment TYRION:) See ya next time... which will hopefully be soon ;) I'm going to see The Martian on Sunday and I'm so excited - have any of you seen it? I'm definitely going to buy the book. Also, might as well do a QOTD: are you doing anything nice this weekend? xx plus I apologise for any glaring mistakes.

Indigoandvioletskies: I've been busy too, so no need to apologise! Thank you very much xxx He is, isn't he!

fanficlover4602: Heyyyy! How are you? I'm fine, thank you :) Your excitement is pretty adorable haha. I'm glad you like my story - and my vocab :P love ya too, you excitable reviewer xxx

HippieGuru: Hello my cool rhyming friend! Thank you so much! We'll defo see the rest of the gang, and me too, I love Michaela! She's one of my favourite characters. Later Skater to you too! Ps. of course the biscuit needs you to risk it ;)

OhNobody: That's so nice to hear! Thank you! You're too kind :) Don't worry, there#ll be plenty of Zammie to come!

BooksLover2000: Thank youuuu

Teenage Gallagher Girl Spy: Ah, it's quite an English drama series shown on the channel ITV haha. I don't think it's shown in America, or it may be, I don't know. Huehuehue is the funniest laugh ever, it's almost like onomatopoeia! I always ramble ;)

Guest 1: That's amazing! I had no idea. I've made you wait like a month - I'm sorry1 Hope you liked it though, and thank you!

gabergirl: Thank you!

x2INFIN3TY-B3YONDx: Haha, but I'm still flattered you wanted to make a ship name in the first place! Glad you like Cadam though :) yeah, Downton Abbey is sort of a random thing to suddenly start watching, tbh. And thank you! (for both the kindness and the luck for school ;))

lovewords: Thank you, you are TOO KIND! Haha, I feel ya ;) And I know! Time is definitely making fools of us. I feel like I haven't seen you in sooooo long, except we have a pretty good communication system going ;) Yay! Downton Abbeyyyy :P love it. Guess what I sent in the mail on Monday? hehehe

Ah: GURL... THANK YOU!

Guest 2: HEYyyy Sarah! Thank you for being the 101st reviewer! THANK YOU SO MUCH! I started school too, it's so stressful and there's so much to do and ugh. You are freaking fabulous too and I also don't know what that means but you are #myslayqueenalso. *virtual hugs* *virtual cookies* Love ya too gurl x

DTR means Define The Relationship if you were confused :)