A/N: The word count for the story is gonna be ridiculous. I can already see it growing to be enormous...

PrincessGumballWatterson777 - I can understand where you're coming from. I'd love to rewrite some Grand theft Auto stories, but I don't much about it so I'd probably butcher it. I'll leave you alone now.

Gucci Mane LaFlare - Thanks for the review! I'm planning on making Heather and Anne-Maria's rivalry more obvious this time round.

Till next time,

D.L.D


Courtney's Choice


Gwen's P.O.V

After all the timetables were given out, the bell rang a second time for us to go to class. Instinctively, I flinch. I've always hated that damn bell, the way it sounds so sharp and always dulls my eardrums. God, if there was one thing I would change about this school it would be the bell. Yep, that's right, I would change the bell. Ever since my Freshman year it had become my mortal enemy.

Sighing, I sling my bag over my shoulder and begin to head towards the Math department. Ahead of me, the rest of the Gang were already talking, their eye rolls and low voices making me aware to their own distaste of the bell. It was only Leshawna who appeared a little happy, but that was probably because she wasn't lonely in lessons this year. If I were given a seat next to Beth for a year, I would also jump for joy at a chance to move.

As I round a corner, a firm hand wraps around my wrist and tugs me back. Knocked off balance, I stumble backwards into a body, their warmth bleeding into mine. I shiver. I don't like unexpected body contact. It always creeps me out - always had ever since what happened.

"Gwen, we need to talk."

Automatically, my back stiffens and my shoulder blades tense at the sound of his soft voice. I remember it well, the velvety tones, the way it grew even softer when he sang and the sharpness it gained when someone offended him. That voice used to sing me to sleep; that voice used to make my tears magically disappear with just a single whisper; that voice used to say I love you. It doesn't anymore. It couldn't anymore.

Already, tears burn my eyes as my voice sticks in my throat. Emerald eyes are locking onto mine, deep and evergreen like a forest. Before, I would see them as something beautiful, as a feature of him I loved and always compared to beautiful things. Now, I can't do the same. Every time I looked into those eyes now, I had the natural reaction to flinch or look away, my brain and heart feeling a stab of pain at the memory of them. At the memory of him.

"There's nothing to talk about," I mumble softly, almost silently, as I weakly shrug my hand from his grasp. Loosely, I wrap my arms across myself. I need to keep it together; I need to hold myself together. "You know that, Trent."

He sighs. Of course he sighs. When he sighs I spot the small furrow of his brows, the crease in the smooth skin of his forehead, and I wish I hadn't. I wish I didn't pain myself with remembering every little detail about him.

"I just need to know why," Once again he takes on that soft tone, that hopeful tone. His green eyes are crinkled, like moss, and I find myself retreating within my shell once more.

What is wrong with him? He knows perfectly why we don't talk anymore. He knows perfectly why it pains me to see him, to look into his eyes, after what happened between us. I had loved him, I still loved him to an extent, and it was that love that hurt me most. I shouldn't love him - not after what happened - but I still do. I still love Trent.

Breathing deeply, I close my eyes. It was taking everything I had not to breakdown right here and now.

"Are you sure you want the truth?" I glance at him, stare at him, for the first time in a year. He had grown, lost some of the boyish youth he still had when we were Sophomores. His dark hair had grown out a little, but he still had it in a similar shaggy cut. More muscle had evened out his build, making him lean but not overly built, and his jaw had squared off a bit. Darker and more foggy, his green eyes had changed from the bright almost celery-like colour they had. Or maybe I just saw them differently now. To be honest, I couldn't tell you which was true.

But still, he was Trent. He was still the music-freak who'd made me laugh and always saved me an extra muffin; He was still the guy whose voice always made me mellow out; He was still the guy who'd helped to fuck me up.

Turning on my heel, I begin to walk towards Math. Since he was the cause of this, I shouldn't even bother explaining. I was being too kind. I was being led by my emotions. If I was smart in the first place, none of this would've happened and I still could've had a friendship with him. We still could've been ok.

But now we're not and Trent keeps trying to fix something that's better left broken.

"I want the truth, Gwen," Like an obedient puppy, he follows.

Pricking my chest, my heart clenches and stutters. Great. I now have to explain something that opened up a lot of hurt and trauma for me. Something that I had kept locked within me for so long that I didn't know how much it grew. I only knew when it was too late and a torrent of words were flooding out of my mouth.

"Fine then," I spin around once more, folding my arms across my chest. Firmly, I glare right at him, but don't focus on his features, and frown. "You wanna know the truth? The truth is that you were the one who messed this up. You were the one who lied, you were the one who turned the whole school against me. All I ever asked for was for you to be honest, but you weren't. It was like - after that first month you changed on me and- "

'I want to forgive you for it, but I can't,' The words are swallowed up by my throat, my teeth biting down on my lip before I can get them out. Tears are what replace them, my face burning with heat as I swiftly turn once more and rush towards class.

I don't bother looking back. I don't bothering thinking about Trent's face and how he was probably still standing there, trying to process what the fuck just happened. I don't blame him. I'm a mess. A literal, metaphorical and psychological mess. What happened fucked me up, it scarred me deeply, and even thought Trent had unknowingly done it, it didn't mean the damage wasn't still there. It didn't make my hurt any less real.

Sniffing, I catch up to the others. Leshawna is the one who notices me, her role as my mom-friend always making her more alert to my distress.

"What happened, girl?" She scooped me into a side hug, her soft body cradling me like a blanket. Automatically, my hands wrap around her and I close my eyes. I inhale the fragrant scent of her hair product and the gentle pear scent of her soap.

"Was it Trent?" She whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Tenderly, she swipes away a stray tear with her thumb.

Feebly, I nod. Speaking is a chore right now - an impossible task. As much as I would love to talk, to voice my thoughts and opinions to her, I can't bring myself to do it. I am still used to when I couldn't do that, to when my thoughts and opinions made me feel as if I were paranoid and crazy. For a long time, I had questioned myself and my own senses. I had questioned if my reality was truly that. Seeing Trent today only brought that all back. It relapsed me.

"Don't worry about him," Leshawna coos, pulling a pack of tissues from her pocket. She takes one out and wipes away the smeared eyeliner and mascara on my face. "He can't get you here. I promise."

"I-it's not that!" I choke out, my voice cracking. I sound snotty, congested. "It's just - why do I want to forgive him?"

To that Leshawna simply tuts and wraps me tighter in her arms. Soothing, her voice speaks about something I cannot make out and her hand smooths down my hair. I feel safe when she does this - when anyone close to me does this. Just the warmth and gentleness of this makes me forget about the cold frigidity of my past. It makes me forget about all of the emotional stress I've been put under before I'd even developed the skills to handle it.

"See?" Leshawna speaks a little louder, smiling as she pulls away from me. "All better."

From her tone, I want to laugh. Leshawna always made me want to laugh right after being comforted. She was the sort of person who just knew how to make a person laugh when they were upset. Whether it was from a funny story or by impersonating something, Leshawna always made bad situations funny. I wish I could do that for myself.

"I'm just tired," I smile dryly, still feeling the wet stream of tears I'd cried. Grimacing, I sniff. "But still, I can't believe he had the audacity to ask me that. To ask me why."

It's then I notice that everyone's attention was fixed upon me. The conversation within the Gang had stopped and all of them peered at me with cautious expressions or looks of suppressed anger. My face heats at the realisation, my lip being trapped between my teeth. I don't like being other people's problem.

"I see..." Geoff frowned a little, glancing at Bridgette.

"I don't get why he can't give you a little bit of space," Bridgette sighed, glancing back at Geoff. "It's not easy to forgive, let alone forget, what he did."

"He needs to get bent," Duncan mutters, his eyes gaining a dangerous look. It unsettles me. A lot. Duncan tended to act like my older brother, like trust me he's super protective, and if I didn't get involved sometimes, things ended terribly. There's a reason why he want to juvie; there's a reason why I don't trust him with lighters.

"Don't Duncan," My voice is low, threatening, and I know it has settled in. Even if he rolls my eyes at me and grumbles under his breath, I know he will listen to me. If I say to leave it alone, Duncan will leave it alone.

But that didn't mean I hadn't spotted him and Leshawna sharing a look. Oh, I knew that they both wanted to do something. But I'll let them get away with it for now.

We all arrive at math and are met by our teacher, Mr Gray. Good old Mr Gray! Last year, I remember his classes being on the top of my 'most ditched' lessons. Majority of his students hate his lessons with a passion, the boring lectures, talks about his life and impossible work always being massive motivators towards ditching. I'd say around fifty percent of his class regularly ditched math, especially when it was a double, just to avoid him.

Groaning, I shuffle into the classroom. It seemed all too coincidental that I'd have Mr Gray again this year. If anything, I'd say our creepy principal had something to do with it. But obviously, I can't accuse him of such things due to the stupid school waiver. Damn contracts.

Just as I'm about to sit at the back, Mr Gray blows his whistle and deafens me. I roll my eyes in response. I forgot about his stupid whistle.

"Not so fast, class," The teacher stood up front, brandishing a clipboard. "Since this is our second year, I've made a seating plan."

A seating plan? Can someone please kill me already? I can't take anymore of this god awful day. It's not even past the first period and I already feel like calling in sick and sleeping the rest of the day away.

Groans fill the classroom as Mr Gray reads out the names within each row, indicating where each student should sit. In the end, I ended up in the second furthest row from the front, right next to Duncan and Geoff. Behind me was Courtney, who sat between Harold and Noah. Everyone else was also forced into an uncomfortable seat, wedged between two other students of the opposite gender.

As per the tradition, Mr Gray had made us sit in a boy-girl order, believing that we'd all be a whole lot less rowdier that way. Obviously he'd made a mistake. How do I know? The combination of the second row: Heather, DJ, Anne-Maria and Bridgette. The only row to break the boy-girl order. That row's combination, specifically Heather and Anne-Maria was toxic. Fights were definitely bound to occur this year.

"Um, Mr Gray?" Heather raised her hand, an impatient and frustrated look fixed onto her drawn on brows.

"Yes, Heather?" The teacher nodded towards her raised hand.

"I can't sit behind this fart machine," She demanded, her expression blunt as she pointed to Owen. "Can I switch with Beth? I'm sure she won't mind."

"No, Heather," Mr Gray replied simply, walking to his desk and logging onto his computer. He focused on his keyboard.

"But -

"No buts," Mr Gray interjected, pulling up a power point. He then passed Lindsay a stack of sheets, instructing her to take one and pass it on. "Today we'll be recapping some knowledge from last year before moving onto your work for this year's curriculum."

The entire class groaned, dreading the lesson ahead. Today is going so well.


Bridgette's P.O.V

For majority of math, I keep an eye on Gwen. Every moment she moves, it's to fiddle with her workbook, sharpen a pencil or flick to a certain page in a textbook. Anyone who didn't know her well enough would assume she's focusing on the lesson, that she's being studious. But I know better. Of course, usually, Gwen's a quiet person - but she's never this quiet. Sure, she was a loner at heart and hated social interactions, but deep beneath that, deep, deep beneath her grouchy nature and stroppy moods, Gwen was a pretty sociable and nice person. She could be good company.

But right now she looked miserable, isolated, even Duncan failing to lift her out of her still silence. It bugs me. It bugs me a little too much.

Frowning, I rip a page from my book and scribble a question onto it. I then fold it up and pass it forwards to Leshawna. At first she raises a brow, frowning at the note, but soon she's scribbling a response and passing it back.

I get a single name back: Trent.

Oh... That made a lot of sense. What happened with him took a huge toll out of Gwen, especially since she wanted to forgive him. That was all she spoke about when it first happened: how she wanted to forgive him and welcome him into her arms. I still remember those first few nights, the ones where she spent hours asking me questions and checking that she was actually awake. For most of it, I would gently answer her and supply her with a barrage of hugs. Those were the only things that anchored her back then: hugs. Everything else always failed.

Although I don't know exactly what happened between them, what made Gwen lose her cool around Trent, I have a feeling that it wasn't the usual petty teenage breakup. I always had a feeling it was more than the whole 'cheating' fiasco. Gwen had forgiven Trent for that - for kissing Heather. No, it was something deeper. Something Gwen hadn't shared with me nor anyone really. She kept it to herself and that's what worried me.

Chewing on the end of my pencil, I try to focus on solving at least one math problem. My mind constantly drifts back to Gwen, to Trent, my kindness always making me a sucker for helping those in need.

They were so cute together; they were happy. What happened?

Breaking my thoughts, the bell rang for transitions. Instinctively, I groan, hating the bell for giving me a headache and ruining my train of thought.

"Your homework for tonight is to finish today's work," Mr Gray talks rapidly as everyone hurriedly packs up. I follow suit, chucking my books and pencil case into my rucksack. "Detentions will be given if you do not complete it!"

Straight after packing up, I practically sprint out of the classroom and down the hall to catch up with Gwen. For a short person, she's pretty quick, especially when she wants to avoid anyone talking to her. I have to ask her about how she does that.

"Gwen!" I call out to her, waving my arm in the air so she can't ignore me. Immediately, I spot the slight cringe to her features, the tense of her jaw. Ignoring it, I jog up to her. "You ok?"

"No..." Gwen sighs bitterly, kicking at the air. Whitening with tension, her hand tightens around her bag's strap. "I'm trying to avoid Trent. He just doesn't understand what happened and every time he apologises I just - It makes me feel worse for wanting to forgive him. It makes me feel worse for moving on."

Dark tears are already forming in her eyes, stained charcoal from her eyeliner and mascara. I'm certain that this isn't the first time Gwen's cried today, especially if she saw Trent, but I don't want to pry. I don't want to make her feel any more worse than she already feels.

"Don't blame yourself," I softly coo, wrapping her into a hug. I feel her relax against me, most likely breathing in the salty scent of my hoodie. Gwen always said I smelt like the beach: fresh salt, sand and sea. "He'll get the message soon. Just keep being firm!"

Gwen hums in response, nodding as she pulls away and sniffs. Dark lines trace her pale skin, and I feel tempted to tell her, but she already scrubs them away.

"Come on, we're gonna be late for next period," I gently grab her by the arm, guiding her towards our next classes. Silently, she complies, allowing me to tow her away like a lost child being guided by a security guard.

Right now, Gwen's so fragile she may as well be a doll. She's so dependent, she might as well be a child. But I don't mind that. If Gwen needs to act like a doll, a child, to get better then she can do that. If Gwen needs me to support her to get better, to step in a be like a second mom, then I'll do that. I'll do that to help her get better.

I just want my best friend back; I just want Gwen to finally be happy again.


Courtney's P.O.V

When break rolls by, I immediately focus on finding Duncan. It's been a while since I've made time for him, chosen to spend time with him, and I feel like I should make an effort for him. If I don't, he might just grow distracted and revert back to his sleazy player ways. Ugh.. I remember when he had those. I got rid of them very quickly after we started dating - I wasn't going to have a boyfriend who acted like a complete mongrel.

First, I checked outside. That was Duncan's usual spot, the fence around the back buildings being his favourite place to sneak a quick smoke break; he wasn't there. After that, I checked the lunch hall, another infamous Duncan post. Once again, he wasn't there. I got so desperate, it got to the point where I even checked the library, peeping towards the back of it, especially since that's where he hung out the most in there. Like all the times before, I come out empty handed.

'Where is he?!' I frown as I stalk the corridors, scanning every classroom for a glimpse of his neon green mohawk. It shouldn't be so hard to find someone as boisterous as him! Duncan was the sort of person you could find wrecking havoc with no problems at all. You usually heard about him without even having to start looking.

As I continue to search for Duncan, I bump directly into Heather. The queen bee herself. And she's with her Squad. Of course...

"Oh, hi Heather!" I give her my best smile, nervously hoping that I haven't done anything wrong. Usually, when Heather comes to me she has some bad news to announce. Since I'm one of the smarter members of her Squad, she doesn't mind what I do. She only cares when it affects her and her reputation - or when I've messed up and need to suffer consequences. The second rarely happens and so Heather's visits rarely happen.

"I need you to do something for me," Heather answers me, examining her french-tipped nails. She watches me from the corner of her piercing grey eyes, raising a brow. Straight to business. As always.

My spine automatically straightens at her words, my anxiety shooting through the roof as I watch the squad leader examine her nails. She has a purpose for me - not a good one from the sound of it. Heather only sought you out personally when she had something particularly evil planned. She never did her minor dirty work by hand. That was what all her blind followers and ass-kissers were for: carrying out dirty work.

"What do you want?" I breathe, hanging my head in shame. As much as I wouldn't want to bend to will of Heather, I know that I have to obey right now. If I want even the smallest chance of gaining power, popularity, then I needed to play Heather's game. I needed to earn her trust. "You know, you have to be specific."

"If you're going to stay on the Squad, I need you to do something," Heather narrows her eyes at my words, glancing up from her nails. Her hands rest on her hips, tense.

She knows how much power she holds over me, how a single word can ruin everything I've had planned for the past fourteen years. Heather was the boss of more or less every extra-curricular club in the school. Thanks to her, I have a spot on the cheer squad, yearbook committee and a bunch of other clubs. If I didn't do as she pleased, then I could kiss my spots goodbye. I could kiss my glowing college application forms goodbye.

"What is it, then?" I ask, my voice shaking. I want to say that my confidence hasn't dipped, but with the threat of my future hanging in the air I can't be so certain anymore.

Smirking, Heather leans towards me and whispers the sealing words within my ears. Immediately, my eyes widen and I shake my head. Every nerve within my body is on edge, shaken by her words, as the colour drains from my face. There's no way I can do that. No way!

"No way!" I exclaim, my jaw slack as I repeatedly shake my head. My hands are already shaking, but this time it's out of outrage. "I can't do that! Duncan'll flip!"

I know I can't do this, what Heather wants me to do. It's too bad, too deceptive, and definitely too cruel. I'm not someone who will stoop to that level. But then, like always, the threat of losing my spot, my future, dangles over me like an unreachable prize. The threat of being kicked out, losing everything I've worked for, makes me rethink.

"Well, you do it or you're kicked out," Heather shrugs, flipping her long raven hair over her shoulder. Smoothly, she turns on her heel. "You have until the end of the day to decide." Then, just like that, Heather claps her hands and flits away with her haggle of followers tagging along.

Frowning, I listen to my racing heartbeat as I stand frozen in the corridor. I have two options: I could do as Heather asks, or I could stay in Duncan's good books. I could do what I have to to secure my future, or I could betray it all to follow what I know is right.

Closing my eyes, I take in a deep breath: I'm about to make one of the biggest choices of my life.